Adullamite

A Man's a Man for A' That

2012-01-30T11:13:00.001Z

A Man's a Man for A' That

Is there for honest Poverty

That hings his head, an' a' that;

The coward slave-we pass him by,

We dare be poor for a' that!

For a' that, an' a' that.

Our toils obscure an' a' that,

The rank is but the guinea's stamp,

The Man's the gowd for a' that.

What though on hamely fare we dine,

Wear hoddin grey, an' a that;

Gie fools their silks, and knaves their wine;

A Man's a Man for a' that:

For a' that, and a' that,

Their tinsel show, an' a' that;

The honest man, tho' e'er sae poor,

Is king o' men for a' that.

Ye see yon birkie, ca'd a lord,

Wha struts, an' stares, an' a' that;

Tho' hundreds worship at his word,

He's but a coof for a' that:

For a' that, an' a' that,

His ribband, star, an' a' that:

The man o' independent mind

He looks an' laughs at a' that.

A prince can mak a belted knight,

A marquis, duke, an' a' that;

But an honest man's abon his might,

Gude faith, he maunna fa' that!

For a' that, an' a' that,

Their dignities an' a' that;

The pith o' sense, an' pride o' worth,

Are higher rank than a' that.

Then let us pray that come it may,

(As come it will for a' that,)

That Sense and Worth, o'er a' the earth,

Shall bear the gree, an' a' that.

For a' that, an' a' that,

It's coming yet for a' that,

That Man to Man, the world o'er,

Shall brothers be for a' that.

BBC Robert Burns

Tidy Desk

2012-01-29T20:51:00.000Z

I was going to regale you with a post full of insight and understanding. I could have put the world in its place, given wisdom regarding the problems and difficulties we all face, but as I mused on my subject I realsied I just couldn't be bothered! It is Sunday evening, I am listening to 'Mellow Jazz' on http://www.jazzradio.com/ and this therefore is a time to relax and fill the mind with thoughts of good things. 'Whatsoever is pure, whatsoever is lovely think on these things' is the way. Anyway I am tired after a hard days football watching, freezing my socks off in the chilly air, and watching my Nan turn into a charred, blackened brick as I have yet to get a grip on the grill on the oven. The smell ought to disperse by Tuesday. The picture is my view whenever I sit here to contemplate or watch football. The picture manages to hide the thick layer of dust that lies over everything (any spare women out there?) however it does show piles of unattended items, like bills! The sheet of paper directly in front of me was put there to remind me to attend to it straight away,, it has been lying there since the 9th of the month! I might look at it tomorrow after I have checked the money situation, I fear the overdraught has once more gone over the overdraught! This means a letter from the bank informing me they cannot pay as I have no money but as I have no money they wish £20 more thanks a bunch! That nice Mr Hester at the Royal bank of Scotland has just been given a bonus of just under a million pounds. He is not the best paid, and I wonder what the CEO got as a bonus at my bank? I know where it comes from! Grrr 'Whatsoever is lovely'....think man, think!

.

'The Real Dad's Army'

2012-01-28T15:02:00.001Z

'The Real Dad's Army' is the diary of Rodney Foster, written during the Second World War. Foster had been born in India a son of the Raj and educated in England as so many were. Commissioned into the army he returned to India to serve there for some time before realising promotion was stilted within the regiment structure and moved to the Indian version of the Ordinance Survey, the Survey of India, where he spent most of his time. He did return to England (never Britain please note) to collect a wife and back to the Indian army once more when the Great War broke out. After retirement in 1932 he took a house in Hythe on the south coast of England in time to prepare for the Second World War. Because of Mr Hitlers desire to turn Poland and Russia into his new Empire this soon followed in 1939. After Dunkirk in 1940 a great fear of invasion by Germany took hold of Britain. A Militia was called for and hundreds of thousands of men, many ex-servicemen from the 'Last Lot' enlisted. This organisation was called at first the 'Local Defence Volunteers (the 'LDV,' known as 'Look, Duck and Vanish!'). Using whatever weapons were to hand, including spears and broom handles with sharp knives attached, these determined squads of men prepared to defend their homes. At first it was a haphazard organisation without uniforms or proper weapons, and in some cases a motley collection of leaders. Later called ' the 'Home Guard,' this was to become a very efficient militia thanks in part to the men like Rodney Foster who took charge of the 'Saltwood' platoon in his own locale and later 'B' Company in Folkstone a couple of miles to the east.

'Dad's Army' was a very successful comedy show made in the 70's and still shown regularly on BBC television. This was based on a small town similar to Hythe, on the south coast, and in immediate danger of enemy action. A great many of the stories involved situations that arose with the 'Home Guard, the real 'Dad's Army!' A comedy it may have been but the situations that arose were very deadly at time. Fosters diary comments on almost daily air raids, often hitting the town with resultant loss, shells fired from across the channel, and replied to by big guns based at Dover a little further along the coast, shelling from ships of both sides in the channel and convoys attacked by enemy aircraft and fast moving 'E' Boats as the convoys passed one way or another. In spite of the danger, and the rest of the houses in their road being commandeered by the army, the Fosters remained in their home until the end of the war. This is remarkable as they possessed no shelter bar the big kitchen table, and all three often slept through the constant air raids and accompanying sirens! Explosions which awoke them or shook the house from afar did not always see them rise to take an interest, sleep was more important!

The diary entries are short and to the point. These reveal something of Rodney's character and the real daily life of the war years. Little is said about the deprivations, although hints are abundant, and the red tape that follows from major military operations in the area is constant when he drives around as a member of the 'volunteer driving pool.' This last meant often taking the sick into hospitals or various individuals around Kent on their 'war work,' some of whom bring out Mr Fosters opinions quite clearly. Deaths, sometimes tragic, are occasionally mentioned, but his response is a soldiers response of just 'Keep calm and get on with it,' an attitude that stayed with many who endured the war, and an attitude not so common today. Descriptions, brief but enlightening are given of the troops around them, reports of the war in far off places, and occasional rumours, which usually abound in war under the secrecy prevailing. One interesting aspect is the weather. How often the entry records a summers day with the words, 'Cold,' or 'Rain all day,' 'fog,' indicating in Britain some things never change. An occasional very 'hot' day is recorded, but not many! A notable fact is the swing from the early years of constant fear of enemy air raids to the mentions of our aircraft, in ever increasing numbers, flying of by day and by night over the coast into enemy held territory. Also noted are the noise of explosions and the shaking of the buildings when actions take place out of sight deep in France and Belgium. Like many others Foster compares the number going out with the number returning. Difficulties with a senior officer caused Rodney to leave the Home Guard and become an ARP warden (Air Raid Precautions) an occupation which gave him an easier life physically and with much less 'office politics' stress. Self importance is a curse in all military establishments.

Rodney had developed his artistic skills while working on the 'Survey of India,' and continued to sketch and paint throughout the war, even becoming considered a 'spy' at one point for painting in a main street! He wrote a great deal and a huge archive is now in private hands, some 22 volumes, covering his time in India and elsewhere, plus paintings etc, yet he died an obscure unknown with little if anything published. His diary has now been published, almost by accident, and his insight into the war years are very revealing of daily life in one of the more dangerous parts of the world at that time. A great many servicemen saw less action than those remaining in the south coast of England at that time. This diary was difficult to put down. Easy to read and full of interesting details revealing life as it happened during the war. Different from other war books I have read and appealing to many folks from all backgrounds I think this was an excellent book, and not just because it was a gift!

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Friday Post

2012-01-27T21:28:00.002Z

Friday is the sixth day of the week, unless you are Jewish, Muslim or unable to count. The name in northern Europe derives from 'Frigg' being the name given to the wife of Odin in Norse mythology, and therefore implies Friday is the day you, er... 'cough'... 'attend' to the wife I suppose. Various European Fridays also have a female base for Friday, so not much work would be done in the northern hemisphere in times past on that day then. Some think Friday is an unlucky day, but probably not many women, and allied with the thirteenth day can cause much alarm in the UK. How often have you come across those, mostly female, people informing the wide world that as it is the thirteenth things will go wrong. When you inform the congregation that earthquakes, fires, accidents, tornadoes and toothache happen on other days you are regarded as an unbeliever! Any investigation into actual hardships on that day reveal nothing untowards and even less knowledge as to why thirteen or Friday the is unlucky!

Islam of course regards Friday as the Holy day. Mosques fill up with the faithful to pray and listen to sermons from the Imam. Troubled Islamic nations often find rioting occurring after such sermons and avoiding such places in troubled lands is advisable. Christians only regard 'Good Friday' as relevant although Roman Catholics used to avoid meat on Fridays as a form of 'penance,' although the bible does not contain such a word. Only 'repentance' is found, which refers to turning from wrong and following Christ himself. Today the RC's tend to eat more than fish on Fridays. Sundown on Friday is the beginning of the Jewish Sabbath, this lasts until sundown on Saturday. Disasters on a Friday are often referred to as 'Black Fridays,' while 'Casual Friday,' or 'Dress down Friday,' has become popular in some business premises as an easing of the normal office dress code. It rarely made much difference to me,whether in office or otherwise. A 'Girl Friday,' was a term coined by those looking for a secretary to do the odd jobs around the office. Today however feminist clowns object to this and 'Person Fridays' must be asked for. Only the female ones get jobs however. The term is based on the 'Robinson Crusoe' stories where the hero discovers a black man to do all his work for him, very English that. The author stole the idea for the story while touring Scotland selling the nation to the English parliament. The original was Alexander Selkirk, a young man from Lower Largo, Fife, who ran away to sea and ended up on a Pacific island for several years. He did not meet any 'Man Friday.'

For most people Friday is the last day of the working week. This means leisure time tonight, fun and enjoyment on Saturday and Sunday, then back to work on Monday, unless you are on the dole of course. Whatever you do, enjoy your Friday, with or without a 'Person Friday' to help you.

Thursday

2012-01-26T20:52:00.001Z

RDG asked what a 'Burns Supper' was. I thought I would quickly inform you to please her and avoid going out in the rain. Rain is something to avoid when there are holes in the shoes. Many years ago some fans of Robert Burns, indeed some people who had in fact known him, devised a 'supper' where they could remember him and toast his memory. This is not a new fad, the Romans did this in the catacombs to remember their dead, and indeed Christians do the same in most churches. Since that time it developed rapidly in Scotland the idea of getting together on the long, cold winters night to remember Scotland's favourite Bard and eat and drink, in some cases mostly drink!

Basically a Haggis is brought in, following a Piper in more formal settings, and a member of the congregation will read, or quote from memory, Burns ode, 'Address to a Haggis!'

"Fair fa' your honest, sonsie face,

Great chieftain o' the pudding-race!"

Then the pudding is toasted with whisky and served with 'neeps and tatties,' (Mashed turnip and potatoes.) As Burns himself died in 1796 few people today actually met him. However a speech in his 'Immortal Memory' recording some of Burns doings will be made by a knowledgeable member of the assembly, usually amusing, usually short enough to stop the locals finishing the whisky too early. Toasts will be made to the cook, the piper, various members of the dining fraternity and readings of Burns massive output of poems will be given, and possibly his many songs sung.

A good time is had by all, and the local constabulary will arrive to remove the bodies in the wee small hours.

There is a lot to admire in Robert Burns. Hard working farmer as well as a born poet, almost self educated, popular with the ladies, yet not to keen on the 'literati set' in Edinburgh, though he got on well with the ladies! After his time in Edinburgh he returned to the farm but times were hard so he became an exciseman possibly with the idea of 'set a thief to catch a thief! Smuggling being popular work in those days. We were told as kids that he died from overwork on the farm. However it is also alleged that while his health was failing, and his lifestyle possibly catching up with him, he fell asleep on the grass verge in the rain while heading home from the pub and woke up 'deid! Take your pick as to what you believe!

Rabbie Burns

2012-01-25T12:25:00.001Z

Burns House, Mauchline

Epitaph for James Smith

Lament him, Mauchline husbands a',

He aften did assist ye;

For had ye staid hale weeks awa,

Your wives they ne'er had miss'd ye.

Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye press

To school in bands thegither,

O tread ye lightly on his grass, -

Perhaps he was your faither!

Robert Burns Country

Robert Burns spent four years in Mauchline, some say amongst his most formative. He met and married Jean Armour, his 'Bonny Jean,' and would have known all the citizens of this small village, including James Smith and the wives around the town! I will think of Rabbie as I partake of my tinned Haggis tonight!

Another Dreich Day

2012-01-24T17:39:00.001Z

Free Foto

How lovely! The farmers will be pleased! No muttering that there is insufficient rainfall so far this year as it has teemed down all day! The holes in my shoes decided me to stay in and fill out yet another application form, in black ink, and be depressed afterwards knowing that two first class stamps have been wasted on the attempt. This attempt dulled the mind, ideal time to make a huge pot of mince I thought, mince being reminiscent of the inside of my head after lying, in black ink, for so long. I decided to wash the black ink of my hand before I did this however, fountain pens enable me to write a tad clearer but not sufficiently for them to read and understand anything written there I suspect. Using a keyboard for so long has enabled my once tidy writing to become a scrawl. Sometimes I have to pop into the chemist to interpret what I have written! This weather is mild in comparison to some winters, and much better than up north in (almost) Independent Scotland. I read an interview with the great Alan Gilzean, once Dundee then Spurs and Scotland's centre forward. He came from Couper Angus near Dundee and returned there to receive the adulation of the fans and was happy to go back home to Weston Super Mare in the English south west. The weather was too windy and cold for the 73 years old when he was there, and I can understand this. I was made to live somewhere warm, I think I will look up 'Jobs for Idiots' in the Arabian Gulf. I can suffer 100 degrees quite easily! In the early 70's my brother was stationed out that way. he returned to Edinburgh one January day when snow lay on the ground and the temperature was about 6 below freezing. He was not happy having left 105 in the shade behind!

This afternoon, in between wondering where my life went wrong, I came across this Jazz Radio outfit. There are several stations, if that is the word, and I have been indulging in the Paris Cafe for a while. Jazz was to me just several men playing different tunes at the same time once, but not now! I have learned that they are all playing the same tune, it's just a bit mixed up that's all! Try it you music lovers Jazz Radio

A brief history of England.

2012-01-22T21:12:00.003Z

Stonehenge in between rain storms

Around 10,000 BC the ice that had covered the Northern Hemisphere began to recede. This reached as far south as parts of Essex and stopped in London at the Finchley Road Tube Station, trains to Wembley Park and Amersham were delayed by this. Within a thousand years or so people were using Salisbury Plain as a meeting place, possibly for worship. It could be they originated in what is now Europe proper, the North Sea had yet to flow south and separate the British Isles from the rest of the land mass. This finally occurred around 6500 BC and many men moved their families onto the new island, while just as many sent them the other way to France to give themselves some peace. Here the few, no, not that 'Few,' settled down to clear the trees, plant crops, and watch football. They were taught this game by the Scots who had come south to play the tourist, having lived in igloos during the ice age. Sadly it was as yet unavailable on television, this meant actually watching the game live, in the rain. When the early English refused to give the Jocks their ball back they went home, and a state of enmity has remained between the peace loving Scots and the Imperialist English. Within a short thousand years or two settlements were established, standing stones were standing, wars were being fought, this being the English predilection, Flint mines were sprouting downwards and Stonehenge was built. This as we know was never completed as the roof was never put on. The English habit of imperialism is seen here, the blue stone used was nicked from Wales when the locals were not looking!

With the Atlantic Ocean to the west the land suffered from rain quite severely. This, plus the fact that more populated areas had never heard of it, meant the isles were ignored for the most part although traffic across the sea to Europe for trade, wine, pottery, women, and sickly French cheese, did occur. In Marseilles a man named Pytheas referred to the Pretanic Isles. Whether he did this on parchment or just scribbled this on a toilet wall is not stated, but mention it he did. Nobody paid any attention bar Belgians who trekked across to Essex where they heard there were jobs available picking and packing frozen peas. This did not please the locals who began to write to the 'Daily Mail' demanding to know why so many foreign Johnnies were coming over here to 'take our jobs and live off the dole?' They fought back this way and by moving out and stealing land from those who lived in the wilder west. This plan was so successful that some time later it was copied in the Americas.

Having once more settled down to peaceful cattle rustling and women stealing the tribes were somewhat surprised and a bit cheesed off when a small balding bloke from Rome turned up and attempted to invade them. (55-45 BC) Having nothing to prove but his desire to be emperor Julius Caesar did eventually get himself ashore, kill an army or two, and fled back to Gaul and the warmer climate. His only reason to invade was 'because it was there,' and his expedition became a wash out. This was to be expected as most things get washed out in the British Isles by the rain. Romes desire to win Britannica was such that at Rome senators were heard to say "Where?" and "What's in it for me?"

The Celts living in Colchester continued on their happy warpath not noticing the European influence. The young rich who became influenced by the Romans in Gaul, the wine, the togas, being educated all brought "tut tut's" from the older generation who despised people who could read, an English habit today judging by the spelling in the newspapers. This gradual seeping of Roman influence led to Aulus Plautius invading in 43 AD under orders from Claudius to win him a 'Triumph.' A previous invasion under Emperor Caligula faded out on the Gaul shoreline when the Emperor ordered his men to collect those nice shell found on the beaches. The Roman soldiers thoughts on this were not recorded. Vespasian, an up and coming general brings Civilisation to the south of England by sticking swords into anyone he meets. He became Emperor himself using similar tactics in 66 AD. Oh you will have noticed the BC has gone and the AD has come. This did not matter at the time as Englishmen did not use calendars in those days, in fact their watches didn't have a little date that was always three days behind either. While Boudica decided to get peeved at a slight by a Roman general, he raped her daughters and took all she belonged after her husband, the chief, had died, some would say burning Londinium (London) and Camulodunum (Colchester) to the ground while everybody was still inside possibly a bit of an over reaction. However girls will be girls. Naturally the Romans had ways of responding to this, they came and stuck sword into everybody for miles around. More 'Civilisation' you see.

The English were often quite happy to let these foreigners take over and those who attempted to resist soon became civilised. Sometimes by the sword, sometimes by being flayed alive, sometimes by being forced to eat spaghetti with a fork. However when the Romans got to Scotland they were told where to get off. Those that did get off found themselves floating back down the sea lanes. Crying "Woad unto ye," the peace lovers up north put aside their books and studies, used their mighty wisdom and knowledge of the terrain, allowed the Romans to march north and get stuck in snow drifts until they got fed up with it all they built a wall and stayed away. Every so often, when the football season was over, the Scots would come to the wall and throw dead Haggis at the Mediterranean types shivering on the walls. Some still do this today to the tourists backpacking along the wall in the rain.

All good things must come to an end and as Alaric the Rangers fan invaded Rome the Mediterranean types took their good looks, their wine, their opera singing and their slow, fouling type of football and went home to defend their city. They were too late so they could have stayed here had the locals not charged them so much for rent! By the year 500 AD all was changed, but that's for another day.

Trimontium Trust

Saturday Saddo

2012-01-21T17:09:00.000Z

Daily Mail

I know I should not laugh but I am afraid I cannot help it. This 'Daily Mail story makes me laugh even though it was fatal. This man became convinced he could survive living off the land for a year in the Scottish Highlands. He was impressed by the tales of 'Bear Grylls,' whoever he is, and after attending survival courses and taking the proper equipment he set out. Now he has been found dead after only a month, possibly from Hypothermia! Now there could be another explanation but there is something funny about the irony within this tragedy. Just because you see a professional doing it on telly does not mean it can be done in the highlands in January! Just because you think you can do it does not mean your body can take the strain. Living off rip off Tesco's is one thing, living off the land takes a bit off getting used to, especially under piles of snow! This is a sad tale indeed but sadly I did snigger at this.

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Friday Filler

2012-01-20T21:33:00.001Z

Not sure if I ever posted this one. I took it in the early 80's during the summertime, (I think it was Saturday the 15th that year) and my mate pointed out the man and his pillow. Some folks will make use of anything when they require rest! "Put a head on my beer mate," fits well here.

I have however sorted the adverts problem on Chrome. I am using Adblock and I suspended the 'Easy List' and the Google ads returned. I suspect I will also now have a billion other ads until I reinstate it while fuming! Black & White whisky? Whoever sees that these days? We only see the whisky that sells in supermarkets and their choice is the blends that sell, nothing else matters!

San Fransico Sports Cars

This was to be the car that I was going to drive down Route 66 for my next trip. Sadly someone has just purchased it, and so I am off to pump up the tyres on my bike instead.

Adverts

2012-01-19T20:44:00.001Z

So what gives with Adsense? I have this on here yet by using Chrome, owned by Google, I cannot see any!

I note that my earnings have reached over £23, which surprises me, and these ads do not show up on Firefox either. Just what is the point of adverts that either cannot be seen or are always shoved in your face? I noticed that the row along the top is where I put them, but a dirty big square one has appeared to the left of the main page. There was also another under a post, but I have managed to remove this. Common sense appears to be lacking somewhere if adverts from Google cannot be seen on Google Chrome, or is it just me?

Anyway, let's have a laff!

Jack D

2012-01-18T20:50:00.000Z

The Red Cross food parcel sent to me at Christmas by my intelligent sister (she knew this was cheaper than a present) contained, beside the Christmas pudding and instant custard, a miniature bottle of 'Jack Daniels' in a tin. Now I am not much of a drinker, half a bottle of Guinness and I'm anybody's, if they can pick me up off the floor, but I do like a nip of whisky or such like, especially late in the evening. This is the first time I have tried Jack D and in spite of the poor spelling of Whisky, we all know Americans cannot spell, I reckon I could grow to like this, if it was free! A strange taste unlike most other whiskies but somewhat similar to Laphroaig I think. That is an acquire taste and one of the managers at Royal Mail had indeed managed to acquire a taste for this. I suspect he would be wiling to acquire a taste for Jack D also!

World wide people develop strong spirits of one sort or another. Scotch Whisky, Irish Whiskey, Arak the aniseed drink found in the middle east, and vodka, made from potatoes they say although I suspect grain is used more these days. 'Fire water' is popular world wide in one form or another and while beneficial in many ways, the only reason I use it, most are not concerned with the flavour, they just wish to get drunk! This is difficult to believe but I have known people to put orange juice into their whisky! That individual enjoyed this alongside a bag of 'Kelp' seaweed. He claimed this was his lunch!

I wonder if I sent the empty back to my dear sweet sister would she refill it perhaps.....?

.

2012-01-17T19:52:00.003Z

Braintree Times

This is really a small quiet town, actually quite boring to be honest. It contains all most folks require, shops, rail and road connections, even if slow, a market, schools and well paid councilors. There are pubs, cafes, a cinema even a swimming pool somewhere and a dole office. But it is somewhat boring. For those with young kids it is ideal, teenagers however find it very boring indeed, hence the town has the highest teen pregnancy rate in the UK. Many of these occur in the bushes of the park opposite as the kids gather during the summer evenings, I must remember my camera when I go out in the Spring....
Those who grew up here, and those of mature years find the town quiet but more to their liking, especially the rich with their automobiles. They can run into more exciting places when they choose to. The town has alongside an individuals needs one of the lowest crime rates in Englandshire.

However the last week or two has seen the local paper decide to call it a 'Town in Mourning,' in large headlines. The reason for the headline was the untimely deaths of three people, two from manslaughter and one lassie of a mere 28 who was found dead in a garden. As these deaths are under investigation it is not possible to do more than offer the bare facts as far as they are known. However the three last week have been added to by two more on Sunday it appears. Next door neighbours, possibly arguing about car parking, both end up dead! Pictured above we see Essex's finest during their painstaking investigation. It makes me think I would be safer in Edinburgh, among the drugdealing gangsters!

Twenty years in London and I never came across anything like this. Possibly it just happened round the corner and never came into my ken, but it appears arguments may well have led to deaths. How easily we allow little things to grow and we lose control, especially serious when several of those involved were well into their 50's or above. I must avoid getting too excited when confronted with the world's stupidity in the next few days, it could be dangerous!

The Bike

2012-01-16T19:58:00.000Z

The sun was shining, the sky was blue, so this afternoon, once I had worked up the courage, I got out onto the bike for the first time in two months. I had decided yesterday that another exercise period was required, so this morning I attempted just that and in the afternoon I jumped on the rusting old bike and pedaled around for twenty minutes. The sun may have been shining but the wind was coming from the east, via Siberia, so while my genteel hands were warm and cosy in the gloves my face took an instant dislike to being frozen. Once home I walked around the town continuing to being frozen but the only way to avoid the knees freezing up also!

This little trip made me wonder how, in 1974, I had managed to cycle from Edinburgh to London! I had the idea that this would be a cheap holiday so I decided to by a bike! Now remember that I had not ridden a bike for about ten years yet I searched the papers and found one on sale for £18! I made my way to the south east of the city and bought a bike from a man who told me that the owner had, "Gone to Australia." I found myself wondering in he knew he had emigrated. However I got on the bike, somewhat shakily, and suddenly remembered I had miles to go through Edinburgh streets. I cannot recall the journey but I suspect it was not straight forward. A few weeks later I set off on my journey. Today, having developed the brain a bit better, I would spend six months training for this venture, checking the food I ate, stocking up on carbohydrates and the like. Then I just jumped on the bike, a packet of sandwiches and a few bags of raisins and nuts or some such, and discovered this was not going to be as easy as I thought. Cycling to work was one thing, cycling with packs on the bike another, and it rained!

It tool me two hours to be clear of Edinburgh as I wandered through Leith and Musselburgh heading for the A1 and the road south. It did not take the rest of the week to make me realise I was a clown! Cycling the back roads of the A1 was pleasant to look at, but the up and down nature of the roads got very wearing, especially as old men on ancient bikes swept past me contemptuously. Averaging fifty miles a day (today about three!) I made it in a week. I stopped at a couple of Youth Hostels for the first two nights and was not impressed, so stayed in a couple of pubs and a couple of boarding houses after this. The locals were friendly and while they considered me an idiot they managed not to do this to my face. I don't know why, I agreed with them! Had I been making a telly programme about this I would find adventures, women, excitement, women, crimes, women, rich rewards, women, interesting places full of the rich with women, but as it was just me I merely took a fifty mile shortcut that took me a mere ten miles further on one day, and no women! The wind, naturally, was constantly against me, the rain knew where I was, I discovered that 'Mild' was acceptable beer, that 15th century pubs bedrooms floors sank in the middle, and that when you pass the Hartlepool United Football Club doorway you are miles of course. I intended to ride through York but took the wrong road and went around it and couldn't be bothered to go back, I stopped to take a picture of the lovely pink sunset over the 'Selby Oil & Cake Works,' forgetting the 'Instamatic' had a Black & White film inside, and that road signs saying 'Village 1 mile,' are followed at 30 yards by another claiming 'Village 1/2 mile.'

I suppose it was worth it but how I did it I do not know. The bike was sent back via a carrier, and took 8 days to arrive, and I returned by train! No fool me. Had I the energy would I do this again? Yes, but with a bit more planning this time, and a car as back up! I used the bike a lot in those days, for work and pleasure. I cycled over the Forth Bridge and back via Kincardine, up into the lower Pentlands, struggling up the slope, and racing back as Edinburgh slopes down to the Forth so I got home a lot quicker than I went out! The only problem with the bike was that twice the tyre exploded in the middle of the night while at home! We never worked that one out. The 'Sun' racer was a good bike for me, but I prefer my present ageing one I must admit. Maybe I had better try another trip tomorrow as they claim snow is on the way. Hopefully it will remain in Scotland, where it belongs!

Icy Saturday

2012-01-14T20:58:00.002Z

The frost still lay heavy on the ground well into the morning today, although I went nowhere near it until then, and I expect it will be similar tomorrow the temperature already dropping. The benefits this morning include few folks bringing their kids into the Gardens, although as I was searching for a picture one couple and brat began to play around in my sights so all I could capture was this grabbed shot of the freezing park with a hazy mist, caused by the ice slowly turning to mist in the sunshine. The potential for good pics was all around but the subject was either in the wrong place or covered in people rushing to and fro as they tend to do on Saturdays.

I myself rushed home with my prize of tomatoes and mushrooms and made myself a health conscious lunch. Once more I turn to improve my diet, exercise more, and instead I spent the rest of the day in front of the PC watching or listening to the football! You will be glad to know that thanks to the great Czech star Rudi Skacel the Heart of Midlothian thrashed the excellent St Mirren by five goals to two and brought smiles to all decent people everywhere. Sadly Hibernian won and moved clear of Dunfermline at the bottom and the hopes of the Hibs relegation are beginning to fade. Still there is still time for them to fall apart.

Saturday night means most folks have nothing to say so hear is some Saturday night music. I know you people of taste will enjoy this.

History Needle

2012-01-13T21:45:00.000Z

I post this for the benefit of nostalgia. This is a needle on a 'record player' scratching its merry way across a black vinyl disc called a 'record.' I suggest that those reading this may well be able to recollect such an item, even if they can only dimly remember them. The fun of ensuring the needle did not get damaged, the fun of listening to the scratchy beginning before the silence and then the music that awaited the listener. These records were light, came in covers that informed the buyer of the contents and later developed into works of art in themselves. Of course the lightness disappeared when several were carried at one time as they suddenly became a ton weight! John Peel, the late lamented DJ had a huge collection of records, so many that the floor had to be reinforced to carry the weight in the store! There were disadvantages beyond the need to care for the precious needle, and replacing needles was always a problem as the right one was hard to find. A scratch on such a record could spell disaster. On occasion it may be missed by the needle but on other times the needle would hit the scratch and jump the groove or, worse still, stay at the one spot and repeat, repeat, repeat the same spot over and over until action was taken. Record made in the early fifties, which contained the great Rock and Roll stars of the day, suffered badly this way as the material used in the making was particularly fragile. In the eighties I heard a fifteen minute programme in the US Army radio service (whatever it was called, I forget) in which the DJ played several original Rock and Roll records. The first one or two were in good condition but each one following had more and more scratches, jumps and the last appeared to be broken in several places. No mention or apology was made for this, they were just played and the next introduced! I still have a reasonable collection of records, almost all Long Playing ones with excellent covers, and many obtained when the Library was selling them off to introduce CDs, the modern way to listen. There were many great Jazz records available one day but by the time I had made it home and returned with cash they had gone! Tsk! Many are still fetching good prices on E-Bay, and some shops do good business with vinyl only sales. I think myself I would still go for CD's if I bought anything today, or even downloaded them the modern fashion if I ever have the cash. At least if a CD is available it is always with you, and not lost when the PC dies I suppose. However there is something missing with CDs and that is the large area that a Long Playing record cover gave us. Arty covers do not make such a splash when small. One day these records will be considered with the same amusement that we have for a phonograph with a dog sitting in front of it! It's a sair fecht so it is!

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Busy Thursday

2012-01-12T21:25:00.002Z

Most of this morning was divided between disputing with racist unthinking Englishmen on online papers website. The fact that Scotland is close to Independence causes fear to run through their soul! Most appear to have little historical knowledge, many claiming that Culloden defeated the Scots, although this was in fact the last battle in a British Civil War and at least one third of the Redcoat Troops were from various parts of Scotland. Others insist with great humour, they think, that Hadrians Wall ought to be rebuilt. Sadly the wall is quite deep into England but if they wish to return Northumbria to us, minus Newcastle's poverty problems, we would accept. Many wrongly believe that England is paying large sums of their tax money to Scotland to keep it afloat. This erroneous information is believed by many followers of the 'Daily Mail' and 'Daily Telegraph.' In fact depending on how you read the figures it could be that Scotland gets back less than she puts in, but that does not suit the readership of the right wing nutjob press. So I gently, usually, indicated their mistakes, and now I have a price on my head as thanks! I note the cartoonist Mac has twice refused to print my comments, I suppose the word 'racist' is disliked. It is interesting how Alex Salmond has managed to run rings around the London elite regarding this. His political superiority cuts through the 'insider dealing' that is Westminster and 'Dave' causes thousands to rush to the SNP's support every time he opens his mouth. Keep going Cameron, by 2014 every Scot will be against you at this rate. It is a strange thing that a nation so ignored in England should cause such consternation when it justly seeks to claim independence, could it be Scotland is needed by England much more than Westminster will ever willingly admit?

As I write I notice the Dominic Letts item in the 'Daily Mail' has disappeared but yet another attack on Salmond has been published, this time from a Labour Party perspective. 'Daily Mail Bias'

I had time to debate with racists and morons this morning as I awaited John bringing my new oven. The old one died a while ago and the landlord suggested I obtained a new one as their man was busy. I had begun to look (my ManFlu had hindered this) but had got nowhere so far. However John and I humped the old one downstairs and the new one up, and then sat awaiting the ambulance! Both of us in times past used to hump furniture up and down stairs for a living and both have decided this is not for us now! However the expert fixed it up and now I have a warm, clean oven. It is the clean bit that shocks me, I have never seen one like that before! At last those ageing frozen foodstuffs at the back of the freezer compartment can be brought back into the light, if I can get them out of all that embedded ice! Aint life strange? There was a time a new oven would not have seemed that important to me, and now I keep going over to it and admiring the thing. Funny how new objects get this attention, and suddenly one day they are no longer new, just bashed about, run of the mill, and requiring cleaning. Still, like the oven cleaning, that can wait!

Busy....

2012-01-11T20:50:00.001Z

Watching football....

Carole King 'Tapestry Album.'

2012-01-10T21:07:00.000Z

'Tapestry' by Carole King came out in 1971/ This album was so much one for its time that to me it says something still about those far off days. The album cover, the music, the thoughts, all combine to speak to me at that time in a way nothing else did. I bought this album, even though I am always in poverty, for about 38 shillings or so. I only earned around £12 a week! I played it constantly and indeed when I moved south in 75 I eventually obtained a tape recorder and bought a cassette (ask Mum kids) and wore that out playing it. Years change our opinions but I still say this album is one of the best I have ever known. Even the cat fits just right!

The World Has Gone Mad!

2012-01-09T19:48:00.003Z

Daily Mail

For one our PR PM has decided to have a Cabinet meeting in the middle of the new made 'Handball Court' at the Olympic Stadium! Here the first Cabinet of the year ignored the dicey economy, the unemployed, the tax dodging by his friends and instead concentrated on advertising the white elephant that is the Olympics. You may have guessed that I am not too enamoured by the Olympics, I like some aspects, people throwing things, weightlifting and a few other events, but so much of it is boring and will take up more TV time than Wimbledon does. I also think it would have been better to let the French have it, then they can pay at least £9 Billion for it! Obviously the World Cup was more important but long ago, when Manchester attempted to get the Olympics, the powers that be decided they wanted it and it had to be in London, Manchester not being important enough to London based politicians and business types. 'Dave' has told his people to go out and advertise the Games, does he think we don't care? The reason I suppose is that any benefits, if any, will go to London and the rest of the nation will be paying for this but getting nothing back. Much effort has gone in to spread the events, less to bring benefits and more to ease the grumbling about paying for London's Games. These Games will of course reverse the recession Dave' will they? Clearly no real discussion of any relevance took place here, that will occur tomorrow when the real Cabinet meets, and far too many microphones desperate to listen in to the blubbering mistakes which sadly did not occur, but 'Dave' will be happy with the publicity stunt, he likes those.

What? Me cynical.....?

Daily Mirror

Another aspect of the world going mad is 'No Pants Day,' as you can imagine this is an American idea! Who else would consider large numbers of people sitting on trains with no trousers on and revealing acres of peelly wally flesh as fun? It certainly would not have begun life in Scotland! It ought of course to be 'No Trousers Day' but as you know our colonial brethren are illiterate and wrongly attribute names where they ought not. Will they ever learn? The 'Daily Mirror' site contains more pictures and a video, which I assure you I have decided to avoid, as I am not convinced that revelations of what is inside a trouser leg ought to be made this way, or indeed in any other. Such pranks, while containing an element of humour, can also reveal much, indeed a great deal, that ought to remain hidden! More Man Flu (and women's minor chills) on the way I can tell.

My tired and weary body dragged itself into town again this morning, and I decided to go with it, grumbling that I wished to remain abed for another day. However the trip was not too bad, in fact the numbers of passengers were low and entirely free from needless acres of flesh being pressed into my eyesight by 'No Pants Day' militants. In fact traffic everywhere was quiet today, some folks still on holiday it appears. All was refined on the train, in spite of yet another hike in the price of travel and apart from a 15 year old Chav who let us all hear his 'Rap' for two stops. How I wish that nice man on the Falkirk train was aboard at that moment. Funnily enough as the said 'ned' left the train I began to feel sorry for him. He left the train at a country station and gave an impression of a life of 'Bumpkin' ahead of him. He looked 15, not very bright, and if he was older he does not have a future as a brain surgeon awaiting him. I wonder if he noticed the other passengers let alone the noise? In fact I was kind of depressed at the future that lay before him. I also thought he was a bit like me at 15, stupid! Where would I be if Jesus had not interfered? So I didn't shoot him after all. No doubt a tractor or an angry pig will get him one day.

My meeting begun early, lasted less than 15 minutes, gave me no sympathy (she was a young woman after all!) and I left for my return train wondering if this was really worth it? These people are meant to help us unemployed find work, even though there are no jobs, and they do not have any more idea than I have. Worse still the place was filling up as I left with men of my age beginning their time here, all long term unemployed, most capable, and only one or two shirkers. What chance have we I ask if we congregate in such numbers? The Tories wish to stop benefits for those who refuse job offers, what job offers? They want unemployed to work for free, where? In short, rather than create jobs they fill the 'Daily Mail' with pledges and attacks on benefit scroungers. I can tell them some of us wish we were working and do not like our situation! That of course will not please 'Middle England' and the Tory voters prejudice.

However the good thing was the time waiting to enter and I espied a couple of pics which did not quite work but I quite like anyway. The third one is on the Foto sight. The struggling effort has been good for the virus as it appears to be weakened considerably today. One day soon I will eat again properly.

Is your name on here somewhere?

Knackered...

2012-01-08T19:29:00.003Z

A Saturday Post

2012-01-07T20:44:00.002Z

From scratch.....

The Friday Post

2012-01-06T22:32:00.000Z

Old Bikes

A Quick Laff!

2012-01-05T18:22:00.000Z

Wednesday

2012-01-04T19:37:00.001Z

Today life is beginning to return! I was supposed to be at the Museum helping remove a display (Witch hunting in Essex in days of long ago. Mind you I can see reason for bringing that back with one or two women I have met around here....) but poor wimp me did not have the strength having not eaten for a day or two. (You are allowed to say "Awwww") Later I was glad I stayed away as I cleaned up and threw out the rubbish and was exhausted after such effort. (All together, "Awww," oh please yourself!) However I am on the mend and those of you asking whether my death insurance is up to date can stop planning your next sun drenched holiday, you will be going to Skegness! How lovely eat again, how grateful I am to have life! Funny how such a small pestilence can be so destructive, and it makes me wonder how others who suffer real disease and pain, and often for a long time at that, endure? That is why the picture, taken yesterday in between howling gusts of rain, is above. The blue sky, even with a tree yet to bare new leaves, still speaks of life! Bright blue sky, sunshine and warmth can make even the most run down area (and people) look brighter. Daylight creates a better atmosphere in any workplace, although some folks like to hide away in the dark, especially those who are not too keen on actual work! I love the sunshine and this morning, just as I rose, bright and early about seven thirty, from my pallet, I noted the sky brighter than for a day or two and soon a deep pink was rising. Naturally it soon turned dull and dreich. However the days are getting longer, the nights shorter, Spring is springing and the confused weather will bring long sunny days to this dark part of the world, especially if global warming increases!

Tsk! I note there is another football match waiting to be watched tonight. Is there no end of these I ask? OK! If you insist I will put myself out and try and watch this one also. As there is the usual collection of cooking programmes, films, dross and surprisingly no soap operas tonight I think the football will provide a better end to the day don't you? Of course you do.....yes you do!

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Back to Normal

2012-01-03T12:47:00.000Z

The world returned to normal this morning. Vehicles sped up and down the road, the wireless offered death, despair and shock horror headlines, as did the rest of the media. People grumbled as the passed my door, and this not surprising as the howling gales blew rain in sheets against my window, and the passers-by! Indeed the world has forgotten the recent time of 'good will to all men,' and has returned to girning about the weather, the government, the neighbours and all else. I, still suffering this virus have hardly slept all night. Food is not retained and I feel awful again, so normality is found here also. My mood was not helped when the Landlords manager returned to work and informed me I will have to fix my dead oven myself! Oh yeah? How I ask? They will pay but my hamfisted approach will ensure a fire that destroys half the town, what then! Bah! The rain is still coming down and I am sure the postmen will be rejoicing in such weather. Gales blowing what mail there is out of their hands, rain filling the bags, and customers whining about 'paper mache' being put through their doors! Up north much destruction is being caused by the storms there. So we are not too bad I suppose.

One item caught my attention for a moment today. David Hockney, an artist, criticised other artists, in particular Damian Hirst, for not being sole authors of their 'work.' I found this quite amusing. Here we have a man made famous by banal empty pictures unhappy with Damian's approach. If only either were real 'artists' and produced something that made a difference as opposed to something that made them a name then life would be better for all. Both have large bank accounts, neither cares much for any other opinion as far as I can see, yet these two are feted and prized by the chattering classes. "It's a funny old world Saint!"

Daily Mail

Now I like looking at aircraft. I am no 'spotter,' as I often have no idea what I am looking at, but I enjoy watching the machines fly by. Two 'Helicopter Spotters' claim to have driven into RAF Oldham, being 'waved by' by the security men as they followed a line of vehicles entering. They claim they thought a display was under way and innocently wandered about taking pictures of the machines. They drove up close to one or two and were somewhat surprised after ten minutes when an armed response unit responded with arms and locked them up. Max Award and Addison Bridet were interrogated for three hours and then released. The MOD spokesman said security had not been compromised. Not compromised? Two men drive in unchecked, wander about, taking photos and security is 'not compromised? Of course it was compromised! How easy would a terrorist have found an entrance here? How many other bases have poor security, and many employ 'outside security' to guard the base, partly to save money and [partly to release men for other duties. I have always found this dubious. The armed forces ought to guard themselves, and if RAF bases are so easily entered I suspect a resurgence in the RAF Regiment after this, although George Osbourne (the Chancellor) will not allow money to be spent on this.

Ne'erday Derby

2012-01-02T20:26:00.000Z

Sadly the New Years Day Derby has to take place a day late these days, tradition sometimes changes after all. However one tradition has not changed, the traditional Christmas Stuffing the Heart of Midlothian give to the Hibernian each Mid Winter. The Glasgow based media are not inclined to withhold their animosity towards the Heart of Midlothian, especially since Chairman Vlad Romanov spoke out about their anti Hearts and pro Old Firm bias, referred to them as 'Monkeys,' and filled the press room at the ground with bananas! Daily we see attacks on the Heart of Midlothian, until today unanswered as the club (that is Vlad) decided not to communicate with the media, and the clubs financial problems made into headlines at all times even though Rangers football club are indeed in dire straights. Rangers as you are aware owe £49 million to the taxman, their new chairman has a business record that has caused consternation among the clubs better supporters and yet nothing is said in the media about this! One story concentrates on the Heart of Midlothian delaying payment of wages to the players. One thought is that this is because the bank behind the club has money troubles caused by the recession, another view is Vlad is delaying payment, by a month or more, to 'encourage' the better paid players to move on to other clubs! Ian Black was thus found helping a mate redecorate and the story was given much publicity that he had to do this to pay for his family. I suspect his wage is sufficient for him to survive a month without payment without earning cash from friends. However any story that makes the Hearts look bad gets good coverage.

Today therefore the Hearts traveled to Leith to meet the wee team with empty pockets but much more ability! The Hibernian journeymen (and where should this lot journey to I ask?) were brushed aside in spite of their thuggish brutal attacks on our players, and Ian Black in particular. Clearly 'Blackie' was here to show them some revenge, and so he did, manfully baring the abuse (four ought to have been cautioned and only was was!) and running the game from start to finish. We will ignore the missed penalty, that was just to rub it in at the end I suspect. The 'jibe' about painting is the reason he showed of the T-shirt with "I'll paint this place Maroon," at the end. However in my view the man of the match was in fact our left back Ryan McGowan. 'Gowser,' an Australian, gave the 'headless chicken' Ivan Sproule a torrid time, except when assaulted by the thug and he then reacted somewhat foolishly by headbanging the neds stomach. Good refereeing allowed both off and 'Gowser' can happily go home rejoicing in a great victory and knowing he was the scorer of the first goal! An enthusiastic performer, our of position, and bang on form, great player. I just hope Manchester United were not looking, they canny afford him! Apart from ten minutes after the break when Hibs attempted a new tactic, they passed the ball to one another, there was little to fear. The resulting three one victory, with substitute John Sutton arriving to play well and create two goals and finish them off, was well deserved. The team spirit and solidarity showed from start to finish from the 'Maroons,' and the money troubles that create so much press has never affected their performances.

A quick glance at the London Hearts site shows that 'Dave' the author has not made it home yet. So I will update you on the simple facts regarding this game. So far the Heart of Midlothian have won 276 derbies of all types, Hibs have won only 200. In doing this the Hearts have scored 1065 goals, Hibs a paltry 892, and I can assure you many that I saw were either 'offside,' or favouritism from referees! This may well be the most one sided Derby in the world! I once met a Hibernian fan in London, he was in the hospital where I worked,his illness? Blackouts and depression! No wonder!

In these lazy days around the festive season I have spent hours stealing football matches on my PC. Normally I dislike doing this but I really cannot afford 'Sky,' which I would have otherwise. I am managing two or three games a day at the moment, or at least bits of games, and in opposition to this TV offers absolutely nothing! How sad is this? Still, I am happy, especially after today. I just wish I was in Edinburgh so I could walk into work tomorrow and smile smugly at the Hibbys around me, not that I am one to gloat when my fellow man is down mind, but in this instance it is allowable!

New Years Day

2012-01-01T00:20:00.000Z

The day dawned early, as it usually does, bringing my half closed eyes into 2012 for real. Having taken a quick glance at my previous Ne'erday posts I noted they were all glad to see the previous year pass and longing for a good one ahead. I suspect many others will have found similar this morning - or afternoon in many cases! Just after finishing breakfast, at ten fifteen, I wandered out to catch the fresh 2012 air. The air around me didn't feel much different from last years although it is incredibly mild for new years day. The BBC site claims it is 11 degrees here, that's 52 F would you believe! In Edinburgh they always refer to such temperatures as 'Summertime!' In Edinburgh, and everywhere north of the border people today will be greeting strangers with "Happy new Year,' or "All the best," as they pass, shaking hands with a few and possibly discussing the place of entertainment tonight. The few I passed as I wandered the streets looked the other way as I approached, the English class showing through. Paul Theroux mentions in one of his books walking along a country park path on the English south coast. The path ran for around seven miles and he was alone, bar a solitary woman coming the other way. As they met she 'looked the other way until I spoke,' and would have passed by had he not said the dread words, "Good Morning." A typically English, and southern English, response. One man was doing some joinery outside his house, he just glared as I looked in his direction and buried himself in his hobby. Shops in Scotland, bar the 'Paki' ones (Don't say that it will cause a war!) are closed, transport non existent, although a few buses might run and taxis will be making a bomb in these three days. Shared taxis, those with two or more drivers sharing the duties, will run non stop for 72 hours! They will disappear for a day after that mind, probably to count the takings! A couple of shops here have opened, attracting a handful of customers, and newspapers are on sale, even though there is nothing to say. In days of long ago football in Scotland took place on this day, usually the Heart of Midlothian would defeat Hibernian and follow this up with crossing to Fife on the second of January to defeat Dunfermline. These were good days ruined by the Glasgow bigots who had it all brought to an end by their behaviour, or lack of it that is, so no football up north until tomorrow. However the English have a game or two on, one has just finished and was the worst I have seen since 'Roseburn Rovers' took on a Rag, Tag and Bobtail Dunfermline outfit and got royally stuffed! They blamed the goalie but as I said I only let in the first eight!

Now I note that as the dog walkers fill the park the rain begins removing what passed for smiles from their faces. The dogs are happy enough mind, rain, snow and gale force wind doesn't seem to bother them. For some reason I appear to have eaten too much these past few days, either that or the Italian Merlot is not what it ought to be. I canny understand it, It cost £2:99 a bottle! So as I sit here planning my 'get fit' routine, exercises, diet system, shopping arrangements, and then ripping it up and throwing it away now as it saves time doing that later, I find myself hoping we all share a better year than the last, that Jesus speaks to each one of us, that we rise above the problems which will always be there and make the world a better place for ourselves and all the rest. You all make my world a better place, that's for sure!

Hogmanay Again

2011-12-31T09:22:00.000Z

Once again it is the last day of the year, Hogmanay! The desperate need we all feel for a mid winter festival to encourage us to look toward the coming Spring is dealt with by the Scots by using Christmas as a religious festival and a time of giving to the kids, and by using the New Year celebration as a time for much ~~drunkenness~~ celebration . Possibly this reflected the Calvinistic background that had much influence since the Reformation. The sober folks of the day were disinclined to encourage the observance of Christmas for a great many years. Today things have changed, English domination of the media has encouraged many to use Christmas as an excuse for booze, and many in the south now pretend the New Year means something to them, although a Bacchanalian festivity is all that really matters to most. I first ventured out on such festivities along with my sister and her husband in the 60's. It was an enjoyable time had by all, wandering the streets from house to house, meeting good people and having a ball. Today I am less interested and may well be asleep when the New Year arrives, and not because of the drink I must add. I am not convinced that attitudes today are similar to those fun filled evenings. It seems to me there is a 'harder' edge to things today.

The New Year of course does not begin until midnight and greetings are not exchanged before then, usually. However on the first chime of the clock greetings, kisses, and drinks are exchanged and the first footing follows on shortly after the year has begun. Celebrants will drag themselves to neighbours houses, carrying gifts, it used to be coal and Black Bun, the coal is less common today! Householders hope for a tall dark stranger to arrive on their doorstep, and I know quite a few women who would like that most days if truth be told but that is another thing, and welcomed guests are offered food and drink, mostly drink! Such activities go on through the dawn, and often are repeated the next night. The day after this few curtains are drawn back before noon. The New Year has been welcomed in, 'Auld Lang Syne' has been sung (badly), first footing has taken place, drink and food consumed, the Heart of Midlothian have defeated Hibernian again in the derby, and we face the new year hoping for good things, in reality knowing it will continue much the same as before.

May your Hogmanay be a good one!

Join the Navy?

2011-12-29T21:28:00.001Z

Nothing to Say, Again!

2011-12-28T20:51:00.000Z

Boring day, felt too rough to go out, just as well the museum work was cancelled, so spent the day looking for my head while staring dumbly at the screen. The cough eases, it is merely deadly now, nothing has been done, and my head has been dimmed by the remnants of the Portuguese red! While the sun shone at times here up north the wind is howling through Scotland and the north of Britain, this is playing havoc with the football and making life difficult for my team playing in the far north at Aberdeen, one of he coldest places on earth! The Christmas week has an effect on everybody. Some have run away to be with family, many have run away to avoid them! Bloggers rarely post, or if the do many are limited by the need to attend to home affairs or seek affairs away from home, but that is something I hope they don't blog about! I feel sorry for those forced to work when the majority are skiving, for years I had to do the same, and it is nice to be off when everyone else is. As I look around I see what is akin to the back of a dustbin lorry in this place. Some lazy good for nothing has not even bothered to hoover the floor, although I could eat of it, the amount of crumbs to be found there. I may have to work tomorrow in any case, I need a clean plate eventually don't I?

Look chaps, an answer to Mother in law's present worry

Phil the Greek

2011-12-27T18:33:00.000Z

Since marrying Liz, the one who would be queen, Phil has had his life turned upside down. Clearly this couple liked one another but her role meant his Naval career would come to an end. He was born into the Greek royal family in 1921, his mother gave birth on the kitchen table, but the family were forced to flee in the following troubled years. Enlisting in the navy in 1939 Philip served throughout the war in a variety of ships. His background may not have been the cause of his promotions as time past and he did receive a mention in dispatches at least once. He served in the Mediterranean, the Pacific and off the coast of Britain, none of these postings could be called 'safe.' Incidentally his mother was deaf and used lip reading a lot. This meant that while watching silent movies she would be laughing out loud at what the actors were actually saying as opposed to the part they were playing! Phil found the role of consort very difficult. he was indeed a man of action and must have despaired at role he was called into. While head of the family he was of little importance royally, this however limited his actions and led to many problems in the early years, possibly the comments made while meeting people down the years are caused by this frustrating situation? Here are some of his famous 'gaffes.'

Aboriginal leader William Brin, Queensland, 2002: “Do you still throw spears at each other?”

British student in China, 1986: “If you stay here much longer, you’ll go home with slitty eyes."

"Well, you'll never fly in it, you're too fat to be an astronaut." to a 13-year-old whilst visiting a space shuttle.

"People think there’s a rigid class system here, but dukes have even been known to marry chorus girls. Some have even married Americans.” 2000.

With Cayman Islanders: “Aren’t most of you descended from pirates?”

With a Scottish driving instructor, 1995: “How do you keep the natives off the booze long enough to pass the test?”

When offered wine in Rome in 2000, he snapped: “I don’t care what kind it is, just get me a beer!”

At Duke of Edinburgh Awards scheme, 2006. “Young people are the same as they always were. Just as ignorant.”

“I’d like to go to Russia very much, although the bastards murdered half my family.” 1967.

To Simon Kelner, republican editor of The Independent, at Windsor Castle reception: “What are you doing here?” “I was invited, sir.” Philip: “Well, you didn’t have to come.”

President of Nigeria, who was in national dress, 2003: “You look like you’re ready for bed!”

His description of Beijing, during a visit there in 1986: “Ghastly.”

To Atul Patel at reception for influential Indians, 2009: “There’s a lot of your family in tonight.”

On the Duke of York’s house, 1986: “It looks like a tart’s bedroom.”

At party in 2004: “Bugger the table plan, give me my dinner!”

With a woman solicitor, 1987: “I thought it was against the law for a woman to solicit.”

On the 1981 recession: “A few years ago, everybody was saying we must have more leisure, everyone’s working too much. Now everybody’s got more leisure time they’re complaining they’re unemployed. People don’t seem to make up their minds what they want.”

When accepting a figurine from a woman during a visit to Kenya he asked: "You are a woman aren't you?"

Duke of Edinburgh

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Boxing Day

2011-12-26T19:50:00.000Z

The bright Boxing Day sunshine tempted me out this morning, although I had no intention of boxing with anyone, certainly not after the last time, mind you she was a big girl, and I ventured into town in search of Honey! This I, am assured, will ease the cough that never ceases, or so they say. I am willing to try anything to end this horror by now. As expected most shops are shut but there is always one supermarket here which opens to prevent the citizens starving to death. The shops take turns in doing this, and this appears satisfactory to one and all, at least judging by the waist lines around me today. The shops all shut on Christmas Day, all bar the Muslim corner shop, and their closure renders thousands of people bereft of necessities after the long 24 hour closure. A grand trade was under way as I passed through with my Honey and it never crossed my mind that a billion go to bed hungry and around a million will starve to death today as I watched overweight folks (like me) scrambling for the bread reduced to 60p!

The streets were slightly busier today, although the shops were mostly shut, and most folks still appear wrapped up in family doings or recovering thereof! Yesterday few moved. Any cars that passed early on in the day contained mostly folks dressed up heading to church or on their way to Grannies. Later several children on bright spotless scooters or bikes were tenderly attempting the skatepark and asking mum or dad where the 'Elastoplast' was kept! Strangely enough only one or two drunks were heard, and at least two pubs, the rough ones, were open. Major shopping centres had their crowds of course and the takings from the 'Sales'may prevent some of these closing down. The recession bites hard so bargain hunting (for things we often don't need) goes on apace.

My tired an emotional mind has been entertained by watching feeble English football (all day), which is all my mind can take just now. When will this virus leave? I conked out today after the lunch of left over offal, and indeed it lived up to its name, and small ~~pint~~ glass of wine, I blame the bug. My wonderful niece sent me a book! 'The Real Dad's Army.' A diary made by a chap who served in the 'Home Guard' in Kent on the south coast, right in line of Hitlers attacks, during the second world war. My favourite niece who never gets a book choice wrong! Mind you now I think about it the last one she sent was a magazine annual, the magazine was called 'The Oldie,' and the one before that was based on the TV series 'Grumpy Old Men.' maybe I ought to have a word....

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A Merry Christmas!

2011-12-25T07:08:00.000Z

Christmas Eve

2011-12-24T17:36:00.000Z

In spite of my condition, and the amazing lack of sympathetic gifts of brandy, I woke early this morning and headed for the horse meat shop to obtain my Christmas feast. Going early meant I got plenty of scrag ends plus I found one or two onions at the back of the fruit & veg stall in the market. What with an old cabbage leaf or two I reckon this will be a better Christmas lunch than last years. I also found gold! Yes GOLD! At least one of those little round £1 coins which I instantly proffered in exchange for a winning lottery ticket. I know this is a winning one as I asked for this and was given a smiling reassuarance from the lass behind the desk that "oh yes, this will be the winner. Don't forget me when you win will you?" She smiled a knowing smile and I agreed I would indeed rememebr her. I will send her a postcard from Guam that will please her!

However I returned home and dumped my precious finds. I decided that as the sun had appeared I would once more trawl the shops and streets looking for lost coins and foodstuffs. I zipped my coat right up to my chin, tightened my cheap baseball cap on my head, thrust my hands deep in my empty pockets and bore the chilled air with little affection for it. As I crossed the empty park I considered the young lass from Perth Daily Photo who was suffering a Christmas Day on the beach with heat reaching around 30 degrees. What me, jealous? You bet! Heat, near naked women, ice creams and Christmas pudding? Sounds OK to me.

For reasons unknown I took out my wallet. As the moths slowly opened their eyes I realised the lottery ticket was not there! Drat! I must have dropped it earlier, possibly not putting it in the pocket correctly. My dreams of fame and fortune faded. I wandered back to the shop, gazed around the floor hoping to see it lying there, and found nothing but disapointment and dust. I enquired somewhat embarrassed as to whether it had been handed in. Surpressing a grin the lass denied this had happened and I realised it had indeed been dropped there, handed over to her, and she now awaited my winnings! Grrrrrr!

Back towards home I trundled, head down attempting to avoid wet patches getting into the hole in my shoe. What an idiot, wasting money on a lottery ticket, and now despairing that it had got lost. It crossed my mind that this was not a good attitude. I had nothing, lost nothing but might have won something! That 'might have' is where the temptation arises. With odds of around 14 million to one it is unlikely a major win will arrive, but then again a large donation 'might!' In my financial position that 'might' is powerful! I passed throught he 'Dingley Dell' and noticed a Robin fluffed up against the cold sitting on a branch. Not possible to get a picture as the brute was too far away, yet the words 'They do not worry or fret and he feeds the birds of the air,' came to mind. So why should I be concerned, or indeed even play the Lottery?

Back home again I found the ticket sitting on my desk where I left it as I came in earlier.
Fool!

Leith Sunrise

2011-12-22T19:57:00.001Z

Day by Day Photos

I had a fabulous post prepared in my head, where there is much room for thought, and as I was beginning to write I found a link to the Tottenham Hotspur v Chelsea game, so it has to wait....
Instead here is a picture of Leith Sunrise taken by a very good friend and excellent photographer who has masses more such pictures that you really must look at! You will be as impressed as I, and you have more discernment, so enjoy! Day by Day Photos

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Guardian Angel

2011-12-22T14:32:00.001Z

Crossing the park for the first time this week I asked him about it, "So, where were you?"
"I was here all along."
"Were you? Were you here, while I suffered full blown 'Man Flu' and you did nothing about it?"
"I wouldn't say I did nothing about it, you did stock up on all essentials, Isobrofen, Conovia, food....." At that point I interrupted him, "I had to rush out early for bread and milk and failing lottery ticket on Wednesday, in spite of my condition" I sniveled.
"Yes, but you did need the air and you really didn't need the Lottery ticket did you? 'My God shall supply all your need' it says somewhere doesn't it?" He gave his smug smile and ducked as I sneezed loudly enough to frighten the pigeons from the tree they were settling into.
"Not that one no!" I muttered through a much deepened voice. "I needed one that would give me millions, not one that would be added to the recycling."
"My God shall supply all your needs, it says somewhere," he repeated with a smug grin.
"So where was the 'daily bread' on Wednesday then?"
"In the shop, and a shop placed as close as you asked for it to be in 1992, remember?"
"What?"
"You asked the Father for a new home, with all amenities close by, shops, road and rail links, buses and a view North, remember? The accommodation you had was not good enough for you then. Yet even today you are not happy."
His smug expression was beginning to annoy.
"I canny mind all I asked, and I do remember asking to NEVER have another bout of 'man Flu,' and never having to go to Sainburys for bread when sick! So why did this one arrive unwanted and unasked for?"
"That has not been given me, but working in the snow last week when feeling the early signs of a bug might give an indication." The smug grin became a leer I thought.
"Listen," I said pointing my grubby paws at him, "You are employed as my Guardian Angel, you are meant to stop me suffering like this!"
"Oh, where did you read that? It is not in the good book, is it? There is one lying on your table, I note it hasn't been opened for a week or two, maybe it is worth a peek?"
I aimed a lick at him, "I have been to sick to read!"
"No point in kicking something that you will not hit eh?" he smarmily grinned. "Reading the book might have helped there also."
I decided to ignore him and cough my way through the town. It was crowded with people coughing their way through the town! A couple of stalls had arrived early, people shoved past one another full of the Christmas spirit, well dressed men and half dressed women made for places of refreshment, cars parked where they ought not, and the supermarkets were crowded with coughing people grumbling that everyone was coughing and spluttering and shoving them in similar fashion to the way they were behaving. The rain drizzled and the sky darkened as a line of cars left the supermarket car park at a stately two miles an hour, shoving themselves into the traffic on the main road they trundled along joyful that Christmas was upon them.
"I still don't see why I should be sick this week?" I grumbled as I wandered home.
"Everyone else has it, why not you," Harold the angel asked.
"Several reasons, 1, because I hate it, 2, because I am me, 3, three because it is awful."
"Hmmm, indeed it is hateful, although I have never experienced it myself, " he grinned in that annoying manner of his, "however being 'you' may not be reason enough not to endure hardship, others suffer, why not you?"
"But if the Father loves me why do I suffer?"
"He loves everyone, and his Son gave himself for them all remember. Even if they reject him on that day he will allow them to go, but he really hates the thought of it. he wants them all, even you! Many of his children suffer real pain, long lasting and painful, yet still keep the faith, how come you grumble"
"Aye, right enough, I can appreciate their suffering when I endure this, it does make me wonder how folks in some parts of the world cope with their pains. At least I have cold cures, for what they are worth, chemists nearby, and the NHS. I should be more grateful. I ought to be more grateful for his coming into the world by Mary the virgin for folks like me, doesn't appear to have got him far these days."
"Read the book man! It says 'he will look on the suffering of his soul and be satisfied,' and he will be too. Stop girning and read the book again. Time you spent giving thanks and less grumbling about 'suffering' and not having enough.
Back home I emptied several waste baskets of used tissue paper opened the windows, cleared the mess, made the dinner and found life returning slowly. Grateful I am not struck down with anything really serious, long lasting and painful. Grateful also a better life is possible, if I take it.......

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Nothing to say

2011-12-21T19:55:00.001Z

So here is a picture of the Marco Polo.

Three Outstanding Portraits

2011-12-20T19:03:00.002Z

Gladstone

Disraeli

Salisbury

I believe all by Millais and displayed in the Portrait Gallery London.

Suffering

2011-12-19T09:52:00.001Z

MANFLU.com

Struggling as I am with this debilitating plague, I managed to discover just how many other men endure their illness so stoically. This company at least has made an attempt to ~~make a killing~~ aid their fellow man but producing medicinal products specially designed for such a time. Sadly I am too weak and ravaged by aches to make it to Sainsburys however I will stock up for next time. Instead I will continue to indulge the enormous number of cups of tea that are keeping my weakened body alive and then I will return to bed again. Just for you girls here is a shot of me suffering patiently....

Man Flu Again

2011-12-18T20:58:00.002Z

Will the horrid Lurgi never leave me? For weeks now I have suffered the effects of the dreaded bug! It leaves for a day or two, then returns and hits me where it hurts, everywhere! It is not fair I say! Weary as I was I awake this morning and discovered the cough from yesterday had added throat pains to itself, this has magnified as the day has gone on, and the weariness has increased in spite of my desire to rise and be about my business. Instead I have been forced to sit here and watch football matches all day! The tablets will run out soon at this rate, yet the aches and pains remain. Food may become unavailable, yet I am too unfit to do anything about this. My survival may be at stake, yet no compassion is forthcoming! However I am not one to complain so I will just get on with life, such as it is a the moment, and bear the suffering without a murmur, as always. I suspect wandering about on Friday, in and out into the sleety snow, has done this. I wonder if I can sue them for compensation.....?

For surly women who whine constantly about things of no important may need to read this scientific document indicating the prevalence of 'Man Flu' in our society. Read this and learn how to ease your men's suffering girls!

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Saturday

2011-12-17T19:55:00.001Z

Fleet Street 1899. How little has changed!

Dreich!

2011-12-16T21:20:00.000Z

Snow, sleet and ice cold air greeted us this morning. I longed to remain in my pit but headed instead for the museum where I had been enrolled for a clear up operation. My associate and I successfully completed the tasks assigned us, once he had worked out what they were, and must say I enjoyed my mornings work. It did mean several trips out into the day but it also allowed me time with a humour filled, cheery knowledgeable bunch, mostly women, who do a grand job there. It was nice to do something useful and energetic for a change. I will feel it in the morning I suspect!

But it was actual snow falling today! Cold north western air bringing sleety snow all morning. Yet when I looked at the webcam for both Edinburgh and Aberdeen I noticed while Edinburgh was merely wet, Aberdeen had light clouds with sunshine in the distance! How come? This is not natural.

'Dreich'
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The Thursday Bus

2011-12-15T20:21:00.000Z

The Edinburgh Reporter

I found a book on my shelves, under several inches of dust, which detailed the history of the bus in Edinburgh. Now that's what I call a bedside book! Even better it was full of pictures of buses, horse drawn, cable pulled, electric trams and the delightful buses Edinburgh has always been proud to use to deliver the citizens from one place to another. Since deregulation under the Mad Cow Thatcher things have naturally been made more complicated, less service orientated and much more expensive, but what else would you expect? The book contained many pictures of the city I remember. Much has been demolished yet just as much remains unchanged, bar the increase in traffic. These evoke memories and while I am not usually one to seek photographs of buses in a manner I might use regarding steam trains I do find something attractive with those that originated in the 1930's.

This beauty and her friends arrived in Edinburgh at the end of the war and with a subtle change of body survived into the 60's. I do not recall seeing this type but I often used them in the new body shape. I believe these were 'Guy Arab' buses. Our bus, and there was only one, was a single decker with the open door at the back. Unfortunately no picture in Edinburgh colours can be found online tonight. The conductor was a 'Pole' we were told, although he may well have been from the Baltic States, as many of these men remained safely in Scotland after the war. Those who went home were shot by Stalin! This single decker came over the bridge up the road, collected passengers as it trundled noisily along, and after we alighted it turned a corner and parked up, a journey of ten minutes at most. A short rest and the bus returned back from where it began, on the other side of that bridge. I used to wonder why we got the same conductor so often, these two were the only men on the bus, and traveled up and down all day! This lasted about two years before the service was extended. By 1960 the journey was a wide circle tour of Edinburgh taking in a huge swathe of the city.

'The Edinburgh Reporter,' is something I have just come across. Their story concerning the bus depot is the type of daft thing hat I would be interested in viewing, had I been in Scotia's capital. Sadly I sit in poverty in a cold room awaiting a rainbow to arrive outside my window with a pot of gold at the bottom of it. The only time I ever saw the bottom of a rainbow I discovered there was no pot of gold awaiting me. Instead there was just a run down bus shelter, and that was not worth awaiting for!

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Museum Morning

2011-12-14T19:57:00.000Z

Brenda Howard

I spent a delightful couple of hours this morning listening to some knowledgeable women discussing Victorian life. The proposed new layout, the items in poor and middle class houses and the ability to die from hundreds of diseases we never think much about today. Jolly interesting I say! I learned a great deal, most notably I was again reminded of just how little I do know, and just how much knowledge there is out there in this world! As we had mentioned in passing the difference smell makes to daily life, and the Late Victorians had a variety of aromas to inhale that we miss out on today, I had a quick look to see if there was any way we could 'imitate' the daily fragrances of the time. Sadly the only think people appear interested in imitating is fake vomit, and I found that hard to swallow. The health we posses and the economic power we possess, even in such recession times, makes us greedy, keen to grumble at slight losses and ensures we find it difficult to endure today in a way our forefathers took for granted. Then it was a case of 'get on with it,' as there was no other option. I am usually adept at creating sniffs and I am sure one will turn up somewhere.

My surfing for smell was interrupted by the landlords handyman who had come looking for a leak. I misunderstood at first and proferred a carrot but having been shown what to do with it i declined. It appears the washing machine connection has been leaking for a while ~~on the drip below~~ and dripping on the chap downstairs. So instead of having fun I had to stand and watch an imitation plumber swear at the pipes. That is no fun I can tell you. What seemed like hours later I got back to business but by then it was time for 'Flanders Stew' and 'Eggheads.'

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Chilly Dusk

2011-12-13T19:55:00.000Z

A chilly dusk before four in the afternoon today. How I long to be somewhere warm! I was not made for this weather. The sun falling down on the job is the highlight of the day so far. Nothing else has happened. The news is full of grief and squabbling, and not the entertaining type. No it is sadly just politicians, murders, crooks, attention seekers and nothing interesting whatsoever. It is at times like these we need a good war to make the news interesting. There again the Scottish system of dealing with neds who attempt to avoid paying fares on the train is one that could be useful worldwide don't you think?

Now that was interesting!
Oh Look, a follow up here.

Daily Mail

Public Transport

2011-12-12T21:12:00.000Z

The sky was blue and the sun shone brightly as I trundled unwillingly down to the station this morning. While I usually enjoy these little journeys into the big city it was a tired grumbling lump that joined the grumbling queue at the ticket desk. The usual cheery efficient member of staff passed me my tickets and called me "Sir," something I am not used to. As I approached the 12 coach train, a normal length at commuter time, I chose an empty compartment towards the front, and as I reached the door two men came from the small covered shelter to the side. One moved to a door behind and the second followed me on. He murmured some words, as some people occasionally do, but I thought nothing of this grabbing the free 'Metro' that lay on a seat intending to merely flick through it, and chose a filthy seat at the front. The coach was empty yet this man, muttering about seating, chose to sit on the other side opposite me, still talking.

"Hmmm" I thought, "a talker," and suddenly became interested in the news I found in front of me. Now some folks on trains share a few words as they settle into the journey and some choose to talk like an old women, this was one of they! I remembered the hour long discussion of 'Uncle Joe's toe' on the bus that time and buried my head in the paper. Buried being the word as my glasses are meant for distance and not close up. I pushed them to the end of my Romanesque nose and used my short sight to read the paper from three inches from the print. I noticed my neighbour glare and turn to his (Paid for) paper. I continued to remain absorbed in the adventures of glossily dressed female 'pop' singers, actors with well paid dentists, African 'spiritual healers' with 'POWER,' and women who wished me to call them at 35pence a minute (they say) for a friendly chat. I also then realised why the other fellow from the platform shelter entered by a different door! Now in my world a train journey gives a great opportunity to see the world. Trains not only give you countryside but also show you those backyards and hidden places normally missed during our lives and some of us like looking into the back end of industrial estates, peoples gardens and sometimes their windows! The view on some lines can be spectacular, on others merely interesting, so why do some folks insist on talking in very loud voices about last nights' "X" Factor' or Simon Callow show? Do we really need to know about 'Uncle Joe's toe' while outside the sun shines, horses trot and the occasional sheep stares at the train as it passes. (The horrid thought strikes me that some on my train may not know that sheep provide their Sunday lunch!) But I digress. As we approached my station I concentrated on the football league divisions, all of them! Crawley Town top League two at the moment, did you know? As the train slowly, oh so slowly, round the bend I concentrated on the Welsh League, Llanelli doing well aint they? Soon we arrived and as I rose my talker glared at me again, I forgot to smile back. Now I rarely object to sharing a few pleasantries, but an old ~~woman~~ man was not what I required today. Being friendly surely includes not talking too much as well as too little? I felt a little guilty but I suspect he will soon have bored the pants of those who joined after I left.

Business done I returned to the station and headed home. Sharing a friendly word with the bored guard at the entrance I noticed a train for Liverpool St standing there. Would it stop at my stop I wondered? As is typical on that strangely laid out station there was no screen at that point to find out, so I, along with several others, jumped on. Nowadays all trains play passenger announcements. A lass with a 'come on voice' will inform you, as if speaking into your ear that "The next stop will be Witham." With that town being the delightful London overspill that it is she might as well say "The next stop will be Kabul!" As she gives you her 'come on' voice a message runs along the narrow indicator informing the deaf the name of the next stop. All good information and a credit to the railway company! Naturally today this did not happen. No voice was heard and the scrolling message simply stated 'This train is for Liverpool St.' A cold thrill ran through me as I saw myself at Liverpool St station fifty minutes hence attempting to explain to several large National Express Gestapo officers my plight. However we did in fact stop at the usual stations and I relaxed.

I would have relaxed more but for the one thing worse than a talker, a ned with headphones! The gentle hum of the modern train was accompanied by a 'shish shish shish,' from behind. I look at my watch and wonder if I, or any other passenger, can avoid decapitating the cretin before the next stop. I like music, I like loud music, but I do not like meaningless 'shish shish shish,' while observing the world pass me by (as it often does). Would you believe that two more young neds were found on the second train? Surely murder is acceptable in such circumstances? I changed trains and hung about the platform for an age while awaiting the second journey. The sky was blue, the wind chill factor high, but although my fingers began to freeze I enjoyed watching the trains pass by. I loved the other recorded not so sexy voiced lassies announcement that "The train approaching platform 3 does not stop here," which begins as the train is already a third of the way up the platform at 80 miles an hour! Which brings me to the notice. Those notices, small yellow things, which inform the reader to 'Keep back from platform edge,' and helpfully inform that "Passing trains cause air turbulence, Stand behind yellow line." Now at first sight this appears sensible, but as I read this the yellow line was behind me. If I then stood behind it I would have found myself sitting on top of a 'Sealand' container and half way to Felixstowe! Tsk, these signs need to explain the point better I say. You would be disappointed if I was to end up on the 3:45 and be found half dead in Shanghai wouldn't you? What...? oh!

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Lionel Walden

2011-12-11T20:33:00.001Z

I came across this picture of Cardiff Docks by the American artist Lionel Walden (1861-1933)the other day and am much impressed. I love realism in paint, especially when as bright as this, er... dank, scene happens to be. It is real life, full of action and contains a steam train! What more could anyone ask for I wonder? Cardiff Docks themselves have declined with the years, although still in use much of the area has been regenerated and the 'Tiger Bay' reputation is not what it once was. Waldens pictures are worth a look!

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2011-12-10T20:58:00.001Z

Friday Musings

2011-12-09T16:21:00.001Z

These interesting houses were I read somewhere built by one of the Courtauld's for some of their (better) employees. Unfortunately I cannot find the link again and I am going on memory here. I believe they were built as late as 1926 and appear influenced by the 'Arts & Crafts Movement' begun by the middle class socialist William Morris. They stand alone, backing on to the allotments that join the playing fields. I often wonder what they are like inside, although glancing at the windows brings scowls from the inhabitants I find, and the only disadvantage they have these days comes from the once large front garden now turned into car parking, and the tiny letterbox which annoys postmen! Whether they are now on open sale or still tied by some agreement I cannot tell, and being broke don't really care, but I do think that if you make homes for your (better) employees you may as well make them attractive like the ones shown here.

I saw this picture for the first time many years ago and took to it straight away. The face of the woman, bored, depressed, or what stuck in my mind. I just wanted to do something for her. Who knows why this was painted, possibly it was a genuine situation the artist noted, at least it wasn't more young ballet dancers! The reality of the situation still impresses me, and reality is all that matters.

During the high winds that crossed the centre of Scotland yesterday, causing no little destruction, flooding and turning over of vehicles, someone, I know not who, took this picture from the train while crossing the Forth Bridge. The Forth Road Bridge behind is deserted, closed because of the winds howling up the Forth from the west, and there in between the bridges we see a small boat cheerfully crossing the Forth in spite of it all. I wonder if this is an official boat, Police or Coastguard perhaps, whatever rather him than me in such weather!

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I Don't Know Either.

2011-12-08T13:15:00.001Z

The brats at the skatepark, being male, do have a habit doing strange and needless things. For reasons beyond my comprehension the tree towering over the skatepark has been festooned with trainers. Whether any individual was contained within them when they made their way onto the tree branches is not known. This is not the first time such decoration has been used to 'brighten' the area, a while back one tree was furbished with what appeared to be a pack of yellow toilet tissue. Large streamers hung delicately from the tree, much to the annoyance of the council workmen who had to remove them. No adolescent was hurt in this operation, also to the annoyance of the council workmen!

On the other hand there is little reason to expect youths to behave in a reasonable manner when planning permission, controlled by the council, leads to half demolished buildings such as the one behind. Depending on whom you read planning permission has been agreed for either a dozen houses or a hotel containing eighty bedrooms! Considering the space will struggle to contain a dozen houses, even at the size they build them today, an eighty bedroom hotel is pushing it! To make matters worse there will be parking space for about six cars! However owing to some planning regulations that I fail to comprehend to avoid the planning permission running out a start has to be made on demolishing the old clinic. As the observer not wearing dark glasses and looking the other way will note the building is half demolished. Quite how the brats have not yet managed to set fire to the place is a wonder as they have frequently set many items around here on fire, litter bins, post boxes, old huts, even the skatepark itself had the covering material burnt off! Yet there the mess that is this building stands, unburnt. I may do it myself if this goes on much longer. How much for the land, Price on application, which means too much! I reckon this may lie derelict until the recession is over.

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2011-12-07T10:23:00.001Z

'Matt' at the 'Daily Telegraph,' is without doubt the most reliable of today's cartoonists. Always relevant and rarely unfunny. Sadly this cannot be said for so many at the moment. Too many are busy insulting someone or just being bland and humourless. Matt is so popular I note the shops now sell birthday cards with his cartoons emblazoned on them as well as his annual book. I like this one, it comes near to my heart.

Yet another trip into town today, this time for a meeting that never happened. I expected something of an educational experience but found I would have been better off at home. Still the folks are nice and I did learn something in the end. There was a wonderful sky outside the window and I wanted to grab the camera and run out but was not in a position so to do. Heading towards the station the twilight was aching to be photographed yet I could not get a space to take advantage of it. By the time the train arrived it was dark. and I landed on the last train before commuterland comes alive. Considering the snow up north and the biting wind a picture of the old weir, I wonder if a mill stood here once, looks jolly in the sunshine. The river is very high however. Not very exciting but difficult to photograph at this place.

We ought also to remember Japans biggest mistake, the attack on Pearl Harbour, 70 years ago today.

Museum

2011-12-06T19:20:00.001Z

The other day I sat listening to several intelligent and knowledgeable women talking about a renovation of a museum display. Clearly they had years of experience and much knowledge both of the objects and the people who use such places. When my opinion was sought it was to be polite as I was clearly a 'know nothing' and it showed. My role was clearly marked out for me and I just obeyed, with women around this is usually the safest option. The town museum is linked with the museum at the old weaving mill, this town being famous for the home of two major weavers in times past. Next week at some undecided date I am privileged to spray anti woodworm stuff on bits of wood that make up an aged loom in preparation for the removal of same to the Mill itself. Two looms are on display, the one referred to which was used for complicated patterns and was operated mostly by men, and a smaller one worked by women (cheaper), simpler and used for high volume work, mostly in Victorian days, funereal black cloth. For me a small step into something useful, in a historical setting, and for them cheap labour. There are three white wooden mills still standing in the town, much changed since the mills closed in the 70's. This one contains offices (empty) and the museum archive.

From the museum on the right of this picture, with the strange addition of a fancy entrance to entice business requiring office space to apply, we look across to the other mill now a combination of business and several flats. As a postie I found the flat letterboxes confusing, but I am not one to complain so I will not mention this. There must have been hundreds employed here at one time. Highly skilled work was taken on, and still is as part of the museum work. Silk was one material woven for the Queens coronation in 1953, and is still called for now. Th east of England has a thousand years or more of weaving history. The abundance of sheep made the nation wealthy, hence the Lord Chancellor used to sit on the 'woolsack' in the House of Lords, he may still do although I believe there has been changes there. Many small villages and towns host churches with very large towers, Lavenham being one, which reflects the wealth of the area and the desperate need to show the world just how rich these locals were! That is a village well worth a visit, although few locals smiled at us when there some time ago!
There again few people never smile at me, laugh yes but smile, no.

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Edinburgh Pandas

2011-12-05T20:53:00.001Z

Frank Boyle Edinburgh Evening News

Frank Boyle captures the arrival of two Pandas, on loan from our friends in China for ten years, and satarises the Edinburgh love of chips covered in both salt and brown watery sauce! The Pandas have arrived in an effort China is making to join the real world, and reflect Scotland's desire for an international presence, especially among the 'big boys!' Russia and the USA will be next I suspect. I once, a long time ago, wandered around the London Zoo at Regents Park, a sad imitation in comparison to the one sitting on Corstorphine Hill. I journeyed there to see the two Panda Bears among other things, animals in captivity upsetting some poor souls but not those like me who would not see them otherwise. I can assure you the Pandas gave me a similar reception to that which pretty young lassies do when I whisper in their ear. One was not to be seen and memory indicates the other was engrossed in the bamboo and cared nothing for those who paid through the nose to see them. They, like me, failed to breed, a habit that helps the bears to die out slowly in their mountain homelands. I am reliably informed that there are some women who wish their men were more like the Panda, I do not understand what they mean by this. It is to be hoped that Edina's balmy atmosphere will aid the passion of these two, if they can put the bamboo down for long enough.

Edinburgh chip shops are, or at least were, highly important to the society. Until the 70's shops had a terrible habit of opening from 9-5, and that included an hour closed for lunch. This led to folks suffering when an important item was not to be found in the house, often there was no way of obtaining goods after five. Chip shops provided the answer as they sold some goods and often acted as the corner shop. However at that time many Asians were thrown out of East Africa where their forefathers had journeyed in the days of the Empire to build railways for their considerate employers. Being Indians they soon took over all the commerce of Africa, and by the 70's many were being persecuted by the Idi Amin's of this world. A great many arrived in Leith and opened shops, one in Leith Walk learned his English, as did his fat slob son, by speaking to his customers. Most were successes, this success based on the simple idea of opening between 8-6 and not closing for lunch. It does not matter how many supermarkets open most folk want a corner shop and these men were good at that business. Some even opened up to seven at night, a revelation in Edinburgh at that time, now wonder some became millionaires. I remember one telling us how he increased the price of his tinned beers when Glasgow football fans were passing his shops on the Saturday, he would reduce it to normal price once they had gone!

Until their arrival chip shops were split into two, many still are, and they played the part of the corner shop. A tin of beans, a packet of cigarettes or sweets for the kids were all supplied for the section to the side used for that purpose. These places were never licensed for alcohol. The main business was fish and chips, pies, sausages and chicken, and today kebabs and anything that sells. In Edinburgh salt was lavished unhealthily onto the chips and a brown sauce, impossible to describe but a 'must have' on Edinburgh chips, was liberally applied. Some folks just preferred vinegar, and a surprise to foreigners from England, the woman in the shop applied the salt & sauce, they did not wrap it up and leave you to unwrap it and apply the needful yourself! Pies also were not wrapped in paper as the English offer them, a strange behaviour I have never understood, and of course were always 'mince pies,' made with mutton, and similar to the manner of many customers dress sense. In short chip shops throughout Scotland were excellent in every way, and even better around the capital city where salt & sauce abound.

Of course there is in all things one slight drawback to all this, a combination of cigarettes, to much alcohol (Mr S are you listening?) and lashings of fish and chips, salt drenched, when leaving public houses has led to Scotland having one of the highest rates of heart failure in the world. Still, you canny have everything, can you? I wonder how long Panda and his mate will survive.....?

BRyn Haworth, Christmas Blues

2011-12-04T19:33:00.001Z

Another Saturday Night

2011-12-03T20:03:00.001Z

One of the joys of any winters Saturday night is to dwell on the satisfying football result from the afternoon. This, as any supporter of the Heart of Midlothian will remind anyone willing to listen, is a pleasure to be enjoyed, but not expected! To have a concern for this side means carrying around a deep cynicism based on hard reality. Success is a mere step away and yet we find ourselves drifting in a sea of despair. The treasured European place awaits us but once again we are far from there and Christmas is upon us once again. This afternoon I listened in to Radio Glasgow's actually quite decent commentary on the game against St Johnstone. This we knew would be a difficult occasion as the Perth side have had excellent results this season and attempt to play good football. Naturally we also knew we would win.
We lost 2-1.
Not only were they probably the better side but we missed a penalty and they scored one! Now our disappointed players, who have not as yet been paid, have to prepare for the game against Celtic next week. We ought to beat that rag tag and bobtail bunch of misfits, but I wonder.....

Why are 'St Johnstone' called 'St Johnstone' anyway?
Perth is an old established city (although now called a 'city' for some daft reason) and the area around Perth has been inhabited since Mesolithic times, around 8000 years ago. The River Tay was crossed at low tide here and settlements grew around it. The Tay contains the largest volume of water of any British river, and it it very cold indeed. This does not stop some folks dipping into it almost daily! They must be dafties! Perth was the residence of some of the past royalties, an important town during the Reformation, and possessed many industries, especially that of whisky. The main Kirk, or church, was dedicated to St John the Baptist and became known as 'St John's.' The town became known as 'St John's Toun' during the middle ages although the Pictish name Perth (meaning 'wood') was reinstated.

None of that interesting aside brightens the gloom here mind. The footballers have not yet received their wages, and the cash may well have run out. The owner wishes to sell and I would gladly buy him out for a £1 if I could find someone to lend me £30 million to pay the debts. Woe is us, the futures bright, for those who carry a candle in their pockets.

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All Done

2011-12-01T20:58:00.001Z

All my Christmas shopping and card writing has now been done. Nothing cash wise to spend so little bought, cards cheap, stamps and postage dearer than I reckoned, but everything done. Pah! Some people have not even started yet, would you believe that?

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St Andrews Day

2011-11-30T19:32:00.001Z

Leadership

2011-11-29T08:05:00.001Z

Herman Cain is one of the many Republican candidates for the American presidency. Somewhat unsurprisingly a woman has come forward claiming to have had a 13 year long affair with him. I say 'unsurprisingly' as it appears every other candidate is found out by his dallying with a woman of some kind at some time. In'the land of the free' some things are not 'free' after all.

There is something worrying about all this. Apart from the loose living candidates, not to mention their women who appear always to be the 'innocent' parties, at least when they appear on television talk shows, in the press and in magazine articles for months and years to come, apart from all this there is a hypocrisy in requiring high standards from leaders while not living in similar manner ourselves. American presidents must be married, to one wife, no girlfriends, no sexual perversions, nothing 'immoral' must be found upon him. However this is a nation in which many demand the absurdity of 'gay marriage,' in which millions are aborted annually, millions on the welfare schemes, and those who have resist strongly sharing their wealth with those who have not, especially the sick or old! Surely something is amiss? The UK is of course no better. We demand from leaders that which we allow elsewhere, especially where we are concerned.

An individual, whether king or peasant, ought to have a private life, and we can see with the inquiry into the UK media just how little privacy anyone actually has, yet we demand from them a moral stability that we can respect. Surely the first thing that matters must be their ability, not the faults they share with us all? Lord Palmerston had many women at his beck and call, and often they were involved in other nations governments, and this helped him, and them, no end. he lasted until he was 81 in high office, although Victoria would not allow him into Buckingham Palace as he was 'not respectable.' Today he would be hounded out. Churchill drank and was called a drunk, although in fact he was never a drunk in any way, JFK had his women and at that time it was ignored, he would not be seen as a hero today by many. How many leaders of ability were 'moral?' Few if any. The very job makes straight forward moral decisions difficult. The US requires a leader with the ability to do the job in front of him, his peccadilloes may tell us much about him but must not be the predominant factor. If they are many good leaders from the past would never have got there.

Late Afternoon

2011-11-28T19:10:00.001Z

Wandering about on a fruitless search for work I dragged my weary body through the streets. Nothing happened. That sums up the excitement for today and reveals the staggering joy of my life at the moment. Now that winter has arrived bringing cold temperatures, wind which cut through the thin layers of my coat, and make me wander about outside as it is warmer there than inside my palatial palace, I may find dragging my body harder work, wearing all those old anoraks like...... Nothing of any interest happened this morning again, I did not expect it would. The weariness from that bug still hangs around and it takes ages to do anything unless pushed into it. I did struggle through the aches to begin some of my duties, but not many. Still I am not one to complain.....

There is a growing number of inflatable snowmen standing outside folks doors these days. Plastic reindeer's, Santa's climbing up walls, lights strung up alongside houses and a pitiful few decorate the centre of town. Christmas trees drop their needles on many a carpet and 'It is tidings of comfort and joy,' everywhere. You can see it in the happy smiling faces of the people as they blow their car horns loudly at one another and growl meaningfully at passers-by. Those carrying trees or rolls of wrapping paper are happy to share their joy by shoving them into your back in their hurry to get home to share their joy and happiness. Shops increase the price of their cards, toys and paper as they inflict Chrismassy tunes on the shoppers to get them 'in the mood.' It certainly creates a mood in me all right but not one that ought to arise at Christmas, or any other time come that. In the 70's the boss of the Cash & Carry where I worked put Christmas tunes on the Tannoy. It took minutes before we all wandered around tight lipped and fuming at the music on offer, several days later we were word perfect on they tunes but some chose to change the words and insert others referring to the boss himself. He may not have been pleased had he heard them.

Mid winter celebrations are a must for us here in the cold, wet, northern hemisphere, and it is rather sad that Christmas is abused at this time. Much better to follow the Scots way and celebrate new year. The idea of covering up a pagan celebration with a Christian one was understandable but a slight misjudgment there I reckon. Jesus birth ought to be celebrated properly and a drunken commercial event does not do this. However I will accept cards and gifts, reluctantly, if proffered!

Does this car belong to anyone you know.....?

I thought the owner of this number plate would have a better car.....

Sunday Night

2011-11-27T18:30:00.001Z

Sunday night entertainment was spent crawling through the ever darkening streets attempting to find a spot where I could picture the sunset and feature the large crescent moon. By the time I found a spot it was quite dark and the moon itself looks awfully small in this pic, but it is there! Wonderful sky tonight, the colours are hard to beat as the sun sinks below the distant horizon (there must be hundreds of them there, one goes down there every night!). In spite of the beauty of the skies above I noticed that few appeared to notice. How we miss so much by looking no further than our nose!

Star

The football world was upset today by the news of Gary Speeds death. He was found hanged at home early this morning. Police state that no suspicious circumstances were involved. Forty two year old Speed was manager of the Welsh football team and had a good reputation within football. Only yesterday he had appeared on a TV football programme and had spoken to one or two of his friends and appeared outwardly to be happy enough. Both TV and radio have been filled with stunned friends and colleagues sharing their shock at his death.

The reason for his suicide is not yet known but several articles end with reference to the Samaritans and stress the importance of 'talking to someone' if a man has problems. This is a wise precaution as many men feel despair at their various situations yet will not talk about it to anyone. Some feel weak if they talk, others embarrassed. The Samaritans, as well as doctors and other agencies have seen it all before and are well able to offer a non judgmental listening ear, and able to direct individuals to the help they require. No man needs to suffer in silence!

Saturday Night Out

2011-11-26T14:53:00.001Z

So I decided after the dubious replies this morning that I needed a night on the tiles. I intended to seek the bright lights of the town centre (paid for by credit card) and eat at the 'Thai Curry House and Takeaway Massage' where I have, er 'friends.' Then head for the 'Independent Bar' where the landlord assures me there are no drugs allowed on his premises. When I pointed out to him when I met him in the street yesterday that a chap flung a brick at the head of another in his bar he replied, "Yes he did, but drugs were not involved. Just needless violence." I couldn't argue with that. However it may be better I reckoned that I went to the 'Nags Head,' or whatever it is called now. There again I hesitate, what with the doormen, sorry 'entrance control officers' and the 'incident,' I must reconsider. 'The Bull' has stood in the market place for well over a hundred years, serving the public and being well recommended by one and all. Once it was filled with farmers and their ilk as the market pens were opposite the entrance. Cattle, sheep, ~~and servants~~ would be bought and sold in between 'refreshment in the 'Bull.' I think it is a legal 'must' that every market town or village in England has a pub in the centre called 'The Bull!' Today there are few farmers there watching the football on one of the may screens, few young males watch it in the early evening as young females wearing pelmets arrive and distract them. Hmmm that might affect my heart too much so I am not sure about that one. There is of course the ancient 'Boars Head,' and the other place next door, a third watering hole down the road full of rich trendy folks (they think) stoned out of their head, all of which can give one like me an evening of fun and jollity (laughing at them). Pubs restaurants, happy young people, loud music, wine, dancing......hold on, wait a minute, it's raining! Well forget it, I canny go out. I have a hole in both my shoes and I am not squelching about in my condition. Now, what's on TV instead....?

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Friday Night Entertainment

2011-11-25T19:57:00.001Z

There was a time when I couldn't wait for the No 17 bus to arrive. At 7:30 on the dot, except when it was late as it was most Friday nights, I would clamber aboard and head for the bright city lights. Usually this meant a pub in Edinburgh's Rose Street called the 'Goblet.' There we would carouse along with other citizens as we wasted our money and lives on lager at one shilling and elevenpence a pint. Oh that was living! Actually no it wasn't but there you are. Gordon Brown was one of the residents of the lounge, although we didn't know he was Gordon brown until many years later. He was just one of the student oiks who sat behind the door. Nice blokes but clearly students as they had more to drink than we could afford! Friday nights around the world remains the same for many. Seeking the life of adventure, company, friends, entertainment and jollity they crowd the city centres, the pubs and clubs and other places of 'entertainment.' Once I could not wait to get out and join the happy throng and not be trapped in the house. Friday, and Saturdays for that matter, meant I had to do something 'out there, I could not be inside while 'life' happened and I missed it My life needed to be where it was all at, even if it wasn't actually, but at least I was there when life didn't happen.

I was cogitating on this earlier tonight as I happily browsed the 48 page 'Tesco Big Price Drop' brochure, selecting bargains with which to fill my kitchen cupboards. Rejecting the page full of '£1 OFF' vouchers as the products so reduced were not worth having even if free I checked the prices of a wide variety of special offers, all of which are way over the cost of the 'Own Brand' versions, even when reduced. Comparing the price on the 'Jacobs CLUB' with the price of 'Raisin and Lemon Pancakes' I suddenly realised that I was an old woman. I ought to have known this as it is something that has been pointed out to me quite often before. By 'quite often' I actually mean daily since around 1960. Before that I was just 'stupid brat!' In spite of all the evidence to the contrary I have continued to ignore this rather obvious revelation even though I now have a collection of Supermarket 'Special Offers' leaflets going back to 2001. Doesn't everyone keep theirs....? Man how prices have changed! So here I am no longer concerned with the bright lights nor the drink that makes them brighter, the attractions of the world appear to me to be empty, worthless and stupidly expensive. Yet I am happier in many ways now than I was then. Life is strange, innit....?

Oops, 8:45 pm, almost time for the cocoa.......

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Old Photos

2011-11-23T21:03:00.001Z

This is Paris 9111 by Alfred Stieglitz. I like this, especially enlarged. This is not a great subject but it is real life and I like that sort of thing. Photographic fashion changes over the years, possibly reflecting society, possibly reflecting the photographer, possibly just folks playing around with the camera. Stieglitz didn't 'play around,' and produced some interesting pictures in his day. Born in New Jersey in 1864 he was presenting his first pictures by the 1880's. Considering the bulkiness of the cameras and the difficulty of developing and printing in those early days it is amazing how quickly photography caught on. Alfred was a man at the centre of the American photographic world until his death in 1946.

Henri Cartier - Bresson 1908-2004 came later and was the master of the candid picture. He was not however keen of being photographed himself which is a bit unfair. Considered one of the greatest of his time he was aided by the invention just before the Great War of the Leica Camera. The compact nature and quiet workings enabled him to ~~pry on people~~ take candid snaps.

Bert Hardy 1913-1995 came to fame as a Picture Post cameraman. This magazine combined news stories with good quality pictures and was popular until the days of television took away the public. Bert's pictures combined gritty reality of life in Britain before and after the Second World War. Whatever the subject Hardy gave realism a human edge, these were real people and readers of the magazine could easily identify with them. He is without doubt one of the great British photographers.

Music Comparison

2011-11-22T20:34:00.001Z

CCR are a group that have been around for many years. I like this type of thing now and again and today I found them on YouTube Not the most intellectual group, they are from the south after all, but I do like a stomping band every so often and they fit the bill.

On the other hand I like this also. (No not because of the cover which I suspect was designed by a man) While CCR records last about three minutes 'A Winged Victory For The Sullen,' lasts over seven minutes of deep thought and cogitation. A mellow sound very different from CCR. I like both.

What thinkest thou....?

A Foggy Day

2011-11-20T19:04:00.001Z

Just visible in this pic is the hazy mist that has hung about all day. Behind me, but difficult to picture, the mist was thicker in the lower lying ground. Until midday the mist was very thick and ideal for clever photographers to make the most of the opportunities. One amateur was either in his kip or stuffing his face to much to make the effort to go out however and that football does not watch itself. More of this tomorrow as autumn takes hold of us and winter begins to lower the temperature before it arrives.

Nothing Happened Today

2011-11-19T18:18:00.001Z

Nothing happened today. I got up, wandered about, spoke to a Labrador, made a mince stew, bought tomatoes, and took this picture. The football was uninteresting, the energy nil, the mince was mince, and now I am wandering through YouTube to find relaxing Jazz, like this.....

This is no bad either.....

Music for Saturday night,all American and no cowboys to be seen!

Adrenalin

2011-11-18T18:30:00.001Z

Rising just before six am I retrieved my aching hulk from the bundle of rags, filled the cavernous stomach with stale bread, checked the papers online, peered through the curtains to see if the sun was working and then headed into the fray. By eight I had done the weekly shop and was free to picture the early sun doddering into the sky in the far distance. (The sun has to be in the far distance otherwise things could be a bit awkward.) Then, having put the east wing of the salubrious residence back into some sort of order, cleaned it, opened the windows to let freshish air in, I then sat down for a tea break.

I died!

I recall working in the Hospital at Maida Vale when we ran about all day non stop. It was a constant movement with always something to do, oxygen cylinders, patients, cars, nurses throwing themselves at us, the usual. However on a Sunday, especially when doing a twelve hour shift it was impossible to motivate the lithe body I then had to do the three trips upstairs with the dinner trolleys! The demand for an oxygen cylinder caused much resentment and meant movement!

Having done all the important physically demanding things the energy disappeared!

There were things to be done on the PC but I had not got the impetus to do them. Had I to lift and carry I could do it but with no such demand the adrenalin ran away and left me. Rather like most women I know (what did you say?). The rest of the day has seen me limp around, doze, and generally waste away. The PC stuff is still not done, as indeed are the dishes - again, and I am looking forward to my bed.

Oh how I live the high life......

Racism

2011-11-17T07:32:00.001Z

Sepp Blatter the chief suit at FIFA is in trouble again. Speaking in English he rather made light of racism in football, suggesting that comments made could be dealt with by a 'handshake' afterwards. Whether using English made his meaning unclear or not he walked into one of those lynch mobs that gather so easily these days, especially when 'race' is concerned. 'Outrage' and 'fury' fill the media and an England international has become embroiled in a 'Twitter' exchange with Blatter over this. It seems to me his meaning was not clear but in the UK racist comments at football matches have been more or less removed. Such is not the case in some other places, eastern Europe for instance gives black players a very hard time, and comments like Blatters brings out the 'easily offended' almost immediately. Similar response was seen the other day when a sacked 'caddy' of Tiger Woods referred to Woods as a 'black arsehole.' The media jumped at the chance! Not only was this 'Tiger,' a big name in the world (and one they themselves had roundly abused not that long ago on pages 10.11.12.13.14.15.16 etc) but the caddy used the word 'black.' 'Racism' loudly cried the democratic free world that believes in free speech! (It's not fascism when we do it by the way!) shock, horror, disgraceful! Both situations produced media outcries, both fill space and allow some to appear disgruntled on television and both were way over the top in my view.

Blatter is a 'suit,' the president of the major football organisation, one renown for the corruption within and around. I doubt he would ever encourage racism in any form, but as a political operator has clearly not done enough to bring it to an end where it does still show. The caddy, who's name escapes me as he was such an important fellow, had a grudge against his former boss, for whom he worked for many years successfully. He has a right to be upset, his comment, like Blatters, may have been daft but neither were they racist. Both were small incidents and an apology could have ended it all within minutes. The media however require a 'storm!'

I indicated to some on an English paper today an item of English racism that constantly arises and is never made into a major fuss by the media. This time King James the VI & I was described, as he always is in the English press, as King James I. Clearly had they followed the Guardian take and referred correctly to him as 'King James I of England, their Scottish monarch,' it would have been acceptable. However this was ignorant English racism that claims him as English and Scotland as part of 'Greater England.' It is an unconscious thing mostly, but it treats Scotland with contempt and no media ever claims this as wrong! Indeed the response was arrogant insults, as always! It appears some wrongs are worth shouting about just because the popular mood says so, even if they are minor, other wrongs can be ignored.

Happy Smile Club

2011-11-16T19:24:00.001Z

One club we all enthusiastically joined whether we like it or not was the 'Happy Smile Club.' The entire primary school accepted membership to encourage us to clean our teeth morning or night. The success of this club is shown in the many fillings I have since obtained, although seven of these arrived by my insistence on eating cheap chewing gum! While in London cheerful Australian dentists working their way across Europe helpfully removed more, and took some of the nerves with them, and asked me to answer questions while my mouth was frozen solid. These memories ran through my addled brain this morning while I mused upon the trip across the road to Dr Sanei. A lovely man he may be but he is a dentist! As such he is armed with a lovely smile, a blonde (I note they are always blonde) dental nurse and a dirty big drill. He smiled, the nurse smiled, the receptionist smiled, and the drill stared..... However he did nothing but 'give them a clean' with what appeared to be a 'Back and Decker' power drill. Then threw me out onto the street unwanted for another year. The daylight looked a lot brighter when I emerged I can tell you.

As I sauntered through the market I cogitated on why dentists are usually depressed, well they are always looking down in the mouth aren't they? Anyway then it was back home to paint once again. Half the room done in an afternoon and stopped only because of failing light. It was impossible to differentiate what I had done from what had gone before, so I gave up.

It is a strange sight when clearing things away to note paint on the shirt, the carpet, the door and ask yourself "Why is there Magnolia footprints walking down the stairs.....?" I am reminded of the sight of bright emerald green ladies barefoot prints making their way into the Royal Free Hospital in the early eighties. Who had been on the end of them and how they got their I never discovered. Possibly this was one of the medical student pranks that occasionally happened there. One year one or two thought it a laugh to race through the main entrance in a Mini Car and spin round and drive out again. Medical students have always been in my mind the daftest of all students. Possibly because once a doctor that straight laced bedside manner has to constantly be on call.

All this effort is killing me, I have been a scrounger (@ 'Daily Mail reader) for so long that working half a day, shifting this, lifting that, going out for this and that, tote that barge, lift that bale, and then painting and putting it all back again is wearing me out. To think I once worked hard lifting and carrying, sometimes things and at other times people, and now the slightest effort makes me long for my bed, an object which lies somewhere under that junk piled upon it when painting.

It's a good job I am not one to complain, that's all I can say....

The Morning Crow

2011-11-15T16:10:00.001Z

This is the morning crow, I rarely see him later in the day. He and his mates gather to feed on the brats leftovers lying around, and rarely in, the abundant bins provided. These crows are powerful birds and very confident in their strength at that. Passing seagulls often land to help themselves and one crow will descend and chase the lot away. They do not like it and circle screeching but rarely attempt to take on these boys.
Not long ago I was up the road and noticed a dozen or so pigeons flocking together somewhat nervously. Thy raced this way and that, keeping a tight formation and over my head passed a large hunting bird, a Kestrel or Hawk of some kind. He ignored them and flew on at a steady pace to another area, probably because a few feet behind him, and slightly to his right, followed a crow, gently escorting him, like a Spitfire chasing a Heinkel, out off the area. A few years back, in London, the church opposite had a pecking order on the roof. The pigeons lined up along the main part of the building, wood pigeons took to the tree, and the crows, lots of them, dominated the square tower overlooking everyone. On occasions a crow would sweep down and chase everyone away, just to show who was boss, but otherwise folks just got along well. That is until a Kestrel, which belonged to a nearby church tower, decided to land on this one and have seat in the afternoon sun. Boy was he unpopular! The pigeons decided to move elsewhere and all the crows gathered to yell at the stranger. The noise was terrific but he just sat there on the corner shouting back. After a while he flew off and was escorted out by a crowd of screaming banshees and never returned. I'm not surprised!

I feel the need to do something physical. So I said to the landlord's manager, "I will paint the hall for you," as they worked on the flat next door. So Friday, late on, I done a few 'edges' and on Saturday I spent a while (2hours in the morning and three in the afternoon) painting. Yesterday I had to run into Colchester because the dole have put me on a 'work' programme. This meant getting up at the crack of dawn to get the ten o'clock train. A huge queue was grumbling there as the 'chip and pin' 'Visa' card system was not issuing tickets and they were having much trouble getting through the folk. The train was due and normally all would have been well. not today! As I eventually got to the hole in the wall I decided not to use the card as the train was about to leave and offered money (where did I get that?) and the train doors closed. He threw the tickets at me and shouted to the rest "Pay on the train!" We charged the doors and got on just! I then had almost an hour in the boring part of Colchester to wait for my appointment which took 20 minutes and got nowhere. While waiting to be paid my fares (the best bit off the day) meant a long queue behind one man who was ~~chancing his arm~~ ~~enquiring as to how he could make more out of it,~~ I mean get paid also. I then had another hour wandering around before my train was due. I arrived home knackered, it was almost as if I had worked! This morning I finished the painting and stood back and understood why I never became a decorator. There was more on the carpet and on me than on the wall, and the dust sheet was sticking a bit also. Still I might get a bit of work helping out as there is too much for the two bodgers to do themselves. Oh me back! Now I have to do my bedroom with left over paint also. is there no end to this? I had forgotten working was so tiring, I'm off to bed...

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Riverside Cottages

2011-11-14T20:15:00.001Z

Remembrance

2011-11-13T08:37:00.001Z

I attended the Remembrance ceremony at the local memorial this afternoon and was somewhat surprised by the turn out. I expected a few dozen and possibly a thousand or two were there. As expected the local dignitaries, mayor, leading men, armed forces representatives and British Legion personnel attended, prayers were said, and wreaths laid. A march to the church followed and we all went home. A few individual servicemen were there and I wondered what they thought of such memorials? After all one day they might appear on them? Perfect respect was made by the people, and as I glanced at the ages of civilian men wearing medals from recent actions I wondered how many were remembering comrades who have died and remain real to them today. The vicar gave a few words, and I found it somewhat grating when he talked of the men fighting for 'righteousness,' that may well have been for some but not for all. There appears to be an unwillingness to talk honestly at such services, platitudes appear to be the thing to do. Behind him are the names of around 200 men who fell in the Great War he could at least have mentioned one or two by name. False religion does not convey truth to the people and I was disappointed with this.

Remembrance like this began with the loss of 750,000 lives during the Great War, around 300,000 still missing after all these years. Humans require a place to mourn their dead and the Cenotaph in London and the Stone of Remembrance in Edinburgh became places for mourning, both private and official. Within ten years memorials were to be found throughout the UK and well attended each Armistice Day. No 'jingoism' is found here, and today many remember enemies as well as friends during such meetings. Whether those who fought the 'taliban' feel this way is open to debate, but that will come in time. Predominately we mourn or commemorate our own but all war dead, worldwide, can be remembered at times like these. War will always occur, and peace is not possible for humanity but we can do our best to avoid war and if not we can at least remember those who fall.

Those who fell are often known to have sacrificed themselves for others. The pilots who kept an aircraft in the air why the crew bail out, the few who hold to the last man a position to allow their comrades to withdraw, the small escort sloop which turns towards an enemy battleship to protect a convoy are said to have 'laid down their life for their friends.' Such self sacrifice is not uncommon in war, and not always from those we would expect to be 'hero's.' Most are just men, young men at that, who respond to a situation and give themselves for others. No wonder we remember such men, even if they receive no official reward. What sort of man lays down his life for another? Duty, comradeship, are at least to reasons and I suspect those who act this way do not do so because they have planned such an end. Jesus at least knew his end when he offered his life for his friends. Duty and pure love made him lay down his life for us all, and we were, and still are some of us, all enemies of him, yet he gave himself anyway. This thought always comes to me at such remembrances. It is easy to die for comrades some would say but it is another thing altogether to love your enemies and give yourself for them. That is worth remembering.

Other Wars, Large and Small

2011-11-11T15:14:00.001Z

My Collectors

I have never come across this medal before. It is a copy of the medal presented to those who served in the 'Forgotten War,' Korea, between 1950 and 1953. This short sharp war cast many lives and reflects the USA and Russia's first attempt to dominate the world without resorting to Atomic War! By fighting in South East Asia, Africa and Central & South America nuclear devastation was kept at bay for sixty years. The devastation and after effects may well have cost over fifty million lives but none occurred in the west, so that's all right then! Several nations were involved in the fight in Korea, The US, Britain & Australia amongst them. Remembrance today must include these men along with those who served in the major wars before 1950. These men suffered similar traumas and you can read about two such men on this short memorial to them, 'A Hill in Korea.' Another who served there, aged 18 and conscripted like it or not, was Sir Michael Caine the actor. He saw service there as well as in many movies, where at least he knew how to look like a soldier. Michael Caine, Royal Fusilier.

Korea was only one of many wars and battles fought, especially during the 'end of empire' that saw Britain loose the many colonies around the world. India, Israel, the middle east, Malaysia, Kenya where the Mau Mau rebellion lasted several years, Cyprus and Aden all saw British troops in action. 1958 was the only year in which British forces saw no action. Of course we also think of Northern Ireland, Iraq and Afghanistan, the Falklands and Oman, a war in which the SAS worked silently for many years. Wandering through town today I passed an ageing army lorry festooned with poppies, rifles and tommy guns, a German steel helmet of WW2 vintage, without the German inside, and a group of stout ex-servicemen bedecked with medals, some from the Second War. On Sunday they will assemble again at one of the memorials and their remembrance will be more poignant than any of ours. They do not remember names and old photographs, they will remember the memories, and they will remember the person who did not return.

Bomber Command

2011-11-10T18:58:00.000Z

From 1939 until the success of D-Day on June the 6th 1944 the only real tactic the British had to hand that could hurt the German enemy in Europe was Bomber Command. Early results showed that the safest and most effective tactic for the RAF was to fly at night, aircraft well spaced out, and bomb the targets. For the majority of raids this was to be the procedure followed. When the Americans joined in during 1942 they decided to fly in tight group formations and flew during the day. Both suffered heavy losses. RAF aircrews endured a tour of 30 operations, only one in six expected to survive their first tour! Some flew huge numbers of sorties, Guy Gibson VC the leader of the 'Dambusters Raid,' flew with several types of aircraft and managed at least 175 sorties. Even so the RAF bomber crews had a life expectancy worse than that of junior officers during the first world war. By wars end these crews had served in every theatre of war and suffered 55,573 crewmen killed, 8,403 wounded and 9,838 becoming prisoners of war. This out of a total crew number of 125,000! Most of these airmen were aged between 19 - 25, Guy Gibson was a mere 26 when he died, probably from 'friendly fire.' RAF crews also contained many from Australia, Canada and New Zealand and the West Indies who shared the suffering of the British crews. Bombing caused major casualties on the ground and many today wish to see Bomber Command as a war crime! It is fair to say that the majority of those who say this never actually lived under the threat of German bombing themselves, maybe if they did they may feel differently. It has also to be said many who endured the Luftwaffe hated the effect of bombing on those on the ground in Germany also. However if you 'sow the wind, you reap the whirlwind.' Remember those young men who courageously flew off into the freezing dark night, in danger from enemy fighters, effective anti aircraft fire and the knowledge that if they did manage to return for breakfast some at least would not. Each night RAF airfields heard the roar of Rolls Royce engines as aircraft of many types took to the skies as the nation slept, safe in their beds, more or less.

Lie in the Dark and Listen

Noel Coward

Lie in the dark and listen,

It's clear tonight so they're flying high
Hundreds of them, thousands perhaps,
Riding the icy, moonlight sky.
Men, materials, bombs and maps
Altimeters and guns and charts
Coffee, sandwiches, fleece-lined boots
Bones and muscles and minds and hearts
English saplings with English roots
Deep in the earth they've left below
Lie in the dark and let them go
Lie in the dark and listen.
Lie in the dark and listen

They're going over in waves and waves
High above villages, hills and streams
Country churches and little graves
And little citizen's worried dreams.
Very soon they'll have reached the sea
And far below them will lie the bays
And coves and sands where they used to be
Taken for summer holidays.
Lie in the dark and let them go
Lie in the dark and listen.

Lie in the dark and listen
City magnates and steel contractors,
Factory workers and politicians
Soft hysterical little actors Ballet dancers,
'reserved' musicians,
Safe in your warm civilian beds
Count your profits and count your sheep
Life is flying above your heads
Just turn over and try to sleep.
Lie in the dark and let them go
Theirs is a world you'll never know
Lie in the dark and listen.

.

Poppy Wearing

2011-11-10T16:02:00.000Z

I begin to worry about those who wear the 'Poppy. This small plastic emblem is worn throughout the UK as an act of remembrance for those who fell while serving with the armed services. This covers two major wars and those many smaller yet violent conflicts of recent years, any serviceman wherever he fell. Money collected goes towards the Royal British Legion to support ex-servicemen. However I worry about the pressure that hangs around the nation concerning the wearing of this emblem.

The poppy was the brainchild of an American lass called Moina Michael while working for the YMCA in New York. She had read John McCrae's poem 'In Flanders Fields' and was inspired by the line 'We shall not sleep, though poppies grow in Flanders Fields.' Poppies of course were abundant in the battlefields of France and Flanders. They grow easily and the blood red colour stood out among the often brown dreary landscape all around. She was inspired to do something to remember the fallen and when gifted $10 she decided to buy poppies with the money. Those whom she worked amongst, many servicemen about to leave for France, were delighted with the poppy idea and wanted to buy them from her as an act of remembrance, and all this on the 9th of November, two days before the Armistice came into force. For the next year or two Moina attempted to get the poppy adopted by the USA but few were interested. Eventually the American Legion adopted the poppy in 1920. A fellow YMCA worker, a Frenchwoman called Anna Guerin took the idea to France with the intention of raising funds for children and others bereft after the war. Soon she and Moina took the poppy to London and Moina convinced Earl Haig, the President of the British Legion, that the poppy could be used to raise funds for ex-servicemen. The first red poppies were sold for remembrance day 1921 in the UK. In 1922 a small factory employing five men was established to make poppies, by the early thirties the factory was in large premises in Richmond and today produces 40 million a year! Lady Haig opened a similar factory in Edinburgh, Haigs birthplace, in 1926 and employed ex-servicemen making poppies. They produce four million a year from her factory. The symbol spread to most nations involved in the Great War.

During the fifties the memory of the second world war was still strong and it was natural for the nation to come to a standstill for two minutes on Remembrance Sunday and attend memorial services at war memorials up and down the land. By the sixties we young folks were less interested in war. Anything military was to be opposed rather than stressed and the 'spirit of the air' led us into 'making love not war,' even though there was more tea made near me I must say. The nation rebelled against uniforms and discipline and became free in many good ways and it took a couple of decades before we began to realise that 'discipline' and armed services were not dirty words. The British army endured much during the Irish troubles, and an appreciation of the army began to grow. With the Falklands Conflict, and the historically inaccurate 'patriotism' engendered by Thatcher again an appreciation of the worth and ability of the British armed Services grew. With two Iraq adventures, Afghanistan and not forgetting Bosnia and Liberia, and the sight of dead soldiers coming home the poppy has once more come into its own.

Those of us who have read a great deal about war can be pleased to see such men are not forgotten by their nation, I however fear that now this has tipped over and pressure is on one and all to 'join in and remember,' and those who defer are seen as enemies. One place where this attitude can be seen is in Edinburgh with the Heart of Midlothian football team. In November 1914, when volunteering for the army was slackening and an outcry regarding 'young men playing sport while the Hun is at hand' was reaching a crescendo many players of this club enlisted in Sir George McLean's 16th Battalion of the Royal Scots. Those crying had ignored other players who were already serving as reservists or members of the Territorial Army. Seven of these men did not return, others were severely injured and never played again. A memorial to them was erected in Edinburgh's Haymarket and a service of remembrance is held there each year. Since Jack Alexanders excellent book, 'McCrae's Battalion' was published a few years ago an upsurge in remembrance has affected the fans of this club. Many contributed to a memorial built at Contalmaison in France, buy replica remembrance shirts, and attend the memorial. However I am well aware that a great many would be much less keen had our local rivals been the team involved. Their support is for their football team rather than for the men who served. McCrae's was of course built on the Hearts players but the majority were members of the public and as such the battalion is an Edinburgh Battalion, not a Hearts one, and many refuse to accept this.

On television it is impossible to note any live broadcast where each person wears a poppy. TV stations will pin them on and few have the courage to refuse. This however is not the freedom men died for is it? A recent fuss regarding wearing poppies on international football team shirts has hit the headlines. FIFA, the ruling body, refuses any political, religious discriminatory message on such shirts and saw the poppy as political. It can be seen this way but today represents remembrance for most of us, and remembrance of all war dead, even the enemies. The Prime Minister had his PR stunt in parliament claiming this ' a disgrace,' the media shouted and hollered, and Prince William (who?) has contacted FIFA to object. Now players from Scotland, Wales and England will wear black armbands with poppies emblazoned upon them to mark their respects at this weekend games. I wonder still about the reasons they are worn. Many indeed respect the memory today, tomorrow much of the nation will come to a standstill at eleven o' clock on the morning of the eleventh month for two minutes, in shops, factories and in offices throughout the land, most will respect the moment some will not. Too many on TV and the football field follow public pressure and wear these emblems. Too few really comprehend the deeper meaning. The day after remembrance Sunday it will all be forgotten for another year! Not so for servicemen who have lost limbs in Afghanistan, or Iraq, or Northern Ireland, Aden, Cyprus, Israel, or who have suffered dreams and terrors since 1945, for such the war has never ended. They and their relatives live with the effects each day. Let us not forget them, whether friend or foe, for it is those who have endured war who most often oppose it. Remembrance helps us to prevent wars, let us not 'remember' just because we are told to do so.

In Flanders fields the poppies blow

Between the crosses, row on row,

That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly
Scarce heard amid the guns below.

We are the Dead. Short days ago

We lived, felt dawn, saw sunset glow,

Loved and were loved, and now we lie
In Flanders fields.

Take up our quarrel with the foe:

To you from failing hands we throw

The torch; be yours to hold it high.
If ye break faith with us who die
We shall not sleep, though poppies grow
In Flanders fields.

The Great War 14-18

The Story of the Remembrance Poppy

USA Road Trip in 5 Minutes

2011-11-09T20:41:00.000Z

An interesting, and cheap way to see much of the USA. At this speed we can also avoid having to speak to any Yanks or Rebels that we may come across! And you know what they are like!

Remember

Early on the morning of the seventh of December 1941 the Japanese attacked the US naval base at Pearl Harbour. While relations between the two nations were in a state of high tension a state of war was not to be expected outside of an official 'opening' of hostilities. In an effort, vain as it happened, to destroy the US aircraft carrier fleet and as many battleships and major infrastructure as possible the Japanese followed the plan developed by Naval Marshal General Isoroku Yamamoto. His plan was a copy of the Royal Naval attack on the Italian naval base at Taranto on November 1940. As military attache he was in Italy at the time he was able to view the success of the 'Stringbag' 'Fairey Swordfish aircraft disable the Italian fleet with one attack. The intention was to prevent the United States Navy interfering in Japanese efforts to dominate south east Asia and grab all the natural resources for themselves and remove the British, Dutch and French colonial forces there. The attack was totally unexpected, two waves comprising over three hundred and fifty planes sunk four battleships, damaging four others. Three cruisers were sunk or damaged, one minelayer, one anti aircraft training ship and three destroyers were also damaged along with one hundred and eighty eight aircraft. Almost two and a half thousand Americans were killed and well over a thousand wounded. A mere twenty nine aircraft and five midget Japanese submarines were destroyed along with sixty five men killed. One midget submariner was captured, to his eternal shame. The shock of the nature of the attack brought the United States into the war,and almost immediately Germany and Italy declared war on America also, siding with the Japanese in a failed alliance and sealed their own doom, Hitler having already attacked the Soviet Union in May of that year. Four long and hard fought years later, on the decks of the USS Missouri General Douglas MacArthur declared these proceedings to be, 'closed.'

These two photographs were taken during the raid on a

small Kodak Box Camera. The camera was discovered with the

film still inside and when developed a dozen or so pictures

of the raid appeared.

The were published in a newspaper and stupidly I cannot find the link!

There fore I am not sure what happened to the photographer or

why they lay so long undiscovered.

Rmember

2011-11-08T21:25:00.000Z

Aerospaceweb

Remember if you will the men of Great Britain's fledgling air force who flew across the short distance from Dover to Boulogne and on deep into France. Initially some 60 machines entered service, many of them frail Avro 504's pictured above, and began work observing enemy maneuvers. This was not always appreciated. As the British second Corps made its way to the small mining town of Mons the pilot of one such aircraft stopped to inform Field Marshall John French, head of the British force, of the vast numbers of German infantry approaching. He was not believed! Instead French wished to discuss his aircraft with him and refused to accept his news. He soon realised his mistake. The British II Corps numbered around 40,000 men, the Germany army approaching numbered around 600,000. The defence of the canal above Mons was a resounding success and after a days hard fighting the enemy was stopped in his tracks with vast casualties and the 'contemptible little army' was considering advancing to chase them back home. However to their right the French army had also met a complete, and efficient, German foe and began to withdraw, with the French 'not bothering' to inform the British of their intentions. Aircraft spotted not only the French withdrawal but also a third army marching around the left flank. Thus began the famous long 'retreat to the Marne' in hot summer weather. Had those slow Royal Flying Corps surveillance aircraft not flown over Mons half the British army could have been engulfed!

From observation these aircraft turned to photography, and fighting and then bombing. Each few months saw advances in the power and killing properties of the machines, and while they flew higher and higher the comfort of the pilots was of no consideration. No parachutes meant a fire at 16,000 feet led to certain death, survival meant lack of oxygen affected the pilots abilities, cold cut deep into them, the stress of war led to mistakes and accidents, and the average life expectancy was around three weeks! These early young men, rarely above their early twenties, often failing to reach twenty years of age before their death, were the beginning of the air force which today uses the Typhoon fighter, a plane so powerful that computers are required to enable the pilot to control the plane, no human brain can cope!

Remember these men.

Royal Flying Corps

Lady Haigs Poppy Factory