Firebox

What's that thing?

It's a close-up of one of these

The firebox of a steam locomotive is where combustion occurs, generating the heat that boils water into steam. 

The brick arch is a curved wall of firebrick built inside the firebox. Rather than letting hot gases rush straight from the fire into the boiler tubes, the arch forces them to travel a longer, curved path before reaching the flue openings.

This allows more complete combustion of gases and volatile matter released from the coal, which improves efficiency and reducing smoke. It also protects the tube plate from direct flame, preventing localized overheating and leaks. Additionally, the arch helps distribute heat more evenly across the firebox and it slows sparks and unburned particles from being drawn into the tubes, reducing wear and fire risk in the smokebox.

They're not ordinary bricks. Firebricks are refractory bricks made from materials like fireclay or silica, engineered to withstand extreme heat without cracking or melting.

This one is in the Cité du Train in Mulhouse. I knew about them, but I've never seen one up close.

What to do on Sunday

Go for a drive in a classic car, see an ocean of sunflowers, then go to lunch at the guinguette. It sure beats working.

Susan, Connie, Yvonne and Claudette.

Yesterday was the guinguette's classic car and oyster Sunday. Unfortunately the oyster man had a boat accident on Saturday and wasn't there, and there weren't a lot of classic cars either. Neither of those things ruined our Sunday.

The weather is getting a lot more acceptable. It was over 30°C, but at least it wasn't over 40°C!

Wear Your Helmet!

Yesterday's photo was taken on my bike ride yesterday morning. It was only a short ride, partly because it was starting to get warm again, and partly because I'd only gone out to take that photo.

What I didn't say is that I was in such a rush to take the photo and get home to publish it in time that I managed somehow to get my foot tangled in the bike as I dismounted. I landed with an almighty bang, mainly on the back of my head. This ended up with me under the bike and quite puzzled about how I was going to escape. After lying there for a minute or so I collected my thoughts, wriggled my way out, took the *#@*'!! photo and rode home.

Total damage was a bloody and slightly swollen elbow, a bit of gravel rash on my back, and a mashed helmet.

It's annoying, because it's a new helmet bought a week ago to replace my 25 year old helmet, but it could have been a lot worse.

Tomorrow I'll be calling in to Action, and buying another helmet because I've proven that they work. And I promise I'll always wear it 

That Time Of Year

This morning it was cooler, so:

Work (Not) in Progress

I am am so grateful that before my father died I was able to send him an email showing him one of my latest purchases.

In 2008* Dad and I made a shutter for what was at the time the window in our guest bedroom, and is now the shutter hiding insulation behind the hidden window in the pantry alcove. It has stood the test of time well, but now needs a proper repaint. That will happen when the weather calms down and the paint isn't in danger of evaporating from the brush, I'm not in danger of becoming dessicated, or the rain is so heavy I can't see what I'm doing.

Dad and I, proud of small things

As it stands now. I gave it a slapdash coat of a new colour 15 years ago

My new purchase. Everyone else is doing it, why shouldn't I?

*Looking back through our records I see it was actually 2007. I should have checked the blog first.

Not Normal Service Resumed

Today we might have been writing about last night, however:

We haven't been for the past few years, due to either health issues or the fact that July is when we take our holidays. This year's we're here, we're relatively healthy, and it'd be nice to be outdoors and not instantly fry.

I realise this would probably been more useful as yesterday's post, but I didn't get around to it.

Maybe next year.

Track Inspector's Draisine

Here's a "what's that thing" that surprised me and it's a real curiosity: a zoomorphic track inspector's draisine from about 1845. I can't quite work out how you balance it on rails, maybe you always keep your feet on the ground? Why didn't they put another wheel on the other track? Wolf or dragon? So many questions.

The word "draisine" traces back to Karl Drais, the German inventor whose 1817 pedestrian "Laufmaschine" — pushed along by foot, with no pedals — became an unexpected fashion craze in Paris and London under the name vélocipède or dandy horse. The fad faded within a few years, but the name stuck.

The rail version came later and separately: in 1837, Franz Aloys Bernard in Vienna adapted the draisienne concept to run on rails. Both the road and rail versions honor Drais's name, even though the rail draisine was really a different invention built for a different purpose — track inspection and maintenance rather than recreation. In French all track inspection and maintenance rail vehicles are still called draisines.

A Pochette

This is a much smaller "what's that thing?" than the past few days.

This is a pochette, a pocket violin from 1680 (ish). It was used by dancing instructors so that they could play a tune, and then pop the instrument in their pocket when demonstrating complicated steps.

The fiddle players amongst you may be interested to learn that it is tuned a third or fourth above standard, although the information sheet didn't say what the standard was likely to have been. You can bet it wasn't A= 440Hz.

This one is in the Bach Museum in Eisenach 

The Pyramid of Couhard

As we were driving into Autun two weeks ago we literally had a "what's that thing?" moment when we spotted something on top of a hill. The next day we drove up the hill to investigate. 

What we had seen was the Pyramid of Couhard, also known as the Pierre de Couhard, a Gallo-Roman monument likely marking the tomb of a wealthy or prominent citizen of Augustodunum. Rising in a sort of pyramidal form, it was built using a core of rubble and mortar, and originally faced with cut stone. Much of the cut stone has eroded away over the centuries, leaving the rough inner masonry exposed. It stood within a larger necropolis that once extended along the slopes of the area, though most other traces of that burial ground have since disappeared.

The pyramid's unusual shape sets it apart from typical Roman funerary architecture in the region, prompting long-standing debate about its exact function and inspiration. This puts it on equal footing to the more local (to us) Cinq-Mars-la-Pile.

Canal Sans Eau

A second "what's that thing?"

When we were travelling to Germany we spent a night in Troyes so we could visit the stained glass museum - we'd missed it in 2023 on our way up to Amsterdam.

I booked a Premiere Classe hotel just south of Troyes in an industrial area in the village of St Thibault. Looking at it on the map I spotted something. It needed investigation.

The Canal de la Haute-Seine was built in the 19th century to link Troyes with the wider French waterway network, and it had a short, difficult existence. Its planned extension upstream from Troyes toward Bar-sur-Seine was meant to eventually connect with the Canal de Bourgogne, but it was never finished, leaving a stretch known locally as the "canal sans eau" (canal without water). At Saint-Thibault, the unfinished Villebertin lock is a relic of this abandoned ambition.

As you can see, it's incongruous.

The Landungsbrücken Pegelturm

I may have to start a new series of blogs called "what's that thing".

The Landungsbrücken Pegelturm, part of Hamburg's St. Pauli Landungsbrücken pier complex, is a tower which features a striking green copper dome and a clock. It also has a numerical display to measure and show the Elbe River's water level. It was constructed in the early 20th century and is a recognizable landmark along the harbor promenade. The tower historically served a practical maritime function: sailors and dockworkers relied on its readings to track tides and navigate the busy Port of Hamburg safely, since the Elbe is tidally influenced despite being a river. Today, the tower is attached to what is a rather good restaurant serving traditional German brewhouse food: appropriately, because it's Hamburg's only brewery.

We had a good (and, huge) lunch there, and it wasn't until we were leaving the restaurant I noticed the tidal gauge.

Planning a Route

For the past goodness knows how many years I have been our household's "Officer in Charge: Holidays". As OIC:H I take my role seriously.

I have written previously about Organic Maps*. It is my first port of call when planning a trip. When I watch TV, listen to a podcast or read a book my phone is by my side, and I mark on Organic maps the locations of places I want to see. If Susan mentions somewhere, that goes on the list too.

Places I want to see - not an exhaustive list

When I need to go somewhere I check the "Places to visit" folder on my phone and check what I might be passing on the way. I then sketch out a route, plotting deviations to interesting places along the way. For instance: Joigny was not too far from the route I was plotting to Hamburg, so my route was tweaked to make it a point of interest and lunch stop. I then split the route into daily sections of not too far.

My planned route to and from Hamburg, colour coded for each day.

So that we don't deviate too far from the plan, I then bookmark overnight stays, lunch stops, and waypoints. These might be picnic areas, motorway junctions, points of interest, or public toilets that get good reviews. These get plotted as lat/long into the madwoman in the dashboard (the GPS in the Cactus) as and when they're needed. As the maps in the car are now 5 years out of date, this is important. We occasionally find ourselves on roads the car doesn't know about, and this could lead to serious gettinglostedness if not planned on an up to date map.

All the other places now added in.

Then it's just a case of following orders (except when I don't) and not making too many "Hey! There's a brown sign, let's follow it" decisions. We usually manage to restrict ourselves to one or two of those a day. The only time this fails is roadworks: we then follow deviation signs until we're either back on our planned track, or the car GPS comes up with a better idea.

No domestic arguments, very few as hoc discussions about what road we should be taking, and just the right amount of randomness. That's my idea of a holiday route.

*The first link is why I use it, the second is how.

https://daysontheclaise.blogspot.com/2023/12/mapping-on-go.html

https://daysontheclaise.blogspot.com/2023/12/using-organic-maps.html

The Return of the Vicar

Four years ago I bought an electric bike. I rode pretty consistently for a couple of summers, then in 2023 I received my cancer diagnosis. I continued riding, but less, because I was worried about aggravating it. Then I had the operation and it all stopped.

So the bike went away for a couple of years, the battery was put to sleep, and I tried to ignore the fact that I even owned it. There was always "next summer" which almost instantly turned into "it's too hot", "it's raining", "it's too windy" or any number of excuses.

On Monday evening I looked at the weather forecast and it was none of those things. In fact, it looked like it was going to be a day made for cycling. I messaged Tim B, he said he be here at 8:00am, and then I couldn't wriggle out of it. I charged the battery a located all the cycling accoutrements: helmet, shorts, bag of bits, phone holder, and the like.

True to his word, Tim was here at 8:00 on Tuesday morning, and guess what? I really enjoyed it. It was a very social cycle, not fast or far, but about the distance I needed to go for my first ride.

Ignore the "longest ride ever" thing. Strava has forgotten I used to go further

Yesterday I rode alone, and rode just a little too far, so today I will be taking it easier. I cycled almost to Tournon St Martin, looking for a convenient way of getting onto the Voie Verte to come home

It was only when I started writing this that I discovered that Tuesday was exactly the fourth anniversary of buying The Vicar. What a coincidence.

The Vicar at Chaumussay this morning

Jean Fouquet, 15C painter and illuminator

Jean Fouquet was born, we think, around 1420, and died before 1480. Where he spent his youth and where he trained as a painter is uncertain. He may have frequented Parisian workshops. We do know for sure that he travelled to Italy. This prolonged trip put him in contact with the most innovative artists of the Medici's Florence, and profoundly influenced his artistic style. On returning to France around 1450 he set up in Tours, putting his talents at the service of the City, and working for the local high clergy, and the most high ranking members of the Royal Court, such as the Treasurer, Etienne Chevalier, and the Chancellor Guillaume Jouvenel des Ursins.

 

Pieta by Fouquet in the church at Nouans les Fontaines.

His relationship with the King, Charles VII, is not clear, but he does paint a remarkable portrait of him. Later, in 1475, under Louis XI, he became the official royal portraitist.

 

Copy of a portrait of King Charles VII by Fouquet. The original is in the Louvre.

 

Famous in his own lifetime, Fouquet then fell into obscurity, until his rediscovery in the 19th century with the resurgence of interest in medieval art by the Romantics. In France and Germany his work as a painter and illuminator is brought to prominence and he features in a Paris exhibition of 1904. These days he is considered one of the major figures of his time in European art.