Blethering

There is nothing to say.
The weekend has been filled with football and little else.  Once only did I venture out into the real world, Tesco's and the fruit & veg man were calling, and naturally it rained on me.  I was somewhat displeased.  Having decided to remain indoors with the football the sun came out and I was more displeased.
The football was not that exciting, having watched the Heart of Midlothian dispose of Aberdeen in the usual manner on Friday night all other games have less meaning.  The overblown English games have large crowds, huge salaries but little meaning for me in comparison to any Scots game.  
So I have sat here with a somewhat thick head, thicker than usual that is, somewhat weary also and being stimulated only by the desire to get rid of the blasted 'Cortana' effect from Win 10. 
This is an item that they claim helps you, we know its main purpose is to inform the CIA of your every movement and that in doing so it takes up a third of the memory and anything else it can get hold off.  Quite what some CIA worker in downtown Washington would make of the balderdash he would find on here intrigues me.  I can see him working his way through my postings at the end of a busy week leaving him depressed and desperate for a transfer to Afghanistan or the Yemen.  As I peruse my scribblings I an tempted to join him.
Cortana cannot be removed, another example of Microsoft loving care, however some say there are ways to disable the brute, changing the name on the file for instance but that has failed for me today.  The waste of the memory is annoying.  I suppose this stimulates the mind and prevents the brain stiffening up, that may be too late in this house of course, so I will keep trying to kill it.

There has been some talk regarding footballers from the sixties who now suffer from dementia or some similar problem.  These men began playing football during the thirties, forties and fifties at a time when the ball used in football was a leather ball blown up sometimes the night before, and the ball sealed with laces to keep it round and neat.  Of course pitches were not so well cared for in the past, wet and muddy was not uncommon at most grounds and some deliberately made it worse because their players were big men who could cope.  The ball weighing in at one pound soon soaked up the water and weighed at least two pounds on many occasions.  The style of football, especially at lower levels, was simply to hoof it as high and far as possible, a tactic still used by Hibernian to this day, the result being the central defenders and centre forwards tended to head the ball all to often.  I read of one man in what I think was then the third division north being ordered by his doctor to stop playing as he had headed the ball so much in one game it was now unwise to continue.  This brown leather ball, the 'filly' is now considered to be the cause of many players suffering dementia.  Most people who used it, including I myself, found that getting hit in the face with this ball soon led to unconsciousness.
Late in the fifties the coated 'T-Ball' was introduced and soon after the 'Mitre' ball became standard everywhere.  These white balls were coated and somewhat resistant to gathering water and much safer for the players.  Today much research has gone into the ball and the effects cannot be considered similar to the days of the 'filly.'  However heading the ball, an idea introduced by a Scotsman as all today's football innovations were, continues and it is possible banging your head on a ball can cause problems in later life.
However many men who played sixty or more years ago have not lost their minds.  Many are still sharp, wise and knowledgeable, so why the difference?  Could it be age affects us in differing ways?  Is it our eating habits, hereditary or some other cause that leads to dementia?  Many women who have not played or headed a ball suffer thus so there is great need for research and in my view no need as yet to stop people using their heads.  It is sad however when men once seen as fit footballers end their lives this way.

The recent fuss about David Cameron's tax dodging has meant leaders of various parties now rush to show their tax returns and how squeaky clean they are.  Not all have done so and the majority of Cameron's cabinet have not made any effort to do so, not until they have moved their cash from Panama anyway.  Cameron has to explain why his mum gave him two gifts of £200,000 and explain why this was not done to avoid tax, which it clearly was, and why his father had £10 million but only left £3 million in his will, where is the other £7 million David?
And when we are on why is it his wife has an 'advisor' to help with her hair and outfits, an advisor who earns almost £53, 000 a year? 
These tax queries may yet bring an end to the career of the worst Prime Minister we have ever had, however the question remains who will replace him and will anything change if he does go?