Interior Ryde

After two days at the beach, the weather forecast was poor, so we settled for a ride to Ryde by train - on which we were able to admire the train ticket collector's fine leather bag, identical to the sort of bag (or perhaps satchel) that bus ticket collectors - aka bus conductors - used to carry when I was young. Slightly abused by stuffing a plastic change dispenser into one of the pockets.

Out at Ryde Esplanade, where the weather looked fine and the pier looked well. Is the green the seagrass noticed at reference 1?

First stop was the Alamo, more or less opposite the station, where we took tea and toasted pretzels, served by an older waitress who knew her work. Bright and cheerful and it is always a pleasure to be served by such people. A multi-function establishment being a café during the day, but gradually morphing into a bar as the day wore on.

Up the once grand Union Street where we came across a grand car, taking full advantage of the recent repeal of the bit of Euro law (Sir Jacob Rees-Mogg, KT, QT, Barff, formerly reserve goalie for Eton Wanderers, in the chair) which says that the numbers and letters on registration plates have to be grouped in the proper way as an aid to recognition and memory. So in this case 'GH05 TDC'. Groupie freedom now rules!

Took a pew (as it were) in the garden of rest which has been made out of the church yard of St. Thomas, more or less unused since it closed for worship in 1959. Curiously, according to reference 1, the church had always been and was still in private hands until that time. Now, one imagines, mainly the evening resort of takers and smokers of substances various - but pleasant enough during the day.

Onto All Saints, also firmly shut, but a very fine viewing shelter had been provided across the road. A church where we had once heard the organ in use - some years ago now, but noticed at reference 3.

The view from inside the shelter. Presumably put to the same use as the garden of rest in the silent hours. No idea why such an expensive shelter was erected in the first place. For people who were allowed to look at but not not enter the church during divine service?

From there to the fine secondhand bookshop at the top of the High Street, where I did not find 'Bel-Ami', which we took in television form recently, but I did take three volumes of Maupassant short stories, all they had, from a collected edition. The sort of edition which you might buy as a paper back and have bound yourself. Possibly collected by theme, with the volume above mainly made up of what be loosely called love stories, with illustrations to match. 'Contes gallantes' in the French?

Each volume had its own illustrator and engraver although, to be fair, some teams scored more than one volume. From 1925, when the wood engraving still ruled the publishing world, at least as far as illustrations went.

Well into the second volume now. Most of the stories are quite short and there are few words that I need to look up, so ideal for a spot of bed-time reading before one turns the light off. That said, Maupassant seems to have been quite a miserable type, with quite a high proportion of the stories ending badly. On the other hand, in at least one of his stories, 'Le Remplaçant', the ladies have their turn in the chair. 

Onto Wight's for a fish and chips lunch. The second waitress of the day who knew her business, another lady of middle years. Pretty good, the only fault being the amount of marge they put on each of my two slices. Quite off-putting, even when I scraped most of it off. A relic, I suppose, of the days when plenty of people were poor and hungry and would take all the calories you gave them.

Catholic church visible right, above the rather squashed looking red car, more or less opposite the book shop.

A once grand building, more or less next door to the chipper, once the 'Eagle Brewery Hotel'. I didn't think to take a look inside right and see if they really did sell snakes. Perhaps just as well, as most people who keep such things as pets have no business so doing and should not be encouraged. About on a par with people who like violent and ugly dogs as pets.

Not to be confused with the 'Royal Eagle Hotel', once of Pier Street, once known as the Beazley Hotel. Presumably no relation of the chap who founded the company at reference 5. The pier is still there, but Pier Street is no more and the hotel is no more, and what was its ground floor has been given over to amusements from Arcadia. Two doors up from the 'Cod Father' chipper, a place which, as it happens, we have never used.

The High Street did not run to a butcher or a fishmonger, although there was a baker of sorts and quite a decent fruit & veg shop. A shop which had cherries, but I thought they looked a bit dear and possibly overripe, so I abstained.

Back in Union Street, Smith's could not manage a Guardian but Morrison's could. And you had to interact with a person to get out. Nothing in the way of self-service checkouts to be seen.

Despite having bought return ticket on the train, we opted for a No.2 bus to take us back to Brading. Our senior bus passes saw us through and the bus dropped us a good deal nearer our cottage than the railway station.

References

Reference 1: https://psmv5.blogspot.com/2023/07/econews.html.

Reference 2: https://rshg.org.uk/ryde-history/ryde-churches/st-thomas-church-churchyard-history/.

Reference 3: https://psmv3.blogspot.com/2016/07/ryde.html.

Reference 4: https://www.ryde-bookshop.co.uk/.

Reference 5: https://www.beazley.com/en-001. Never seen such an '001' suffix before.