Because of a failed attempt to kill a King several hundred years ago people today still make bonfires and set of fireworks to celebrate. Most of them cannot tell which King this was )Google it!) but they do know a guy called Guy Fawkes was involved. As they stand around in the rain on a Saturday night while they attempt to roast potatoes in the fire that keeps going out, could someone justify the noise levels that are keeping me awake? The houses behind me are sending up sufficient gunpowder to bring down half of Bomber Command, the houses in front and to the right have worn themselves out by seven O'clock sending rockets high above. In the far distance the battle of the Somme occurs amongst the lower orders, however that may just be because it is Saturday night. All this while yet another 'storm,' is beginning to blow. While cats and dogs everywhere run for cover and I long to join them I ask, do I ever complain? Well not normally, so it must be them being a pest right enough! Ban them!
While dodging the Friday night fireworks I discovered my old albums are beginning to fall apart through damp and age. During the rescue attempt I found some long lost pictures that might be of interest. This one features an early post box. You will note the original colour was green, changed to red because these were indistinguishable from the greenery around, or so the 'Daily Mail' reader of the day claimed. These were first used in the Channel Islands for some reason and when found to be a success placed all over the nation. Anthony Trollope, the writer, was an employee of the Royal mail, writing much of his output on the train between Ireland, where he was based, and London. Some say these were his idea. This was a somewhat dark picture so I had to fiddle with it a bit, hence the grainy appearance. I cannot mind where I found it but I think it may have been at a heritage railway somewhere.
Bournemouth somewhere I think. Not a great picture but the wave patterns attracted my little mind. How I wish I was by the sea! It's not Black & White, it is just the way I 'improved' the tones.
This indeed is in B&W, found in 'Postman's Park,' London, the long wall erected in the 19th century by a man who wanted to commemorate those who died while attempting to save others. Some succeeded, some failed. All lost their lives. Men and women, young and old, policemen, firemen, passersby, all gave themselves to save another. One of London's most poignant and most forgotten memorials.
You may tell that my mind is dead this evening, in spite of the bombardment overhead. Rising early I deposited myself in the museum this morning because whatsername was not in. naturally she turned up anyway! Women! A quiet morn with the exception of an eight year old who placed himself behind the alcove as I made my way to the kitchen. He kindly yelled 'Boo!' just as I rounded the corner and almost sent the cups i carried across the entire complex! How he laughed! I wondered if I could get the stone age axe out the display unit without breaking the glass but he got away in time.
My dear niece, who decided to take a stroke, appears to be well. She remains in hospital awaiting Monday morning test results and another telling off from the doctor for misbehaving. It appears she is walking and talking as normal, and that the physio has been ensuring she exercises (HA! That's good for her!) her limbs appropriately to ensure no loss occurs. Her grumbling and complaining have returned, so all appears to be well. I suppose I will have to get her a Christmas present after all.....