Colditz by Ben Macintyre.

Most of us have heard the Colditz story, a story dominated by the experiences of Pat Reid (Major P. R. Reid. M.B.E, M. C.).  Reid ensured the story of the castle was not forgotten, it was also a story written in his image and not one that found favour with all the other prisoners.  Ben Macintyre attempts to reveal a more in-depth tale of life in the castle prison.  Less daring-do and more realism of the young, fit men, forced into captivity, with many desperate for a variety of reasons to escape.

The author has researched the many books, letters, reports and files that are available for Colditz and its occupants, both allied and German.  These do not always agree, and do not always agree with Pat Reid in particular.  What does come out is the attitudes of the day, and the personalities of those forced on both sides into such confinement.

German troops placed into POW camps were mostly of the elder sort.  Many had experience of the previous was, indeed one of the major names in the book, Leutnant Reinhold Eggers, one of the main men ordered to keep the POWs inside, was far from being a Nazi.  He was however, a man who had been at the Somme and Ypres and left the war with a bullet wound in his leg.  A proud German, like most, but also like most he was not keen on Adolf.  Doesn't it amaze you when men will support their nation even though the leaders are corrupt and despotic?  You wonder why they do not rebel?  Apart from being shot of course.

We quickly learn from this book of the rampant snobbery among England's cultured elite.  Those who had attended Eton looked down on other officers who went to lesser public schools.  You can imagine the attitudes to their Batmen!  Douglas Bader, built up by propaganda as a great war hero, was in fact an obnoxious snob who treated his Batman contemptuously at all times.  Even some of the other officers rebuked him.  In this book, as we have heard elsewhere, he was a mere snob looking down on others, in spite of the charitable work he managed to do after the war.  This book holds no punches on him.  An Indian officer, Birendranath Mazumdar, a surgeon, also entered the camp.  The English snobbery naturally saw him as 'unclean' and a rebel Indian, one wishing to end the Raj.  I was with him all through here.  He suffered terribly from this racist attitude.

Escape adventures were of course common.  The French, the Dutch, the Poles and the Americans who all at one time were placed here all immediately began to search for ways of escape.  The castle itself aided this.  Having been around since 1043 and constantly rebuilt according to requirements or the wishes of the owner many bricked up walls hid possible escape routes.  Soon tunnels were being dug everywhere, walls broken, false walls built, escape routes out found, some from hiding after exercise or sport, one from jumping the fence.  Most failed, occasionally someone would disappear for a while then return, jaded, tired and not best pleased.  In the last year a rather desperate attempt was prepared, by creating a glider in the attic.  This was not used as an escape, rescue came first, but after the war it was flown and did indeed reach the planned landing area safely!

Guards constantly interrupted the prisoners, day and night, if they suspected escape escapades were under way.  So many were attempting escape each had to be authorised by the commanding officer, to ensure the more absurd were halted.  Occasionally one would succeed and a man would make it to Switzerland, indeed Pat Reid was one of the first to do so.  

Serving up to five years in a POW camp is demeaning and depressing.  The longer time is served the more a man struggles to forget his experience.  Some of course never could forget.  

The book covers the Colditz story in depth, and in a readable depth at that.  It only took a few days for me to reach the end, including feeling the depression of the POWs, and the relief that rescue was close.

The individuals are reveals as real men, not the ones from Black and White war movies, real men with all their flaws and indeed courage and integrity also.  Only one prisoner was shot, and that accidental for the most part, both sides agreed to follow the Geneva convention, and while competent for the most part Eggers and his men treated the POWs as well as was possible.  As time passed they too suffered from lack of resources and war fears.  

I recommend this book.

Pea Soup

Suddenly, while attempting to eat, I came upon the idea of 'Pea Soup.'  Never before has this idea crossed my mind, and I now wish it had.  Fry a few onions said the recipe, chicken cube, water, and peas.  Crush the peas they said, easier said than done in water, add salt and pepper, then add double cream, well single today.  It turned out nice!  I wish I had thought of this before.  

However, crushing the peas was not easy, and as I had a tin of Mushy Peas in the cupboard, I added that.  Next time, and there will be an 'next time,' I will use Mushy Peas instead.

I've made soup from Chick peas, Potatoes and Lentils before, but this was new to me, though it does go back into the mists of time when such food was all that was available. 

What excitement there is in my life...   

Nothing else happened.

'Make it Do.'

Feeling rough his week meant I did little, and did it very well.  Mostly I wasted time on Twitter either enjoying football conversations or arguing with people rude enough to disagree with me.  How dare they?  However, I did make excellent progress on two of the Christmas books, and began a third, which I can say now, I may not finish.  My niece, who reads lots of books, sent me three novels set in old Edinburgh, and the first chapters of this one I found not very well written, and somewhat conventional, or 'old hat,' perhaps.  Anyway, I did finish this one.   

This is a proper memoir.  Not one written by a senior figure, possibly to justify his position, but by a mere Spitfire pilot writing down for the family what he could remember of his war.  Thus it is not written with a regular authors flourish, instead it is a personal memoir with all the faults of an educated middle class man.  Therefore this is worth a look.

Born in 1921 Ken Cam, grammar school educated and clearly a quite bright young man, joined the RAF in 1940, when the war was at its most dangerous.  Attempting to be a mechanic he found himself instead heading for flying training, simply because of his educational background.  While the RAF had less 'Bull' than the army or navy it retained plenty of the class difference which remains a scourge in the UK, indeed the middle classes flocked to the RAF possibly because they thought of the modern outlook and exciting possibilities available for them. 

There follows the tale of the rough newness of RAF life, the aircrew induction making clear the basics of RAF existence, flying training in Tiger Moths, and posting to Operational Training Units.  Here Ken learns to fly a real Spitfire, now he is close to the war.  Once he has passed this six week course, shortened to three weeks because of 1940 losses in France, he is posted to a fighting squadron.  here again are lessons to be learned in too short a time, then the war is entered for real.

Imagine being a 20 year old flying a Spitfire heading to war with no experience and little understanding of what lay ahead!

By the middle of 1942 Ken has shot no-one down, fired at enemy ground stations, escorted shipping and made some mistakes.  His time is spent moving from one base to another at the behest of those office dwellers nobody knows.  Typical services.

November 1942 saw 'Operation Torch' in North Africa and Ken was 'invited' to serve there.  This was to change his life.  

The Squadrons duties during this operation comprised working along with the army as they advanced into Tunisia and Algeria.  Attacking ground targets in co-operation with the army and routine patrols at other times.  This was to bring abut the defeat of Rommel's forces in North Africa, a major step forward to winning the war. 

The latest Spitfire which our pilot was using was a mechanical miracle, designed just before the beginning  of the war it took its place in military history.  However, no aircraft of those days, like today, is perfect.  As 'operation Torch' came to a close Ken and his squadron were urgently sent on a dawn course for Malta.  This required low level flight, to avid radar, and a long and quiet trip over the Med.

However, a puff of white smoke revealed a problem, soon Ken was flying alone heading either for the sea, warm in comparison to the Atlantic but still cold and wet, or finding a place to land.  There is a small island called Linosa, half way between Tunisia and Malta, and indeed between Tunisia and Sicily, where the aircraft landed, with a crash.  

Stumbling out of the wreckage Ken Cam was picked up by Italian soldiers, treated by an Italian Naval doctor, and well looked after on the island.  It is clear the Italians were never committed to this war as fanatically as many of the Germans were.  Overall, the treatment received from the Italians was better than that from the firmer Germans.  Most German troops obeyed the written and unwritten laws of war for the most part.  The SS, or desperate men did not. 

Soon the pilot was being transferred to another island, from here he was taken on a sea trip by a submarine.  The sub travelled by night, spending the day on the sea bottom for safety.  Eventually he was deposited in Italy, here life as a POW got worse. 

Ken Cam was to spend the rest of the war as a POW with little chance of escape. The allies took over the island of Linosa, receiving a note from the Italian officer in charge written by Ken, indicating the good treatment he had been given by the islanders and their defenders.  It is to be regretted he left the island shortly before they arrived.

The treatment under the Italian authorities was as decent as possible, however, as time passed and the author moved from one camp to another, the allied landings on Italy were beginning to tell.  Eventually the Germans took over the camps, worse still, they were soon under control of the SS.  Mild authority under Italians was sufferable, control under hard hearted dangerous, and willing to kill SS soldiers was not.  

One camp in which Ken stayed for a while as Adolf's guest was Stalag Luft III, made famous by the movie 'The Great Escape.'  German guards were efficient, and escapes were few.  As the war slipped away Hitler ordered those who escaped during the 'Great Escape,' to be shot, and most were.  

Bad treatment followed often enough, especially when the movement north took them into Austria.  

The SS exposed the POWs to bad treatment from the locals, while continuing to move them at short notice.  

Eventually, a long march during 1945, from Zagan in Austria, occasionally in cattle trucks, often by walking, all the way through Hamburg, which brought some bad responses from the natives after all the dockland city had been through, to Lubeck where the war ended for Ken Cam.  

He returned home, was rested somewhat, described his psychological problems resulting in being a POW for 3 years, and spent another 18 months with the RAF, eventually in Palestine as trouble there was brewing. 

The story ends well, he gets a job, marries, raises a family, and from 1997-00 wrote down his war service for the family.   All ends well for him.  

The book si easy to read, contains lots of small stories from activities in various bases, sometimes concerning the war, sometimes concerning the local fun and games.  The descriptions come from the memories put aside for many years.  Time amends our memories, others are enhanced.  In the authors case his memory was clearly enhanced when many years later he holidayed in Linosa.  Once again meeting the man who found him after the crash, and some of the people who tended to him while he was there. 

Millions were involved in the war, many cannot write their stories, being dead makes this difficult, and each story is different from the next.  Until he was a POW Ken had a 'good war,' after that things were not so good.

This book is well worth an easy read, an insight to one man's war, the RAF as it was, and probably remains, and I recommend it.

China Persecutes Christians Once Again.

Once again China is persecuting Christians.

The weakness of President Xi Jinping is revealed in his paranoid attacks on the church.  There are two main churches in China, the official church owned by the Communist Party, and a wide spread of independent churches throughout China, who do not submit to Party control, these may number in millions as the official church has around 44 million members.

In times past official warnings were given to independent churches before action was taken.  Now now

no warning are heard with church leaders being arrested suddenly and charged.  

Nine church leaders from the 'Early Rain Covenant Church,' have been arrested, though five were later released.  In Wenzhou the Yayang Church building was being demolished.  Wenzhou possesses the largest number of Christians in China.  October saw the leaders of the 'Zion Church' arrested, the pastor remains in custody.  Christians are banned from online preaching or teaching children or raising funds online.  

The weakness of the leader forces such intolerant attacks on the freedom of religion in China.  Only those who submit to the Communist Party policies are allowed to preach or teach.  This policy obviously goes against scripture in many ways, therefore fear at losing control stalks the government.

We need to dins ways to support the growth of the Christian church in China.  Since 1950, when Mao took control the churches have been outlawed.  Since that date, and in spite of the Parties actions, the church has grown and continues to grow.  Persecution never stopped the Christian Church, persecution does not stop the work of the Holy Spirit from reaching people worldwide.

Pray for repentance from Xi Jinping and his Party leaders.  May they too meet Jesus today.

Jazz

 

A wee bit of jazz to enlighten the day.  Oscar Peterson - C Jam Blues.  1964 in Denmark I believe.  

Weather Here, Wish You Were Lovely...

So I strode manfully out along the icy pavements this morning, ignoring the attempts at snowfall from a handful of snowflakes falling from the sky.  So few were swirling around the air that it was almost possible to count them.  I didn't try.  

The world has returned to normal.  Unsmiling faces, busy shops, all well wrapped up, wishing they were indoors again.  Comparing sausage prices and meat content, the local butcher has closed, due to rising meat and rate prices, an old woman pushed in and took numerous packs of cheap 'Lincolnshire sausages.'  'Having a party?' I enquired.  'No, for the dog, he likes them,' she said smiling.  These are the dogs favourites, so what the dog wants, the dog gets.  I suspect many households have the same situation.  Ruled by a cat, dog or parrot, while the people are put to one side so the animal rules.  

This, and climbing the stairs without falling back down, has been the highlight of the day, so far.

Mirror

You may not have noticed, but Donald has been acting the 14 year old again.  While you were cleaning up after Christmas he has attacked Venezuela, kidnapped the leader and his wife, and imprisoned them in the USA.   Note: The BBC are not allowed to say 'Kidnapped.'  They must call it 'Captured.'  

All the while this is ongoing he has also sent a larger fleet to the east end of the Med, possibly to attack Iran.  There is it appears no end to his stupidity.  

Now, we none of us liked the leaders of Venezuela, or Iran, however, to unseat them in this manner is not the normal democratic process, the one used by the USA for many years now.  This is thuggery, from a juvenile delinquent.  Now Donald thinks he can steal Greenland also, it is time for the free world to be counted here, although  under Keir Starmer it is unlikely the UK will intervene.

Shameful.

Glasgow Herald

Scotland, and the north of Scotland in particular, is covered with snow.  Few people would be surprised at this news.  This has happened regularly since the last ice age passed by several thousand years ago. 

The gritter lorries and covering roads, snow ploughs are wandering across rail lines in the far north, and a demand for soldiers to dig small villages out, so they can escape has been heard, and ignored. 

Apparently, one of those storms with silly names will be covering us with snow on Thursday, I may be back at the supermarket quicker than I intended!  Two days of horrible snow for us, who live in the driest county, which will cause chaos for several days, then be forgotten about as always.

Life goes on.

Thoughtful Vote?

I managed to interrupt my sister today, long enough to question why people vote Reform.  It is clear she, like others who read the Daily Express, a dying Right Wing paper, and watch BBC Scotland, run by the Unionist Labour Party, cannot understand why Reform is dangerous to the country.  In her Scottish constituency, a local council election recently saw a Reform man win.  I indicated what they stood for but she had no conception of this, she had read nothing, knew nothing about them, and like millions of others might be tempted to vote for them if she ever makes it to a polling booth.  It was clear she did not understand how the SNP, for all their many faults, have improved life in Scotland.  She was shocked to discover the English pay almost £10 for a proscription from a doctor, shocked to know0 how much more it costs to live in England, shocked re the free fares and benefits in Scotland do not exist in England.  Yet she will still vote as she has always done, with little thought. 

So many people simply accept what is offered on the main TV and radio channels, the daily papers, all based in England and mostly right wing, accepting what is offered and never questioning what they read.  There is no attempt to use social media for information, no seeking out others opinions, at best people like her merely discuss things of less value and leave politics up to others.  They then vote as they always have, unless a fancy bright shining star appears, but then return back to base.   

No wonder the liar Farage is winning.

By the way, Farage had a cancer, he lost a testicle because of this.  I can think of one other rabble rouser politician with one ball from times past.  Look how he ended up!

Look Out!

 

The Long First Day of the Year

A selection of Xmas reading.

I now have to work my way through all this literature, a word reserved for no good reason only for story books, and while I have opened all of them, read a few pages, and a couple of chapters, I can say I am delighted with what lies before me.

Story books were a surprise, I don't read novels as I tend to throw them away after a page or two, but my niece insisted so I will give them a go.  The others are already capturing me, well written, good interesting tale, and decent research for the facts, I can't wait.  

There is a problem here, that is, I am still working through the books I received throughout last year.  The problem there was that all those books were quite hard to read.  You know the type, 700 pages of small font, complicated stories, foreign names abounding, and some are quite 'heavy.'  So I am slowly working through them, enjoying them. learning, and taking too long to finish.

I may have to stop staring into space and read more...

The New Year arrived at the usual time.  I sat up watching the BBC ALBA offering, being Gaelic I never understood a word, though captions were offered, but the music was good as always and better than what was on show on the other channels.  

The day itself dawned with a pinkish hue slowly changing to yellow as the sun began to climb towards the horizon.  The thin cloud dispersed, the birds flew slowly, while only dog walkers could be seen passing by.  The dogs once again unaware of the date, while I suspect they were aware of the fireworks that began ten minutes before the hour last night.  Less than last year and still annoying when over my head.  

It took till lunchtime till the traffic woke up.  Sainsburys, open from 8-8 tonight, brought some along but I suspect few Scotsmen approached today.  Certainly not in Scotland where today and tomorrow remain holidays.  It used to be a day for derby football in Scotland, not now, Celtic and Rangers saw to that with their bad behaviour, the trouble they caused affected us all.  Now I am watching English football, which never played on New Years Day in the past!  

So, as the sun dips over the horizon again, there must be hundreds of them lying there, the dusk begins to fall, curtains are closed, and the world returns to normal, with yet another day off before the weekend.  When Monday comes many will be unable to cope!

Happy New Year 2026

 

Hogmany 2025

I deserve an honour today

Today was hoovering day.

Not that I was in the mood for this mind.  However, I removed dust covered items from under the desk, cleaned what I could be bothered to reach, forced myself around the, now larger domain, and completed the task long before I fell onto my chair.  

This is hard work you know!  No wonder all the adverts feature a woman doing this, it's what a they are made for!  A man cannot be expected to do such a job and all those important jobs he needs to finish to occupy his mind.  I mean I have only read one chapter in only one book this morning, and now it is afternoon.  

However, the work is finished, but not to a woman's standards.  The abode has been returned to normal, dust is already settling on the laptop, and now I am seeking the important jobs that must be finished before new year.  Ah yes, Motherwell v Celtic 8pm, that will do.

It's the 'Honours' time again.  A time when the usual collection of hangers on and friends of the wealthy and powerful get their reward.   Vote the way the party leader tells you and a knighthood will arrive.   Offer large sums of money to the right people and an OBE will be yours, plus contracts.  

However, I like the idea of the nation rewarding people who have done something for their town, possibly for many years.  Such as long time served 'Lollipop' crossing people, small businessmen who have improved the towns lot, voluntary workers and many others who have served daily in a variety of roles, these people need to be rewarded and noticed by their towns.  Not all will deserve this, however, many an unsung hero does deserve a mention.  I like that.  

The idea of a 'British Empire' (they mean 'English Empire) is not worth much today, though there are many desperate to one of the medals.  Personally I would not accept a bauble, and not just because I am of no worth whatsoever, but I would not accept an English award, a Scots one would be good.  That would be one without the 'Empire' connection.  

I say reward those who have done good, and some are indeed in the top jobs, but mostly reward and indicate the local 'small people,' who deserve a mention.

Boxing Day 2025

With Sainsburys open on Boxing Day 9am-6pm, I decided it would be wise to buy for the weekend today, as tomorrow the crowds of desperate folk will pile in to refill once the leftovers have gone.  So I walked across the park, the dogs had all been and gone long before, just to get a whiff of greenery and tripped over the kerb heading to the shop.  I almost stumbled across the road, I could hear the sirens in my head as I kept upright and moved on embarrassedly.  

Many more in the shop than I expected, but better than tomorrow.  Those pushing trolleys wondering why they need so much today, men with baskets rushing past keen to avoid tomorrows crowd, and me, wondering why I am picking up almost everything with yellow 'reduced price' labels, just in case.  The four things I required are soon dwarfed by the many things I bought, on the cheap.  

Most people still had a Christmas spirit, one or two the effects thereof, the young lass at the checkout was friendly and efficient, and the male customers nearby also happy, to a point.   I mentioned the spirits had no security tags on them but the meat has.  She told me the Honey now has security tags, yet the booze no longer has them!  I suppose these things are easier to steal, and the usual suspects are easily identified re booze theft.  

Anyway, I hobbled home along a quiet street, the quietest this road has been on a Friday this year, reminding myself that this was FRIDAY, not Saturday, and I do not go to church tomorrow.  Having events such as these during the week can be confusing for us.

Christmas Day 2025

The image of a wooden barn containing a wee lassie and her man sitting beside a manger, donkeys and sheep all around, has been with us for many years.  However, those who have researched this now tell us more information.  The word translated as 'Inn,' was incorrect, not just because such places did not exist in the Middle East, it actually refers to a house.  This makes sense as the couple would go straight to the family headquarters in Bethlehem.

Once there, it is likely that a crowded house would mean 'making do,' and no doubt many a  child was born rough circumstances in days of yore.  Here we see an example of a Judean house of the time, the family living upstairs, the animals below.  The rock around there is quite often contains many caves, it is possible one could be used for the animals, or indeed as a place to live.  Whether their stable, and the use of a manger a receptacle for animal feed, indicates a stable, was below the house or next to it, or in a cave, we do not know, but we know he was born in a stable.

Mary would not be alone there, I suggest the women would offer help, especially those trained or experienced in childbirth, and the family would come together to help.  Nonetheless, a young couple, visited by shepherds and Magi, carrying a baby announced by an angel, would be keeping their knowledge to themselves and trusting their God for leading.

What a couple Mary and Joseph were!

The baby was born to offer himself to God for us.

He lived and died for you and me.  He calls us all to know him, not as a baby, but as a God. 

Choose him.  

Life may get harder, but it will be abundant.

Christmas Eve 2025

Christmas Eve, though to be honest I have never met this girl Eve.  Outside cars slowly pass by, the boot filled with foodstuffs, half of which will be thrown away uneaten by Saturday, or else made use of in leftover Sunday lunches.  That which is eaten or drunk will aid the NHS overcrowding by the end of the year, and the family squabbles will make some homes resemble 'EastEnders.' 

Ah the blessing of the time of goodwill.

I started this hours ago and the cars still trundle by, many playing loud music, or Christmas noise's, kids excitedly peering at boxes piled around them, and parents wondering where the cash will come from to pay for all this.  Occasionally  family group passes, Santa hats, Christmas jumpers, and that's just on the dogs, while the group heads into town for whatever reason possibly lunch at the one restaurant or a pub.  In many ways it is a good and exciting time of year for many, especially as the weather has been bright and sunny with a biting wind.  

     

I have not been surprised to read that Chelmsford cathedral, the home of the Bishop of Essex, has decided to progress with prayers within regular services for gay sex marriage and Civil Partnership couples.  This is acceptable they say because of a proposal from the Bishops in 2023.  One I thought had been dispensed with, however, apparently not.

Since the last Bishop of Essex, he is now Archbishop of York, Essex has been open to those with such tendencies, and opposed to biblical readers who disagree and offer biblical opposition.  Yet here we are, official announcement, from a female dead, it would be, for something contrary to scripture and human nature.  A quick reading of scripture reveals how God wants an abundant life for us, not a broken one, and while we accept such individuals we do not encourage them to live a lie.  We do not encourage ourselves to live a lie according to our own desire.   We must seek Jesus and his will only.

I will write of my opposition to this to the Bishop, and be ignored again. The suffragen Bishop will be well aware of my opinion as I have already written to him about 18 months ago re this.  A quick email to some leading members of our church received two answers so far, one thoughtful one opposed to this.  The rest are busy with Christmas.  This will go on.

It's the Greediest Time Of the Year

Early in the morning, before the sun was rising, and it still hasn't, I limped my way to Sainburys for my Christmas dinner.  It was quite busy for that time, cars were arriving, trolleys were being banged into one another, decisions re what to buy was occurring all around, and usually in my way, as I carried my basket from point 'A' to point 'B.'  By the time I approached the smiling lass at the checkout I realised I had bought too much, and on top of that had not obtained the Xmas foodstuffs I sought.  These had been advertised yet were not available.  Nothing daunted of course, I will survive I thought to myself.  The smiling lass charged me far too much once again and yet had the audacity to blame me for this.  I wished her merry Christmas just the same and limped home once again.

Sadly, once home my metal derangement kicked in once again. 

I decided to visit Tesco for my Christmas dinner, NOW!

I blame the bang on the head I received when playing football all those years ago.  The large brown 'filly' ball knocked me out and I found myself sitting with my head between my knees.  While in today's game a medical team would appear, spending many minutes ensuring I was alive, stable, awake, playing with the boys in the Meadows meant I just got up again and played on.  I think the shock is settling in now.

So, I washed my filthy face and dried it on the filthy towel and hobbled off once again towards Tesco's.

Again a mere 10,000 people were barging into one another in a friendly manner.  This time many items suggested for lunch were available, however, the pretty decorated boxes, the attractive contents, and the prices did not fit with one another.  Small items indeed, but the prices were far from small, Christmas increases I reckon.  So, after searching around I went back to the more normally overpriced goods which we all know are not worth the money, but they were worth it much more than the Christmas deals.  Christmas expense comes but once a year, and supermarkets are desperate to make the most of it.

Oh yes, I don't have enough bread....

Shopping

It was along day yesterday which resulted in a nothing doing day today.  This, as many will be quick to point out, is not a strange occurrence here.  I have however, planned the shopping for tomorrow, if I can get up early enough to beat the crowds.  The Xmas stock must be obtained, enough to last until Boxing Day when the store will reopen, closed Xmas day.  One day off for the staff!  And that grudgingly.      

Cars from the store have trundled past all day.  A sight seen all over the nation, indeed all over the western world at the moment.  Many remembering what Christmas is about, many looking forward/dreading a family get together, and several thousand hugging stones at Stonehenge for spiritual satisfaction.  Then getting drunk or stoned.  I am even more keen on remaining indoors.

Did you notice the picture...?

Christmas Sunday

Returning home in the heavy rain after a busy Sunday.

Morning service, the last before Christmas, quite busy with a lot attending.  All quite cheery as Christmas approaches, bubbly and ready for anything.

Except me.

I had forgotten to eat on the previous night and was almost asleep during the service.  My mind kept floating away, and concentration is hard enough these days.  Rejoice! Rejoice! Coffee was served, this kept me going till I got home.

There I ate, and watched the Heart of Midlothian walk all over the arrogant, orange dressed, Rangers.

2-1 was the final score, but it ought to have been 4-0 at least.  We missed an excellent opportunity to give them a hiding, sadly.

I then slept for 20 minutes.

Just as well as I was doing the first reading at the 6 o'clock Carol Service.  

This went well, all read acceptably, carols were sung, strangers, some annual strangers, came.  Then all the strangers ran for the door at the end in case someone spoke to them, and we had all the mulled wine to ourselves.

Still raining.  

See...

Saturday Saunter

It was clearly near Christmas as the angels appeared again on the fences.  All round town the women have been knitting these wee creatures, oblivious to the fact that angels in the Bible do not have wings, and leaving their work for individuals to take home.  This happens every year.  

I left them where they were, though most have since disappeared.

The town, by the time I got there, was beginning to close down.  Christmas stalls abounded, each and every one stuffed with overpriced, often home made, items that I do not wish to purchase.  Clearly there is some profit as it is always the same people selling their goods, one has even progressed to a small shop.  

Normal Christmas activity was to be seen, a wedding in the old town hall, loud aged rock music from one stall, but no actual Christmas music was to be heard, I am glad to say.  I took my puritan attitudes to the museum to obtain a jar of honey, and there I saw lots of small items that I missed before, I'm glad to say, that I may have been tempted to but for the family.  Money saved is a good thing.

We awoke to mist, deep mist, that hung around for a while and was soon replaced by constant sunshine.  The temperature did not rise mind, freezing it was all day.  Here I am glad the hearing comes on.  It has come on and off all day. keeping the heat reasonable, and me unreasonable, as always.  Naturally, tomorrow brings drizzle.  

Sainsburys and Kemi the Racist

I headed off bright and early this morning to Sainsburys for the weekend needful.  Being Friday it was a bit busy, even more so as it is the last Friday before Christmas, which is next Thursday you know.  I went through my list, I have long realised a list is always required in such shops, bumping to many men unused to shopping trolleys, and unused to following the wife around such shops.  Clever men carry a basket and skip by such as they.

Having decided the basket now weighted more than I can carry I headed for the checkout.  Much to my surprise three, new, girls were sitting silently awaiting customers while the self service place was overrun.  That has not happened before.  I chose the young Asian lass who I met last week.  That day she was having a disaster, nothing was going right, the supervisor was hiding, and we were all waiting.  I found myself becoming encouraging towards her rather than grieved.  Eventually we got through and I spoke kindly to the new girl and went on my way.  No point in complaining in such situations, we have all been there, and we have all been struggling at a new job.  Today, all was well and quickly I overfilled the bag, gasped at the price, and nothing, absolutely nothing was a luxury today, paid the money and stumbled home, stopping only to encourage a lost driver that the street he wanted was a mile back they way he had come.  Good luck to him amongst that heavy traffic.

Heavy traffic that was not eased when Zak parked his Royal Mail van at my door blocking the other lane.  While I raced down slowly to gather the parcel from my favourite niece it left the cars behind fuming.  However, I checked on his Christmas, his work pattern this week, and wished him well, ignoring the red faces turning blue in the traffic.  It's not often I stop the traffic, let alone twice in a  morning.  The traffic is still slowly trundling past now, late in the afternoon.

This was produced by Kemi Badenoch the leader of the Conservative Party.  Such blatant racism while commenting on the Labour Party's rather stupid idea, of teaching boys not to be misogynist, and offers blatant racism.  

Lets be clear, while around 200 asylum seekers have been involved with sex attacks of one sort or another, and some 2000 or so 'ethnics' also (meaning Pakistani's usually in the media) the majority of the 16,000 sex attacks in the last account were conducted by white Englishmen or Welshmen.  These numbers come from the Law covering England and Wales only.  

This is another example of the failure of the Conservative Party to find a policy that works, and a failure to admit to their corruption and incompetence over the past 14 years.  For them a change is required, and this woman, herself a daughter of immigrants, is not the answer.