I Go to Essex - So You Don't Have To

The southeast county of Essex is full of sunshine and fond of irony.


For example, when you book accommodation recommended to you by the Maldon County District website for the small town of Maldon, you would expect this Maldon B&B to be in Maldon.

Wrong-o!

The Maldon B&B that you booked through the Maldon County website's recommendations for the small town of Maldon is actually in (you guessed it) Langford.

This is called situational irony.


For an example of verbal irony, let me introduce you to an "Essex Sidewalk."

That's right! There isn't one! It's just you and the road. And the angry motorists screaming towards London like those little X-Wings from Star Wars.


Here's an Essex sidewalk at night.

Essex doesn't believe in sidewalks. They are unmanly and bad form. However, my adherence to the standards of gentlemanly conduct took a severe blow when I realized that my "Maldon" B&B was actually a thirty minute walk from Maldon and it was dark out.

I'll just let Sherlock Holmes express my feelings on this one:



But using my mobile phone as a flashlight, I eventually made it to Langford without twisting my ankle and being eaten by wolves.


I was greeted at my B&B by the traditional English greeting of "Oh. Just you then?" by the most anemic, disappointed, vampire-ish looking man in creation who took me to my room where I slowly realized I was Completely...


Surrounded...


... By graveyards.

When the zombie apocalypse strikes, this is not where I want to be.

Langford apparently consists of three living people and every dead person who ever died in Essex.

There wasn't even a restaurant or pub, so I ate the curtains.


I didn't even sleep as the church bell next to my window rang on the hour letting me know exactly how long I had before I would join the anemic man's blood-sucking retinue.


After escaping from the B&B of the Damned, I trudged back to Maldon in the sunlight and was pleasantly surprised.


Maldon is a haven for crusty old sea dogs and full of men who look like they escaped from an advertisement for Fisherman's Friend. As I was walking towards the harbour there was an old captain singing a sea chantey dressed like the little cartoon man from the fish sticks box who tipped his hat at me.


Theodore the Tugboat's scuzzier cousin, Brent.


The harbour was littered with free rowboats.


Whoever thought the sky line would be improved by adding an anachronistic bell steeple on top of this lovely Norman church deserves to by thrown out of it.


Byrhtnoth, leader of the Anglo-Saxons who lost the Battle of Maldon by being too nice. Keeping a tactical geographic advantage against raiding Vikings was simply not sporting.


WWI stained glass windows in the Maldon church.


Little old men puttering around with their motorized model boats. It took all my self-control not to run over and pinch their cheeks.



Next week on Maid's Day Off...


I head to Winchester to find this man.
Hopefully, he'll still be wearing his silly hat.