Christmas Sunday

Returning home in the heavy rain after a busy Sunday.

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

Except me.

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

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

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

I then slept for 20 minutes.

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

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

Still raining.  

See...

Saturday Saunter

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

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

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

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

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

Sainsburys and Kemi the Racist

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

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

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

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

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

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

Christmas Date and Stable Question

I was reading an interesting item re the reason Christmas was held at, er Christmas.  This was written by the excellent Psephizo, or Ian Paul if you prefer.   This was a page discussing the date of Christmas as found by researching a variety of records, mostly Jewish, and attempting to discover if December is the real date or ought it to be another.  This is well worth a read.  

Some claim that the date was chosen to cover over the debauchery of the annual sol invictus however, Andrew McGowan, of Yale, has proved this was an anti-Christmas forgery.

Psephizo discusses the various claims, and works through the ideas that indicate the actual time Jesus came to earth.  This of course could be wrong!  We have no actual date, it was not the done thing in those days, and we have to make educated guesses.  Here we have some good guesses.  Well worth a read.

Psephizo also has his own ideas about whether Jesus was actually born in a stable.   This is another good read, again we cannot be sure as we must guess all too often, however, this is worth a read.

The unfortunate western image of a brown hut does not fit in with near eastern practice, so must be rejected.  We tend to see things from our own perspective, but must remember Jesus was born in Judea.

Tuesday Blether

My sister, who, as you know, is considerably older than me, were discussing where there were aged relatives who might pass on and leave us a small fortune.  We were somewhat irked by the fact that WE were the aged relatives now.  There are no 'old ones' left but us.  The distant Fife relatives are all our age or younger, and we have lost contact with them, since contact came through the elderly members, now all gone.  Locally there are none to be found, searching the genealogy has failed to produce an aged millionaire anywhere in the family.  And now we confront our nephews, nieces and the rest with the sad reality that when we go there is nothing but debts to pay off. 

I cannot on here describe their saddened reaction.

It's a laff, innit?

The Gaza War Cemetery lies dishevelled after Israel bombed it, 'Because it was being used by Hamas.'

Aye, OK.

The various governments, the UK, New Zealand, Australia and India, have as yet not condemned the destruction of their fallen's cemetery.  I wonder why?  Some individuals are making a noise, Israeli money has silenced this.

Many protest re the destruction in Gaza, and rightly so.  Barbaric treatment from Netanyahu and his boys is not what people wish to see.  Major support in stopping the war is ongoing and very popular.

However, I wonder why such a response is not found re Sudan, Darfur, Ukraine, Syria, or any of the sub-Saharan wars that we can find, if we look, at the news.  Why are the dead elsewhere less important than Gaza's dead?  Why is there no protests?  Indeed, why do people not know about other wars?

It is not that they are not reported somewhere, we can read about them if we wish, it is that this area of land is the centre of the world these days, and indeed for ever.  There is much more to the Gaza fighting than we reckon, but I would like to see the nation ask re all these other wars, even if they are not popular.

Another Day of Joy and Happiness...

Christmas makes people mental.

Elbowing, tripping, gnashing of teeth and the occasional fist fight occur when people shop for the last remaining 'special toy.'  I of course avoided this by shopping online, I still await the latest to be delivered, and enter shops early in the day before the lower orders are up.

I was thinking of a woman who was whining to her husband re what he does in the house.  She was complaining he did nothing, never took the kid too and from the nursery, and she done it all.

The husband mildly explained that he was working 7 days a week, doing 12 hour shifts, and all to pay for the Christmas she wished to have.  Meanwhile, he stated quietly, she worked only four days a week from 10-2.  He mentioned that she was being unreasonable.  It was at this point he discovered that he had married a woman.

A woman who, I suspect, had been reading those articles in women's magazines telling women how hard a life they had, and that they ought to stand up for themselves and avoid being 'used.'

Of course the women who write this drivel don't actually work themselves.  They live in comfortable surroundings, paid for by temporary man or daddy, and do not have to work at all.  Some write books along this line and enjoy the cash while ruining other women's lives.

Sadly, we all do this.  We read of others happy and easy life and wish to indulge this ourselves.  It does not exist.  Real life is hard work, male or female, rich or poor, well poor anyway.  Those tempted to believe the slavering of those living behind a laptop ought to stop and think a wee bit deeper.

er, blog writers do not count...

Firefox, like all other Browsers, websites, mail accounts, keeps updating the browser.  This is nice, but really, I never use what is already on the thing why do I require more suggestions not to use?  They are all at it, and things to help keep appearing and getting in the way.  I need to work AI just to stop them giving me helps.  None do help of course.

YODEL!

Yes it's them again.  No there has been no delivery, of course not, it's just that I found someone else who suffers from YODEL despair.   

Yesterday, when the cold wind blew and the sun shone, I ventured all the way out to Tesco.  Stumbling around the shelves trying to remember what was written on the list I left on the bunker, I grabbed a few items and headed out (after paying).  

Wandering up the steep slope that I neve knew before, I noticed the Barber was empty!  I entered, was warmly greeted with fixed smiles, by the woman who wished I had continued past, and smiled also as she offered me the seat.

As she expertly clipped and buzzed away I mentioned Christmas online shopping, ensuring delivery and she went into a rant.  Her son is selling old football boots etc, through Vinted, the place that sent my little order by YODEL, and she was NOT happy!  One item, a computer that had been returned as not working, had led to much stress on the YODEL website.  Fumes were offered to the website until she managed to speak to someone, well done her I say!   

Unfortunately it was AI and useless. 

After demanding a human voice she was landed with a foreign sounding chap who was indistinct, yet promised to re-order the delivery and sent for the goods to be delivered.

Nothing happened.

This is YODEL in normal mode.

They do not care.

However, one bright light is they have discovered that when sending goods out you do not have to use YODEL.  There is a choice of another van, I know not which, and they will make use of this as it cannot be worse than YODEL.

The hair now looking great, I went to pay, and she questioned my age, implying I was young.  Lovely woman.  However, I mentioned the number 74, keep this to yourself, and received a reduced price.  So glad was I about this and her excellent service, I left behind a packet of chocolates as a tip, Toblerone bits I think it was, and that I felt was fair response.

Christmas Shopping

 I finished cleaning this morning, the house, not myself, and after a spot of lunch I started to once  again Christmas shop online.  The idea behind this is great, you fond a shop, you select a suitable gift, and it arrives by post or van very soon afterwards.  Payment is simple, and all is well. 

NO IT IS NOT!

For a start, for every child you look for, the gift not the child, there are pages and pages online in a wide and varied selection of shopping centres all designed to take as much cash as possible from you for the least they can offer.  All expect their customers to be middle class, preferably a merchant banker, and willing to pay much for very little, as long as it is trendy.

This is not me.

In the end, having pondered on many things I changed over to Black Bun.

Black Bun is a Scottish delicacy.   This very rich fruit cake is a delight and a New Year special.

Such a shame it now costs between £8 or 11s.  It may not happen in this house. 

Only four shops sell the same make, no alternatives on show, and each has a rusty website inviting you to spend more for thing you do not require at Christmas, but they say you do.

An afternoon wasted cogitating on toys and buns.

Nothing was bought.

Nothing was spent.

I may repeat this tomorrow.

A History of Histories

I've finished a book!

This has taken me ages as all the books on the pile are slow reads.  This one began quite well but slowed down as we passed through time heading towards today.

John Burrow was an intellectual historian, and in this book eh seeks to discover why historians wrote, what past they were writing about, and what motivated them.

John reviews history from Herodotus, who gave us the term historia, that is inquiry, as we inquire into the past.  Beginning with Herodotus and Thucydides he reviews historians in their periods, though not always chronologically correct, from Greece and Rome and moving into the 'Christian' period.  

Then comes secular history, and more recent attempts at studying the past, England, France and the USA.  Then comes his treatment of the 20th century, in which he developed his ideas and fame.  

I found the book fascinating, especially in the earlier studies, as I at least knew something about them, but his later subjects I sometimes found myself lost, these are no use if you have not read French or other unknown authors.  Interesting it was, but confusing to an intellectual misfit like myself.  

All who study history will find something in this book, published in 2007, but as it progressed my reading slowed.  This speaks more for my lack of knowledge than the authors writing.

Well worth a read, if you have time.

Amtrak 52

Metro Jacksonville

 

Once the morning repast had been dealt with I floundered around trying to decide my next move.  

This took a while.

I could have gone out into the sunshine and cold wind to spend cash at the supermarket, but just could not be bothered.  Instead I sat around cogitating slowly, reading the grubby newspapers and once again checking Twitter to see if any intelligent life had landed.  There was nothing to report.

Then 52 came through.

Amtrak 52 is an unusual train.  It runs up from Orlando, Florida, to just outside Washington DC.  This train comprises one or two engines, around 16 coaches, and these days around 25- 30 Auto Cars.  These are trucks that contain cars, or automobiles if you are a US citizen.  The people travel down from the north, especially at this time of year with snow falling, to the Florida sunshine, and Donald Trump.  To do this they let the train take the strain as a very famous deviant once took money for saying, and put their cars in the auto trucks so they can drive them around Florida chasing or being chased by the 'Sunshine Girls.'  

Being 'Thanksgiving' Weekend there has been lots of to and froing from the masses, each either seeking time with, or avoiding time with their families.  So all the trains have been busy, and Mr Amtrak must be coining it in this weekend.  

There is a well worked routine for loading and unloading the cars.  Looking via Google Maps it is possible to see the cars in 6 sidings awaiting loading, then they are joined together following the coaches and off they go, usually on time.  

The coaches appear to be off two types, some have seats, other have single or double 'rooms.'  Shower facilities are on each coach, and of course there is a dining car for Breakfast, lunch and tea.  Therefore, you can either join others stuffing your face, or sitting in the viewing car, or lay about in your small room watching the East coast of the USA drift past.  The individual room is a good idea as passenger trains are not priorities in the US, the lines are owned by the freight companies, and they come first.  Any break down and you could wait for hours before continuing on.  

In such circumstances I may not mind to tell the truth.

The rail watchers on Virtual Railways play a wee game as the 52 passes north, and indeed the 53, as the train returns south.  The trick is to guess the number of engines, coaches and auto cars.  Simple games satisfy simple lives, and wee intellectuals are a not drawn into such things, well actually...

So this morning as 52 passed in the poring rain, and it was Aberdeen rain this morning, I suggested to myself it would be 2/16/28, of course it was 2/16/25, wrong again.  A silly game but those regulars who participate find it fun.  It amazes me how as we grow out of childhood we return to finding fun in silly games, the type adolescents despise, but folks above 25 often enjoy.  We are strange creatures.  

The overnight train, taking two days and sometimes three, is the 'Southwest Chief,' or 4 as it is known, the trains carrying names and numbers, even numbers one way, odd numbers the reverse.  4 Runs from Los Angeles Station to Chicago.  Now, I do not wish to be in either Los Angeles or Chicago but I reckon travel by rail would be a good way to actually 'see' the USA.  You could travel by road, but all highways look the same, the advantage there being the ability to stop and ponder, but rail is more comfortable, food is on hand, sleep nearby, and an attendant at all times available.  I could do with one of those!

However, the thought of spending $1500 to do the trip when I reject the idea of spending £5 to travel by bus here puts me off.  One day when fit and healthy, rich and spoilt, I may do this.  Chances are I will not.

 

Disgraceful Racists!

When I drew back the filthy curtains early this morning, I was greeted by this!  And with today being St Andrew's Day I was shocked, appalled and felt racially abused.  All at once.  It could be worse, the 'Butchers Apron' is hanging badly on several other lampposts nearby.  Disgrace I say!

Incidentally, I was reading this morning of one man responsible for this flag racism, he and his mate went to France to confront asylum seekers and tell them what they thought.  Being thugs, thinking was not their strongest point, and the only video seen so far, features the two of them running away to their car and speeding off.  One is wanted in Spain for a scam, the other is noted for his thuggery.  Keep the women and children safe I say, lock them up.  The man behind this scam is of course a friend of 'Tommy Robinson,' the well known liar and rabble rouser, once again on holiday in a 5 star resort.  Who pays for this I ask?  Certainly the man who started the scam is the one providing the flags, so he will surely have the cash to aid tommy. 

These anti immigrant flags are all the way down the street now, costing thousands to remove, and inciting violence towards those who oppose them, a normal Nazi tactic.  If we had a ladder we could get up there and dump these rags, but my 3 step ladder will not reach.

There is of course no patriotism, no jingoism behind these flags, just racism, began by Farage, and continued by those on the make, politicians included.

This, you are mistakenly believing, is a black space with a wee dot of light upon it.  You would be wrong.  This is another exciting photo of an object in space, a planet I think, possibly Saturn, but I could not make head nor tail of the info on several night sky sites.  Why do they make it so hard.  Two or three other dim lights can be seen, but my camera cannot make them more distinct.  One day I will understand those star maps and know what I am looking at.

Just a wee reminder that today is St Andrews Day, the greatest man ever to come out of St Andrew's...

Now that is filled with US students who only go there to play golf.

Rejoice, Thatcher has Gone!

November 28th 1990, a date to equal the 3rd September 1939, or 23rd June 1314, or even my birthday.  For on this day in 1990 Margaret Thatcher left office for the last time, never to return.

3 million unemployed, known to the Conservative Party as 'scroungers,' rejoiced!  Miners in the remaining Miners Welfare clubs also rejoiced, decent people everywhere rejoiced that as woman who cared nothing for the individual had gone for good.

From 1979to 1990 this woman had encouraged greed and avarice at the expense of the individual.  "Society," she said, "Does not exist."  This was a catch phrase used to avoid saying "Let the peasants starve." Greed was good, money was more important than people, the NHS was transformed to save money in a ham fisted manner that led to the NHS costing much more than it did at the beginning, I know, I was in it.  

Miners under Scargill, a man I did not like, were put in their place and the working class treated to an attack on all of them because of his misplaced socialism.  This was not the socialism my uncles down Fife mines wanted.  Industry was replaced by a service mentality, except that the service, such as buses, trains and the Royal Mail were soon to lose the 'service' element as she worked to make them pay.  The whole point that the 'service' was subsidised to ensure society both industrial, commercial and  personal could continue, was lost on the money driven vixen.

Today we live in a divided society that is run by billionaires and corporates behind the scenes.  Israel and Russia, plus the dementia man in the White House have more influence on the UK today than any individual in the street.  All that we see today comes from her.  The rich get richer, the poor are treated with contempt, the middle classes are beginning to realise they too are considered worthless, and division and hate replace educated discussion in parliament.  No 'Big Beasts' dominate parliament today, just sleekit wee men and women with a chance for 15 minutes worth of fame, and a few million pounds.    

The UK is a mess, and Thatcher is the beginning of it.   "Rejoice, Rejoice, she has gone."

Another Market, Another Budget

Once again, as I stumbled my way through the Christmas cards, I discovered I was two short for certain individual family members.  As always it appears that no matter how many cards are lying here in the drawer, none fit!  So, it was off out into the sunshine, before realising the sun did not actually bring any warmth with it.  I then noticed the field was still possessing a smear of white on the grass, which I had ignored, and this would have told me that while the weather man said it was getting warmer he was in fact lying.  

The market was filling the shops with people, almost all wishing to be in my way.  However, I obtained two disgusting cards that will do the girls perfectly.  'The Card Factory' is becoming my favourite card shop, and the prices are cheap, at least half other shops prices.  

I tramped along the main drag, watching the usual stalls with the usual stuff.  With a Saturday Christmas market approaching I expect the sleigh shining in the sun will have one fat man sat there on that day.  However, only one man with small cars on his very mixed stall interested me, I may be back on Saturday for one or two for the 4 year old.  Or even for myself.

A quick look in the museum did not bring forth suitable gifts, I actually avoided spending cash there for the first time in years.  I hobbled up the road avoiding the many dogs returning from their walk in the park, well wrapped up people and happy smiling dogs filled the street.

I came home to the budget.

I ignored the delivery of the budget, it takes too long and soon is discredited afterwards anyway, and searching the web find that the only good thing is the removal of the disgusting 'Two Child Cap.'  Only the Tories could come up with a policy that attacks children.  At last it will end, but slowly it seems.  I n Scotland measures have been taken to dim the effects of this cap and now the money used can go elsewhere.  Of course the SNP will probably spend it defending trans folks rather than benefitting the nation.   Scotland did get some of her own money given back, for which we are supposed to be grateful...

Cat calls from the cat leading the Tories, dull promises and speculation from Keir, rambling emptiness from the press, and little else.  Certainly no tax on wealth, though houses worth £2-5 million will be taxed, just about the cost of the chancellors big house.  

In short, nothing special here.

Shopping Trolley

Having carried a heavy bag home from the supermarket last week, I pondered on what to do to ease the suffering.  Ideas such as, buy a wife, have a maid in, or have the supermarket's deliver to my door, all went through my mind.  These were rapidly turned down on grounds of cost.

The Good Lord brought to mind an alternative so obvious that it had never crossed my mind in all the times I have been making use of these shops, use a trolley!

Yes, make use of a trolley, fill it with all the heavy things, push it down to your door, and return it to get back the £1 coin required to obtain the trolley in the first place.  Simple innit?

So today, after much thought, I inserted my coin, a real one, took the trolley and had a very different experience of supermarket shopping.  Like most men I usually take a basket, speed round gathering as I go, and avoid all these old women with trolleys barging into people and getting in the way.

Today, I barged into people, mostly men carrying baskets, and got in people's way.

Unused to the ability of such trolleys to have a mind of their own, I made my way round, chatting to men who also were disgruntled at the new managers ability to shift goods from one place to another so we cannot find them, and gathered all the heavy and awkward stuff I could find.  This done, and another man with basket sent into the ice cream fridges, I made my way to the checkout where one of the best young women was in control. 

Swiftly the masses were packed badly into the several overweight bags, swiftly, though no one was actually waiting at the time, it was remarkably quiet, we finished the job while chatting about nothing, well the weather, as we all do in this country.  I paid the bill while the lass informed me, with a gasp, what the total was.  I inserted the card, pressed the right buttons, and she gave me a long receipt.  Too long in my view.

The new grasping manager has once again raised the prices, almost daily from him as he seeks a bigger shop, and this enables me to gasp also as I look again at the total paid.  Just as well I forgot the whisky.

The journey home was short, tricky and on uneven pavements.

The parking lot was bad enough, sloping this way and that, once it held donkeys in a meadow, now it holds expensive chariots with grumbling unsmiling people.  Many wish the donkeys would return.

The trolley was quite easy to manage except on a slope.  The weight took it this way and that, while I struggled on occasion to keep it on the pavements, the camber, the remains of many water, gas and electric works not helping.  However, I only lost it once and entered the roadway, that motorcyclist was quite safe, even though he took an unexpected trip through the park.

Outside my door I had to keep watch as the brute kept wanting to slide away.  As I lifted each bag the weight shifted and the trolley moved accordingly.  I got the door opened, took the bags inside carefully, watch the movement of the trolley all the time.  This done, I left the bags indoors and took the return journey back to the store.  Much easier when empty, and the motorcyclist was busy brushing grass from his machine, I don't know how he got hold of that.  I pressed the chain in, took hold of my precious £1 coin, and returned home.  

The simple job then was to hoist five, now much heavier bags, up the stairs, and into the commodious apartment.  That's six times I have been up and down those stairs today!  Once inside it was easy to distribute the many beer bottles tins of veg to their places.  When finished I considered I had in one fell sweep filled at least enough for the run up to Christmas, and in some cases beyond that.  I suspect that with the fast rising prices I will have saved money with this trip also.  Now all I have to collect is light things like bread and milk, and occasional other fresh foods.  Much easier all round.

Of course I have not moved since, eating and drinking and seizing up is all that is left for today.

Yodel

When you wish for incompetence, then cometh YODEL.  Yodel, a white van man organisation, has the worst delivery record in the world.  A small item I ordered for Xmas is coming this way, after at least one week it has still not arrived. 

Last Monday an email claimed, 'We will deliver your parcel between 19:00 and 21:00 pm.'

They lied.

Tuesday night, when Scotland were playing, 'We will deliver your parcel between 19:00 and 21:00 pm.'

They lied.

Nothing since.

So, I tried their website.

I looked and I searched, I clicked here and there, I shouted and yelled, but there was no way to communicate with them, not even by AI.

I then chose to go through the needlessly long log on page.  

Eventually I had logged on, eventually I thought I would get somewhere.

I didn't.

In bold it said, click on our webpage to talk.

Nothing clicked.

They offer at the bottom, call us between these times.

However, they do not offer a phone number to call.

Could it be the laptop responds differently to the phone?

I logged, eventually, on the phone,  

It made no difference.

So, I await response but there appears to be no lies about deliveries tonight.

In the morning, I will contact the lass that is sending the 2nd hand toy over.  

She is not at fault, but maybe she can contact them?

With Yodel, you never know.

Grrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr

Great is Thy Faithfulness (Tune: Faithfulness - 3vv & chorus) [with lyri...

I'm Sorry I Haven't a Clue, Series 18

Scotland Will Be Coming

The explosive noise that was recorded very high on the Richter scale last night was nothing more than a nation qualifying for the World Cup in the USA during 2026.  I say USA, but it is also Canada and Mexico who share the expensive competition these days, no longer can one country afford this.

The rejoicing from 5 million Scots was heard around the world.  Here we see the nation that invented the game, developed it from the beginning into the supreme activity it has become, and yet have failed in every attempt to win this trophy, or indeed any other!

Irony!

With less than 3 minutes on the clock this magnificent overhead kick brought Scotland's first goal.  His time in Italy has not been wasted.  The next 90 minutes, plus add-ons, offered a game that went the way I expected.  Lots of good but wasted skill from Denmark, lots of effort and occasional brilliance from the Scots.  I expected a result along the lines of 3-2, though was unsure who would win.  In the end three outstanding goals, plus a well worked corner saw 4 goals hit the net and Scotland qualify for the first time in 28 years. 

All the players were outstanding, especially Craig Gordon, who remains on the bench for the Heart of Midlothian, yet produced excellent saves at the right time.  Not bad for a man who is 42 years old.

Mr Shankland scored the second goal not long after half time.  Some foolishly thought the game over then, and how can anyone think the Danes were finished?  Two sides who gave everything, two sides who desperately wanted to qualify, two sides with a lot of similarities in the national nature, two sides desperate to win, yet only one goes through.  It may be the Danes will have a play-off against another second placed side, I did not check this, but they do deserve to be in north America next year.  

Many of the players last night would not have been born when Scotland last failed at a world cup.  Even goalkeeper Craig Gordon would only have been 15 or so then.  Of course I myself am only 32...

My first world cup was in 1974, when I worked at the Royal Infirmary in Edinburgh, now of course that is a block of flats.  I recall pretending to clean a table for 45 minutes while Scotland struggled against a country that no longer exists, Yugoslavia!  I stood by that bedside of a man with a broken leg while we watched the distant black and white TV at the far end of the ward.   All was still, bar the occasional groan and utterances, not from physical pain, from the football.  A draw was the result, and none we too happy about that.

Such things do not mean as much now as they did then, I am used to Scotland losing at the big games, but nonetheless when we scored I almost leapt out the window.  I was glad also for the manager Steve Clarke.  He has, in spite of opposition, criticism of tactics, players and his rare smile, taken Scotland to two Euro Tournaments, and now one world cup.  No Scots manager has done this before.  He deserves credit for his man management, his tactics, his team, and his success.  No matter the grumbles, he has been successful, and can now relax for three months.

There are many questions now being asked.  Who will we play?  Where will we play?  And, how many Scots fans will be turned back by the Border Police for slagging off Donald Trump?  Almost all who travel to the USA will have done so, he is not popular in Scotland, nor indeed in any off the other nations represented at this tournament, and I await news of how they will deal with this.

While these questions continue I have only one question, why am I so tired this morning...?

Beware USA, Canada and Mexico, we'll be coming! 

US Foodstuff

I have been influenced b a foreign power.  Strange to say it is neither Israel nor Russia who are behind this fateful influence, it is the tasteless gourmets of the USA that has had an influence upon me today.

You see, yesterday, while I was minding my own business and struggling to keep warm in the cold north wind, I accidentally fell once more upon Reiko's Blog  

Normally such badly spelt blogs, whether on Blogger or WordPress would appeal to a thinking person, I however, was intrigued.  Reiko, as you soon realise, is a dangerous 'rescue' dog.  Wild and untamed, it is now homed in an appropriate place, alongside a man who is dangerous, wild and untamed.

They are both doing well.

Alas, for reasons unknown Reiko decided to cease being wild and instead wrote an item on peanut butter.  This extremely long blog, with pictures to keep one awake, detailed the rise and money made by a substance are unusual as peanut butter.  

Now I used to like this substance, and often bought it.  However, the cost of living being what it is, and my memory being what it became when watching the prices of the better types of peanut butter soaring through the roof, made me forget to buy it.  This dogs blog brought back memories of this stuff.

As I was reading this late at night, well about 8 pm, I could do nothing about the craving that had begun while reading about the men who developed a process begun by native people in South America.  That is where peanuts originated, and the lads turned the peanuts into a smooth compound to 'ease their gums,' he says.  US men on the make, and Americans are always 'on the make' where money can be found, developed this substance, Kellogg's were also involved at one point, and they originated in Braintree, Essex, as you may know.  So, soon peanut butter was a US staple, and has become one in the UK also.  

It is fair to say that my three thin, small slice of 'Vintage Cheese bloomer,' bread with crunchy 'Whole Earth' peanut butter, tastes considerably better than the absurd 'Peanut butter and Jelly (they mean Jam)' sandwiches.  Read Reiko to find out the sandwich suggestions found in US cookbooks!  There is little to wonder as to how Elvis and his family suffered from heart attacks!  

Anyway, having developed a desire for this stuff I paid through the nose for the jar I bought today.  I spent £4:75 for 454g of this stuff, most of which will go into the pockets of the greedy Sainsburys shareholders.  I bought this having remembered what I read about these jars on the shelf some years ago.  I looked for the best, the one without 'added sugar,' and any other muck to enhance the flavour or long life of the product.  The only suitable one there was this, and while the 'smooth' version had a £1 price reduction, I had to go for the 'Crunchy.'  Only Yanks use smooth peanut butter, either for their gums or to add gooseberries to it, or some other unsuitable in the real world additive, like hard-boiled eggs.   I reckon their diet is responsible for their mental unbalance.

Now, as lunchtime approaches, I have lost my appetite for lunch.

I know not why.