What Lies Beneath Rattlechain Lagoon?

 And so as week 30 of the work at the lagoon ends, this saw the departure of the majority of the watercraft. Goldmember, minimember and Gullit. The underwater sand castles have ceased, the sand machine and the giant snake packed away and presumably heading back on its way to the Netherlands.

Goldmember’s big end has gone

Snake on the way out

I may be off the mark, but on the day that Goldmember left, a suspiciously familiar looking long red lorry had a bit of an accident along the Sedgley Road- and carrying a suspiciously oval looking package under the covers!

So they are nearly finished with the burial. I’m sure the local residents will be glad to see the back of them. All that remains now is the shovelling of crushed brick over the folds of cappenslaag around the edges. I reckon this will be done and dusted by next week.

The orange boat now stands alone on the water, presumably as a back up for those parts the Heyrmans can’t reach.

They’ve always had a soft spot for the sailors at Trinity Street. Now they want YOU!

Where can you find pleasure
Search the world for treasure
Learn science technology

Where can you begin to make your dreams all come true
On the land or on the sea

Where can you learn to fly
Play in sports and skin dive
Study oceanography

Sign off for the big band
Or sit in the grandstand

When your team and others meet

In the Solvay
Yes, you can sail the seven seas

In the Solvay
Yes, you can put your mind at ease
In the Solvay
Come on now, people, make a stand

In the Solvay, in the Solvay
Can’t you see we need a hand

In the Solvay
Come on, protect the motherland

In the Solvay
Come on and join your fellow man
In the Solvay
Come on people, and make a stand
In the Solvay, in the Solvay, in the Solvay (up the Solvay)

They want you, they want you
They want you as a new recruit

If you like adventure

Don’t you wait to enter
The recruiting office fast

Don’t you hesitate
There is no need to wait
They’re signing up new seamen fast

Maybe you are too young
To join up today
But don’t you worry ’bout a thing
For I’m sure there will be
Always a good Solvay
Protecting the land and sea

In the Solvay
Yes, you can sail the seven seas

In the Solvay
Yes, you can put your mind at ease

In the Solvay
Come on now, people, make a stand
In the Solvay, in the Solvay

 Can’t you see we need a hand
In the Solvay
Come on, protect the motherland

In the Solvay
Come on and join your fellow man
In the Solvay
Come on people, and make a stand
In the Solvay, in the Solvay, in the Solvay (up the Solvay)

They want you, they want you
They want you as a new recruit

Who me?

They want you, they want you
They want you as a new recruit

But, but but I’m afraid of water.
Hey, hey look
Man, I get seasick even watchin’ it on TV!

They want you, they want you in the Solvay

Oh my goodness.
What am I gonna do in a submarine?

They want you, they want you in the Solvay

THE (LANGLEY) VILLAGE PEOPLE

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=InBXu-iY7cw

“It’s alive!” That fart smells MancThere comes a time in your life when you here a certain phrase and suddenly the meaning of life suddenly clicks into place. Mine was when I read the old Icelandic proverb

“EVERY MAN LOVES THE SMELL OF HIS OWN FARTS.”

A profound observation from the old vikings, but not quite enough to excuse their disgusting extermination of marine life. It’s a phrase that is perhaps the singular to “birds of a feather flock together.” I’m not sure if birds fart, but when people come together with a common purpose, they perhaps produce a collective cocktail, which more often than not is not a very good thing for the air that everyone else has to breathe. Think Nationalism for example, or the corrupt whiff from Brussels that tries to combine garlic bread, fish and chips with mushy peas and a large helping of German sausage washed down with a weak Polish beer and sickly Belgian chocolates for desert.

At the lagoon last week I observed a lesson from Nature on the subject. A grey heron landed on the North embankment. No food prospect there mate! But no sooner than he or she had landed, a crowd of “admirers” appeared in unison.

And it wasn’t long before these black birds  started to harrass the startled grey beast to the point where it took flight with a prehistoric squak and posture of a terradactyl. Even then a dog fight of crows performing aerial scurmishes until he gave up and went away. Did they not like the smell of his fishy farts?

This is an example of nature shooing away a potential threat, or so the scientists might claim as a theory- did they ask the crows?

Last week we had the latest in a long line of science friendly programmes from MI7, oh I meant the British Broadcasting corporation. The latest favourite poster boy for science- head of Data, face of Blunt, grin of Blair, presented the theory that Mary Shelley’s Frankenstein had put people off scientists meddling with nature, but how wonderful and misunderstood the lab men actually were.

Those poor scientists getting bad PR? You’d never have thought it seeing their faces on coinage, notes and stamps. And then we get “educated” how great they are by naming units of measurement after them and seeing their portraits and statues along with blue plaques.

So Cox on Science Britannica presented the usual one sided presentation from the Government policy shaped BBC. Calmness of the scientific meddlers enjoying an easy ride of an “interview” compared to archive footage of the marching “mobs” protesting about animal experiments and GM crops- just like those in the original Karloff film of Frankenstein wanting to burn down the mad scientist’s castle lab lair. Not particularly subtle.

But Cox and the spinners miss the point. In the novel there is no mob, rather it is the creation itself that destroys the scientist. So the metaphor in the programme totally fails- as does blaiming Shelley for peoples perception of scientists- particularly chemists.

The creation WAS a real threat. A mumbling brute created from the dead- the main frame from a multiple murderer hanged, with a bolt through its neck. The people didn’t like the prototype that the mad scientist created- because he would probably have wanted to create another- as was the case with The bride of Frankenstein.

DO SCIENTIST’S  FARTS SMELL OF ROSES?

What fails about this attempt to bring science to the masses is that the general gist appears to  originate from university institutions dabbling with the esoteric and fixed with the belief that they are better than everyone else and know what is right for all of us. The ivory towers of MP’s/scientists/businessmen- the axis of avarice- all pissing in the same pot, all farting in the same halls of residence together. And add to this old boys network the token lawyer, chief police officer, civil servants and army generals and you can pretty much ensure your wiff has the power to last for quite some time.

The timing of this programme following on from anouncements by Owen Patterson- (architect of the badger extermination), on GM crops  cannot be a coincidence. It is part of the spin war funded by international companies, one in particular,  and their attempt to take over all areas of our lives to the point where they determine life itself- and you pay for this crap quite literally to the tune of £145.50 a year.

“The mob” is not a bunch of Luddite idiots who know nothing and wield pitchforks, nor do they discount everything that science has given us.  They are a collective well organised small group of men, who have established a set of chains around our lives that they offer the keys to open but seldom do. They want us to follow them blindly as though all our futures depended on them without resistance. We must resist their temptations or face the consequences that they cannot predict with any accuracy. “Things can only get better” without them. Put your faith in Nature- just not human nature.

In Great Bridge, there was only one Fred Perry- and not the former more internationally known Tennis player. As a former Sandwell Councillor for The Great Bridge ward, Fred  was also a founder member of The Friends of Sheepwash Local Nature Reserve and Sandwell Swanwatch.

Along with Malcolm Beckley, he also started the CATCH radio scheme in the town (community action tackling crime and harassment). The radio scheme alerted police to potential crimes being committed in the town, though sometimes went well beyond these boundaries- as did the man whose call sign was 01 !

I remember a slightly built but deeply committed man- especially to Sheepwash Nature Reserve and the Haines Branch Walkway- which Fred had a great deal in shaping, or trying to. I remember standing with him CATCH radios in hand in the dark well after 11 0 clock at night on Sheepwash waiting for the police to arrive to deal with some yobs breaking down trees. I remember a man who put on a pair of waders around the age of 78 to help me catch a wounded swan on Sheepwash. I recall a man who would usually be the first to raise the alarm when he spotted a fire on the site from his multi storey tower block flat. But what else would you expect from a man who had served with The forgotten army during WW2, who raised thousands of pounds for The Royal British Legion and could be found every year doing the same thing always giving of his time?

He was an admired figure by young and old, and a cult figure in the area where he knew almost everyone, and most knew him.

Despite being deselected by his local Labour party branch, Fred remained for many years the face in the street that people would go to with their problems. He never turned anyone away, and it is a miracle that he and his wife Irene ever managed to get their shopping done in the local Kwiksave.

In truth he never really got over being deselected and felt betrayed by those he had considered “friends”.  In a world dominated by the false, Fred remained his uncompromising self- an old school socialist who would give his views instead of playing it safe and saying little. He was a union man, and not one from EQUITY.

In the dozens of meetings that I attended with him, including some of the ones he came to at Trinity Street at Rhodia,  he never once fell asleep, or chainsmoked his way through the preliminaries or afterphase, and he certainly never doubted his good friends or cash their dodgy cheques.

His family can be proud that he “retired” with dignity, was rightfully honoured with an MBE he deserved and has left a lasting memory where he will not be forgotten.

Fred acted as the link between the dogma of a council that belatedly honoured him with the title “Alderman” and the people of the community he served so well.

HE WAS THE GREAT BRIDGE.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q-XCmb6t6Zw

He’s seen it all, watching the caged birds within doing tricks. That 70’s guy- a tribute.

Click on the link and then come back to this page following the words and pictures down in time.

Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head
And just like the guy whose feet are too big for his bed

Nothin’ seems to fit

Those raindrops are fallin’ on my head, they keep fallin’

So I just did me some talkin’ to the sun
And I said I didn’t like the way he got things done

Sleepin’ on the job

Those raindrops are fallin’ on my head, they keep fallin’

But there’s one thing I know
The blues they send to meet me won’t defeat me

It won’t be long till happiness steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head

But that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turnin’ red

Cryin’s not for me
‘Cause I’m never gonna stop the rain by complainin’
Because I’m free

Nothin’s worryin’ me

[trumpet]

It won’t be long till happiness steps up to greet me

Raindrops keep fallin’ on my head

But that doesn’t mean my eyes will soon be turnin’ red
Cryin’s not for me
‘Cause I’m never gonna stop the rain by complainin’
Because I’m free

Nothin’s worryin’ me 

Oh  Rattlechain lagoon- home of the buried toxic waste….

Musée des Beaux Arts


About suffering they were never wrong,
The Old Masters: how well they understood
Its human position; how it takes place
While someone else is eating or opening a window or just walking dully
long;
How, when the aged are reverently, passionately waiting
For the miraculous birth, there always must be
Children who did not specially want it to happen, skating
On a pond at the edge of the wood:
They never forgot
That even the dreadful martyrdom must run its course
Anyhow in a corner, some untidy spot
Where the dogs go on with their doggy life and the torturer's horse
Scratches its innocent behind on a tree.
In Breughel's Icarus, for instance: how everything turns away
Quite leisurely from the disaster; the plowman may
Have heard the splash, the forsaken cry,
But for him it was not an important failure; the sun shone
As it had to on the white legs disappearing into the green
Water; and the expensive delicate ship that must have seen
Something amazing, a boy falling out of the sky,
Had somewhere to get to and sailed calmly on.

W.H Auden

Landscape with the Fall of Icarus.

There are many who have passed by John’s Lane over the years, just carrying on their business. Walking a dog, on their way to work, perhaps even claiming to be “bird watching” yet never seeing the suffering of the wildfowl. Whilst the Albright and Wilson UK company and cherub “Icarus” was falling, so too were the wild birds, somehow tied to the fate of a failing polluting experiment.

Whilst some social historians bemoan the “loss” of companies such as this, and vast amounts of copy can be written in local papers about it, in reality no-one could really care less. Perhaps this is poetic justice. I could not care less that Albright and Wilson disappeared and that jobs were lost, just as those who worked or contracted for them including the Matty boat dumpers could not care less about what toxic filth that they were filling into a pit and the deaths of birds that resulted.

For those who are not privileged to be able to view this work in the Brussels museum, just try opening your eyes to what suffering man inflicts on Nature. It is easy to see why Nature looks away and does not care when men fail and fall.

C. D Coppard – Portrait of a chemical company

And so to more “silliness” concerning the covering over with some cloth and filling of sand disguised as “remediation” at the lagoon that has poisoned dozens of wildfowl thanks to a British dumped chemical weapon. I wasn’t aware that Albright and Wilson were also supplying the French war office with phosphorus in the 1930’s until I looked into it. So back in the day when Germany invaded, there is a good chance that some of this was sent back where it came from. You don’t find that in the official history of the company books- along with any explanation as to why fit men in the Albright and Wilson families appeared to have evaded the draft. Thanks AW- another Queen’s export award should have been awarded for that one.

So last weeks observations saw filling up. With fuel

With yet more sand….

Randy Napoleon

The giant sandcastle on the East embankment is starting to subside. But lets not forget the buried p4 laced weed that was dumped here before that in April.

John’s Lane exit strategy

Diggers, lorries, boats, spades and wellies. Who would want to be in the shoes of those De-Roeck blokes?

A country is alleged to have released a chemical weapon. People roll around showing clinical signs of a nerve agent in convulsions, and these are captured on shaky video. Local observers report what they see to the media and the authorities.

I wonder if there is any “direct evidence” of chemical weapons found? I wonder if the post mortem reports show any “cause of death”? I wonder if a particular chemical weapon were tested for in tissues of the deceased, whether it would be found in “small amounts”? If it were found would it be considered to be “the likely cause of death”?

This is exactly the type of denialist shit expounded by British Government agencies and propagated by the fog of the Rhodia brethren, that saw the  poisoning of birds at Rattlechain lagoon by “a chemical weapon” being kicked into the sidelines. The link is pure economics, not “evidence.” When it’s on our soil protect our economic interests and deny the evidence, on someone else’s soil, present the evidence and protect our economic interests.

Of course it appears that the poor people in Syria have been posioned, yet on this occasion the burden of proof  presented to parliament yesterday appeared based on the eye witness accounts. The rhetoric of politicians crying wolf, (especially the religious maniac former PM),  now means that those actually being killed by WMD has become par for the course.  Britain has always lied about its chemical warfare meddling. We were manufacturing “Weapons of deterence”- LIES. Tell this to those who took part in the disgraceful Porton Down experiments- or the hundreds of thousands of animals sacrificed by the heirs of Dr Mengele in white coats.

The manner in which the British Government behaved in WW2 concerning anti gas hysteria, through leaflets etc -when it knew full well that the greater threat came from incendiary bombs containing white phosphorus, shows what contempt they had for giving people the facts. “A need to know basis” has always been the mantra of this army of Oxbridge and Etonian ponces who have manipulated the populace with their lies and dossiers through the media ever since. THEY COULD NOT STOP TRYING TO MAKE EVER MORE DANGEROUS KILLERS. THEY COULD NOT STOP MESSING ABOUT WITH CHEMICALS. WE DON’T NEED TO UNDERSTAND MANMADE CHEMICALS- JUST STOP MAKING THEM! And when finished with their great inventions- bury them underwater out of sight.  

When is a chemical weapon not “a chemical weapon”? When you have seen the effects of white phosphorus on animals and birds first hand and known them to be perfectly healthy, you come to the conclusion that it is a “chemical” that can be used as a “weapon”. I would like to see a few politicains swallow a few juicy chunks of P4 – and they may start to come to the conclusion that its use and manufacture should be banned around the world.

Some local joker has taken to stencilling images of David Cameron around the local waterways. Tory subliminal campaigning, or an arty farty piece of socialist artwork paid for by public money to “engage” people and study how they react to the images- by defacing the original work? Either way- here’s my contribution. Those butterflies, they just keep flying and causing chaos around the world. Brave Dave, You will tell me when those lambs at Porton Down stop screaming won’t you….

 Ah the sites of the Rattlechain lagoon. Plenty of seagulls and sand in late Summer. I just need me deck chair and shades and the world could role by around me.

 I nearly had a little trip down John’s Lane tother day. Raised manhole you see from those heavy sand and soil  trucks going past- complaint made to Sandwell council.

 The North embankment now looks well covered.

Firstly with the Mac met, and then with more soil to cover that up as well.

Stairway to heaven

And what was this curious bit of metal that one of the diggers unearthed and then buried- a scrap piece of machinery?

Anchors?

And welcome onto site Napoleon and Bonaparte’s Dingle cousin Fergal Klaarkey.

Still about two months of this schedueled before the real work starts- the long term monitoring of the site, and the effect that it has on returning wildfowl. The human health assessment of these works will be evidenced much later than this- well after Rhodia Solvay have packed up and gone. For some there will be no escape from Rattlechain lagoon……….

We’re all goin’ on a Solvay holiday
No more workin’ for a decade or two
Fun and laughter on a Solvay holiday
No more worries for me or you
For a decade or two

We’re goin’ where the sun shines (Al)brightly
We’re goin’ where the water’s  green- blue
We’ve seen it on a website,
Now let’s see if it’s true

Everybody has a Solvay holiday
Doin’ things they always wanted to
So we’re goin’ on a Solvay holiday
To make our dreams come true
For me and you

We’re goin’ where the the scenes unsightly
We’re goin’ where the water’s  green-blue
We’ve seen it on a webiste
Now let’s see Monsieur Clamadieu

Everybody has a Solvay holiday
Doin’ things they always wanted to
So we’re goin’ on a Solvay holiday
To make our dreams come true
For me and you

 Chaos: When the present determines the future, but the approximate present does not approximately determine the future.

Edward Lorenz

More chaos at the lagoon over the course of the last week, but not sure about where the theory will lead. Sand deliveries have resumed and the mountains are being piled into the mixer.

I hope it’s not CLOGGED up, ha ha ha

And don’t forget along the edges Goldmember!

The departure of the last pieces of the spud barge on Optimus Grime contrasted with the arrival of hessian and black matting.

A honeycomb structure to it, but no bees.  We wouldn’t normaly give free advertising to Rhodia/Solvays contractors, but in this case, the following PDF file explains what is going on with the North embankment works- and shows that it has nothing to do with “protecting wildlife”- more the protection of the embankment from the obvious and visible erosion and slippage that had been going on for years. NB- THIS WAS NOT IN THE ORIGINAL DISCLOSED PLANS FOR THE CURRENT WORKS, AS EVIDENCED BY THE LACK OF MENTION OF IT AT THE PUBLIC EXHIBITION IN JANUARY, OR THE PHOTOSHOPED IMAGES OF THE NORTH EMBANKMENT.

It also confirms the ludicrous assessment made in Rhodia’s stability risk assessment concerning this embankment by then contractors URS. At least someone must have had a rethink- or had it made for them behind the scenes?

http://www.maccaferri.co.uk/media/om_www/uk/Brochures/MacMat_R_Erosion_Control_Mat_Brochure_2012.pdf

And so to the carpeting of the North embankment- and the literal sweeping under it that we had always refered to in metaphor, but did not expect the site owners to actually employ. The Heyrmans, with a little new help, busied themselves rolling out longer items than they are perhaps accustomed.

The stakeholders of Rattlechain lagoon

Where are the snakes hiding?

I always knew that those Trinity Street boffs loved the devil’s element, but I didn’t know they were in league with him as well!

And also this week I had an encounter with a number of butterflies. Firstly one landed on my shoulder. A lovely red admiral male.

And then a peacock near the tunnel.

Who knows what events can unfold with the flapping of a butterflies wings, or how someone reading this blog in China may react to the production of white phosphorus and their associated effluent settling ponds being a terrible idea. If only we could read the future…………

During the lull in operations at the lagoon, a few observations were noticeable.

First, a few Canada geese have started to return to the lagoon- now that they are able to fly again after the moulting period has ended, and the goslings start to fledge.

But the level of the geotextile is not very deep at all- infact there are signs that it is rising to the surface- just as it did with the trial acouple of years ago.

around 3 metres from the edge of the North embankmet-” fancy a paddle?”

Thirdly the cracks starting to emerge in the much battered North embankment. This clearly shows after just a few short weeks and fairly ordinary weather the potential for further slippage.

Last week on their return, the Heyrmans set about adding more top soil to cover this up.

The arrival of this material via John’s Lane caused some intrigue at first. It was apparent that a large dump of spoil had accumulated next to the Rhodia fenceline on the canal side.

Curiouser and curiouser- where was it coming from?

Then I saw the arrival of a Coleman and Co lorry tentatively making its way up the completely unsuitable trackway in reverse to drop off another load.

So a waste material- albeit supposedly “inert” being deposited in an area with no waste management licence. Some people would call this fly tipping- especially when this land does not even belong to Rhodia/Solvay. Then more lorries quickly followed under the same cover. It quickly became apparent that Bonaparte- with his long arm was scooping the material over the fence- for his compatriots Napoleon and Wee willie winkie to spread over the North embankment. And I thought that the purpose of creating a wider causeway path was for this purpose?

And then the inevitable health and safety signs that people could not help but seeing- after they would have been run over by the heavy tonnage of a giant truck.

You aint on the friggin site!

But on they continued and by the end of the week a load of soil covered the North embankment- (the original soil of which is known to be heavily contaminated with a range of material has been carted around the site for dispersal- including nearer to the houses.)

All this maybe despite leaving the top end of John’s Lane like a mudbath could have been forgiven- but then the tacky deposition of loose stones to fill in the potholes they had helped create, that had obviously been left over from the reconstructed causeway path. Typical! What is it with this company and filling in holes with old rubble?

And all up the canalsideway too!

These are not exactly small bricks which leaves one asking the question who would be liable if some poor little kiddy came along and slipped and broke their arm on the surface, or came off their bikes? Those poor little kiddies on their school Summer holidays!

Then there are the trains, the boats that use the canal- and most importantly to us – the wildlife who are always targeted with such debris.

I don’t think they really care about this-Where is the Quaker spirit? But their vehicles left on their own site have glass windows in them- so perhaps they may like to kindly remove this crap off the highway. The local pauper youths in “bingo-bingoland”- (Sandwell), are not particularly that concerned at what they chuck at!

“Please Sir, I want some more”