Camulodunum, Charity Shops, Gays in Gents, Hastening Bus Drivers, War Memorials, and Corn Fields and Blue Skies.

I hesitated about going out today yesterday, I was tired physically but my brain was needing a change of scenery.  Just being indoors I begin to go 'stir crazy.'  So, I trooped of early to catch the 10:20 bus.  We left at 10:28, and not just because of the Zimmer users.  I looked forward to green fields, waving corn, and gray skies.  At least the sky was often gray.  

We had not gone far, just about to leave the town border as a woman with pushchair and 3 years old attempted to leave the bus.  The pushchair was easy enough but the kid would not move.  Mum encouraged, demanded, apologised to the passengers, took his toy, but he would not leave the bus.  Screaming ensued, from him, while we all grinned and laughed.  Mum took action, slinging him screaming over her shoulder and forged her way off the bus.  Everyone laughed, almost all of us have either been the mum or the kid, as it were!

Having left 8 minutes late we naturally arrived one minute early!  Considering we faced three road blockages, one from BT Outreach replacing telegraph poles and digging holes, one from routine road works, and one from traffic blocking cars half parked on road and pavement.  Why not on the pavement, there is no-one around, it's a country house, why block a busy road?  

On arrival I hobbled slowly through one or two remaining charity shops.  Some have gone since I was last here about 4 years ago. It amazes me how things change so quickly.  What were charity shops were now doing good, but expensive business.  How can such shops survive here but not in our town?  

The picture?  I have no idea.  She stands there, marching all in black, along the street, why?  What or who does she represent?  I have no idea.

Having ensured sufficient water before I left I visited the Gents.  While clean and modern they are also these days a meeting place for gay boys.  I entered not long after what I assumed to be a normal man but found him standing right next to a another with several spaces empty.  I noisily, very noisily, used a not so clean cubicle.  A perversion, legalised for the privacy of your own home, now appears to be standard in this Gents as it is in so many others.  If such activity is legal how come they are gathering in such places?  Have they no clubs to meet in, no cafe's, why use this place in an underhand manner.  The man I followed had left as I made for the door, but the early arrival was still there.   I was tempted to say something but would only have caused offence.  At least offence I may not be too unhappy to cause.  However, I refrained and moved on.

Having searched more shops, Millets (nice hats with huge prices), Edinburgh Woollen Mill (Based in Hawick, full of old people and charging £210 for a Tweed jacket), and a walk through Waterstones without looking in case I bought something, I took the obligatory War Memorial picture.  This one says so much about the people of the time, the need to glorify a war in which so many died, the need to show off the towns wealth, and the link to fables as History.  I do however admire the statues on offer, though spiders have been making use of them these days.

I considered rummaging through the crowds, sitting in one of the overpriced pubs, or eating at a greasy spoon café, but decided to run for the bus instead.  My knees had seen enough, nothing worth buying had appeared, and I was realising just how weary I had become.  So, obtaining, for £1:19, a bottle of 'Aqua,' a plastic bottle of cold Romanian water I made for the bus stand.  Romanian bottled water with a Latin name?  Well I suppose since Trajan took over what was then called Dacia in the year 106 AD, the Roman influence has been felt there.  The name, or one similar is attested some 400 or so years back but how Roman the people are today after the last couple of hundred years is anyone's guess. 

The water was almost cold, the bus was almost due, my task was to find it.  Once again the bus stops had changed.  Many people stood staring at the timetables while searching for their bus, their stop and soon their bus passes.  I was one of them!  After some time I worked out what 'Ac' meant, wandered slowly in that direction, found the bus waiting but without a driver.  Several waited, glancing at the watches, while the driver, sitting on a seat nearby, ignored them.  

The bus driver on the 10:20 was a happy soul, this one, when he arrived, was not.  Grunting to the boarding passengers he then treated us to a display of sharp braking, caused by going too fast and suddenly finding a stop required.  Consistently racing along when he could, only to sit in a suitable place and wait while the timetable caught up with him, and he even attempted to avoid one man trying to board as he did not wish to miss the green light at the road works.  We spent an hour being thrown forward constantly until we arrived, still breathing bus fumes in spite of all the open windows, at our destination.  We clambered off, but not as fast as the driver, as he headed for home.  At least we know why he was miserable, the end of a long, warm day driving a bus full of the public!

On the way, while bouncing back and forth, I attempted to make use of my little aged Leica.  This wee camera is old, full of dust, and I was looking through a filthy window that has not been cleaned for a while.  The results as you can see are not great.  I was however, glad to see the fields, though quite a few have been turned into expensive houses for the Camulodunum elite.  

On occasions the sun had shone, the clouds gathered, and after I got home the rain fell.  I let it, I was too tired to care.  I have to realise I am not fit, I and not 32 as I claim, and I canny do too much at the same time.  I must pace my wizened body better.  Last night I ate everything that lay around, finished the Brandy, and slept well.  Today I eat and sleep, while clearing up all those things on the laptop that are outdated or useless links that have long since died.  

In truth yesterday was a disappointing day.  The town itself was quieter than usual, I think they have stopped buses running through the main streets, the shops same as always, most people quite sociable, and half the bus drivers happy at work.  Imagine, not only did I walk through Waterstones without buying, I avoided the other bookshops, the charity books also, and came away with nothing.  I really was too tired!

Brexit and Gay Brownshirts

The Brexit dividend is with us, says the man from the Bank of England, £444 million a week it is costing the UK!  Money just trundles away from us, and leaves many asking "Where is the £350 million a week saved for the NHS?"  No answer is the reply.

One Tory MP claims people can make a meal for 30 pence, another says if you want more money work more hours, or get a second job.  She herself is on £84,000 plus £200,000 expenses, and whatever 'other job' she has.  Today Labour demanded a 'windfall tax' on energy companies, Boris muttered something and ignored the question.  No change there.  Someone asked me "Is this the worst government you can remember?"  "Yes!" is the reply.  All those bad governments, including Thatcher, were better than this. At least Thatcher would not leave the EU just to keep her job.

More 'Stonewall' love abounding I note.  An 18 year old at a private school questioned the 'Trans' ideology being pushed by the school.  She was hounded out by other girls, the teachers doing nothing but claiming she was upsetting the majority.  This school has many visits from Stonewall.  

Police, Fire and their leaders met at a conference this week to encourage integration of gays and trans.

They said nothing about integrating victims of crime, foreigners, elderly or disabled, but only the Stonewall favourites.  I wonder why?

Why are such people involved in events like this?  Do they not deal with individuals as individuals?  Or do the police and fire require special preparation for their job?  Saying this I have just noticed a special 50p coin has been produced for gays!  Why?  

There is also a row as some African players, Muslim or Christian, will not wear shirts dedicated to gays.  Some object to this stand, especially as one player in Blackpool has announced he is gay.  For some reason this makes him a hero.  Fail to develop normally and be praised.  What a strange world.

Opposition to those who disagree with the gay life is growing throughout the nation.  It has become accepted that being trans or gay is normal, when it clearly is not.  Those who claim such people are being their 'true selves' are wrong.  This is a broken person, like the rest of us, and only Jesus can heal and make us whole.  Encouraging people to live a false life destroys them, and society.  Browbeating opponents will never work, gay Brownshirts will come to a bad end soon.

       

Monday Mixture

Rubbish Day.

Early weather lousy when I am out.

Sun now shines when I am in.

Washing done, drying washing done, nothing else done.

War in Israel.

Everyone blaming the 'other side.' 

Boris planning to curtail votes for Labour by using ID cards when voting.

Boris planning to curtail Judicial reviews to stop people attacking him.

Boris tightening his grip Fascist like.

Boris to ban 'Conversion Therapy' thereby making criminals of Christians everywhere who will continue to pray for healing of gays.  This because 'Stonewall' advised the government.  'Stonewall' a lobby group with many friends in high places, each willing to follow similar fascist paths as Boris.

Good news!  St Johnstone to beat Hibernian in the Scottish Cup Final soon.

 

Banging and thumping indicates John the Handyman has come to fix something somewhere.  Soon fixed, he banged and thumped his way out again.

More banging, gentle this time, almost ignored, then I glimpse a van outside and realise it is an Amazon man.  

An Amazon man, from Eastern Europe, who knocks on a door because he is scared to ring the bell in case he catches a virus!  So many do this that I miss them!  

Of course this is not for me, it is for next door.  They work awkward hours and I take in their deliveries.  She gave me some Polish chocolates the other day for being nice, and very nice they are too!

More banging, this time downstairs as the neighbour has come home and wants me to know he is there.  He is on early shift with the Polis and leaves around 2:30 am.  

Recently I was watching football in the bedroom, as I usually do, and upset him as he tried to sleep down below.  He made banging noises, which I ignored thinking it his woman cleaning the room, and next day he played loud, bad music for a couple of hours.  However he never thought of knocking on the door to inform me that he was on earlies.  Some Polis?  How would I know his hours?  Should I change a ten year routine for him?   Usually I am considerate but that evening the Dunfermline PPV was loud I admit, but how do I know he is sleeping?

Anyway, the game was drawn and Raith Rovers won the second leg.

Right, now I'm off to upset someone else...

 

Dementia and Fascism...

Guardian

 

This man is Steve Thompson, he won the Rugby World Cup in 2003, that's 17 years ago, and now appears to be suffering dementia.  Rugby Union has always been a rough sport.  Middle Class men showing off their strength to one other and to themselves, barging into one another with gay abandon and making light of injuries recieved and given, sometimes because of the game, sometimes deliberately to hurt.  The Gentleman's Sport!

I have always seen rugby union as rough, an excuse for violent attitudes to be released yet disguised as 'sport.' And since the introduction of 'professionalism' a few years ago the game got harder and more violent.  Big, well prepared men banging into one another cannot be expected to avoid long term damage.  Professionalism introduced larger, fitter, and bigger men, into the game.  Only now are we seeing the results.

Much publicity has been gven to football for old men suffering dementia, heading the ball is given as the reason.  Personally I accept that may well play a part, esepecially with those who were introduced to football via the Brown Leather 'Filly' Ball that once was the only option.  This ball, a mere pound in weight, soon doubled its weight as water and mud off the grubby pitches stuck.  The fact that pitches were not level, heavy with mud and water all added up to a heavy weight and this caused the ball to spend much more time in the air thus endangering those who were required to deal with it.  A 'Filly' hitting you in the face, even on a good day, could knock you out, as I once discovered!  The potential damage to centre halves in particular must have been serious.

Since the late 50's however a new type of ball was introduced, white in colour, easier to see, lighter, more resistant to gathering water, yet still with much improvements required.   The 'T' Ball was soon replaced by the 'Mitre' ball and in the last 20 years al sorts of ball made from a variety of substances have been introduced, thus lighter for the players and more hazardous for the goalkeepers as this type of ball swerves in the air more often.  

Several great Heart of Midlothian players have suffered this way, it is not known how many suffered in years that went before, as there are many ways to die, the NHS has in these times has given us a longer lifespan than that enjoyed by men of yore.  Yet not all old men suffer dementia, indeed many more women suffer this as any geriactric ward will testify, and they from a variety of backgrounds and intellectual levels.  David Holt, the great Hearts left back of the early 60's was seen in the paper recently, at 82, continuing to live with a normal brain capacity.  Laurie Reilly, the Hibernian centre forward died at 84 also fully in control of his mind so far as is known.  Indeed close to his death he was still working on match days as a 'welcomer' to the club visitors. 

Therefore it is not just heading a ball that needs investigation, there are many other threats that lead to dementia, what could they be?  Until around 1970 most men in football would have begun with the 'Filly' ball, men in rugby would have begun in the amateur game but the headbanging would have been similar throughout time.  Men born in the 30's may well have endured a poor upbringing, large family, poor nourishment, war rations, even military service, and I supect most, if not all, smoked.  Beer drinking also may have been constant and most men would finish their career by the age of 32 or so.

Later generations have learned about diet, fitness and health care but not all had such luxuries in the past.  So, how much does family background, age, diet and other possible infuelces have on dementia? It is likely banging heads in rugby, especially since the professional game began, has had effects, it is likely those heading the old ball in the past had an effect, yet not all suffer dementia.  

It is terrible to watch people suffer, and I am a wee bit unsure about those jumping to conclusions re the cause as they are doing at the minute.  Much more in depth research is required, not a tabloid led 'knee-jerk response.

 

The New European

 

You may not have know that the Labour Party had a 'Shadow Minister for Faith,' I did not even know we had a 'Minister for Faith,' but there again so many people are required to pretend there is a governing class that you never can be sure of what those MPs in Westminster are actually doing.  

This one, whatever else she did, if indeed she did anything at all, commented that "...that registrars who have a religious objection to same-sex marriages should be protected from losing their jobs if they refuse to certify the partnership."  Howls of anguish from the gay lobby!  Such howls that she has now 'stood down' from her role and claims she 'apologised sincerely for misjudged remarks.'

Really?

Misjudged?  Who says so?  Blatant discrimination against the conscience, now passed into Law, is clear and wrong, yet when this is stated she has to go?  We live today in a fascist state.  The morals of the people have no centre, they rely soley on what is most popular at the time, the idea of 'right and wrong' have been removed and replaced blatanly in front of us by 'Political Correctness,' a false morality that accepts what is wrong and rejects anyone who indicates that this is so.  Hence the murder of children kileld by abortion and the feeble excuses offered for this crime, the acceptance of same-sex marriage and gay behaviour as if it were normal.  The abuse of those who indicate such abnormal behaviour is unnatural is now common.  The lunatics now run the asylum.  

The vast majority keep quiet, not wishing to get into trouble, politicians join in as they want votes, the courts and media, now run by Oxbridge graduates who emerged in the 60's and 70's smoking dope and releasing their own problems onto the world now oppose those who speak the truth, they fail to understand why anyone would disagree with their view.  An open mind is not allowed in a Nazi state.  Soon the books will be getting burnt, look out for that down your street, it will be too late to object then.

I note this women stood down, offering feeble apologies so she might get another job later.  She spoke the truth but she clearly has no faith stronger than 'Look after number one.'  I suspect we will see her again, but she will not be worth listening to.