Vintage train carriage lifted from couple's garden in Somerset
The couple moved into the home two years ago and had used the carriage "as a shed" until they decided to donate it in March this year."We just knew we couldn't take care of it properly," Mr Pike said.Melvyn Marshman, director of the trust, came to pick up the carriage and said it was "like Christmas"."How often do you get a railway carriage at the back of a garden? We snapped it up," he added.
According to Mr Marshman, the carriage had likely been retired in 1930, after being built in 1880. It is one of only five of its kind in existence.It will be restored at Shillingstone in Dorset, which used to be part of the Somerset line."It had a good life before it was retired," Mr Marshman added."The idea is to get a whole train fully restored with passengers. It would be a dream come true."
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Times
33 minutes ago
- Times
Dear Julia: I'm middle-aged. Am I invisible?
Q. Lately I've started to suspect I'm becoming invisible. Not in a cool 'Harry Potter cloak' way. More in the 'middle-aged woman no longer perceived by society' sense. I walk into a shop and the assistant breezes past me to help someone in gym leggings and lip filler. At work younger colleagues finish my sentences as if I'm a slightly confused aunt. Even automatic doors hesitate. I've recently turned 50 and apparently that's the age when women — especially — start blending into the wallpaper. I still make an effort: I've got good hair, decent shoes, I remember to exfoliate — but it's like the world has quietly decided I'm surplus to requirements. I'm not ready to fade out like the end credits of a BBC drama. I know I should rise above it. Be wise. Be dignified. Bake sourdough and embrace linen. But if I'm honest, I miss being REALLY seen. I don't want to pretend I don't care, because I do care — even if I know it's deeply uncool to admit it. So tell me, how do you grow older with a bit of grace — and preferably without having to take up cold-water swimming or start a podcast? A. Thank you for this wonderful, painfully funny and all-too-relatable letter. The way you write — sharp, witty, honest — is anything but invisible. You leap off the page. And yet I hear the ache underneath your humour: the feeling of being overlooked, dismissed, edited out of your own story. What you're describing is real and well documented. Society still clings to outdated narratives that equate a woman's value with youth, beauty and fertility. As men age, they're seen as distinguished and wise. As women age, we're told — sometimes subtly, sometimes blatantly — that we're past our prime. It's not just personal. It's cultural. And it hits us at a time when so many other transitions are converging: menopause, children leaving home (and sometimes having more sex than we are), ageing parents, shifting roles at work. There is also the additional, subtler narrative, that to ask for attention when you're older is rather embarrassing. Attention is for the young … It's a lot. I want to say this clearly: society suffers when midlife women are ignored. We hold immense emotional, professional and relational intelligence yet we're often sidelined just as we come into our full power. The loss isn't just ours. It's collective. But now, to you. I'm curious, what's your first instinct when someone breezes past you in a shop or talks over you at work? Do you freeze? Shrink? Laugh it off? I sense a punchy, bold woman behind this letter. Maybe it's time to let her lead. Could you challenge a colleague next time they interrupt — even with humour? Could you ask, at work, whether there's space to advocate for how older women are represented, respected and heard? This is less about making a scene and more about making a mark. Growing older with grace doesn't mean disappearing under a cashmere wrap. It means owning who you are with even more truth than before. And it starts on the inside. This isn't about chasing the next serum or 'anti-ageing' campaign. It's about seeing yourself fully and then showing that self to the world. Not just with exfoliated skin and decent shoes, but with your voice, your presence and your refusal to be erased. Talk to other women your age. Make space to vent, yes, but also to laugh, plan and play. Discuss ways you want to be seen more and give each other feedback about what enhances that. It can be something small, like a new lipstick. Go where you're seen. Dance, volunteer, flirt, lead, write. Look for role models that fit for you and absorb some of their chutzpah. Take up space, in whatever way feels most you. You don't need a podcast or a plunge pool to matter. Move your body in ways that feel joyful and alive. Relish the skin you're in; not despite its changes, but because of them. And yes, if sex is on your radar — however, whenever, solo, together — go and find it. Pleasure is protest too. Make the decision not to fade. Above all, don't go along with the invisible narrative. Caring about this, as you do, matters. And caring also means you'll act on it, which makes you visible. And visibility isn't just how others see you, it's how you see yourself and whether you're willing to show up as that woman, every damn day. So yes, wear purple (from the poem Warning by Jenny Joseph) if you want to. But more than that, be loud, be bold, be seen and take up your space now, not isn't your exit. It's your entrance. Dress courtesy of The Fold
Daily Mail
3 hours ago
- Daily Mail
Britain's most selfish street: Families left with fly-infested rubbish and overflowing bins due to neighbours from hell's parking
Householders are fuming after being left with fly-infested rubbish and overflowing bins due to parking chaos caused by residents from neighbouring streets. Some bins in one road in Cleethorpes, North East Lincolnshire, have not been emptied since May. Irate residents say the bin wagon can make it to the edge of the cul-de-sac. But the jobsworth driver refuses to turn into the road, saying they cannot get past vehicles parked on the corner. The bin crews not only refuse to walk down into the cul-de-sac to collect the bins but have also told residents not to wheel them to the wagon on health and safety grounds. Fearing a rat invasion, residents are taking bags of rubbish to the homes of friends and relatives so they can dispose of them in their bins. They are having to wash their plastic bottles before putting them out so they do not smell, and regularly douse their bins in fly spray. But the contents are being infested with insects and the rubbish is also attracting foxes and even badgers. Residents say parking chaos is being made worse by properties being converted into houses with multiple tenants. Residents say parking chaos is being made worse by properties being converted into houses with multiple tenants Steve Silkstone, 67, a retired miner, who has owned his house for eight years, has complained to local MPs about nearby properties being converted into HMOs. He organised a petition against the house next door being converted into bed sits which was signed by 260 people. Gesturing at his overflowing bin, he said: 'This one has been not been emptied for 12 weeks. It has not been emptied three times in a row now. 'All we can do is take the rubbish away in cars because if we leave it is going to attract vermin. 'It smells in the hot weather and there are flies in the plastic and bottles bin even though I have cleaned all the bottles out and keep spraying it with fly spray. 'I am putting my bottle and plastic into general waste because I have no more room. I have offered to wheel the bins out the road. 'But I was told we cannot do it because of health and safety. We need a residents parking scheme.' The two bedroom family house next door, which failed to sell for more than a year, has been snapped up by an absentee landlord and converted into a three double rooms upstairs and a single bedroom downstairs. He said: 'If there is just four of five tenants and they each have a car each it causes parking chaos. I am absolutely fed up with it all. 'I am dreading anyone moving into the HMO next door to me. They are going to need more bins too and where are they going to put them? 'Parking is already bad. There is a van that regularly parks in the street. The owner has got six other cars and does not even live around here.' Neighbour Leanne Cowie, 36, said: 'My bin for plastics has not been emptied since the first week in June. There are flies and rubbish everywhere. 'The foxes come in and shred it all over the street. It is disguising, especially when you pay your council tax. 'We have offered to take our bins onto the main road so they can be emptied but were told we cannot due to health and safety. 'The council have sent us all letters warning us about the parking but half the people parking here do not live around here so they did not get the letters. 'I have been having to take my recycling to my mum's house. It is ridiculous. I had to take two bags to her the other day. I am lucky she just lives across the road.' Robert Brown 74, was also concerned about houses on the street being converted into HMOs. 'Another house is being cleaned out. We are lucky with our bins because our front door faces onto a different street.' Jane Board, 70, said: 'My bin has not been emptied since May. It is a pain. They live around the corner and just dump their cars on the corner. 'It makes it impossible for the bin wagons to get around them. They want us to recycle. But a lot of the recyclables are going in general waste because I now have three months worth of recyclable waste. 'All the bin men have to do is get off their arses and walk around the corner so it can be done.' Susan Smith, 78, said: 'I sent a photo of all the parking congestion to the council ten years ago. Every time we go out we are lucky if we can get parked again. 'I have to put all my recycling in a box every three weeks and take it to my brother in law so he can put it in his bin because they not collected it.' Hayley Roberts, 52, said: 'My bin has not been emptied for weeks and I cannot recycle any more. I have lived here since 2000 and it has got worse and worse. 'There are so many more cars now than when I moved it. The council do have a smaller bin wagon. 'But they would rather just not empty our bins and send us letters about parking which are a waste of paper. It is annoying when you are paying full council tax. 'I am paying all this money to get my bins emptied and not even getting my bins emptied. The council just want to get their money and not do much for it. 'It is just worse now due to the parking because there are a lot more people renting.' Jane Revell, 53, said: 'They came on Friday or Saturday for one of my bins which was a shock because it had been waiting there for four weeks. 'I am lucky there is only two of us, It is a different story for a family of four. 'It is frustrating because sometimes the van comes almost up to the street and he does not see it as his job to wheel the rubbish out of the cul-de-sac to the wagon. 'We have offered to wheel the bins ourselves because it is not like it is a great distance but have been told "no".' Adrian White, 72, said: 'The problem is they cannot get around the corner because of the parking. It is mind boggling. 'Some of them just leave their cars in the middle of the road so the wagon cannot get down. I have to take a lot of my waste to my brother for him to put in his recycling bin. 'We have seen badgers and foxes and all sorts down here after the rubbish. Once you have badgers on your land you cannot get rid of them. They eat everything.' North East Lincolnshire Council said it had written to residents in December and would be writing to them again regarding the problem of parked vehicles on the corner of Douglas Road and Laurier Street. The council added: 'We are currently considering installation of enforceable parking restrictions on this corner to assist, but this will need to go through the legal process in the coming months. 'In the meantime, we request that residents do not park on the corner of the street on collection days so that we can access the street and collect their waste and recycling.'
The Guardian
5 hours ago
- The Guardian
The Confessions of Samuel Pepys by Guy de la Bédoyère review – journal of a predator
Samuel Pepys's diary, which covers 1660 to 1669, is regarded as one of the great classic texts in the English language. Words spill out of Pepys – 1.25m of them – as he bustles around London, building a successful career as a naval administrator while navigating the double trauma of the plague and the Great Fire of London. Historians have long gone to the diary for details of middle-class life during the mid‑17th century: the seamy streets, the watermen, the taverns and, as Pepys moves up the greasy pole, the court and the king. Best of all is his eye for the picturesque detail: the way, for instance, on the morning of 4 September 1666, as fire licks around his house, Pepys buries a choice parmesan cheese in the garden with the intention of keeping it safe. Not all of the diary is in English, though. Quite a lot of it is in French (or rather Franglais), Latin, Spanish and a curious mashup of all three. Pepys increasingly resorted to this home-brewed polyglot whenever the subject of sex came up, which was often. Indeed, sex – chasing it, having it, worrying about getting it again – dominated Pepys's waking life and haunted his dreams, many of them nightmares. Putting these anguished passages in a garbled form not only lessened the chance of servants snooping, but also served to protect him from his own abiding sense of shame. As an extra layer of concealment, Pepys wrote 'my Journall' using tachygraphy, an early form of shorthand. Pepys's diaries were published in bowdlerised form in the 19th century, and it was not until the 1970s that they became available in 11 unexpurgated volumes. Even then, explains Guy de la Bédoyère, there were many transcription errors and, crucially, no attempt was made to translate the coded passages into English. Historians knew about them, of course, not least because all you needed was a bit of classroom French and Latin to work out their meaning. On 25 March 1668, Pepys records that he has given 'Mrs Daniels' eight pairs of gloves 'for tocar my prick con her hand', which is hardly likely to keep anyone guessing for very long. All the same, it has been easy to lose sight of the sexual thread of Pepys's diary amid all the chatter about navy ships and expensive cheese. Which is why, for the first time, De la Bédoyère has gone back to the original manuscript and translated all of Pepys's coded entries, publishing them end-to-end with only a minimum of contextual information. The result is an extraordinarily detailed snapshot of life seen through the eyes of a man for whom no day was complete unless he had managed to fondle at least one woman's 'mameles' (breasts) on his way to or from work. In the past, people have blamed Pepys's bad behaviour on the Restoration. These were the years when the dour pieties of Oliver Cromwell had been replaced by Charles II's permissive libertarianism. But there is much more – and much worse – to the occluded parts of Pepys's diary than mere bawdiness. On 3 February 1664, for example, he is travelling in a carriage down Ludgate Hill when he witnesses three men raping a woman and wishes he could join in. On 1 December 1660, he beats his maid Jane savagely with a broom, though it is clear that he is eyeing her up for a future assignation. He often uses the words 'towsing' and 'tumbling' to describe what he is doing with women which sounds jolly and bucolic until De la Bédoyère explains that these terms are euphemisms for violence. The only occasion on which Pepys might hold back was if he knew a woman was single, which would make any pregnancy impossible to explain away. (It was a mercy that he didn't realise that an earlier operation for a bladder stone had probably left him sterile.) For that reason, he badgered any girl he wanted to sleep with regularly to get married, so he could carry on regardless. As news of his behaviour got around, so others would try to exploit it. On 11 August 1665, an old waterman called Delkes presented Pepys with his daughter-in-law, who was willing to sleep with him in return for a guarantee that her husband would not be pressed into naval service. And then there was his marriage. Pepys had wed Elizabeth when she was just 14. He was proud of her beauty, congratulating himself on how much prettier she was than the many grand ladies at court whom he encountered on his way to becoming secretary to the navy. Everything else about her frustrated him. He grumbled about her untidiness, extravagance, moodiness and the fact that her heavy periods and a recurrent labial abscess meant that she often wasn't available for sex. Most of all, he resented the way that she had taken to hiring plain maidservants in the hope that he would leave them alone (it didn't work). Inevitably he took out his frustrations with his fists: on 19 December 1664 he gave Elizabeth such a black eye that she was unable to go to church on Christmas Day for fear of what the neighbours would think. While Pepys's dark side has long been known, it is something else to be confronted with the evidence laid out quite so starkly. The man who emerges from De la Bédoyère's meticulous filleting is no Restoration roustabout but a chilling embodiment of male entitlement. This newly explicit view of Pepys does not negate the continuing value of his diary – which remains a magnificent historical resource – but from now on it will be impossible to go to it in a state of innocence, let alone denial. Sign up to Bookmarks Discover new books and learn more about your favourite authors with our expert reviews, interviews and news stories. Literary delights delivered direct to you after newsletter promotion The Confessions of Samuel Pepys: His Private Revelations by Guy de la Bédoyère is published by Abacus (£25). To support the Guardian order your copy at Delivery charges may apply.
