Saturday Evening Post...

 

Daffodils

Daffodil season is upon us once again.  In the gloom caused by ongoing rainstorms we see the council daffs beginning to emerge and brighten the greenery opposite.  Soon grasping young mums will be encouraging their kids to steal them to brighten their homes.  Most will claim they cannot afford the £1 required in Tesco's!   

I bought one bunch from Sainsburys, these however failed to produce properly.  On Tuesday I bought a large bunch of three tied together, some, as you can see, have begin to respond correctly, others are dubious, and the third lot remain staring mournfully at the window.  We will soon see what will happen.  

I like the bright yellow flowers on the desk, it is a cheery sight, especially on dreich days like this, and comparatively cheap, though clearly the shops will be making a packet from them.

New Statesman

Lindsey Hoyle, the Speaker of the House, has been apologising and offering talks and debates after last nights gamesmanship.  The SNP and some 49 MPs of various colours, have signed a 'Motion of No Confidence in the Speaker,' and will no doubt try and bring this to the House.

A shambolic night, and with a shambolic Tory government who ran away when Sunak, like Starmer, saw he would lose a vote!  There can be no doubt that the SNP were suffering a racist backlash from the English colonialists also.  

On the subject of Scotland as a colony, I had a Twitter fight with a man from Aberdeen who disagreed.  The fact he flew a Union flag, supported Rangers, and lived in Aberdeen, made me realise he had little History knowledge, in spite of the word 'History' being on his intro.  As it turned out his history knowledge was not very good, written by some English Historian, and wilted when I offered him the list of bribes paid to the Scottish Lords.  Sadly, many Rangers fans believe in 'Britain,' instead of Scotland simply because their football team tells them to.  Those indoctrinated by the armed forces have similar outlooks.  History knowledge is still poor, there is so much we do not know, and the subject is not taught well enough, though needless things are,  and leaves the way for decent History programmes on the BBC, but their unionist owners would not allow this. 

The Park and Happy Dog

I took my cheery personality for a walk this afternoon.  The bread and milk had run out, and so I sauntered via Sainsburys across the park.  It was a cold but bright day, the lowering sun blinding as I moved across the car park, yet the chill was without wind and bearable.

Carrying my overpriced goodies in my 'Tesco' bag I limped my way towards the park, cheerfully avoiding the hundreds on parent escorted children heading home.  I note the kids have to walk to school, a good mile or more for many, and car use is discouraged here.  

The morning had been a slow one, tiredness from the walking yesterday hitting home so a wander across the green acre, blue sky, occasional aircraft passing by, was refreshing.

 

The best part of the day was the man walking his wee Bulldog. I have met him before with his previous Bulldog, and he clearly likes them.  As we passed close I mentioned that he could not be in a hurry, the dog searching through every second blade of grass.  The dog then chose to sniff me, quickly losing interest and returning to check the path nearby.  They say having a dog makes life better, cleary it makes this man's life better, and clearly the dog is well fed, out for a walk as soon as the man gets home from work, and happy as can be.

I suggest I will never be as happy as a dog taken for a walk across a park used by many other dogs.

Edinburgh, Autumn and Football

Louise Rayner - John Knox's House, Edinburgh

A quick glance at this picture and you may think the scene has not changed much in all these years.  This picture, painted in the later 19th century, is full of life and depicts what is supposedly a normal day in the life of the great city of Edinburgh.  We see the High Street, or 'Royal Mile,' as it is known as it leads from Edinburgh Castle down to Holyrood House, has always been a bustling place.  The painting portrays the locals, with a few workers of many kinds included.  The better off by now having moved down into the 'New Town' long since, we can tell the small tenement dwellings are occupied by those standing around in the street.  None are ashamed of hanging out the window and participating in the conversation, none are ashamed of washing hanging from the windows, neither activities being seen done today.  

However, this month Edinburgh endures, sorry, welcomes, the Festival.  An orgy of high class entertainment for the paying public.  Alongside this come the 'Fringe,'  this is an orgy of artists seeking fame and fortune, alongside those from previous generations who made it here in the long forgotten past.  This comes with a plague of leaflets no-one reads, mostly scattered about the streets or pinned to any available post, also unread by passers-by

Add to this mix the Dustbin men are on strike for a week!  This means wheelie bins overflow, rubbish piles up, and none gets collected.  The tourists flooding into Edinburgh, while the locals flood out if they can, get the benefit of Brexit Britain in their face, and certainly up their nose.  An excellent idea of the Binmen to make clear what is happening in our country today, low wages, high energy bills, and Brexit failures flood the nation, and the government, in Westminster, has gone on holiday!  As I keep telling the Brexiteers, "You voted for this!"  But they refuse to accept reality.  "This is not the Brexit I voted for!" Is their cry, though there never was any other on the table.  Lies and devious politicians, backed by very rich men abroad has brought the nation to its knees.  And Brexiteers refuse to accept this.  Trains, docks, Royal Mail, and dustmen on strike, and Brexit continues to make problems.  

Boris is on holiday.

400 miles away from all this I sit watching August slowly disappear from us.  Already 22 days in and leaves are falling from the trees.  Possibly this is encouraged by the dry ground, the heat heavy upon us this year, possibly just normal Autumn approaching.  

The sun still shines, though now through much more cloud, and slowly heads towards the west.  Women take their dogs across the quite safe park, enjoying the sun while standing gossiping about their neighbours with others like minded.  The impatient dogs snuffle around the fallen leaves and sun browned grasses always finding something to keep them busy.  

The rush hour now struggles past the door, music of an awful kind emits from one, a ringing phone from another.  Rap, with a capital 'C' passes by at three miles an hour, followed by the airport bus, hydraulic brakes squealing like a crying child.  Every evening the same people, the same slow struggle towards retirement.  Others, often retired, foolishly shop at Sainsburys in time to meet the rush hour.  They have done this for several years, why?  Have they never considered an early morning or late night shop?   I suppose getting up, checking the pills, finding breakfast, walking the dog, and then it is too late for shopping.  In the evening they would not wish to miss the 'Bread & Circuses' provided for them by broadcasters dulling the brain and hindering thought.  

I avoid such TV yet find my mind is dull and thought hindered.  Having exercised, twice early last week, then twice worked in the front to clear the mess I found my self very tired and aching much from Thursday onwards.  Even today, after a trip to Tesco, my body aches.  This, I must say, has nothing to do with the money saving offer on a bottle of 'Jameson's Orange Whiskey'  that was going cheap last week in Tesco.  Irish whiskey does not just possess a wrong spelling of 'whisky,' it is also only 30%, which tempts some to drink more than they ought.  Especially when watching football.  My neighbours now know I was watching football at the weekend.  

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...

Clever Dog and Unclever Media

 

To be a Police Dog these days you need good training, good food, a good handler and an ability to spot a devious, untrustworthy individual at one hundred yards.  Here we see an example of such a dog operating at close quarters.  

Priti Patel is looking on wondering if she can have the dog deported, he is after all an 'Alsatian,' or if you prefer, and she does not, 'German Shepherd,' therefore from the EU, and so clearly foreign, not English and must be removed. 

I would much prefer if the handler just let go..

 

Looking for interesting news is difficult today, there is none available.  The once 'left of centre' and Labour Party paper the 'Daily Mirror,' is now, according to the badly updated online service, not a place for news.  Today we are offered bribes for young folks to take 'the jab,' 'Love Island rocked by juiceiest episode...' varieties of sick people and their pains, celebs and their broken lives and a pub selling beer in 'two pint' glasses.  Nothing that could be called 'news,' nothing but 'soft news' to appeal to the public.  What you could call 'Bread & Circus' stuff.  

With such a corrupt and incompetent government why does the 'Mirror' of all papers not lead on said corruption?  Where are the items showing Boris and his cabal up for what they are?  Why is such news not considered worth chasing?  Has the 'Mirror' forgotten the readers, or does it instead pander to the readers unwillingness to face the facts about Boris and wish just to survive?

The opportunity to create a proper newspaper at the 'Daily Express' has been missed.  Instead of turning the 'Express' into a newspaper the company, now called 'Reach,' has spent much time slashing the number of staff, reporters and all else.  The idea of turning both papers into anti-Tory papers has not been taken, losses continue, income falls, what a waste of an opportunity.  Or can it be the media that attacks this incompetent government will not survive?  What then does that say of the reading public?

 

Boris Spoke...

Boris spoke and the world listened, well, most of it...
There is traffic hurtling about, there are shoppers, singly mostly, wandering up town, there are people with kids passing by.  Otherwise as we can see the place is indeed very quiet. 
In spite of closed shops and workplaces many remain open, most are 'Key Workers,' even if they do not work for 'Sports Direct,' and life must go on at a skeleton level. 

It is noticeable that the skatepark is empty!  Not one rebellious child to be found.  Mum is clearly taking control.  Few apart from dogwalkers can be seen in the park, and the local facebook page full of women desperate for dog owners to keep their pets from coming near them, in case the owner does also!  There is a thin line between caution and fear.  However individual walkers/joggers are leaving ten feet between one another.  The message appears to have hit home.
Excuse me while I go for a cough...

The rush hour has been quiet.  People move about but very little traffic today.  The Park was visited by two burly female police, those sitting legally on benches, in two's as they ought, soon left.  The occasional kid with a dad, the occasional mum with a shopping bag, the occasional youth with a phone, but very quiet for Tuesday.
Edinburgh streets were empty also, city and town hiding from a virus.  The nation has taken this to heart.  How long will this last?  No vaccine for months, possibly years.  I may as well go back to bed for a year...

Crops

On the far side of the church of St Mary with St Leonard (and how did these two get together I ask?) there are fields, those wonderful things full of crops, wildlife and a variety of chemical pesticides.  This one was full of Rapeseed and as I wondered what caused folks to call it that I was taken by the huge swathe of yellow that can be seen here and dotted all over the nation at this time.  The crop is ready for gathering as far as my ignorant eye could tell and soon will be found standing in plastic containers on supermarket shelves waiting to help you burn your dinner.
While there I met a chap dogwalking for a living and we chatted while the black Labrador dropped his ball at our feet and demanded we kicked it for him to chase.  The other two dogs settled down happily until the chap in the picture appeared as his large dog had run off leaving him puffing behind as the dog wished to meet his friends.  How easily that could have got out of hand but they managed to control all four well.  I noted how he kept the dog on the leash as he wandered over the fields.  What great places for dogs these fields are.  My friend at work told me she had a Labrador that always stayed on the path until they entered fields of Rape then he would go mad jumping around in the crop.  This annoyed her as the dog became covered in green sticky stuff that took effort to clean. 

There was an amazing number of wee beasties wandering around under my feet as I walked.  This surprised me as I thought all the chemicals poured into these fields killed the worms and other creatures leaving the fields almost dead.  The butterfly's passed regularly but refusing to pose for my camera, I have several blurred pictures if you wish to see them, and what is more I have never seen the two colourful ones I tried to capture before so that is a pity. 

This astounding building goes back to the 16th century (that's 1500's to you and me) and there is some thought that this may well have been the vicarage at one point for the church.  Though now divided into two houses it is in typical Essex style, the middle section being the original Hall with two wings attached at either end.  Both wings have been developed differently at various times.  The area is dominated by a large Hall which I missed as it was hidden behind trees and this small area has this building and one or two 19th century erections next door and opposite what once was a row of cottages for the workers now renovated into one expensive house.  On the corner stands an empty pub which also dates back possibly to the 16th century. 
However....

This is found between the windows on the far side of the building and appears to proclaim this was once an Inn.  Being just of the main road it is likely this area developed because of the travellers heading north and requiring food and drink and whatever as they did so.  Therefore two pubs would not be unusual but why does there appear to be no information regarding this?  Is there a dirty secret somewhere?

   
On the main road this row of cottages keeps the famous weatherboarding that once dominated many buildings in Essex.  The county was basically a huge forest and in times past Kings did not wish it to be spoilt so they could hunt there.  However Essex folks still managed to live being quite perverse and rebellious by nature and homes when built had to be made of local materials, wood being the most common.  The Hall was probably built of a wooden frame with plaster walls, this would surely be better.  Something about the side of the building attracted me as it spoke of places from my childhood, or maybe I'm just daft.

I love blue flowers and came upon this in a woman's garden as I headed north.  No idea what it's called but you will know.  Clearly in spite of the masses of traffic behind me this woman takes a lot of care of her plants and likes a well stocked garden. 

Sea Sick, Too bad!

Since I was last here a couple of years ago I wanted to return to this car park and sit here watching the ships go by.  The sun glinting off the water, the sounds of the ferry's chains rattling, the water sloshing against the walls, the variety of craft that run back and forward on occasion ignoring the 'Give way to the Ferry' sign on the ferry.  The sun shone but there was a chill in the wind still, note the two at the back of the wee boat!  They have been out on a fishing trip and I wonder if they have caught anything out there apart from pneumonia?
There were over twenty cars on the ferry but I lost count as they came off.  A tourist bus, a 7:5 ton van and other large vans also travelled alongside a cyclist or two and foot passengers.  During the summer this place must be teeming!  The sands opposite filled with revelers and others indulging in things you keep kids away from, unless you are Ofsted of course!

Away in the far distance stands 'Old Harry Rocks.'  Once in the days of long ago these were attached to the Isle of Wight that is now far across the Solent.  I have clambered out along the top, in the 1980's, and it seems to me bits have been worn away since then by the storms.  There is no chance of my clambering over the brutes now!

Somewhat closer than in reality the distant Isle of Wight is clearly seen, even the southern end often shrouded by haze can be seen in the far distance.  So what happened to all that chalk land that has eroded?  I suspect someone somewhere has a mountain or two on their beach that they are not too happy about.

We climbed up to a high spot on the cliffs to gain a better view.  Down below the handful of people walked along the bright sand, sand that looks as if it has been relayed in time for the summer season.  The tourist income is vast and this long beach stretching from Christchurch to Poole more or less is a fabulous place to be.  Thousands consider it so and it gets a wee bit crowded.  There is very good support from lifeguards and council controls.  Mostly for lost kids during the day I suspect.

More fishermen!  They are also the only folks at sea it appears.  Usually this place is teeming with life.  Ferries to France, lifeboats rehearsing, small craft passing by, occasional other bigger ships in the distance heading for Poole.  Today little moved except a  dog or two and some people enjoying the sun. 

The different shades of blue in the sky intrigued me.  The sea was the same, various shades, changing as clouds passed over.  The blue above lightens as it heads towards the horizon, gradually the blue dissipates until it touches the sea.  The clouds remained small cotton wool like and insufficient to fill the picture, which is good.

Sick off the sea?  OK, no more now.

oops, sorry!

Sensative Cat

The tale told by Lee on her latest article included a reference to her cat.  This tale regarding a cats perceptive understanding of a human was intriguing.  The cat knew something about the man humans could not identify however Lee also found him somewhat disagreeable.  This got me thinking, cats and indeed dogs still have instincts developed over the years we have lost.  Watch a bird at a bag of nuts chomping away, all the time the eyes are looking for enemies, the ears open to sudden noises and the escape route chosen just in case.  The Blue Tits and Robins are always on the alert as a moments hesitation and they are lost.  While humans require some degree of care at all times we civilised people (I use that word loosely) are less alert to the small signs that our pets often notice before us.  Ears, smells and noise not recognised by the human is detected long before by the cat, dog or budgie.  So it was he cat noticed a problem with the man and made his excuses.
However we have not lost all such talents.  Women can note things about other that men can never begin to imagine.  I recall one speaker from long ago and how one woman told me how she did not trust him, clearly to her there was something not right.  He was clearly arrogant, full of himself and he had many talents but other than that I and others noticed nothing.  Later the story came out and he was removed far from us.  Something in his manner spoke to the women, either attracting or repelling them, I never noticed.
However in days of yore I used to meet with a lass weekly and we would discuss many things including those we knew.   It transpired that we saw different things in the people around us.  Male and female perceptions and probably bias telling.  It led to a more rounded understanding but we never informed those we discussed of our conclusions.  Hopefully we were right!  

Dull, Dreich New Year.

The year begins as I suspect it wishes to go on, dull, dreich, dismal and damp. I took myself out after the Dundee derby played in the usual dull, dreich, Dundee derby style weather and sauntered around the empty streets.  Imagine my surprise to find a near empty 'Argos' shop open for business. One or two other shops also considered it worth while paying time and a half, or even double time, to lose money opening today.  Few people trawling the shops for bargains, clearly many still in bed judging by the closed curtains all around.  Scotland would have been entirely closed today, and probably similar tomorrow, as the effects of the season wore off.  I still after all this time find it amazing that so many folks are keen to work on such a day.   So it's a quiet dreich start, with little in the way of new years greetings from passers-by down here, but that is nothing new, and a new year full of promise and bad weather ahead of us.

The only smiling faces to be seen were those of the dogs in the park.  From the grubby window I watched several happily wagging tails sniffing their way through the early morning gloom.  Well wrapped individuals trailed along, desperate to get back to the fireside, while the dog rummaged through the grass for friends unseen.  Today one hairbrush with a collar noted a rabbit that lives near the car park on the other side and chased after it.  Bunny was quickly back inside the bushes and no doubt deep underground within minutes.  The hairbrush cared little at his loss and made off in the other direction with the owner.  Yesterday the man with several dogs was seen clearly on the white ice covered park. He stood out clearly from the white background as did the mutts wandering about, tails wagging in the frozen ground.  Did they realise it was ice cold?  Yes, but did they care?  No!  The dogs had a whale of a time as always, no matter the weather.  

I did manage to fit in almost three complete football matches but my attention was distracted by becoming hooked on 'Watson's Block Game.'  That irritating block game that is so difficult to stop!

In the real world people pay vast sums for an 'X'-Box or PS something or other and buy violent guns and explosions type games to while away the hours. Rarely do any of these hero's enlist in the armed forces but if they do the training helps.  Me, myself and I however find one of the Solitaire games exciting enough and occasionally something else comes along.  For some years now I have taken periods where I get hooked on the block Game and today has been one of them.  Luckily there were vast amounts of goals being scored to distract me now and again but I did lose concentration on the football.  The problem is I have become addicted to using the keyboard!  If I am watching something on here my fingers demand to press keys.  Therefore I must play the Block Game or find something similar if any exists to occupy my fingers.  Life is so hard when you are an addict!

I hope your day has been good and the new year portends well for each and every one, in spite of all those difficulties we all face.  Remember, it could be worse, you could be English!

       

Busy Friday

It’s not long after nine on Friday morning.  This is the day I do the women’s work, hoovering, dusting, rubbish removal and the like.  So far I have failed to get off my seat and this is an excuse to remain here. Through the condensation steeped window I can just make out the light gray sky above, something that reminds me of an Edinburgh summers day, and in the leaf strewn park occasional passers by pass by, some late for work others keen on enriching Mr Tesco or Mr Sainsbury.  This does not incite me into following them.

The dullness of the sky is reflected in the dullness of the living quarters.  I switch on the light and watch the room get darker.  Books and papers lie askew around the desk, the sofa, and the floor.  Cables and plugs lie dust grained in corners, and green oranges are noted at the bottom of the fruit bowl.  I puzzle as to quite what that lump in between the fridge and the cupboard is, I am not too sure but it has been there for some time....

Later.

The women's work has been done, the air is filled with flying debris as choking and spluttering I wonder if it is time to empty that vacuum?  This dusting business is a laugh.  As I write the dust removed from the bookcases replaces the dust removed from the desk.  I suggest the dust from the desk now deposits itself happily on the books.  Thus the world turns.  The so called years of evolution that shaped the earth are nothing more than dust particles moving from one place to another, like sand dunes shifting the Sahara south.  No wonder the world has never run out of cleaners.  

I have looked at the 'to do' list once again, hopefully tomorrow I will look at it again.  If it were not for the football at midday I might even do one of the items on the list.  For today, as the weather is not attempting to change its ways, I will merely go back to updating that never ending website.  This is slowly taking shape but each name requires at least half an hour and sometimes it takes longer.  On two occasions I have discovered I was listing the wrong man and that has had to be changed. Hopefully nobody has copied the details.  The thing about the First World War information is the need to check everything.  So many details are incorrect, understandable in the circumstances, but the backroom staff at the time have actually done a marvellous job considering the difficulties of detailing so much as accurately as possible.  I hope I am reasonably accurate.

Much later.

I stumbled out this afternoon to get some deep breaths of vehicle pollution and made my way across the dim gray park towards the shops.  As I shuffled by I watched a boy, aged about 8 years, throwing his dogs lead for the beast to catch.  He and the golden retriever were having a ball, without a ball.  His mum enjoyed the sight of them pulling at either end of the lead, especially when the lad stood on the lead and the dog happily pulled him over the damp grass as he stood on the thing.  An enjoyable encounter in which passing strangers had to laugh, especially as they all knew what strange happiness a young lad playing with a dog can obtain.
There were no signs of happiness in the store however, just suspicious glances and surly looks.  There I obtained the bottle of beer I see as being ideal for yuletide, 'Bah Humbug!'  What it tastes like I as yet know not but if acceptable more will be purchased and used as gifts.  It seems right, but maybe I am being too satirical for some.  I will no doubt find out.  Too much of Christmas requires satire in my mind.

    
It has become the norm for these 'Continental Markets' to spring up in the town centre every so often. While they are popular enough for the stallholders to return it was pretty slack as I passed.  The varieties of foodstuffs appeals, the prices do not.  Neither does the ability of women to stand in the middle of the passageway blocking everybody while contemplating with dull eyes the good on show they then do not buy!  Paella, vegetable curry and the banned cheeses looked good but would cost around a fiver a time.  Even the bread I did fancy was far too dear, Tesco sell similar at half the cost, but maybe tomorrow if they have some of the fancy bread I occasionally buy I may splash out and ruin what is left of my diet, maybe.  

Now all I have to do is write the blog...hold on.  I must have missed something out today, I should be filling this page last thing at night when half asleep.  Oh well, early bed....   

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Ruff

Hot Heat!

Hot heat today, reaching 84 degrees, that's 29 to you in the colonies! i have still got the bug which has wearied me badly this week and have not been out in this much.  20 minutes this afternoon after I was forced to shop for ink for the printer (£28:50 for a set of B&W & Colour. Tesco wanted £32 for the same!!!). I sat for a wee while on the way back and rested my ailments and gazed at the blue above us.  

    
He came out full of vim and vigour, dropping the ball and ordering the boss to chuck it for him. As you can see on the way back after a short tour of the park he is less keen or haste.  Age is catching up on us all.... 

I'm off to bed....

My Saturday Evening Post....

I'm 'dog tired....'

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A Glare in the Sun.

The cat interrupted the daydream to inform me with a look to sling my hook and quick.  Sitting dozily at the gate ensuring the home is protected, enjoying the sun and awaiting feeding time the last thing a cat needs is some prat with a camera.  There is no preening oneself while the photographer positions himself, no licking of hair to get it just right, no posing on a wall or sitting just right, just a slight turn of the head and a glare.  Cats as you know can glare very well.   At least the beast has some sun in which to dwell.  Facial expressions in people can be revealing however in animals they speak volumes. Dogs, those big lumps that take up lots of room and eat everything and require you to walk ten miles a day with them can say much with a look.  Cats however say much, much more.  They need nothing except your constant attention, food and you getting out of their way.  You have to think if their is a dog in the house, the cat does the thinking for you, the response required from you is mere obedience. 

I have spent the day indoors looking for dead soldiers again.  Some fool found a war memorial from a village nearby last night and realised he had no knowledge of the folks involved and sat up till near midnight scouring the web for little return.  The day has followed on from that very well!  It is just typical that none of the names match those already researched.  Bah!  It is fun mind but annoying when nothing else is found.  At least on this one I discovered a dead Brigadier General (acting) who along with his Major was hit by a stray shell. Some sixty or more such generals perished this way.  

My eyes hurt from the bleary light, even when the sun brightened the day staring at the screen did not improve my 20:20 vision, especially as my vision is more bleary:bleary.  My mind however has been enabling me to forget an enormous amount, so I had to go back to the shop for what I forgot yesterday. While I found myself talking to myself about things I had no connection with I almost forgot the soup burbling away on the cooker but saved that before the burning started.  Later discussing with myself the future football I managed to knock everything down as I went to eat my dinner, put my dinner on my seat as I cleared the mess and then sat on my dinner.
The air, as they say, was blue!

I have now retreated to the west wing in an effort to overcome all this debacle and hope to recover my struggling brain by reclining gracefully.
Did I switch the oven off....?   

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