Monday, 17 April 2017
Being the Easter Monday holiday almost everything was shut. Thankfully Tesco still opened to feed those who almost starved over the past few days. I had to go there as I found a sink was blocked and while I managed to clear it last night found my bank holiday beginning with pouring smelly stuff down the plughole. It seems to work but it does annoy when that happens, especially late in the day.
For the rest of the day I sat at this laptop trying to finish updating the WW2 memorial that collapsed. The problem is that while I have basic info on all the men I have not got the links to hand for further information so I have to trawl through the sites to find that again. That takes time and working at the speed to which I have become accustomed it took lots of time. It is getting there but slowly and what slows me down is finding interesting bits of info which I must read and then forget what I was looking for in the first place. Bah!
On the other hand as there was nothing on the TV and I found less on the radio I suppose this kept me out of mischief. The question is why are TV programmes on holiday periods so poor? Do they save up the rubbish to fill space or is it the programmes they have are all poor and they show them hour after hour? For instance 'Who do you think you are,' the series where famous people I have never heard of seek their ancestors, has been running for four days now. While the idea of this programme is good the outworking is poor. The whole point is less about finding the empty headed starlets great granny it is about finding a story about great granny in a workhouse so they can add sentimental music and force tears from said starlet. That is not seeking ancestors that is a reflection of the small minded TV we have dumped on us by the Islington set today. Certainly finding granddad in a lunatic asylum might produce a reaction but why force tears about someone born a hundred years before you were born? My granddad's first wife ended in such a place but ought I to be weeping? He might have done, the children might but really this is just a reflection of the loss of the 'stiff upper lip.' Whatever it is it is not history.
Possibly I misjudge the attitudes. I am constantly finding poignant information when researching people. For instance this lass here, a member of the ATS who died far from home in Coventry during the war. Her little band were supporting heavy anti-aircraft guns, either firing the things or working searchlights alongside possibly, either way from action or disease she died aged 19 only. That is tear jerking especially if there were no more children in the family. I can find no other information on this lassie, who knows the situation, but can we weep for people we never met?
While I sat in here in the gloom with only the starlings banging away at the feeders for company I know you lot were still stuffing chocolate eggs down your throat. I am not jealous, just as I am not the one running to the dentist asking why there are no teeth left.
No I enjoyed the gruel which was all I could afford, the bit of stale bread left in the wooden box, and washed this down with stale water to avoid using electricity and spending cash. No don't feel sorry for me, you enjoy being overweight....