Cold, Grave Birds

We awoke to temperatures of minus 1c this morning.  The field opposite had a white sheen of frozen dew, the condensation covered the windows, and while the heating was on the moment I opened the rear window I quickly closed it again!  Too much at 7:30 in the morning!  I wished to rise early and search one particular shop before the crowds gather.  I took the long way round and popped into the graveyard behind the old Congregational Church in the hope of some sunshine glinting on the frost.  I was in time for the birds seeking nourishment, though they insisted on flitting around quickly making it difficult to picture them.  This was the best I could manage, the Robin sitting on the end of a grave deciding whether or not to leap down to the cold grass below.  I caught him just as he leapt behind the solid grave.  This looks like one designed to keep graverobbers out.  Before medical science was better organised medical students would acquire bodies for research, often fresh from graves.  The Ghouls would strike at night, which is why some cemeteries employed guards during the dark hours, and dig up the body and sell to a 'doctor.'  Thus many graves have iron fences, brick walls, or solid brick tombs atop them.  Today, these gather ivy and moss and are welcome perches for the birds of the district.

I searched the shop, every shelf, up and down, all along, and back again.  Naturally what I wanted was not on offer.  The only other likely place was not likely either.  Aint life grand?   Instead, I bought chicken bits from the local butcher, and listened while the girl explained to another customer about the lack of turkeys this Christmas.  With 'Bird Flu' present, and an incompetent government dumping Brexit on the nation, the farming world has been suffering badly off late.  "Turkeys," she said, "Might be available, but if so they will cost an arm and a leg!"  This bothers me not, I eat any old thing at Christmas, but for women like the customer this is important, though not important enough to break the bank.  No reason for turkey at Christmas anyway, just be grateful to have something to eat, and heat on which to cook it!

Is this a Rook or a Crow?  Rooks are usually in a group, Crows individual, and the mob we have around here tend to hang around in two's and three's, so I never know if they are Rooks or Crows.  Maybe they do not know this either?  My beautiful, highly intelligent, and nature loving great niece claims it is a Crow, and she should know.  So I am going with that.  While the Robin was dancing about below, this man sat high up in the tree planted at a graveside many years ago.  He appears untroubled by the cold, well fed, and well able to look after himself.  

How about a blurry, cold, Blue Tit?  Lots of them around here.  Clearly such places, usually quiet, are ideal for wildlife.  Small though it is there are many birds, and a squirrel took off as I approached and sped up a tree into the wilderness there.  I suspect the only thing they fear, apart from one another, are the kids coming out of the church hall.  A kinder garden takes place there, and the approach of toddlers and mums would scare anyone.

 

Now I'm Not One to Complain...

Daily Mail

A glance at the media reveals much about the election, the 'Daily Mail' has put meaningless things such as a tennis players wedding and a boat race for 'toffs' above the election because the Conservative Party is struggling.

Andy whatsisname clearly is an outstanding tennis player, even though tennis ranks as a 'sport' so boring that someone invented Basketball to make tennis look interesting, they failed by the way. Here he is in the middle of a media scrum with crowds of women peering at the dress as if it was important. The wee town of Dunblane would be an ideal place to avoid today if there was anything resembling a brain inside your head, if not join the throng and gape at nothing.  

As if that was not bad enough I was lucky enough to be sitting in a cemetery where more excitement could be found than on the banks of the River Thames where a boat race between university teams took place.  Normally this incident passes of without notice even though it fills precious TV airtime yet today it was called 'historic' by stupid people.  You see today they let the girls race on the same day and women everywhere proved their ineligibility for voting by making a fuss about this.  

Now normally when the Olympics occurs I manage to miss most of it, especially when English toffs treat Scotland with the usual disrespect, but rowing is one thing I like to watch.  It is a gentle sport, for the viewer, as teams of big hulks tear their limbs apart rowing for miles to win a medal.  I like watching this even if it is merely girlies pulling the oars.  However having listened to one of these harridans whining this morning about the horrid treatment they suffer, not being allowed to use the men's changing rooms, having to pay up to £2000 to row etc, I felt little sympathy for these rich little darlings.  They can afford the cash, daddy pays anyway, if they wish a changing hut why not build one or buy a suitable building? They will not do this as they want it for free, from the men!

I want equality!  I want every road gang to be half female and half male, I want the same for scaffolders, miners and 'white van men,' I want the number of murdered men to be the same as that of murdered women instead of 90% being male.  I wish men got the same 'consideration' in court females are allowed 'because of circumstances.'  I wish for all male selection quotas for election candidates, I wish men could win compensation for 'sexism' the way women do, poor dears.  I wish equality but it will not happen.

A 'historic event?' You rowed a boat in a race no-one cares about bar yourselves and the 'elite.'  You did nothing while men throughout the nation did a vast number of important things, but they will never be made known.

   Telegraph

Golf, the 'Masters' is being played but only shown on 'Sky.'  This means I have missed it.  Sadly I never realised I was missing it until tonight.  I can suffer on without it and I suspect the world will remain the same.  

After rising early and finding the weather being somewhat dreich putting off my plans I was forced by circumstances to return to bed this morning.  Of course this was much against my will but I struggled through, snoring appropriately, and made the best of it.  The plans for doing something having failed I decided to cycle downhill to the other cemetery and redo the photos from their.  This I did manfully fighting the wind that decided to blow from the north with a needless intensity.  The job done, the men still lying where they had been, I sat and watched the trees with my better camera awaiting the opportunity to picture the wildlife.  None appeared!  A squirrel in the distance alongside a Magpie were the sum of it all.  Birds chirped hidden from deep inside the trees but I could not see them.  

I gave up, returned the doings to their place, looked for the bike and lo , high overhead two Kestrel type birds appeared searching for lunch.  By the time I was ready for them they were miles away!  I suppose they were a mating pair as it is unusual to see two such birds together.  Why did they wait until I was homeward bound?  

However I returned in time for the Scottish football which does not really concern us until tomorrow when we play Hibernian.  I listened to the games online while my bones creaked and the muscles tightened slowly.  I stretched, I stretched again, I fell on the floor, I groaned, I stretched, I made no difference. All this cycling is harder than it was last year, I really feel it this time.  I might need to get one of those oarswomen to give me a massage, it makes a better use of them I say.

.

The Little White Dot

Can you see the little white dot in the far distance?  I saw it this morning and once again was touched by the feeling of loneliness this dot inspired.  As early as my bones would stand it I cycled off, against the cold north wind, down to Bocking Cemetery.  I was looking for one of the two remaining dead soldiers to complete the collection of fallen from the two wars. Unfortunately neither have the normal war grave tombstones as both are buried in family plots. From a picture on another memorial site, now removed as the owner has left the town and moved to bigger things.  I knew he was buried near a hedge.  There is no hedge!  It must be an ivy covered wall, the wall exists but his grave does not! The search is not helped by the council eco friendly idea of allowing the older part of the cemetery to go 'wild' for the sake of flora and fauna.  This helpful idea limits visibility of the stones that lie an inch or two off the ground.  Bah! Nothing found so I will venture forth after better preparation next time. Someone has a map of the plots in the council! 

      

So instead I pondered Private Bennett lying here alone, far from home, isolated in a pathway of freshly cut grass among a few local worthies and chirping birds and fluttering butterfly's.  I know his regiment was formed in Hamilton for 'Home Defence,' that is there was no intention to go overseas to fight.  This type usually comprising older, married men, with the simple intent of stopping Germany invading.  In 1916 the Division was transferred from their homeland to defend the south east of England, the most likely place for invasion, and spent some time watching Zeppelins pass by and drop a bomb or two.  The 2/6th Cameronians were billeted in Terling, a small village about four miles south of Braintree.  How I ask did this man end up in Bocking cemetery?  I can trace no information of any kind, and this is annoying me.  A while back I sent the information with photos to the Cameronians Museum but they could tell me nothing.  

Could it be an accident during training, that would be hushed up army style of course.  It may well be he suffered a pre-existent condition which took him out, and an injury of illness may have seen him placed in one of the local VAD (Voluntary) Hospitals that sprung up during the war.  That at least would explain why he was buried here.  

I sat for a while in the restful quiet, cheerful birds chirping and distant traffic the only noise. How was he buried?  Did a few orderlies from the hospital give him a 'basic,' but considerate funeral? Could it be that a detachment of his Company arrived, led by a piper perhaps, sloped arms, while pallbearers carried him to the grave.  Would the padre, and some say the Cameronians were mostly Catholics but I have no proof of this, would the padre say a few words about the 'resurrection and the life,' and 'he who believes in me will live?'  Was a rifle volley of blanks fired over the grave, a trumpeter blowing the 'Last Post,' and did the men march away, heads bowed, thoughtful perhaps, and leave their comrade alone, so very alone? 

Hamilton in 1916 was very far away.  Any family who wished to visit could do so, if they had the money, could get on a train, find accommodation, and take the time to travel so far.  Was he married, children perhaps?  So many questions and so far no answers.  

The war has left many men far from home and often alone and forgotten, so our Private Bennett is not alone in this.  Six men from the wars lie in this ground, one young woman also, another pile of unanswered questions there. As for Bennett, once he departed this life he ceased to worry about loneliness, it is the relatives and friends who have the stress.  His thoughts would be occupied elsewhere.

 .