Rainy Day Off

I can see numbers of round ripples I the puddles caused by the rain which teems down this morning. This fills me with a sense of joy. Why? Because it's my day off! While I am sitting here, drinking coffee, snoozing, reading or whatever, Big Rab is wandering the streets cursing the weather and pushing bundles of paper mache through peoples doors. A postmans life is not a happy one during inclement weather! Still, I'm all right Jock! When the posties begin to appear I will go to the window and wave as they pass.
They always wave back.............

Football less weekends

As I watch the game on Setanta on Sundays I miss football then more than on the Saturday. I am so tired after work that I usually doze my way through the Saturday games, enjoying it all the same. But on Sunday I can see Scots football, hidden behind the Old Firm bias, and not having that experience leaves me with lots of free time.
So what have I done with it?
Nothing.
There are things to do, but the adrenalin is down, the effort is too much, and ...well, er..... em...I just exist, not live these days.
I have dawdled on the messageboards, leaving an occasional comment, picking a world cup fantasy team, and clearing some junk from the p.c. I have made and eaten soup, had what passed for lunch, listened to Radio 3, Classic FM and Radio 7's listen again for old comedies. Not much else. And it is not even five o'clock yet!
I would wander the streets but the rain is falling quite hard. Mind you, this can leave a lovely aroma in the air at this time of year. Maybe I will wander anyway.
It is nice not to have to consider the football for a while. However, soon it will be missed and the world cup will take its place. Who do we support? Anyone playing England! That's who!

Women's Magazines

What is it with women and trauma?
The pages of their mags are full of terrible sagas of pain and despair, and trial and tribulation. Never anything sensible or worthwhile, just trauma! On the plane the girl next to me read one such magazine and each page gave more lurid headlines than the previous. 'Surgeon Healed my Melted Face,' or 'My Son Was Switched at Birth with His Schoolmate,' it gets worse, do you remember 'My Lover Was An Anorak?'
Interspersed between these tales of woe we find meaningless celebs telling us of their trauma in'relationships' or how many kids they want, though what they will do with them later is something to discuss. Children are not a toy!
Oh yes these mags have recipe's and what passes for fashion, and of course the nonsense of a horoscope, 'You will be lucky today, the time is right for a decision, be brave!' Bolox!
And these girls have the vote!

women's, mags, only a woman would read them!

Scottish Cup Win

As expected the Heart of Midlothian won the Scottish cup again, and as was also expected, they made hard work of it. The Hearts are notorious for beating all the big teams, and struggling against the small ones. This game was no different! Still, I am used to it, and was very glad for Stephen Pressley when he lifted the trophy on behalf of everyone. Great moment.

Of course it's good being home, but hard work. Being force fed soap operas is not my idea of life. Why are such things allowed? They live on false confrontation, encourage selfish behaviour, and are contrived rubbish! Ban them now!

Lovely to see folks, and enjoyed all of them. One day when rich, I will travel up there more often.
And this in spite of the cheerless folk I met on the way. Many good ones, but too many sour faces.

Weather

So I get sunburn last week, the Spring birds entertain me in the morning, and now, the rain drenches me during the day.
Spring rain. The sort that comes down in torrents when far from shelter.
My language was not nice.......

Dawn Chorus

The dawn chorus is one of the joys of Spring! This past few days it has become a cacophony of noise as I trot off to work. The trees down The Avenue appear to have become home to a dozen or more Blackbirds let a lone the others. Each morning at four thirty the Babel of voices as I pass makes sure I am awake!
This morning I awake as always at three forty, soon enough the blackbirds song was heard. One bird appears very close, I think he is under the roof of the building, and he was loudly proclaiming his dominance of this area. By four thirty many others joined the clamour and I wondered whether they were announcing their presence or just chatting? By five thirty our boy was still at it, though by now the rest had moved on. Maybe they have mates who insist on them getting the breakfast in? Now, after seven thirty, there are still blackbird voices to be heard all around.
The musical voice which adds all sorts of everyday sounds to the melody. Car alarms, phone rings, any passing note is included by these clever birds.
They say that birds in warmer climes have more colourful outfits, while the birds in the UK have better songs. Listening to them this morning I can believe this.

Graveyards in the Rain

Spring rain can be an attractive entity. While I normally object to being soaked through I find this type of rain to be atmospheric. Early in the morning, with the light dimmed only by gray clouds, the birds singing as they chased one another through the treetops, and the occasional dog walker shuffling along beside his happy tail wagging pet, is a good time to wander on wet bank holiday days like these. Listen to the quietness, there is little traffic, streets almost deserted, noise from water rushing down into the drains, or rain pattering of rooftops. Plant life is refreshed at such times, vegetation gives of an atmospheric aroma, plants, blossom in trees, and early flowers combining to freshen the air. Walking through the graveyard behind the Congregational Church at such times rejuvenates the whole man, while contemplating the memorials concentrates the mind.
Churches which have been established for several hundred years are bound to contain the resting places of the great and the good from years past. This one is no different.
What one notices first of all is the ages of the dead. Many are children, many others young women who clearly have died in childbirth. Still others reveal how being rich, as those who could afford a gravestone had to be, could not prevent the diseases of the day carrying them away.
We never realise how healthy we have become since the establishment of the NHS. But are we grateful? Teens and twenties abound as much as those in their seventies and eighties. In fact, they probably outnumber them! The fear of graverobbers, the ghouls as they were called, is apparent in those many stone blocks which lie over the vaults, sometimes these contain several bodies, even complete families. Occasionally metal bars are used to surround the grave. Most however, reflecting their wealth, consist of a tombstone, three or four feet high, engraved with the details of the deceased. The poor have no gravestone, and in many graveyards are buried together at the rear, unmarked, possibly unmissed!
Being believers, as most in non conformist churchyards would be, many are embellished with biblical terms. 'With Christ, which is far better,' 'His works have gone before him,' and the like.

The rain, the blossoming trees, uncut grass and the bird life making the most of the wildlife found here, combine to create an atmosphere that reinvigorates the soul. Something those 'couch potatoes' among us miss out on. We spend too much time wrapped up in our work, our problems, our 'self,' and need to wander through such places in gentle rain, alone, and with our own thoughts to get a better perspective on life.