A Dream of Rishi

 

I have a dream, that is, I have a dream every night.  In fact, just as I wake, the dream leaves an emotional mark upon me.  Often this is pleasing, occasionally it is dark.  The other day, I began scribbling this several days ago, I woke at the end of a dream in which my nephew was trying to move into a block of housing owned by the Chinese.  The Chinese woman in charge was rather indignant with this and somewhat roughly demanded I sorted it out.  She had yellow forms in her hand, line after line of written information showing, and the thought that he wanted 16 houses was somewhere in this dream.  I made it clear his wife would not let this happen, then woke up. 

What does this mean?  

My nephew has not been around for many days, Chinese housing not at all, and the irate woman, well I always find them!  A man on Twitter mentioned his dream in which Simon Sharma put his head around the door asking for 'Foot Cream.'  Where do these dreams originate?  

Now I quite like the good dreams, I wake happy with them, but they do not adhere to reality.  Maybe one day we can catch them on a mobile phone and terrorise the world with them?  This may be where Salvador Dali obtained his ideas...

Once again the Prime Minister has avoided PMQs.  Several times he has hidden himself away in the far distance, and as usual it is to avoid hard questions.  With trouble brewing as Tommy Robinson and his hired thugs gather 'to protect the Cenotaph,' while Palestinian demonstrators gather miles from the Cenotaph and head in a different direction, and Suella Braverman the Home Secretary fizzes and screams that she wants to be PM, Sunak is found missing in action.  

This is a surprise...

Slow Sabbath

 

Not the best Sunday today.

The morning was OK, I was given a lift to Kirk, and there most things went well.  I spoke to all those I needed to, whether they needed to speak to me was not asked.  Normal behaviour from the congregation, a four year old 'Power Ranger' attacked me till his Grannie saw him off, pretty girls (the term 'girls' can be stretched a bit here) surrounded me, some spoke of their or their families problems, others wondered where this person or that one had disappeared too, and a group of men discussed 'mens stuff' and worried that the local team was now bottom of the division and the manager about to get shoved out.  Normal serious discussions.  

However, that was fine, a lift home also fine, dinner imitation Forfar Bridie and beans. Now I find I cannot take a picture of the moon correctly.  The camera must be bust!

Now music problems, loud, just too loud for someone in that room below, clearly done to annoy but I cannot see why.  She is female and therfore who knows why she plays such bad music, and it is terrible music, loudly.  Is there a reason?  Why not say what it is?  The landlord may know soon.

Football not great, tea not great, my need for sleep great.  I kept waking every hour last night.  This enables me to remember part of the dreams I was having but is a bit of a pest just the same.  Nice colourful but absurd dreams I have, a result of a twisted mind I say.

I think I may go off early and find some more...

 

Friday Life

We walked into the restaurant, she brunette dressed in black, me scruffy leading the way, and the waitress similarly dressed in black showed us a table.  I wandered to the back and she suggested another table while asking about my 'girlfriend.'  Clearly she wanted me also.  I returned to the table for two by the wall and as I sat down I woke up and discovered Justin Webb the middle class 'Islington leftie' attempting to browbeat the Finnish Prime Minister unsuccessfully.  How I wished to return to my dream.
Wednesday was a good day, one in which I read books and slept a lot.  Beginning with a wander up to Sainsburys before the rain began I ignored the world and relaxed in my best day for weeks.  At night I felt a wee bit radge but the next morning I was very radge indeed.  The boss at the museum had a cold and she has given it to me!  The dreich weather meant I was going nowhere anyway so 
I suffered indoors.
Today I ventured out to buy some Corn Bread, fancy bread being one of the present day fads I am enduring, and I got there just as the lass brought one out.  Naturally while having my tea I forgot all about it.  Bah!
I looked in the museum as I passed, heard how the lass had been "busy all day" and was lumbered for a few minutes as she wandered off to chat to someone!  Good job I'm not the complaining type.

On Wednesday night I did however see a revival of the good old days when visiting Glasgow teams were put to the sword.  In my youth this was what we expected, today the mismanagement of money and the league set up has limited this for all clubs, Scottish football is in a bad way.  However in spite of our recent problems the Heart of Midlothian are indeed on the way up again and under Ian Cathro's enlightened coaching we were able to reduce the Rangers Tribute Act to a trembling jelly like mess.  It was wonderful to see!  There is much more to come in this new system and even the Glasgow media must take note. 

I've found a new toy to play with!
One of the lassies at the church has become obsessed with UKIP and lately Donald Trump.  Her facebook page is littered with 'Daily Express' pieces telling of nasty Muslims, good old Donald and the love of Brexit!  
Naturally I am indicating the problems here.
This took her by surprise as she doesn't appreciate how the 'little englander' come 'racist' approach is actually unchristian.  She believes UKIP and Donald trump are Christian simply because they oppose abortion.  No I agree with banning killing children but I 'hae ma doots' that UKIP personnel have much in the way of Christian doctrine in mind.  Their leaders show no evidence and appear more concerned with bringing back a fantasy empire than anything else.  
As for Donald I note his many Tweets on Twitter, always worth linking to them, and while he is seen at prayer with others and has some decent advisers in Christian ways I 'hae ma doots' aboot him also.  The word 'publicity stunt' appears in my mind when such photographs appear and until more evidence is forthcoming I will be wary of our Donald.
Sadly it is clear there are far too many stories for and against almost everyone in the media or online that it is difficult to know what is real and what is half truths exaggerated.  Reading the tweets however there is indeed a man in the White House who requires someone to polish his act somewhat.
I expect to get a loving mouthfull this Sunday...

First World Problems Arise Again

My Fibre Broadband is up and working, in theory giving me much faster speeds and hopefully better images.  Of course this did not work in a straight forward manner.  Oh no, it failed! 
I set up the 'Hub' (BT call routers 'Hubs' for no good reason) and all worked well on the old Broadband.  However when the call came informing me in that broken 'one word at a time falling over itself' robotic voice that Broadband had been set up and was going I soon discovered it was not.
The Hub lit up, shone green, flashing orange, flashing purple, steady orange.....and continued steady orange indicating a fault.  I followed the instructions and kept strangely calm and at around 7:30 called the BT 0800 number.  A message thanked me for calling and asked "Button 1, Button 2" and having hit the wrong button I had to start again.  "Welcome,Button 1..." Ring tone, "Thanks for calling, we are very busy at the moment and the wait could be 10 or 20 minutes."  Button 1, or Button 2 or Button 3... ring tone, the first of FIFTEEN messages informed me "Thank you for waiting, All our call handlers are very busy at the moment, I apologise for the delay." Ring tone, message, ring tone message, etc ..." are very busy at the moment" until just before eight on the clock a human being answered!  
This man was very good and tested the line, checked this and checked that and so on, you have been there have you not?  By 8:30 he had decided it was not me, it was not the line so he must send an engineer out.  He came back after a while having arranged an engineer to call between 8 am and 1 pm tomorrow, being today!  What's more he arrived at 8:10 this morning!  The engineer was good.  Very effective, hard working tea drinker, he spent some time running tests and decided it was definitely the 'Box,' that green box that BT have standing in various parts of towns and cities. 
So off he travels to the box and forty minutes later he is back, plays around with high tech equipment again and now my Fibre Provider is providing.  Still sticks a bit but I guess that is it settling in?  Two hours off that mans life was taken up listening to me, hold on what I mean ...oh never mind. Two hours he spent fixing this and the complicated computerisation of it all amazes me.  In days of old we pressed Button 'B' and got our four pennies back, today he presses buttons and masses of complicated (much for security in these days of hackers) goes off around the planet fixing lines and bringing billions of calls together.  I was told about 10 years ago that one fibre cable could take around 15000 calls at one time!  For old people like me this is magic!
Right, what football is on tonight....

I woke at 5:30 this morning and was determined to get up at seven to ensure I was awake just in case the engineer called early.  So I slept fitfully until just after six having one or two strange dreams and wondering why we have noticeable dreams when we sleep for only a few minutes?  Is it because we wake when still so near a deep sleep or what?  Most interesting dream where an old woman in a block of flats asks me to ensure her door is locked and secure.  No idea who she was, never been in that building but it was all so real for a short while.  I hope I dream I have a bath early tomorrow morning so I need not have one when I wake.  The engineer stopped me doing anything else today as I had to put the house back together, the phone point is just behind the desk, and all the clutter was moved to make room.  The only action was taking a picture of the sodden leaves knocked down by last nights rain and taking that from the window as I could not be bothered stumbling up and down the stairs.   Summer time ended the other day (Gosh!) and Autumn leaves are annoying those who have to sweep them off the paths.  The golden colour has not come out in the picture but you can imagine what it is like.  Lovely colours but I still prefer Spring!

Dawn

Stupidly I awoke long before I was awake this morning.  Why on earth do I do this I ask?  It was dark and as I struggled bleary eyed to find something for breakfast I could hear the birds in the trees beginning to waken also.  Maybe I disturbed them?  I took this pic at 7:20 a.m. long before the rest of world was awake and the birds and I ate our breakfast while we read the papers online.    
Another week has ended and I still have not got through Tuesday yet!  Time flies when you are having fun or if you look away for a moment.  Time flies though my mind confusingly today as I spent part of the morning researching a man from the Great War and in the afternoon I was after a sailor in world war two!  At times my little brain confused the lists I was searching and managed to be twenty years out several times.  I need to eat more fish!  

The day ended in the failure of the referee to abandon the game at Ibrox before the kick off like he ought.  Instead we struggled to watch the Heart of Midlothian kick a yellow ball in a snow covered pitch.  Imagine, Ibrox yet not one orange ball to be found!  After twenty minutes it alls topped, and probably for the best. However as we were well on top it is difficult to avoid thinking this was because Rangers did not wish to lose, as if!  Worryingly the weather man says some snow might land here tomorrow , how disgusting!
Kids like snow because they are stupid!  Snow freezes the streets, makes walking difficult, causes accidents and stops football getting underway.  Snow should either be banned altogether or sent to Norway where it belongs!  How can anyone like snow?  What is the point of it?  I agree it makes nice photographs, though the photographer gets frostbite taking pictures in it. Certainly it provides hours of amusement for kids, dogs and daft folks, but really can they not all jump on a plane and fly to Norway? Maybe I need to move to Australia?  Anyone willing to send the cash?  There you go, stupid question number one!
I now sit here, wrapped in old blankets, trying to keep warm while sleep that has never left me all day takes me into dreamland.  Unless of course I fail to dream.  Funny how some nights I have clear colourful dreams and on other occasions I am not away of any dream whatsoever.  The last one involved the building in London, clear as day from the outside but a bit jumbled indoors.  Not the first time I have dreampt of this place.  How strange the way memories come into dreams, a wee bit distorted but clear enough.  Tonight I expect to dream of sitting in front of a laptop, freezing, while searching for a man or his family and getting confused the further I seek.
Or did I dream that today and I am now asleep and will wake up any minute?
Oh I am confused now......  
    

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Travails.

As I turned in I noticed two postmen I knew, good men and true, one on his bike heading out bearing that constant smile on his face, a smile that makes us wonder what he had been inhaling, and the other who appeared to all purposes now to work in this office.  I took my ticket and collected the note detailing my winnings.  The money amount was clearly marked at the top and as I glanced at the £24,000 there I noticed to my surprise the other prizes also.  Two weeks in some sunny rich man's playground far away, a week elsewhere, and other lesser but quite welcome prizes.  It was then I noticed the prize money was in fact £200,000!  Much better and as I began to work out where I could get a wee house for that amount I turned towards the desk to claim the winnings when I heard John Humphreys muttering banalities on the 'Today' programme muttering about the time.
"Drat! Not even got my head of the pillow and already I have lost £200,000!"
So I entered Tuesday in the manner in which I intended to continue, as so it proved.  The day was dominated by another ex-US hurricane which were supposed to flood us out, knock down all the trees and high buildings and cause mayhem everywhere.  Indeed in places this was the case but it does appear we now err on the side of safety and urge warnings a wee bit too keenly I reckon. The use of common sense by the populace is lessening.  
I persevered.  Slowly I went through the routine, slowly I ate, slowly I ignored the news, slowly it dawned on me that I was watching the clock say ten minutes past ten.  "Ah, I can get ready at half past I thought.
Suddenly the fog lifted, I was supposed to start at ten and it was ten past already!
Dementia has begin folks.
I faced the struggle to the museum bravely even though driving rain threatened to wash me away as I limped up the road.  It stopped once I arrived and remained quiet until I came home!  
Busy as we were, fixing those little things that needed fixing, cutting thinsg that needed cutting and sellotaping things that should not have been cut, dealing with lots of visitors, including in fact one real dementia patient and her escort - what a sad sight that was - discovering a school class was quietly wrecking the joint and another event was on today so that much of the day was taken up with others running around daft for that.  This left me alone much of the time and luckily nothing demanding occurred.  I also took delivery of large old books, for myself, which I bought (cheap) from a colleague which then required lugging home.  Lots of heavy reading lies ahead.  I made two trips and collected the rest today.  How heavy can a book be I wondered?   My arms now reach my knees. At least our own book is now in stock and should be on sale today.
On top of this my knees ache and carrying heavy bags does not help.  Having got two lots home, up the stairs, and onto the floor I then lay beside them gasping for breath and demanding oxygen from whoever heard my groans.
No reply came the reply!
The fog over the mind all day was so bad that even though I attempted to watch two football matches I could hardly concentrate on the first, it just tired me out, and the second failed so badly I actually had to switch it off and sleep.
That reminds, me I must buy some brandy....

Today began without losing vast amounts of money, and the £150 million is still available in the lottery if I buy a ticket.  Instead of dreaming of wealth beyond my wildest dreams I hobbled all the way to the Post Office, waited while the man in the steel helmet, visor and armoured outfit delivered the new stamps, and then I posted three expensive packets.  Tripping over my own feet on the way back I wondered why those men never smile?  Is it part of the training to look tough in case the old women in the shop attack you?  So far when meeting such men they give the impression of being soul dead. Rarely do they look the type you would employ let alone trust with valuables.  I suspect most are recruited from ex-prisoners. 
I limped to the museum, collected my remaining heavy books and asked if the girls there could help by massaging my knees for me.  They flung me out the door somewhat rudely and left me to collect myself and climb back over the wee wall from the garden bit where I landed and attempt to make my way home. This proved difficult as today's Victorian school arrived like a stampede of Buffalo and ran over me once again.
As I climbed the stairs thanks were offered for bits of me still working.

Then came the painters.  Limited in their work by the rain nothing has been done for a week, one being afraid to climb the ladder in the high wind yesterday in case it blew him off, the big Jessie!  I see no reason for this as he has already fallen off one so must be used to it.  Today, as the rain ceased they glossed the bottom windows and following his success of leaving my living room window jammed for five years jammed the bedroom one!  Much later, we both struggled after he had released the window from his six inches of paint and attempted to get the thing to shut again!  He almost fell off his ladder that time, but I changed my mind and didn't push!  Sash windows can be difficult, especially when he is around.  This pair also involved me with clambering up and down stairs to assist lost motorists find places when their map failed to include the one way systems.  I also had to convey tea to the workers. 'Workers' is a word used loosely around these parts. They have not finished and have been called away to other jobs.  They might be back by February.  My windows are open, downstairs remain jammed!


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The First Day of the New Year.

New Year's Day Television is rotten! Just like the offerings over the entire Christmas period! I say this most years but it appears to my mind that this year has reached a new low. Vast quantities of films, and I do not watch films, but they were repeats or just rubbish! There was a glut of programmes that were aimed at the brain dead, or perhaps the middle aged, middle class women who now run TV think we are not watching anyway and can fill the screen with the cheap tosh that lies around their studios? It appears they are spending vast sums of cash developing better systems to show us programmes, and manufacturers respond with brilliant, and overpriced, televisions to watch these high quality offerings, except that the programmes themselves have little quality to offer! Almost all those I did like were repeats of those I had enjoyed before. How disappointing is this?

I must say I have enjoyed the use of the PC to listen to radio programmes however! The BBC enables us to pick up many of their programmes after they have been aired and this has been useful. I particularly enjoy Radio 3 and some of the offerings of Radio 4. Comedy, music and decent documentaries abound, usually! I must say I have really enjoyed these programmes during the last year.  The football is better on the telly mind!

While the TV was rotten the weather was not good either. Today started 'crisp.' By 'crisp' I mean freezing, possibly below freezing round here at that. My mood was not helped by getting to my bed at 1:30 and being woken by someone ringing my bell at 3:30.  By the time I woke out of a beautiful dream they had gone and disappeared. Walking around two or three times to day I was surprised by so many shops being open. I still carry the Scots attitude that on this day nothing moves. Usually in Scotland it cannot move of course!  I suspect that in Dalkeith, one of Scotland's more famous unknown places, there were no shops open, and until midday few to care! My face is hot and bothered, I think the cause is the freezing weather which bites into the face when out and reacts to the temperature, not that high in here I say writing with my woollen gloves with the fingers cut out, and leaves me hot and bothered. Where, I wish to know, is global warming?

In Scotland in days gone by 'Ne'erday' saw the Heart of Midlothian play the Hibernian in a local derby. All over the country derbies were played on this day and thousands who had spent the previous hours welcoming the New Year would attend the games. Kicking off at 2 pm,so as to allow the celebrants to return to the next party, the players would get stuck into each other with a will, a will to avoid frostbite usually! The thuggish behaviour of the old firm in Glasgow saw their game moved to a later date, and these days few derbies take place on the big day. I think this is a shame but I suppose this is progress. The fact that on Jan the second we also would play Dunfermline possibly would be too much for the overpaid darlings these days, but in the past this was the routine, and most enjoyable it was too! The fact that we usually (e.g. always) won did help!

The day is over, England returns to normal, Scotland returns to the bottle, and I return to finish the dream so rudely interrupted at 3:30 a.m! Why I ask, do we enjoy wonderful dreams and on waking instantly forget them? We have the emotion from the dream but absolutely no memory of why! So many dreams have been in colour in recent days, or maybe I have now obtained a colour licence for the dreams. I don't recall any black and white ones so why do I notice when they are in colour? maybe it's just me reading too many woman's sections in the 'Daily Mail?'  The 'Daily Mail,' now there is a post all to itself that paper. But maybe later, when I am in a more cynical mood.

I've got nothing to say.

Now the nasty folk among you will probably be muttering praises at this moment in time, and one or two will be feeling a slight shock at this news. But I have indeed nothing to say.

I have looked at the world around me, considered the weather, the news, the furniture, the records and all things that ought to be bursting into my mind, and I have found nothing worth posting. I could once again mention my aching knees, caused by the long walk to the far away Tesco's. Quite how I imagine this will aid my fitness regime when I come back aching, worn out and end up with stiff knees for days, I do not know but there it is. The walk in the sun, with the passing clouds lowering the temperature needlessly, was indeed enjoyable. The pathway past the old oak trees especially jolly when the birds are gathered in the branches singing away. I stood and attempted to find one such which had a particularly lovely song today, but when I stood still he shut up, and once I moved on he began again, spoilsport. The bird at the checkout didn't give the impression she ever sang sweetly that's for sure.

However you don't want to know about my knees and would rather read something of importance, something interesting, and something humorous. Looks therefore like you are dwelling in a world of fantasy folks. I suppose I could discuss my habit of taping radio programmes and playing them back to myself when I attempt to enter slumberland. This is a habit I started many years ago and remains with me today. So many radio progs are broadcast at the wrong time. The idea, especially on Radio 4, appears to be that folk can stop work whenever they wish and listen in. This is not so! It may be for the middle aged, middle class females who have never worked in their lives, yet spend all day on the radio telling us about their hardship (and earning vast sums of cash while doing so) but it is not like that for normal folk, like me! Anyway, I am going through a few that have been used but I have not heard, usually because I fell asleep and missed the lot! I am amazed at some of the subjects covered by the radio. Politics, Army spies in the days of the Cold War, humour made out of quotes, humour from silly games, the Black Death alone gave me five fifteen minute programmes that was very enjoyable, although I would not like to pass it on as it were. I have a few still to listen too but who knows what I have taped there, especially as my memory is so bad I forget what I have just written sometimes,especially as my memory is so bad I forget what I have just written sometimes.

So having nothing to say I will wander off and consider cleaning that cupboard under the sink. I usually make a point of cleaning this every five or six years and judging by the pong that time may soon be up. This will help my knees readjust, the smell to ease, the neighbours to stop complaining, and will stop me looking up jobs on the web as I will not have time before I eat some foul tasting evening meal. I cannot guarantee this will be foul tasting but going on previous experience I think it's a sure bet.

I remember now that I was going to comment on my time in 'The Goblet.' You see I had this dream I was back there, sitting in my usual seat opposite the bar, with Gordon Brown and his mates in the seat immediately to the left of the door. Naturally we did not realise that Gordon Brown was Gordon Brown in those days, when there he was just one of 'those student types.' However there he certainly attended and when the pubs closed at ten, as they did then, he would wander back to his shared flat at type away till all hours working himself into a future. His mates just worked themselves onto the floor. At the appropriate time I will drop him a note and let him know I still have the photographs. If that is not worth a lifetimes tax refund I don't know what is! Drop me a line Gordon pal. However I will not mention this as the dream started well and appeared to be going fabulously especially when Lady Muck and her daughter wandered in. There immediately was a lightening of the atmosphere, a brightening in every ones eye and a lifting all round of spirits, although that was quite common in that place, being a pub and all. Just then a fat ageing bloke wandered in also, he looked the type we need in such places as he wore a stained Heart of Midlothian polo shirt, a Hearts scarf round his neck, and carried a bundle of books which he offered for sale at an 'advantageous price,' or so he said. Looking at the bright young things he cried 'Drinks all round' and the two molls immediately rushed to his side, along with all the contents of the hostelry. Pints were pulled, whiskies were poured and the glamour girls beamed happily. 'That will be £478 please,' muttered the barmaid, 'Who's paying?' 'Adullamite is,' muttered Mike from the middle of a pint glass.
I then woke up in a very cold sweat.

Therefore I am not going to mention this dream as it has made me weak at my aching knees........