Music deer...

I just happened to be wandering about the graveyard at the rear of the Congregational church this afternoon when I spied this deer at the far side.  I thought I had caught her leaving a mark, but if you look closely, she is giving birth.  Considering this was what she was doing, I remained at a distance taking a few shots, it is unusual to see such a deer in these parts, and watched.  Roebuck deer, those with a loud doglike bark, have been around for years, but this looks more like the Bambi type to me.  I wandered a few feet away and when I returned she and whatever she had with her had gone.

 

I had ventured quietly into the graveyard as it is usually quiet and if you stand still long enough nature moves about.  In fact, a squirrel came running around the corner, stopped suddenly, looked up at me and hastened back the way he had come.  However, he and a couple of magpies were playing about at the far side and I managed to catch this shot of one.  I'm not sure if he noticed me.

 

I had wandered over to the park, as opposed to having a snooze after lunch, because a Skateboard activity was on today.  Naturally, the Punk Band, and I mean 'Punk,' played right outside my house!  Next week, the environment men will get a wee note from me!  

Deep Purple, Cream, Jimi Hendrix, and AC/DC had music along with the noise, that's what made them great!  Each track was different, inventive, had a purpose.  This lot had one note, and a very loud not at that, and a loud, if you excuse the word, singer at the front.  At no time did we notice any words.

Anyway, most of the kids enjoyed it, the man from the Essex Fire Brigade stand informed me of his two paracetamol tablets after this group finished, and much more action occurred, in an organised way later.

By six pm the music, by this time 'rave' music, that is music with a needlessly deep base and little else, finished, now we have peace.

Scottish Football Reflects the Times.

 

I was watching a clip of the Heart of Midlothian scoring 90 goals against Hibernian.  I must point out these goals did not arrive in only one game.  The first clip came from one of our victories in 1959, before I had made it to the ground.  

Several things struck me as I watched these early games.  The goal celebrations were the most obvious.  A goal is scored, with ease against Hibernian, and the players 'jumped for joy,' congratulated the scorer and returned quickly to the centre circle to do it all again.  No sliding needlessly into the corner, no standing on the wall taking the glory.  No rolling about on the ground while other formed a horde about you.  Just get back and get on with the game.

The game was no less serious, the attitudes deep.  The joy of a  win and the despair of a loss great both ways, no less than today, and yet...  

People tackled harder in those days, yet there were less bookings and sending's off.  Both sides fought hard to win and yet there was less animosity.  Indeed, many who bought season tickets for Tynecastle to watch the Heart of Midlothian also took season tickets at Hibernian and watched the teams week about.  This is not possible today and many would not understand this anyway.  

Life has changed in the last 70 years.  Our attitudes to football reflect this.  It appears to be that attitudes have hardened somewhat, football success is more important than it ought to be, and this is reflected with many no longer watching great European games and preferring to watch teams further down the ladder where 'real football' can be seen.  This includes standing on a near empty terracing, banter between fans, and the occasional dog demanding attention, especially when eating the miserly pies that are on sale from the van on the corner.  

Football has got wealthier alongside the nations, neither have become better because of this.

Overfed

I wandered out to have my haircut again, it was only done about four months ago, and after the helpful young lass had cut all the grey stuff off and blown it away I headed towards Tesco.  This being a Wednesday made it Market Day, though hardly any stalls could be seen, the cold air had mostly put them off.  However, the Albanian lass with her bread and cakes was there!  Jolly good, thought I.

Tesco was quiet for a Wednesday, again the weather had left all the old folks indoors practising for the loss of the 'Winter Fuel Allowance.'  I therefore strolled around, avoiding the trolley pushers, and quickly paid my debts to the young man at the checkout.

Back at the stall, I bought this Italian bread, wondering if it was big enough for one?  Indeed, it was!  I could not manage the other items I bought, however, and doubt I will need breakfast in the morning.

 

Shorn and overfed, I trawled Twitter looking for interesting items.  None were found.  However, Keir, Thatchers true Son, has been at PMQs again and following on from all previous PMs since 2010 he did not bother answering questions, a point Sunak the ex-PM mentioned, apparently.  The irony there!  Keir appears to consider answering questions the job of someone else, certainly not Rachel, both she and he did not attend the House while the WFA was debated, and had no intention of answering any today.  

The die is cast, as someone once noted, the 'Lower Orders' can die, they do not matter.  What matters are the Corporates and Private Equity people, big business and the billionaire movers and shakers behind the scenes, the ones paying for Rachel and Keir.  They are certainly paying for Rachel, and I cannot see Keir being strong enough to oppose her.  Concession bus passes to go next.  It’s kill the old to save the rich time!  Blatantly and with no opposition from Labour.

 

Monday

All across what we call the 'West,' people rise at various, too early, times and greet Monday morning.  By far the majority of working people look forward to a five day week and a very quick weekend to follow.  Lucky people!

Those who do shit work, a week from 7 am to 3 pm, followed by a week of 3 pm to 11 pm, or even a rolling week when the beginning moves forward a day meaning the weekend is never a proper weekend.  Some of course today work 4 day weeks, 12 hour days and 3 days off, great, according to the work that is.  Shift working people often have the lowest jobs, the smallest wage, and the lowest place in society even though many are well educated and often have had 'better' employment.  

The vats majority however, keep to a five day week, Monday to Friday, a rota that never changes and while bring helps you to remember what day it is.  Most are office and shop workers, though many office workers can remain at home thanks to the internet and a good landline, shop workers often have to include a Saturday rather than a Friday finish.  

I well remember the joy of a Monday morning.  The struggle to get out of bed, searching for breakfast, searching for a shirt, searching for a brain.  The 9-5 meant a bus to some workplace in an office full of two faced people.  Not always, but all offices have them.  Even the best include the type of person who would sell their grannie, if they had not already done so.  These places were run by smiling, cheery people who offered good cheer and a knife in the back when no-one was looking, a great thing to look forward to on a Monday morning.  

The commuter, travelling across town in a rain soaked bus, or the early riser meeting the train t 06:35 hours and travelling for 90 minutes into town knowing that in spite of the money earned they will not see home again until 13 hours or more have passed.  Is it worth it I wonder?  During Thatcher's 80s people working in London took to moving to places as far away as Doncaster, here a train at 07.00 hours would drop them at Kings Cross close to their 9 am start time.  In the evening, the 17:23 north would get them home 2 hours later and they would still arrive home before many in London had reached their destination!  The Doncaster house may have cost £28,000 while the London flat £190,000!  It is understandable while people commuted.  The stress is less than that found by living in large cities.  Some of course drive for hours instead of public transport, blocking the roads, having accidents, but being 'free!'    

The only time joy can be found on a Monday at work is when you begin a new, and hopefully, a positive job.  Here you see higher wages, better conditions, superior people, and a hope for the future.  This will of course die, but at the moment you are positive, a wee bit nervous and happy to rise that wee bit earlier.

By Friday all this may have changed...

Those of us missing out on the joy of a Monday, by selecting the cheaper versions of goods in the nearest supermarket, can stand at the window watching people hurrying to work from early on a Monday morning.  Sometimes we wave from the widow while holding our coffee cup but the return waves, often hidden somewhat in the mirk, are not always positive ones.  Ah well, we need some enjoyment while Keir steals out heating support and laughs are always in short supply around him.  With Keir and Rachel every day is a Monday.

The Phone Trials

I finally found the courage to set up the new phone.  With the old one constantly running amok I thought it was time to move on.  It was surprisingly easy in one sense and wearing in another.  Several things went smoothly, though I am still seeking others from all around, and Google, bless them, made it much easier, as long as I gave them everything!  

As always the changes are better, except those that are not.  Much time was wasted fantasising on how to deal with Californian 14 year-old Geeks!  And not in a pleasant manner.  To them, making things easier, quicker, and more helpful, is to me a nonsense which makes no sense whatsoever.  Do they have no schools over there?  Or do they spend so much time dodging bullets from mad pupils they cannot see a straight forward way to do things?  Innovation is not always required!  

Anyway, while tap, tap, tapping and getting no response i was trying to look through the mirk at Scotland getting gubbed by Australia.  Edinburgh in September has the most wonderful skies.  Deep blue flaked with black, cool air, the lingering aroma of a recent summer, the promise of more tomorrow.  Naturally, the clouds covered all this and the game is being played in a near mist!  All around people are wrapped in winter outfits, though a few short wearing eejits can be seen, and not just the young trendies either.  The desperate Edinburgh middle class man proving his mettle in public for all to see is here.  Cameramen shrouded in black coverings could be mistaken for nomadic tents, while the schoolkids of course have not yet noticed the weather, they are just seeking autographs or attempting to catch the ball when it runs out.  

That said, my new phone keeps making noises and I canny see why.  This will keep me awake all night I bet. 

Meditative Music

Samuel Collins of Braintree.

Samuel Collins became vicar at Braintree in the year 1610.  The previous hundred years had seen the arrival of the Reformation, vast changes in England's churches, and in 1603, in an attempt to avoid civil war, England invited James VI to become King of England.  While this avoided civil war it did not enable a peaceful church.   James had a liking for Catholic ways, something which did not go down well in Calvinist Scotland, and James was determined to have his way in an England he saw as more open to his ideas.  

The Reformation had arrived in England not via good preaching from courageous men but by a deranged King desperate for a male heir.  The conflicts that followed Edward, then Mary, then Elizabeth had left their mark and James did manage to bring equanimity to the nation if nothing else.  His desire to be seen as an academic brought about his translation of the bible know to Christians as the 'Authorised Version,' (AV).  James had already attempted such a translation by himself.  

However, in 1625 Charles I became king as he had neither his fathers religious knowledge of faith but he had inherited his approach to the 'Divine Right of Kings.'  Therefore until his death the nation had much trouble.

Charles employed William Laud as Bishop of London and then Archbishop of Canterbury.  This led to trouble for Samuel Collins and all vicars who leant towards Puritanism.  Collins was not of an ilk to leave the Church of England, and rather despised those who did.  However, he did support those who did as much as was possible without losing his job.  Essex being a Puritan county there were many churches run by Puritan leaning men, usually with a similar mind set off the congregation.  This was trouble.

Archbishop Laud was not a Puritan!  He was no Catholic, but he strongly opposed the Puritan influence on the church and instructed all to follow what many considered 'Popish' ideas.

Over the next few years many men lost their livelihoods, were refused the right to preach, and soon people were leaving for Amsterdam or New England.  When the 'Lyon,' left for New England in 1640 some 15 leading families from Braintree went with it.  Such numbers caused many practical problems, let alone the loss of revenue, usually suffered by the vicar who's income was hit by the lack of tithes. 

During these years Samuel was seen as a man who held off, at great risk to himself and family, Laud's approaches, preached on Sundays and led many other meetings.  Led the 'Four & Twenty' leading citizens who formed a type of council, provided cash to aid the poor and other emergencies and was seen as a man who spoke for God at all times.  He was clearly loved by most of the people, trouble coming only from those who felt he ought to join them and leave aside the 'Popish ways' demanded by Laud.  Of a population of around 5000 in the two towns of Braintree and Bocking, some 800 would meet in John English's barn to worship freely in what they considered a biblical manner.  No wonder Laud was Irked!  But that is typical Essex.

In spite of his troubles Collins was popular enough to last as vicar from 1610 until 1661 when he retired, probably worn out!  He lasted longer than Archbishop Laud who's troubling antics came to an end in January 1645 when he was beheaded.  I think this a good way to deal with heretical Archbishops and Bishops myself.  Laud was not lauded when he lost his head, Samuel Collins was.  The sermon preached at his funeral in 1667 was some 60 pages long!  Try that today!  His biblical approach, his love for God and people, his determination, indeed his impatience, led to many favouring him.  This included those who sailed away to the New World.  (incidentally, of the approx 125 who sailed, there are some 3 million descendants, including those called 'Kellog,' consider that when eating breakfast.)  

A vicar who had a large congregation, a powerful town council, an angry Archbishop, Puritans separatists, Civil War, and loss of congregation to foreign parts, yet attempted to follow his Lord through all this, often at great risk to himself.  Samuel Collins is a man who ought not to be forgotten by this town.

Grey Day

The mass of swirling light grey cloud now covering the land does not engender hope as another week begins.  The English schools return during this week leaving many a child hoping for a 'Blighty one' in an endeavour to avoid going back.  I am with them!  School had its uses but I never enjoyed it much.  Football in the playground, History, Geography and Art were OK with me, but the enclosed confines, half the class, and the outside world being beyond reach were always irksome.  I rejoiced the day I left, at 14 actually, I was 15 the next day, and then finding work discovered the outside world was not as easy as I had hoped.  And we never played football at lunchtimes.

Anyway, as kids return, none outside my window so probably a Wednesday date for the locals here, the older children are also returning.  Yes indeed Parliament is back!  The grown up children take their place all awaiting orders from the front bench.  Labour, that is the Red Tories, will fill the benches happy to be well paid for obeying orders.  Across the aisle the Blue Tories are still fighting about  anew leader, this makes me wonder if Sunak will bother returning from California for this?  Robert Jenrick, a man who's personality never formed, is one of two leading contenders here,  James Cleverley, once failing Foreign Minister, reduced to failing Home Secretary,  is the other main man.  Kemi Badenoch, another with mixed motives and little positive ideas, is the leading woman though that does not say much.  Six contend for this position, the nation hopes they will all fail.  

The Lib-Dems will rejoice in the largest turn out for generations and quickly turn on one another and make an almighty mess of the opportunity given them.  The handful of SNP remainers are grateful for the £91,000 hand out, plus expenses so they can keep their heating on, and have no desire whatsoever for independence.  MI6, the Special Branch and Nicola have ended the SNP challenge there.

So, as the gathering cloud darkens the room while dark clouds gather over schools and Westminster we await the right wing press attacks on the government that have been subdued and meaningless over the long holidays.  The meaningless will continue however, that is all they have to offer.  

The dark clouds, clouds of a darker grey it must be said, hover threateningly over Tynecastle.  Here, we find the Heart of Midlothian, in spite of the best efforts of Costa Rican internationals, losing games with a zeal akin to a Tory PPE handout.  8 games no win.  Bottom of the league, European games ahead, the manager not yet hanging upside down from the floodlights as he and his coaches ought.  Twitter abounding in explanations from those who understand best the position, though each one failed to make it at that level, and emotional responses to the difficult situation which always help to obtain positive results.  

Yesterday, the sun shone high and long brightening the world and offering a heat pensioners in December would not understand.  Today we are cloud covered, dark and getting darker.  I think I preferred yesterday...