Boring

 

On a somewhat boring Sunday nothing new or interesting occurred.

Politicians lying low, rather than just lying, except Cameron who was on tv lying.

Sunak hiding Boris like in Ukraine, or somewhere.

Football boring.

Everything boring.

At least I have kept my cheery disposition...

 

Boring Sunday

It's one of those weeks.  Nothing is happening, nothing excites.  

I sit here, staring out the window, seeking inspiration.  All that comes to me is a desire to go to sleep.

The world is silent, even for a Sunday evening.  What the weatherman calls a 'breeze' is shaking the trees opposite, while clouds, often grey, scud across the sky, occasional, blue peeking out.  Dogs are not barking, children are not shouting, and I suppose this is caused by feeding time at the individuals home zoo.

Football is boring.  Church was boring, walking there tiring.  Food unappetising.

It's all joy and happiness this week!

I think it's time for sleep...

Boring Life

An indication of how boring my life is these days is the fact that I have now begun reading 1 Chronicles. The long boring lists of names, collected most probably by Ezra himself to remind the Hebrews in Babylon of their history, is surprisingly interesting.  

Beginning with Adam and following the line from his descendants, we see many famous names appear.  Occasionally the wife is named, sometimes several wives, which reminds me of Watchman Nee's remark that no man in the bible who had more than one wife had an easy life.  Yet some of these men also had 'concubine's,' I suppose in case the wife was tired...

Er, a son of Judah, must have been a laugh.  Whatever he did is not stated but it was 'wicked,' and 'the Lord put him to death.'  Sin brings it's own reward.  

This is not History as we would wish it to be, Ezra and his staff would search out the long lists from all he record stores, including some from nations round about, and put them together in some sort of order.  A very difficult operation at the time.  They do give an interesting insight into the times of long ago.  A dangerous society, often under attack, sometimes from those who were their Hebrew 'brothers.'  Great men followed their God, often in difficult circumstances, and soon their sons and grandsons, and other descendants are falling away and seeking easier gods and simpler lifestyles.

Jabez stood out from them.  Suddenly he appears crying out to God, after being declared 'more honourable than his brothers,' and God granted his request.  The Good Lord hears a request from one man amid many others, simply because he 'believed God.'   The Lord hears all that we say.

He however, still has not given me that Landrover I asked for many years ago...

The world is strangely quiet, and it is not the summer weather.  Politics is quiet as the parties gear up for the three by-elections next week.  Only Keir Starmer blethering nonsense and pretending to be a Tory gets any coverage.  Football has returned, and already some managers jobs are at risk.  Huge heat is hitting some parts of the world, though China, recording 52% still dig for coal without asking why?  This makes no difference in the UK, the weather here is always unreliable at all times.  

Nothing else has happened here...

A Boring, Nothing Happened Day

 

Greeted this morning by glimpses of vaguely pink tinted, yellow sunlight, attempting to break through the cloud cover.  This looked destined to fail.  The chill in the air forces the heating on, the few dog walkers wrapped up in heavy winter outfits, occasional dogs wear bright coloured and soundly disliked outfits, it is obvious their owner is female.  A car or two passes slowly as the day begins and Christmas wears off the populace.    

Naturally, as I coughed my way around to a very quiet Tesco the cloud cover had disappeared.  Instead the rising sun hovered just above the rooftops, forcing the cloud towards the south.  The quietness allowed the birds to freely roam in the trees and front gardens.  Robins bounced, a Magpie fluttered and even a Jay was spotted above me in the tree.  Each flew swiftly away from the few pedestrians, keen to end their hunger, the birds that is, not the pedestrians.  If people are out it probably means they have been fed, unlike myself who was surviving on instant cappuccino coffee and one old banana.

However, I obtained a Persimmon, whatever that is, at Tesco and have just enjoyed one.  It looks like, apart from the price, these may be coming here more often.

Like everywhere else little has occurred today.  I fell asleep watching the football, nothing to do with the Brandy, and have done little bar scribbling a card or two, mostly to use up all the 2nd Class stamps I still possess.  The old stamps run out at the end of January and I may not have enough demand to use up the 10 I have left!  

Another Boring Day

 

How unusual to have no need to rush today.  Instead I sit here, fed and watered, while others rush past to work at pace, an occasional bus ferries its anxious load to the bus station, overhead Ryanair takes a mixture of businessmen and frolic seekers to Nuremberg or Turkey, the aircraft glinting in the bright sunshine.  A well breakfasted wood pigeon settles down in the tree branch opposite to warm up in the sun, in the distance a faint chainsaw like sound indicates work is continuing on the latest council white elephant, while dog walkers find hard work in leading their small dog in the direction they wish to go, but are failing miserably.  Another day has started, the workers employed, the 'elder citizens' less so, as it ought to be.  I spend a few minutes wiping the new oven, something it is unlikely to get used to, and contemplate the day ahead.  Rising at dawn is fun but leaves me asleep by lunchtime.

I decided to return the empty bottles to the recycling bins.  These stand helpfully in Sainsburys car park, helpful to Sainsburys more than to people I imagine.  Being lazy I lifted the lid and dumped my collection in noisily.  The clattering of glass reminds me of a normal Saturday night in Glasgow.

Foolishly I wandered into town, rather than the other way to cross the park.  This meant I found myself in tesco buying milk, and one or two other bits.  All this because I wish to try out the new oven!  

However, the best bit of the day was sleeping after lunch.

Why is it the sleep at midday is always more satisfying than the one we have during the night?   Especially when during the night I awoke at 4:55 and could not sleep until 6:30 when I gave up and rose.  This meant all morning while the sun shone I wearily went through the routine, awaiting lunchtime snooze.  No doubt I will not sleep tonight because of this!

So, another boring day to report.  Tomorrow will be similar as I need to rest my aches again.  Such joy to look forward to.

Oh, and I notice that the great revolt of Tory backbenchers has meant the Tories withdrew from opposing the Labour motion forcing Boris to appear before the House Committee.  Boris has lost far too many backbenchers, including one or two of the ERG, and this looks bad for him.  It may all fall apart soon.

Slow Monday

Slow Monday, which got slower.

Toddle up to Sainsburys, how exciting is that?

Few people about, though many cars in the car park.  Shop itself quiet, only two checkouts open, no real queue.  Of course if the man in front had stopped her from talking so much we might have got out quicker.  

Road traffic quiet also.  

People are wary of the virus, most wearing masks, even many outside.  Yet Boris the rogue is talking of ending restrictions rather than loosening them, no matter how many bodies pile up!  

I suggest Boris calls an election.  Tell him the Polls are always wrong, John Major was not fooled by them, why should someone as noble as Boris fear Polls?  

We can always dream.

 

Nothing else happened, did it?  

If it did I never noticed.

Someone must be having an exciting life, and I don't mean those being house trained by their dogs.

Out there excitement blossoms, somewhere...

 

Boring Friday

A walk in the park to clear the head this afternoon.  The sun shone, the chilly wind remained, less so but noticeable to me.  Around me women gathered with their children, well, not around me, they just happened to be lying around in the grass in groups.  The lessening of lock Down will encourage the virus no end.  While dad was being shown how to play football by his ten year old daughter, his bruises will be seen in the morning, a sister bullied her selfish brother, are they not all the same, while he took forever to return the ball they were kicking around, and a dog or two took the owner for a walk it was clear people were enjoying the freedom on offer.  However, I could not help thinking that while this looks good other parks will be more crowded, less space between folk and the NHS, PPE or not, will be seeing some of these people in the not to distant future.  
I no longer consider watching the news worthwhile.  The numbers on offer are either depressing, deliberate lies, or a result of incompetence, none can be believed.  Twitter informs me 1 in 4  Virus information posted is wrong, sometimes deliberately so, I believe that.  I am not sure I have ever known a more incompetent government when it comes to running the nation.  They have the audacity to whine that Nicola offers info before the London spokesman does, indeed, because she is proving more efficient and if she does not offer such info it may not be seen at all!  Nicola has handled this well so far, no matter how petty the attacks on her have been.  She has many faults, running the country in a pandemic has shown she has some talent, talent not seen in Westminster!
It is interesting also that those involved in the 'Vote Leave' campaign no run the show at No 10.  In spite of 'Vote Leave' being fined those responsible have been given jobs by Dominic behind the scenes.   Interestingly this includes the Chief Police Officer who dropped the charges against 'Vote Leave.'  Dominic's own Civil Service in operation.  
The more we know about how the nation is run the more we question why no-one is asking questions regarding the manner in which the nation is run.  If only the BBC could recruit a journalist, what?  Oh they dumped them all...I see.

There is Less to Say Today...

If yesterday was boring you will find it much, much worse today.
The main delight was to do the 'washing.'  This is interesting in that round here they call it 'laundry,' and do not understand what you mean.  Just as in Edinburgh women, for that is what they were made for, will go for the 'messages,' but in these parts they say 'shopping,' or 'Supermarket,' or 'I have a woman to do that sort of thing.'  When I lived in Edinburgh there were many phrases I took for granted but which cause puzzlement in these parts.  A woman asked the time, 'The back of three o'clock' I said.  She stared at me blankly.  She, it must be said, was indeed reared on a farm.  'Do you mean,' she enquired nervously, 'After three o'clock?'  I stared blankly.  What else could I have meant I thought.  Only then it struck me how everyday expressions we grow up with at fixed to a locale.  Just as many words are found only in certain areas phrases and expressions are similarly found in limited locales.  
Of course round here they all speak with the same accent, acceptable but not one to boast about.  When an individual from Lancashire or Wales or Scotland appears I always enjoy the improvement.  Such accents are delightful, while a 'Scouse' one, named after a type of stew, is not so endearing. 

I picked this book up again, I found it under a pile of detritus, and luckily it was open at an interesting bit.  Here MacFarlane walks around in the West Bank with an Arab walker to guide him.  In a another chapter he was walking with a man who picked up odd bits he found as he walked, made a small 'book' enclosing his finds, over a thousand such books in his possession, and his left me wondering about what goes on behind peoples front doors.  The Arab, Raja is his name, had walked many Wadi's in the West Bank and made maps of his walks, not something to carry about with you when soldiers or settlers might be met.  MacFarlane describes in his usual, normal, current, regular, customary, familiar overblown style as he walks.  On occasion this can be interesting, sadly not often enough.  However they walk up and down the slopes, ensuring they cannot be seen by Israeli or settler guards as the area is technically out of bounds.  The word 'technically' means they get shot if seen, US style, no questions asked.
For such hardened walkers this is great fun.  The author walks along investigating the limestone rocks and describing the rivulets where water has over the centuries run down into the Wadi.  Such men enjoy the toil, even with a heavy backpack, possibly considering that this makes them appear 'real men.'  Walking across parts of Israel crossed by many feet over thousands of years in indeed intriguing but while these two considered the stones I would be considering where the nearest Falafel takeaway joint was to be found.  They trudge along wary of figures on the horizon while rain begins to fall.  This, as is the way in such places soon turns the area into clinging yellowish mud as the rivulets allow water to run down.  This is what done for Sisera all those years before.  Arriving with all his trained charioteers he found Barak at the foot of Mount Tabor.  To him this was an easy victory but the rain came and that area was full of streams.  Soon his chariots were stuck in mud and his men, trained to fight on the move, were no match for the 'Infantry' of Barak, especially when they were aroused.  Sisera himself managed to escape the carnage hiding with the Kenites, he saw them as friendly locals, and was lulled to sleep by a milky drink given by the woman Jael.  He may not have known the Kenites were descended from Moses father-in-law and Jael, when she saw he was asleep, did the decent thing and put a tent peg through his scull.  Never trust a woman I say!  Never trust a woman who lulls you to sleep with a milky drink!
My head hurts now.
Those ancient hills in the West Bank must have seen many a confrontation over thousands of years. The chances of peace in that area now is still slim.  
Anyway that is the sort of area MacFarlane is walking over in this chapter, his style has not changed, the people he meets appear regular walkers, I am talking about walking across Spain, or France or some such, just for the adventure.  These are his type of people.  I am left wondering about them myself. What makes people take off into the wild, possibly living alone far from humanity, possibly in rough areas in the hills or by the sea, obsessed with the world around them, oblivious to the rest?  Why do they do this?  I suspect we have all met them, sometimes envious of them, as they head out into adventure.  But these are not all young people, some have done this for decades.  As I said, when you go into someone's house you never know what you may meet.  I found this in the 80s when delivering in London, normal houses may be done up like castles downstairs, just for decoration, other rather run down properties were a wonder inside, this was the dream house for someone.  Another was an ex-sailor, very aged, with dozens of large models of Royal Navy ships, most of these were ships in which he had served during the Great War.  Poor old man was lonely and wished to talk about them but I had to rush on.  I regret not being able to remain for a while, both for him and for me!
Anyway, I might finish this book yet, depending on the nutter individual found in later chapters...