Blackbird Singing

This fine fellow has just been entertaining me with his song.  Just on six in the evening and he is calling to all the world that this is his patch, and if any women are looking for something to do tonight I'm free.  

The Blackbird song is one of the best in the UK.  We hear it throughout the year but especially in Spring and Summer, it speaks of warmth and happiness.  I am led to understand only the male sings but this could be wrong.  Blackbirds are found all over Europe and the song is well known, we often see them on high branches benefiting the world.  

The song can adapt as I may have mentioned before.  Round the corner a couple went on holiday leaving the house in the control of a decorator.  No doubt he done a good job however, they have an alarm system, a well to do house, and the trouble the man had trying to set the alarm before going home was quite comical.  All around could hear the alarm, off and on, off and on, before he done the job.  The siren noise emitted was of a specific note, we knew it well by the end of the week. 

In those days I was leaving the house at 4:30 in the morning passing the early morning police dawn patrol with weary officers usually.  As I turned the corner it was usual for he Blackbird in the nest in the first tree to sing out, this was quickly followed by a Robin at the far end.  By the time I got half way down the noise was terrific as every bird of whatever type was now awake.  The interesting this at that time was how many birds now included their version of the siren alarm!  It was quite clear and their appreciation of the painters problems noticeable.  

A Trip to the Barbers.

When people begin to offer me money "For a cup of tea," as I stand vacantly looking into shop windows, I realise it is time for a haircut.  Just as well the beard has not got far or I would be 'moved on' by the constabulary.  That is, if there were any passing by.  The days of the local Bobby have long gone, the police constantly tell us they can reach an incident quicker by car than by having a man walk the streets.  There is indeed truth in this.  However, shoppers in town centres feel more security when a man in uniform passes by occasionally.  This also gives more 'intelligence' regarding the people on the ground when a local copper is on the beat.  I note a nearby town has two 'Special Police officers' who operate on a beat regularly.  This is the type of thing that must be encouraged, as well as asking retired officers to work a couple of days occasionally also.  Many would as this would mean little overtime, much less stress, and quite often successful policing on the cheap.

Being the Wednesday Market the usual collection of stallholders were improving their tans while hoping to improve their wealth.  The sun shone, the clouds floated, and the English perambulated by in a Summer like manner, in spite of the chill in the wind.  Did that chubby lass with almost nothing on atop not notice the breeze?  Did her fat protect her as it does whales and Walrus's?  I am not sure where that comparison came from. 

I looked the other way as I passed the cake stall, wandered through the centre hoping for some action, which did not occur, and hobbled back down the newly laid pedestrianised High Street.  To imagine two way traffic going down here only 50 years ago blows the mind away, especially as buses went two ways also.  At least one photograph shows a 'coming together' at the corner of Sandpit Street, now 'Lane.'  Quite how they extracted the single decker from the corner shop I know not.     

I wandered along, tempted by the coffee shops but not by the bunting displayed everywhere for the monarchs Jubilee.  Small kids on bikes or scooters raced past, first one way then the other, mother seemingly unaware they were in the thoughts of several dodging their travels.  A black Labrador dog waited with the owner outside one shop, rising to greet someone who came out to speak to it, who then passed an item to the boss, and returned inside.  The dog was pleased with any acknowledgement, are they not all like that?  

I turned the corner and entered New Street.  Once this was notorious.  Four public houses stood here, three were renown for their 'entertainment.'  The Three Tuns, also known as 'Little Hell,'  The George Tavern,' also known as 'Great Hell,' and the 'Green Man, this was known to all as 'Perdition!'  It may surprise you to know that the 'Cage,' the town 'Lock up,' much in use until a Police Station was erected, was located at the bottom of this street.  Two 6 ft cells often entertained visitors as much as the pubs.  The 'Three Tuns,' has long been absorbed into other buildings.  'The George long since knocked down and rebuilt as shops and offices, and the 'Green Man' now a house, though I think in fact it is now offices. 

My barber, sorry, Hairdresser, was empty when I arrived.  Being market day he has less customers than usual.  He complained that on market day "...people just come to shop, no-one comes for a haircut!"  As the one man just about to leave was also a pensioner this meant little profit for the Bar.. hairdresser today.  There again, £9:50 is a lot for a haircut, especially when some of his customers have so little hair unlike I.  

but This man likes himself, he is not so keen on me.  Most of his customers are 'Brexiteer' English types, who share his views and predilections.  I must be careful when I speak as a man with a sharp pair of scissors is not a man to argue with when roused.  His desire to speak well of Boris Johnson was indeed a trying time.  However, we agreed that Boris had indeed, "Spat in the face of his voters," and almost agreed he ought to be hung up.  

One thing was clear, Boris spoke for such as he, and I suspect many here.  Boris has touched the English Imperialist heart, he has made them believe he will stop all those black men spoiling 'their' country, and they still believe in him.  This when they know him to be a liar, untrustworthy, unfit for the job, yet many will still support him come election time.

No wonder dictators have long time support.  How  can it be ended?

I stumbled home across the park, greeted by a dog with a ball in its mouth.  It did not want to throw it, the Beagle (?) just wanted to greet me (twice) and hide behind the seat with the ball.  He had no intention of letting me touch his ball!  He gave every evidence of being happy, though finding the heat a bit much.

Thrilled with my popularity, with dogs, I came home to find the Blackbird singing for me.  As I badly concocted a form of lunch he disappeared, his place later taken by the wood pigeon who normally takes that spot.  

After lunch I played with my mobile phone.  I deleted things that were no longer required, attempted to delete a call from the other day and ended up calling a man on holiday in Amsterdam!  I could not work out how to stop the call!  What sort of an idiot designed these things?  Why are they so complicated? The laptop is so much easier to operate, why not the phone?  Bah!  Now, two texts at Amsterdam prices, prices which increased after Brexit, I have no idea how much this has cost us and am afraid to look.  I will hear in a week or so mind...

Spring at Last?

April comes to an end with bright sunshine and chilly wind.  Less chilly than the other day, yet many Englishmen once again, as normal, reveal their intelligence by wearing tee-shirt and shorts early in the day because it is 'warm.'  Normal people do not do this.  Young males certainly, but they are stupid as you know, and merely trying vainly to impress the girls who are ignoring them.  I had normal Spring jumper on under my jacket, a warm Spring does not arrive in Edinburgh so I know how to dress, global warming has not yet made it real Tee-shirt weather in Essex yet either.

 

I meandered across the park, being studiously ignored by the old dear with the wee dog, and cheerily greeted by the probably, retired man as he passed.  People are funny.  In the past folks were happy to greet others, today many do not.  The many newcomers to town have lessened the homespun atmosphere and casual greetings are lessening.  Fear appears more common.  

Maybe of course it is just me...

 

I meandered through the town as the market was getting into gear, ensuring I avoided all the people I wished to avoid.  Naturally, one lay in wait for me.  A feeble excuse and I was off.  This is unusual, normally it is others who avoid me!  I was not in the mood for a man who talks like a woman.  

Some new stalls were to be glanced at, £20 for a bottle of liqueur,  several pounds for cider, and huge amounts for large slices of cake.  I almost hesitated at the stall with a old suitcase full of tat.  This is the type of box I used to love in the museum, you never knew what you might find.  I made use of common sense and left before I wasted a day searching and spending cash.

 

 

Spring may indeed have arrived.  This blackbird was happily singing as I passed, he left when the camera saw him.  Blackbirds singing are a good sign of warmer times.  I hope to hear more of him and his mates.

The Wedensday Birds

To avoid the incessant noise re Manchester I kept my head in my laptop finally finishing the rebuild of the WW2 memorial.  A rebuild that almost went wrong as another glitch threatened to kill it once again.  The air was almost blue.  To ease my ageing eyes I wandered in the sunshine looking at half naked women admiring the glow of a sunny day.  Sitting on a bench, broken peanuts strewn before me, I eventually attracted a couple of Blackbirds to pose for me.  It was noticeable that when she approached he moved away, either a married couple or he was in her patch.  A Robin looked in but refused to be anything but blurred, he moved away. 

When I returned to the news I found the usual 24 hour concentration on the 'Big Story' unappealing.  Now I appreciate the importance of the Manchester event, I feel for the victims, I realise the seriousness of the situation, however I would rather journalism was once again introduced instead of the squalid reporting shoved down our noses today.  
Maybe I am just used to such outrages, maybe I note that when it happens elsewhere, Beirut or Kabul for instance, few bother to comment let alone 'stand with' those people.  Maybe I am just sick of pap masquerading as journalism for a lazy audience.
Interestingly the 'Sun,' Rupert Murdoch's main tabloid offering, gave the whole front page over to an attack on Jeremy Corbyn and his supposed support for the IRA Provos.  The Manchester deaths were hidden inside.  This speaks volume for Murdoch.   
I have just read that someone claims a UKIP individual is demanding the return of the death penalty...for suicide bombers!

The weatherman indicates tomorrow might reach 23 degrees, that's 73 in English!  A heatwave has hit us, the sun has been switched on and I have nowhere to go.  I need to go somewhere as the cooker requires cleaning as does the fridge, the cupboards, the windows, the bedroom, the East Wing, the everything else, and I wish to avoid such chores.  Now that I appear to have the old laptop under control I feel I can go outside again.  The fact that I just cannot be bothered, the effort appears to great for my fat, unfit, squalid body, and we have seen all that this area (without an automobile to use) can offer.    
I may just go back to bed...

Lee is at Fault.

It is not my fault we have yet more Daffs.  Oh no, all I had to do was get up long before I was awake and cross the park to capture the daffodils in the early (ish) morning sunshine that's all I had to do.  This because she who must be obeyed insisted!   A lovely Spring morning, just right for entering the supermarket early on...

The day has been taken up with important things but I put them aside to listen to Theresa May the English Prime Minister talking down Scotland and watching how the English media have given her unstinting, and dare I say it unthinking, support.  Not only the media but the slaves of the comments forums have been once again bringing out their old insults, lies, false facts and abuse.  How lovely to meet old friends again.
The Tory press slants its coverage with little attempt to hide the bias.  The Scottish versions of the papers do have different slanted stories however, just in case these offend I suspect, and this added to the Glasgow based BBC Scotland (full of unionist Labour serfs) with the biased journalism (sic) that they offer it is clear the desperation of the Westminster elite to keep Scotland under the thumb has not diminished.
The usual scribes appear in the comments sections, the usual phraseology indicating 'copy and paste' is much used to abuse Scots and lie about independence.  Rarely do these creatures indulge in debate, they cannot as they merely earn their money by spouting what they are told, and all under several names freely provided and used to give the false impression that vast numbers oppose Scots independence.  Surely this lie has been seen for what it is by now.
The question I ask, and never receive an answer for is 'Why does England wish to keep Scotland if the Scots cost her so much?'  No-one answers as Scotland keeps England going.
How amazing that Theresa wishes to leave the EU without offering answers to the questions that are daily asked re trade deals and financial deals yet claims Scots cannot have a referendum as such questions re Scotland have not been answered!  Silly girl.
Another strange item is the number of Englishmen who fail to understand Scotland's situation yet feel free with their comments, I suppose such arrogance comes easily to them.  I have had to rebuke several and am used to doing that living in this wilderness as the knowledge of most here re Scotland is as a holiday place 'up there' somewhere where they went twenty years ago.  The clarity of the situation ought to appear as they look at the strain on Theresa's face when talking down to Scotland. 

During the week I was searching YouTube for things to watch that required no effort.  The sea slapping against the shore, birds chattering in trees that sort of thing and i found one or two happily enough.  I also came across this Penguin Cam the Penguins at Edinburgh Zoo enjoying their day.  On the occasions I looked they were being fed, some of you with your own animals will recognise the scene.  One is fed while the rest gather around desperate not to suffer malnutrition!  It's a nice watch.

Busy Birds

At this time of the evening the Wood Pigeons begin to roost in the trees across the way, trees with leaves beginning to bud now, the Starlings chase one another round high above and the Blackbird and Thrushes take a high spot and inform the world around that this is their patch and he is watching all that goes on within it. 
These poor birds must be tired.  I read somewhere that a small caterpillar appears at this time, dangling forlornly from all the trees where it emerges, and Blue Tits need 18,000 of these to feed their young!  They, like all the rest, spend all day guzzling as much grub as they can so mum can produce eggs and then both spend the day guarding the nest and feeding the chicks when they emerge.  To to this all these birds are chasing the worms and wee beasties and searching  around for hanging feeders that are found in almost every garden these days.  Some say this actually makes the birds prosper better than when all this was farmland as they find food easier and often better prepared for them.  Whether this is so you can decide but one thing is clear they like the Suet and Mealworm pellets found here as I have to refill them daily.  Tomorrow I must go to the 'PoundShop' where they are found and buy more.  It's costing me more to feed these birds than feed myself!  
Mind you money may be flowing out soon, the Hoover, the cheap Tesco variety, was failing to clean and the burning smell was worrying.  That ended when I removed the long shoelace that was entwined around it but it still fails to work.  Later I will have to clean the whole thing out properly and see if that works, tomorrow is museum day all day, and if it fails a new proper one might be needed.  I did splash out (£4) on new scales as clearly my 30 year old ones could not bear the weight were lying to me.  One day I was heavy, the next I lost lots then it all came back again.  The lass in the shop suggested dancing would lose weight as it had clearly done so for her, maybe she was just trying to pick me up, it failed as the thought nearly flattened me.  Me dance, aye right!

Spring!

Sunday...

Sunday draws to a close and I am glad.
I could not get out this morning as typical July weather let it pour with rain and offering me nothing but a soaking.  Yesterday I left my overheating laptop to wander outside and began to burn after thirty minutes in the sunshine, today I would suffer rust!  Aussies don't know how lucky they are.
I took the Thrush picture yesterday after cycling around for half an hour to give my muscles a chance to ache, they took that chance very well.  I walked across the park in a vain attempt to loosen up and all that was loosened was my brain cells.  Later after rewriting (again) my latest volume I went out to get the sun.  The birds had gone by that time, hiding under the leaves in the trees I suspect.
I did get out this evening again on the bike.  Trundling, late to avoid people laughing, up the road to see how unfit I was.  The effort yesterday and tonight has done wonders, for the undertaker who smiled knowingly at me as I passed at least.

A quick glance at the media shows the Greeks have given a rude gesture to the European money men, that shortly George Osborne will give a lot of help to his rich friends in his next budget, that the benefit scroungers that are the royals have unbiblically christened yet another child, and that meaningless activities such as wimmens football and tennis are given far too much room.  Nothing of importance is found there these days.
I do note however that lots of good pictures of steam trains have been posted on facebook, that the Forth Bridge has been made a Unesco world heritage site, the sixth in Scotland, and that the football season has not yet started.

When I have finished the rewriting I might find something worth writing about, right?  

  

Blackbirds & Football

The desk is still untidy, the papers still lie waiting sorting, books remain gathering dust as does everything else and all because of 'WildTangent Games!'  No matter what I tried I cannot get rid of the files deep inside.  Other things like 'Real Cloud' remains also stubbornly refusing to vamoose.  I have gone in here and there, used this and that yet so much claims to be there still.  The hard drive is almost full so something has to come out.  I lost meagre amounts of files, much sweat and my temper, but so much remains.  There was nothing for it but to have lunch and go back to bed.

This scruffy erk was sitting feeling sorry for himself as the Summer rain (note that, Summer rain) was falling.  The Starlings attempt to eat the Suet pellets from the feeder but I shoo them away as they stop the wee birds from feeding.  This young chap may or may not have been feeding but he certainly does not like the weather.  Starlings like to flock together and in the past we had vast numbers of them sitting atop the radio mast behind the police station and flying around in a large group having a ball.  Still a few hundred but numbers have dropped in recent years, maybe it's me!  Charles Dickens wrote of such flocks gathering in the far off suburbs of London, though they were far from suburbs then, at places like Kingston on Thames and gathering together to meet in London's centre.  Thousands would arrive, and still do, and er, do do, all over the place returning home in the morning. Not quite like it was in the 19th century but many still around.

Also unhappy, but probably something to do with her man who has not been feeding the kids or doing his work in the house, is this lass who certainly did not like the rain in her face.  Not a bad picture considering I took it through a window. 

BBC

At last, at long last the final game of the season is actually over.  No more football until, well July I suspect.  I need the rest, I am tired watching football, tired being stressed by it, tired and aching waiting for it to start and tired and aching waiting for it too finish.  Now at Last I have time to get the desk tidied up and...hold on, I think there may be a game tomorrow....

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Free Day eh?

The two crows moved steadily, intent on their destination.  Behind them transparent white clouds streaked the deep blue of the morning sky.  Two tall trees, resplendent in their greenery, brightened the day as their leaves twittered in the breeze.  A female blackbird hopped several paces and stopped, cocking her ear to listen for movement underground.  She hopped three steps more, then again, continuing on her way, coming close to me, happy that I was not going to disturb her routine.  In the distance a female form with white top stood in the shadow of the trees.  She gazed into the distance as if awaiting someone yet no other movement could be seen. Two cyclists, independent of one another passed by, both wearing those lime green 'Hi-Viz' vests, ideal for crossing a near empty park in bright sunshine.  A young women paced by with determined expression, laptop grasped tightly in hand. Someone out to change the world perhaps, a young lawyer about to save the needy, or a businesswomen heading for financial utopia I wondered.  My existence appeared to mean little to her. 'White top' had moved.  She had come out of the shadows and now at last I saw her understandable reason for hesitation, a small black dog.  This, possible a 'Scottie,' ambled slowly, content like me to let the world pass by but keeping at a distance from the woman just in case she urged speed upon him. 
So the world awake early today.  At last I had two whole days to myself, this was guaranteed yesterday when I covered for someone who was off, but turned up anyway.  This was my time, time to relax, sleep, consider the Great War only if I felt like it and iron those shirts the au pair ignored.

Having shopped even earlier I returned home to healthy thick brown bread full of bits and filled it with unhealthy bacon!  I read the grubby online papers full of wonder at how they failed to ask why that editor women got off 'scot free!'  Did David Cameron's brother defend her at a cost of £20,000 a day? Was the prime minister's intervention that came so close to scrapping the trial, at enormous cost, a deliberate device I ask?  Yet the papers appear to play this down.  The law works different for important people.  I mused for a while, looked at the ironing board, and sat in the bath even though it was not a Sunday.  This was a day for enjoyment.
Then I returned to my e-mail.  I like e-mail, it is a great way to stay in touch, it avoids needless chatter, gets to the point and brings folks together so well.  Not counting Mary who abused me for not liking tennis, something she has been glued to since this nonsense began!  Boring I say, get it off the screen.  I'd rather talk to a woman about her baby!
Then it happened.  I had finished one of the items I was writing, my delightful boss has now read it and sent it back using this 'word' system that allows corrections.  I had a long list of corrections, adjustments, recommendations to attend to.  This I did once I worked out what to do.  Helpfully I returned this and also finished the second piece this time readjusting it to make more sense.  However not long afterwards she enquired as to where the thing was, it had not arrived and the reason was simple, me!  Not only had I not linked it to her I had not saved the blasted thing after finishing it!  The only action was to redo the whole lot!  'Na Poo' to this I thought!  So back it went, no doubt the second one will have just as many red lines on it.  My teachers at school were not this bad!
Then the other e-mail arrived.  Tomorrow I must go in again, as well as Saturday, as a girls sick dad has died.  This was expected as he is aged and very sick.  A second lass is off tomorrow as her dad is close to following on also.  I'm going to ask for a wage soon!
The advantage of being in is taking the laptop and working at the desk.  Hopefully it will be quiet and I can get on but if busy I will just write a story, 'Living death in the museum!' Oh yes and now I must iron a shirt....
Time for football and sleep.  Who will join the USA in the next round, I know not as I have no idea who is playing yet.  Oh sleep, wherefore art thou mush?

  
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Blue Skies & Sunshine.

The Bee's are busy, the sky is blue, white clouds float past, and a hot sun burns the skin if you sit in it for too long.  Tonight such weather will bring rain, probably with thunder and lightning, but by the time I head for work the sun will have his hat on and have come out for the day!  

Most of the day I was trapped indoors doing women's work.  There were NO shirts ironed!  Not one and I need one for tomorrow.  It's a disgrace.  I had to rush out to the shops before the crowds gathered as the fridge was empty also, it's a disgrace the way I am treated here.  

This is what I need, a woman who does!  here we see Mrs Blackbird getting in the shopping, and rightly so.  He of course can be heard in the distance singing happily while chasing away other interlopers from his patch.  Then he will sit down to watch the football while awaiting lunch.  It's a jolly good life for him!

The View From My Desk....

The view from here is somewhat limited even yet.  The Lurgi hangs around leaving a fog on the mind as well as a cloud in the chest.  The result leaves me sitting indoors as the idea of trudging around in the late sunshine does not appeal, the camera is somewhat disappointed with this. Three times I have found the camera looking mournfully out the window desperate to eye up the world.  I know how it feels.  Instead my dim mind suffers the papers lack of intellect, the older radio programmes that I have searched out, and finishing off the books that litter the place. Quite how several can be sitting half read and forgotten always amazes me, especially as I cannot remember beginning the things in the first place.  Too often I put the book down and take months to get back to it, even if it is a good one.

So like the camera I sit here moping, my eyes scanning the scudding clouds crossing the late September blue sky, only to discover today is October!  Who stole the time?  Only the other day I watched the trees budding and small green leaves appearing.  Has someone fiddled time somewhere?  Anyway the trees opposite have already began the shedding of rusted leaves, one while offering a dazzling display of bright red berries for the birds delight.  The season of 'Mists and mellow fruitfulness,' sounds romantic but ignores the chill blended in the wind, a hearkening of approaching winter.  Those who venture out reflect the dubious nature of the seasons.  Young men wander abroad in tee shirts emblazoned with 'witty' phrases, multi-coloured shorts, reaching beyond the knees, all the while carrying water bottle to make them look 'cool.'  More 'mature' people wear a jacket as they have been caught out by British weather far too often for their liking.  Surely the brown edged leaves lying across the pavements indicate to some that summer is over?  A bright sun does not indicate warmth, just ask any passing Eskimo.  The dark misty mornings keep the Blackbirds asleep till well after five these days.  A silence broods over the land early in the dark morning, enhanced by the council switching the street lights off to save money. (They have not cut the leading men's salaries however.  The silence is broken only by a raucous coughing, from me, which I think gave the birds their wake up call.  Soon they were all off, barking out (Can birds bark?) their warning to other birds and claiming their patch, a claim that will be heartily defended as the cold weather leaves feathers ruffled in the search for nourishment.
As I write the light begins to fade, indoors darkens sufficiently to demand a light is used, the sky loses its brightness while trying to decide whether it will end with a pink glow or a damp squib. Once more we enter the long nights which herald the commercial escapades of Halloween and Christmas after that.  Once again catalogues begin to fall through the door, their bargains thumping onto the floor and lying their unwanted.  The world is once again forgetting why they exist and follows the crowds into Argos, Tesco and local shopping malls.  Our reason to exist is lost among the urgency to obtain, to satisfy others or ourselves, to forget real life.  Unless of course the reader is a 'benefits scrounger,' (@'Daily Mail') and has nothing to spend on fripperies yet again, not that the 'Daily Mail' reader will accept that.

The reader may by this time have noticed I ramble, I blame the cough mixture, the whisky, the tired mind, the Lurgi!  In truth, it is just me, nothing else, ho hum.......    

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A Blackbird Sang

BBC

I'm sitting here on my bed, the light is better here at this time of night, and I was listening to the 'Mark Steel's in Town' programme on the BBC iPlayer when I switched it off to listen to the Blackbird outside.  As part of the Thrush family Blackbirds, Robins and Thrush's all have wonderful songs, I don't know why, but there it is.  This guy was sitting somewhere in the tree opposite, hidden from view, loudly proclaiming his territory.  There are a few of them around here, most early mornings I notice two of them attempting to eat the same worm, and while chasing one another away the worm hops it and lives on.  Possibly they are brothers as there appears to be no love lost between them. When I left early in the mornings for work, at 4:30 a.m to be precise, I would turn the corner with not a sound in the air yet a Blackbird, always the first to waken, would let the world know I was about.   A second would respond from the far end of the street and as I reached the turning place the world was filled with Blackbirds, Finches and Blue Tits singing their hearts out claiming their place in the world.  They say birds elsewhere are more colourful than those in the UK yet ours have better songs.  I know not if this is true but I do know that all birds have accents!  Different members of the same species have regional accents to their song.  'Cor blimey guv.'  No wonder we canny understand them.

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