Sunday 30 October 2022

Wet Sabbath

 

In spite of the rain I marched of to Kirk this morning, full of joy, anticipation and cheese omelette.
Not necessarily in that order.
Dodging puddles on the rollercoaster pavements, keeping close to the wall when passing large puddle on the road, always a target for a special type of driver, and ensuring I did not trip up and fall flat on my face I made it well on time.
The need to arrive early is to ensure my seat is not taken by some nasty person who does not follow the church rules.  As we had a joint service with the other half of what they call 'our benefice' this meant many would arrive not knowing the rules.  Indeed, arrive some did, but as one man indicated "Our seats are safe.  Being Anglican types from one of the 'dressing up' churches, they will all sit at the back." As indeed they did.  Latecomers were seen to panic as they might have to sit on the empty seats towards the front, some taken by our people, and also the thought of sitting beside one of us upsets them.  I marked my seat on arrival with my damp jacket, and the one next to me just to be sure with my cap.  No one asked for them.  
The 'other place' is indeed a 'dressing up' church.  Robes aplenty for the vicar (who now runs two churches to save the Bishop money), candles, an icon, organ music and heavy hymn books, while following a booklet led liturgy.  'Our place' is a much more 'informal formality,' which some find disconcerting.  Being what is referred to as a 'Low church,' many of us have more 'reformed' type backgrounds, Baptist etc, and are loath to attend the 'High Church,' with its near Catholic approach.
I often refer to them as a 'papist outlet' but I am not sure the vicar agrees.  He appears to like that sort of thing.  Having met the Bishop, and upset him regarding his approach to the gay takeover, I have an idea he also likes the parades, bells, liturgy and pomp of the 'other place' and considers it more worthy than us.  I think we may take the attitude that this is just 'too bad.'
Anyway, we went quickly through the meeting, the songs were good, the 'other place' people have a choir and some of them can sing well, our lass praying scrambled her way through, John spoke with direct biblical truth, which may have confused some, and an Anglican communion was observed.
The we drank coffee to wake us up, some gossiped, I met up with those I have not seen for a while as I was off, all the young women asked for me, as you would expect, and I got a lift home to eat and sleep it off.  
Now I plough through the days football before going back to bed again.  That extra hour from turning back the clocks was an hour short I say! 


     

Friday 28 October 2022

Meanderings


A surprise this week, the new Prime Minister is still in office!
Not only that, but few have made serious claims about his mental health.  I suspect this will not continue.  Naturally, his cabinet are lying bare-faced to the world, but that is what we have become used to.  Not much else will change in the near future.
The leaves are falling fast from the trees, the fields and pavements are overflowing.  Only the driver of the town cleansing truck, the one used to run along pavements clearing them away will be happy, all that overtime from 7 am tomorrow!  The colours are good, but it is always sad to see the branches revealed once again, and the occasional birds nest high up on many.  
The clocks also go back one hour on Sunday, thus giving one more hour to ponder breakfast.  Unless you have a cat, a dog or a child of course.  I may take the opportunity to rise early and stumble down to church.  Though rain is once again returning the minute I leave the door.
I am ploughing through three books at the moment, one has 700 pages of small font, and lots of big words.  It is not easy to keep track.  The other two are easier but football fills the air and reading is slow.
How did people live before books?
Writing only arrived around 3500 years BC in southern Iraq, a place called Sumar.  Not much later it arrived in China and South America also.  Was this because of rising populations?  Trade opening up? Before that there were no books, but I suppose story tellers filled the gap.  An evenings entertainment listening to the history or folk tales of the locale.  Hero's and giants, and some right old rubbish also.  A little bit like the UK's free press I think. 
How could we live without books today?


Thursday 27 October 2022

Morning


Another day of joy ahead of us this morning I thought.  Red sky, brighter than the picture offers, filled the view from the filthy back window.  As always I thought, 'Red sky in morning, shepherds warning.'  I expected a disaster to follow.  This has failed to arrive, though it did rain slightly, even the sky gets it wrong occasionally.  
I had much to say but luckily I ate instead and now have nothing to say.
I blame the sky.


Wednesday 26 October 2022

Thurs...Wednesday Drivel

 
Another October morn with sunshine filling the sky.  Notice how 'Ryanair' and other early morn flights have criss-crossed the skies.  Most are landing at Stansted, others are passing over at 35,000 feet on their way too and from the US or China.  None ask me if I wish a lift.  
As it was Thursady I sauntered early around Sainsbury's, then, enjoying the experience of being outside I dumped my treasures at home and walked around to Tesco.  How the rich live!  I was a bit surprised to see some of the Wednesday market stalls sitting there, and slowly dawned the reality that I was a day early again.  However, I managed to purchase lots of things I do not require, as that is what us rich folks do, and more of the little xmas gifts that fill the bag.  
****
Back home, I considered watching the latest Prime  Minister fail at Prime Ministers Questions, but I just could not stand the smugness, the non answers, the bile, even though this one actually looks like a PM.
There can be little doubt that while he will amend many things from what the Muppet left behind, he has ceased one or two, there remains many 'Boris' problems as well as the 'Liz' ones to deal with, some will not end.  
 ****
The gas board have kindly sent me details of a new deal, mine ends in April, and I am wondering what they are up to?  Gas prices have fallen, government aid is working, and they are up to something.  It arrived this afternoon so I have not read it properly but there is a catch, but I know not what it is.  No doubt the blessed elelctric people will now do the same.
 

Tuesday 25 October 2022

Football

 

SHhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhshhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Footballs on!

Sunday 23 October 2022

Thunder and Lightning

Met Office

Dark skies, flashes of lightning, rumbles of thunder.  The sound of heavy rain lashing the Highways and byways around.  A continuous dripping hurries along at the back window, the gutters overflowing with the deluge.  The swishing sound as the rain lashes the street.  Cars, not always driving carefully, pass by splashing the water around.  The gutters cannot cope and rain sills across the road every so often lit up by the flashes, flashes which at least avoid the need to put a light on.  
The thunder moves further away, the rain eases, and all this reminds me of the day I was born.  Thunder, lightning, heaving rain storms, windows shaking and all this on an Edinburgh July.  The family interpreted this as a bad sign.  There are those who agree with them.
As the storm moves north east I hear a dog barking, a dog, that would hide under the bed trembling when fireworks explode is happy to want outside when thunder and lightning rage!
Similar rain, without much thunder, kept me in this morning.  The idea of walking in the drizzle did not appeal, especially as I knew what would follow.  Follow it did, heavy persistent rain, annoying those walking dogs that insisted in walking, and made me glad I remained indoors listening to the constant heavy dripping at the back window.  One day someone will fix those gutters.
This is not quite what Australia has been facing, it is not like the Indian monsoon, it is however, very like Autumn weather here.  Rain clouds coming up from the south west, carrying much of the Atlantic with them, brings a warmer atmosphere and a wetter rain.  Much better than the north west cold rain, often the remains of US hurricanes, of glorious memory.  That is, glorious because I do not see it as often as I once did.


Saturday 22 October 2022

A Quiet Week...


A quiet week, a week in which I decided to start Xmas shopping.  I like to have everything ready and off by December 1st, and so on the last 24 hours I have spent over £300 and still have some way to go.  The advantage of 'Amazon Gift Cards' is that they can be stuck in a card and the recipient buys what they want, not what I send.  This is better for all, and the girls, and it is mostly girls at the other end, prefer this.  I do not ask what they buy!
So I bought the cards, went back for more today, obtained other items from Tesco and B&M, strange the places Xmas comes from, and searched a charity shop or two.  Now all I have to do is organise all this in a sensible fashion and obtain cards to go with them.  Then there are the online shopping to do, but that can wait till nearer the time, and stuff for little hands round about. 
For those I popped into the museum and searched their overpriced shop.  I bought a couple of things, searched the actual museum for changes, recognised one of the dinosaurs on display, and bought museum honey and chutney.  Home then for the football.


How nice to see the team playing properly today.  'Up and at em' was the cry, led by Cammy Devlin our Australian dynamo.  What a man he is.  It was his drive that carried us through the first half alone.  After a few difficult games, missing many important players, we were heading back to our best again.  With the others returning, by Christmas we will be much better off, though probably out of Europe.  
The VAR experiment went well, Celtic lost out!  Without fair coverage they might have won!  Well done VAR!


Apparently we are aiming for another Prime Minister.  One of the contenders is Boris Johnson, liar, cheat and idiot, who considers the nation needs him.  Maybe he plans to kill another 180,000 in two years?  I wonder if the temporary PM will release the 'Russian Report' that Boris refused to release, as it contains evidence of his treason and all the Russian money pouring into Tory funds?  I somehow doubt it, decency is not her way.  So, the comedy show continues, we await developments.


 

Monday 17 October 2022

A Sunday in the Life

 
Sunday saw me shuffling down to the Kirk.  
I have not been for a few weeks and it was delight to see how the young women crowded around me.  I did not realise just how much they missed my weekly cash offering!  My tired mind did not enjoy much however, the service was a long one, too long for tired little me.  
Not only was it the church's 53rd anniversary, but it was also the 'Harvest Festival.'  This adds to the time as offerings were made, offerings this time being items wanted by the local 'Food Bank,' which the church supports and is itself used as an 'Food Bank' opening.  So, plastic bags of required substances abounded at the front, unlike in days of long ago when a sheaf of wheat or two would lie alongside local apples, fruits and vegetables.  Today, a more practical, and sadly required, offering is demanded.  We have a Conservative MP, who is also the Foreign Minister (at the moment, but things change quickly under this government), the town council is almost totally Conservative, and the County council also dominated by the Conservative Party.  However, the 'Food Bank' in this town has two openings within the town, and one on the rather 'better to do' area just outside.  There is also another in nearby, and better off, Halstead, and one in not so well of London overspill Witham!  Conservative areas these, and the MP has not, as yet, visited any of them.  All of these are based in church halls, I wonder why?  Does no-one else have the care, or would it cost too much?  Maybe the next 'Harvest Festival' might be different, maybe of course, it could be much worse.  


On top of this we had a child baptised.  Now I am not one for Christenings or child baptisms, however, the CoE is, and the vicar goes along with this so, when a local woman requests baptism he accedes to her demand, and attempts to use this as an 'outreach' to those who attend church only for 'Birth, death and marriages.'  And as I entered, shrugging off the women, I noticed the first three rows taken up with men in suits, and women dressed for an occasion. "Strangers," thought I.  Easy to identify such as the rest of the church takes a 'Come as you are,' approach, and rightly so, this means visitors all dressed up stand out.  Funny how they all think going to church requires 'dressing up,' I wonder how those thoughts get into their minds?  It does however, show the lack of understanding regarding churches today.
I say Christenings and child baptism have no place in scripture.  Such are never found there, what we do find however, is, for instance, in Mark's 'Good News,' where the disciples are clearing up after Jesus has finished for the day, and the women then approach for Jesus to 'bless' their children.  Obviously, no major Rabbi of the time wishes to waste time on the women or their children, so the disciples lovingly tell them to "Clear off."  At this Jesus, says Mark, is 'Indignant.'  The Greek word he uses is a very strong word indeed, indicating how God in human form, walking the earth, saw the women and children.  
However, baptism, such as from John at the Jordan, and occasionally elsewhere, does not mention children, only 'people.'  It is possible they were involved, but no mention of them is made.  The 'Christening service' is unknown.  
Non-denominational churches, based on scripture rather than 'liturgy,' do not have 'Christenings,' but what I might call 'presentations.'  That is, new born children are 'presented to God,' and the church, along with thanks to God, promises to care for them.  Can I just say at this point, I am no longer available for babysitting.  
They are welcomed into the church but no demand on the child is made re belief. 
The reason child baptism is accepted is based on Pauls time in Philippi. 
When Paul was in Philippi spreading the Good News, he was confronted by a woman with an evil spirit.  She was a slave girl, common in those far off days, and not uncommon even in this country today, who earned much for her owners by fortune telling.  Demons have much knowledge and are not to be laughed at.  This woman followed Paul telling people that "These men are servants of the Most High God, and are telling you the way to be saved."  After a few days of this Paul turned round and in Jesus name commanded the spirit to leave her.  This was seen by the owners as unfortunate as they lost money, so a 'hubbub' arose and a crowd soon saw Paul and Silas stripped and flogged, then dumped in prison as serious offenders.  My reaction would have been one filled with rude words, Paul and Silas are found at midnight praying and singing hymns to God, with the other prisoners listening to them.  Clearly they had an effect on the others.  
An earthquake follows, not unusual in the region, and the prison walls shake, doors open, fetters loosened.  Not surprisingly the prison jailor fears for his life as everyone must have escaped.  However, Paul stops him and indicates all remain inside, revealing Pauls hold on them.  The Jailor then asks, "What can I do to be saved?"  The answer, "Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household."  Paul then spoke the 'word of the Lord' to the household, the jailor washed their wounds, and soon he and his family were baptised. 
It is this incident that allows some to accept child baptism.  The jailor 'and all his family,' to some, indicates children were baptised.  But I wonder?  
This was Philippi, a Roman town, a place emptied by Augustus in 42 BC and used as a pension for retired Roman soldiers.  Each man was given something, a wine bar, a fast food joint, whatever suited them, and that was their pension.  By Pauls time their sons and grandsons, plus other ex-service men had filled the town, thus the jailor may well have been a member of the Roman army at some point.  I see him as a man, at least in his 40s, if not older, with grown up children, at least of teenage years.  His position as prison governor would not have been given lightly, so he may well have been at least a Centurion, with experience of leadership.  Therefore those who reckon children were involved in his household being baptised are merely surmising that to be the case.  My surmise may also be wrong but I will not mention this.    
Anyway, the kid here was baptised, then, learned how to toddle freely, spent much time toddling around the church drowning out the vicar, to everyone, bar the vicars, amusement.  These days kids get more freedom than in days gone by, but eventually someone grabbed him and others and dumped the in a play room.  Being a special service the normal kids events did not occur, and this may have been a mistake.  The kid was enjoyable, and all loved him.

 
I did not wish to stay and talk, I was very tired, but enough people spoke and listened to my idea of 'TikTok' fame.  The results were disappointing.  " What, You?" was a common expression, "Fame?" followed by sarcastic laughter, another.  Some wondered if a live picture of myself early in the day might breach the 'Law of England & Wales.'  One suggested wearing a Burqa, just in case.  The treasurer wished me well in obtaining cash and gave me the church bank numbers but with a strong hint of sarcasm as he did so, his son, a 'TikTok' follower just banged his head on the desk muttering something unclear.   I failed to understand their thinking.  Other indications of a lack of support drove me from the field and home to rest my ego and remain in poverty.     


With no little relief I have finished my Turmeric soup.  I am now planning another, somewhat lighter, and this time I may even attempt to add flavour, maybe...  


Saturday 15 October 2022

Fame and Fortune the Slappers Way

I am contemplating the suggestion that I ought to set up a video link and offering myself to the world on 'Only Fans' or some such channel.  One of my young women has made this suggestion and I have been cogitating on it all day.  
Obviously the days of the week would determine the normal routine, though some may not notice a difference, and carrying the camera through the park and into Tesco or wherever might find some difficulties arising.  Especially with that big bloke on security at Sainsburys.  
However, my daily trip to the laptop ought to be worth something cash wise from DELL, as it is their machine that is driving me mad.  Also Microsoft would get many a mention throughout the day, just as they did yesterday when I could not work my way through 'Outlook' as it has been amended again by a 13 year old maniac.  Their name was used often.
'Firefox,' would get less attention as bad language is rare with that browser, but for a fee it could be mentioned daily.  As indeed would 'Opera,' which I use to scribble this rubbish as it has a much used spellchecker on it.  
A camera in an appropriate place would offer views of me slumming it working during the morning, hopefully with a bit of sunshine creeping in.  I say 'working,' I mean 'reading the online press and Twitter.'  My opinions are freely offered loudly if the neighbours are out.   Surely there is a number of viewers for such a sight?  
Also, when I rise, like Larry the Cat chasing a Fox from Downing Street, the viewers would then enjoy my catering skills at the oven.  Brandishing sauces (donated by a variety of companies) while placing mince pies from Murdoch's Butchers in Forres in the oven would surely acquire interest from the far north.  Indeed even abroad!  The dash and daring with which I stir the pot, throwing in, and I mean throwing, a variety of spices, sauces, and things found at the back of the freezer, would be an encouragement to many in these 'hard up times.'   Enabling the world to note how a large pan can produce enough soup for a week must be worth something, if even only to the 'Food Banks!'  


'Waterstones' and 'Amazon,' not to say 'World of Books,' must be willing to part company with the readies for an advert?  I could pose on the filthy couch surrounded by their offerings, reading the latest (non-fiction) tome that has been obtained through a gifted book token.  My opinion would surely be of benefit to the aspiring author, to those concerned with the subject, and readers desiring to purchase.
Doing this while quaffing 'Sainsburys Red Label Tea,' or 'Bells Scotch Whisky,' surely would deserve a decent response?  
The surrounding scenery, the dust on the mantlepiece, the unhoovered floor, the drying washing hanging around like a bad smell,  would ring a bell with many a man devoid of women to tidy up.  They too would enjoy the coverage of football, even if their team was losing.  After all, it's not whether you win or lose but how you play the game.  All football fans agree to this.
What...?  Oh!
Obviously, with the latest Tory Chancellor denying outright his intention to become the next Prime Minister and thereby making clear his intention to become the next Prime Minister, we can be assured that energy costs will rise again.  This may mean mush of my coverage on these 'TikTok' channels will be somewhat dark.  This, especially when advertising swimwear, which appears to be the only thing that the women actually do, might of course be better in the dark.  
Political harangues,  football commentary, Sunday sermons (that will bring in the crowds, to complain), travelogues of places I have never visited, family history, until the injunctions arrive, and constant references to 'The War,' though I will probably mean the 'Great One,' are surely the stuff to bring sponsors knocking on my door, instead of 'Hermes Drivers' looking for my neighbour. 
I can start planning the camera positions, not counting the one seeking stars in the sky as there is little room in the sink, and then await the many offers that must fall through my door.  
Of course, if successful the price demands rise accordingly.


Friday 14 October 2022

Calamity All Round Day


Another week filled with joy and happiness heads towards its end.  The thin cloud covering the world, the chill in the air, and the leaves lying across the world indicate the time of year.
The choking cough I suffer today indicates I did a  washing yesterday.  This involved a lot of shirts and one blanket.  Some fool forgot that this blanket leaves fluff on everything, so I now have fluff on everything!  Including my throat.  I had kept the red duvet cover separate to avoid more pink items, and put that through on its own today, but having done that separately I now have to wash all the rest once again on Monday.  Life, as it is normally lived, in this house!  
Oh yes, and I had to hoover the fluff off the floor afterwards also.  Fool!
Of course I can add to the delights my Turmeric soup.  I did not plan on making Turmeric soup but as I added a bit of this, a bit of that, I also added a bit of oops, too much Turmeric!  The flavour, for want of a better word, will not earn me a place on one of the ten times a day, cooking programmes  on television.  I heard the dog downstairs howling as I ate, I suspect the aroma got down to him.
As it is the end off the week the weather had deteriorated accordingly.  Wind has gathered its power, clouds gather, huge clouds gathering in mid Atlantic awaiting Monday morning, and football ruined by the wind.  Tsk!  The clouds also mean I canny get a better shot of Jupiter than the last one.  Once again my wee camera is not reaching that far out.  I thought I had got something special last night, but it was just a plane leaving Stansted and passing over us.  Those lights are confusing.


It now transpires there are only three Prime Ministers until Christmas.  How time flies?  The shortest ever Chancellor has gone back to making more money and dodging tax, while the woman responsible for his policies that ended with him thrown under the bus in a vain attempt to save her own skin, remains planning decorations at No 10.  
I'm not sure she needs bother.
The somewhat smug Chancellor has been replaced by a very smug Chancellor, one Jeremey Hunt of Freudian slip fame.  He of course is no fan of our Liz but he is a fan of taking her job.  Clearly he sees an opportunity falling towards him here and she has not.  Liz not comprehending surprises no-one. 
So, what now?  Satirists are struggling to keep up here.   It is not possible to write something today and know it will not have changed by tomorrow.  I wonder if she can find a small war to occupy people's minds?


Thursday 13 October 2022

Nothing to Say with all this Football

 

Nothing to say.
Too much European football to watch.
Too much housework to do.
Too much food to stuff down and regret.
 


Monday 10 October 2022

Mooning...


 I really consider it's time they moved the moon over a bit.  Here is me, late at night, squeezing through the wee window in the kitchen, attempting to take a photograph of the 'Harvest Moon,' while knocking assorted items, 'Fairy Liquid' bottles, pans, cups and a fork or two into the sink.  All the time attempting to remain quiet so as not to disturb the neighbours.  
Considering the brute is always positioned in the wrong place, tonight I hoped to catch it alongside Jupiter, but Jupiter had moved too far away, and the edge of the window frame kept coming into focus. I wonder how others get such good shots?  I suppose they have gardens, and sheds they can stand on.  Or windows that are not obscured by the tree line that appears so worthy during the sunny days but a nuisance when seeking planets or moons.  
I certainly will not get a shot tonight, I am about to rush of slowly and attend the SPAM meeting at the club.  Here, the intelligentsia (no women) of the church meet to discuss items of great moment.  As the football that matters, at 6 pm and 8 pm, does not begin until tomorrow, I can take a night off from straining my eyes and enter the half light of the club and meet the bright sparks of the congregation.


Saturday 8 October 2022

Ticket to Ride


This is a good book.  
Published in 2016, Tom Chesshyre road the rail in 2013/14, so it is slightly dated.  Non the worse for that.  It is understandable that situations have changed somewhat in some of the countries Ton
m has travelled through.  And what countries, what trains!  
Written from the point of view of someone who likes trains without becoming an anorak train enthusiast, Tom travels through China, India, USA and Russia amongst others places.  Detailing the trips, the people, the country that he meets on board and sees through the window.  
The fact that he has put so many trips into the book means each trip could have been a single book in itself, though I suspect his run in with a mutinous bunch of Aussies who rebelled against him he probably does not wish to cover again.  
His writing style is good.  We are there listening to the Chinese coughing loudly, we see the red soil of Australia fade into the distance, we note the differing attitudes of guards, both at the borders and on the trains.  The North Korean guards are not what I expected, the drugged up lout in New York was. 
In most nations Tom comes across ano rail enthusiasts.  Those who travel on every line, ensuring all they see, trains, coaches, signals, stations, drivers are photographed, and those who just like travelling by train.
On such trips people open up about themselves and life in general.  By avoiding controversy guides can become quite friendly and open in even the most 'locked in' nation.  Train travel, especially on long journeys, does tend to loosen the passengers, drink also helps.  Speaking to a stranger, often about their private life, is possible for some, especially when you will never meet again.  Something about train travel relaxes people, the smooth ride possible on most lines today, the sights from the train, green verdant land, streams, seas, mountains, all calm the mind.  
Of course there is the other type.  The drunk, the lout, the man or woman on the phone sharing their work or private life with one and all.  Surely murder is not wrong in such situations?  The staff, sometimes happy, sometimes grumpy, depending on where you are and how they have been treated.
'Ticket to Ride' offers all this.  It was a book I found hard to put down.  Also, the trips being separated means this book need not be read in one go, each chapter a differing delight.  The descriptions of the train delights the anor fan, the hope to be there one day delights me.  
I recommend this book, both as a 'railway' book and as a travel book.  


I've just realised I have read one of his before.  'From Source to Sea.'  A walk from the source of the Thames to the sea.

Thursday 6 October 2022

OAP Aid


I received a letter the other day, with an incomplete address, though the postman managed to get it to my door.  This was from someone new, the county council.  As part of Liz Truss's response to the energy crisis she has sent cash around the country to aid us poor folks in our distress.  This is kind of her, so kind that I will not inform her that by nationalising the energy companies she could have saved us a lot more money, and saved the cots of this gift.
However, £80 is quite decent, and a big surprise.  So, wide eyed and having checked this was not a spam merchant playing games, I trotted off to the store this morning to take advantage and fill shelves.  I confirmed with one of the better staff members that this was legal and they were aware of these 'handouts' from a woman who does not do 'handouts,' and began collecting the required goodies.  With my freezer quite full, not of steak however, I obtained the tinned stuff, and other long term goods as I intend to use them much more in my culinary arts. (The word 'arts' here is a misnomer.)  Some £19 was used, the young woman at the checkout appeared happy, and I carried my heavy load away already scribbling in my mind a return visit for other long term goods soon.  
Did I need this money?  I am doing OK here.  I am not starving, indeed the bug helped me lose weight, and I am seeking lighter meals anyway.  However, it is when the gas and electric contracts run out they will then raise the prices to who knows what.  That is when this will be a benefit.  Some have gone from £400 a year to £1500 or so. These often OAPs who do struggle.  How can they pay such bills?  We can take hope that this temporary PM will soon be gone, that a sensible individual will take over, and that intellectually satisfying policies can be offered.  Hmmm... we wait and see...


Tuesday 4 October 2022

Soup, Spiders and Australian Railways

 

Because a bug attached itself to me I have managed to lose almost half a stone by not eating.
Today however, I began to eat.  I put some chopped Chick Pea things, I forget the name, in the pan last night and covered them with water.  This morning I boiled them, flattened them, sort off, and added the ingredients.  These are easy to find, I just put in what is lying around.  Salt, brown and red sauce, cayenne pepper, vinegar, turmeric, coriander oops, too much, chicken Oxo and tin of chicken soup.  Add onions, green lentils the only tin available, and some frozen leeks, heat, simmer, and wait.
I now have a coriander soup.
This is not one the local cafe's will be asking about any time soon.
I did my best, ate two bowls of this, er, stuff, and cooled the rest for the week.     
My prayer, "Lord, I'll get it down, if you keep it down."


I have been hosting quite a few of these guys recently.  One has been above me in the corner for several years now, though whether he, or she, is the same one I cannot tell.  Above the window a long legged creature has been moving about for some time, first here, then there, sometimes just 'hanging about to my left.'  This smaller fellow is living on the wall just outside my door.  He has been there several days now.  No web, no friends, possibly no idea where he is heading, but he is still there, though he has managed to move several inches during today.  
None of these are the Australian type, small, non dangerous, and mostly wanting to keep in the dark places rather than a hallway with occasional lights.  My aunt, who moved to Australia in 1926 I think, was not impressed with my sisters response to what she referred to as a 'small spider.'  My sister was not impressed by what she considered a 'dirty big brute.'  I think Aunt Lizzies tales of the spiders she met while living in one of the big houses (as caretaker) on one of Sydney's many bays put my sister of her dinner for several days.
They can stay in Aussieland.    
When I am rich, I will take the train, the Indian Pacific, from Perth to Sydney one day.  There is only one way to meet Australia, to see the lie of the land and to understand how the people develop, but by train travel.  Railways open countries, first of all in the days of long ago, and now in the days of tourism.  Commuter travel is still a busy rail service, though clearly it is quicker to cross such land masses by air.  To see the land however, you must take the train.
Hmmm...I canny even get to the train here.  I must jump on one soon, before all the strikes restart. 



Sunday 2 October 2022

A Scottish Poem

I bought this book years ago and found it once again while staring into the bookcase.
Trevor Royle has brought together poetry and prose, including some fictionalised acounts, of the great War.  I was touched by this poem, something that does not usually happen, as it reflected the emotions felt by the couple involved.  It spoke better than most works from the time.
 

Pilgrimage: Being the thoughts of an ex-soldier at Ypres, 8/8/28

Me, an’ Jean, an’ the bairn;
The wee lad spierin’ an’ starin’;
Daunderin’ quiet an’ douce-like doun
The Menin road into Ypres toun.
‘Did ye kill ony Germans here?’
Man, it’s sair what a laddie’ll spier.
An’ Jean whispers ‘Wheest!’ – an’ there comes
The band wi’ its trumpets an’ drums.
There’s a glower i’ the wee laddie’s ee.
Ay, he’s ettlin’ ti sojer like me.
An’ Jean whispers low in her pain:
‘Lord, Ye’ll no lat it happen again!’
Syne the Gate whaur the weary feet trod
Like a white kind o’ promise fae God.
An’ in silence we’re spierin’ an’ starin’
– Me, an’ Jean, an’ the bairn.

Me an’ Jean
Her wi’ a saft warm licht in her een,
Thankfu’ that I am come through,
But trimlin’ a wee at the mou’,
Prood o’ the medals I wear –
The same as the Prince stan’in’ there;
Her hand grippin’ hard in mine here
– Oh Jeannie! Oh Jeannie, my dear! –
An’ I ken a’ the things she wud say
An’ Geordie was fond o’ her tae.
We saw Geordie’s bivvy yestreen,
Me an’ Jean.

Me,
Lookin’ yont ower the years juist tae see
Yon War like the ploy of a loon;
But a queer kind o’ shiver rins doon
My back as the things dribble in
– A hallikit lauch i’ the din,
The sangs, an’ the mud, an’ the claes,
An’ my buits, an’ yon glint through the haze
O’ anither lad’s bayonet, an’ lichts
Makin’ day o’ the darkest o’ nichts,
An’ the drinkin’ our tea fae ae can.
– Oh Geordie! Oh Geordie, my man!
An’ – deil tak’ this dust i’ my ee.
Me!


J. B. Salmond

from The Old Stalker and Other Verses (Edinburgh: The Moray Press, 1936)

The poems were often written in an Arbroath dialect.

I found this on the excellent Scottish Poetry Library.

 

Saturday 1 October 2022

Whithorn Woman


Whithorn Priory in Galloway is found in the very south west of Scotland.  A church is attested by the great Bede in 731 AD to have been found here in 700 AD.  It is rumoured than Ninian founded a church here around the year 400.  A Roman coin engraved with Emperor Constans (337-350 AD) was found near the altar, indicating something was in place at the time.  
The locals like to refer to Whithorn as the 'Cradle of Christianity' in Scotland, and possibly in the Britain we know today, and they may not be far wrong.
Several 'Digs' have uncovered Bishop Walter, who died in 1235, his ring and crozier defining him.  Research indicates the Bishop was 'portly,' and had a diet rich in fish.  This was not what the locals ate, even though the sea is close by.  Another clergyman of the time lies nearby.  The second man may not be a clergyman, yet he is interred close to the altar.  He had a cleft Jaw, which would make reading Mass difficult, yet this is where he is buried.  
The picture above is is the face of a woman who was buried amongst the Lay people (the lower orders) in what was later to become the 'Glebe Field.'  The Glebe Field was used to sustain the minister of a church.  This woman is believed to have lived in the 1300s.  This is in the days of Robert the Bruce, and life was often full of war.  She is in her early  20s, and when she died she was buried on a bed of shells, for reasons unknown.  The sea lies just down the road and conjecture as to the reason for the shells could go on for ever.  Nothing else is known of her.  Clearly not rich, she is just a woman of her time who died early.
I have noticed quite a few of these reconstructed faces appearing over the past few years.  Allowing for the difficulties in reconstructing an actual perfect likeness I find these fascinating.  While they cannot perfectly reveal the actual person, their habits, dress, attitudes and the like often remain unknown or guesswork, they do show an insight into life in the past.  It makes our forefathers real, no longer just a name on a rich mans tomb, or a mass of bodies buried in a local graveyard and soon forgotten.  The past becomes real, and if you are descended from this area it is always possible this may been one of your relatives.  If I remember correctly, a man in Cheddar Grove was through DNA research, found to contain the same DNA as a skeleton dating back into prehistory found in the area.  
One thing soon becomes clear, people today, mobile phones, cars, technological adept, are no different from those who have gone before.  What has been will be again, as it were.  Wherever such reconstructions are found they always turn out to be human, just like you and I, and therefore carry all the same sin nature we carry.  Humans never change, and these reconstructions prove this.

Ruaridh's Blog is full of info on Whithorn