Excitement

As I woke excitement filled my heart.  

Now, in days past excitement often filled my heart, gripping me to the exclusion of all but the day ahead.  As a 6 year old the thought of travelling by steam train across the Forth Bridge to Fife was exciting.  A few days with my favourite aunt was always exciting.

When I was 14 the idea of leaving school and entering the adult world excited me greatly.  This I did not realise then comprised spending much time seeking what to eat later in the day! 

The excitement at standing in Tynecastle Park as the football was about to begin was always great.  Across the ground I watched puffs of smoke from lone smokers rise into the air, the sunshine on wet grass provided an aroma never forgotten, as indeed was the fragrance of the embrocation cream rubbed on footballers legs before a game to prepare them for combat.  Standing by the tunnel this was never missed.

Moving to London was exciting, living in my own wee slum excited me.  And slum it was, and probably still is, but it was my home.

Going abroad was excitement indeed, foreign parts, foreign foods, and not being shot by a trigger happy Israeli is always good.

Moving into this luxury home in the sticks was excitement indeed, self contained and never mind the faults.  

So many events brightening my life with excitement!

The arrival just before 2pm of a delivery of slippers from M&S was another thing that excited me.

Today however, I woke excited because I was going to visit 'Iceland' and buy frozen veg.

I think I may be in need of care...

Several things strike you as you look at this book.  The first is how the name 'Max Hastings' is larger than the title 'Operation Pedestal.'  I canny work out whether this is because his name sells more books or because he wants his name to be clear at the top.  Who knows.  I do know however, that like all Max's books it runs to 428 pages, which makes me glad it is paperback and not a hardback like others of his in my possession.  

The war had reached 1942, and as yet the allies were still on the defensive.  Malta was near starvation rations and Winston Churchill, still fully in control, understood that morale required to be lifted by great adventures.  The year previously a convoy headed towards Russia was attacked deep in Arctic territory.  The commander of that convoy made the disastrous decision to command remove the Royal Navy support and command the fleet to make full steam for the Soviet Union.  Almost all ships were lost!  

Our friend Comrade Stalin was not pleased.

Churchill realised morale must be lifted, the UK must succeed with a Malta convoy, whatever the Admiralty thought, and was determined to convince Uncle Joe that the UK was not finished.

The convoy therefore set out from various parts of the UK, combined at Gibraltar, and headed east into territory controlled by the German and Italian fleet and air forces.  In short, into an impossible situation.  

Off Algiers the attacks began, continuing, and increasing, by air and submarine as they headed towards Cape Bon o Tunisia.  Here the attacks were constant and severe.  From the 11th until the 13th the fleet was attacked by air and sea, not helped by the Admiralty turning back the largest of their escort ships, in case these were lost!  Opinions varied regarding this decision.  The mainly destroyer, escorts did their best in the best tradition of the Royal Navy but were outgunned and outnumbered.  Only on the last days could the RAF help from Malta itself, and courageous they were, but finding the by now dispersed fleet in an ocean is not easy.

In the end 5 Merchantmen arrived in Malta, bruised and crippled, including the oil tanker 'Ohio.'  However, 9 merchant ships were lost.  The Royal Navy suffered the loss of one aircraft carrier, HMS 'Eagle,' 2 cruisers and one destroyer, plus several more being seriously damaged.  Many men on both sides, on ships or in the air, were lost.  The convoy however, provided sufficient supplies for a rationed Malta to endure until November when Montgomery's 8th Army won at El Alemain and turned the course of the war.  The morale boost to the UK with the success of the convoy, while ignoring the mistakes, the faults and anything that might hinder good propaganda, was immense.  The UK showed that it could win, on land and sea, and in February 1943 the Soviet forces ended the siege of Stalingrad and began the long trek towards Berlin.  

The book is slow at the beginning as Max works through masses of information regarding the men the ships, the arguments regarding the convoy.  He then gives details of the ships themselves, the men aboard and much of his info comes from the records of those who participated.  Letters, diaries, official logbooks, are quoted in a manner that brings us close to the action.  And there is action aplenty.  I think as many attacks as possible have been recorded, the men involved, their individual response, their terror, their ship sinking, the salvation attempts, some of which are fantastic, the firing at aircraft and seeking submarines, and the effects of constant stress over several days with little food and less sleep.  You are made to feel you are part of the operation while reading the book.  

Some details are given regarding the part played by men after the convoy arrived.  Not all were rewarded, some court martialled, others faults 'forgotten.'  Like so many other men, they fought a war, took part in exciting action, and after 1945 those who survived and had no great promotions had no choice but to 'just get on with it' like thousands of others. 

I recommend this book.

Saturday Toddle...

 

The unsual sight of sunshine today brought out the locals into the park.  The institue of Tier 4 and many warnings re the increase in the virus in this locale has led to a much stricter use of the six feet distancing on the whole.  So much so that the woman walking in front of me in the park left 60 feet between her and the dog walker ahead!  Once near the shops this lessened considerably I noticed.  In Iceland distancing was not easy and some ignored the need.  (I only wanted bread, some fool had eaten all mine!)

 

With lockdown and gray misty weather not much has happened anywhere.  The world is in a slow routine, blown apart only by those marching to oppose lockdown and mask wearing, some blocking nursing staff from entering hospitals, and of course those who think they will never catch it.  The young, desparate to enjoy life, also take risks under the delusion it will not hit them, the latest mutant version certainly does.  

I see no change in my exciting life.  Out today, the first time in three days, only because the sun shone.  Some I know are becoming institutionalised by remaining indoors, they might never walk outside again!  

 

With no news worth mentioning, it's all Covid deaths, people protesting about wearing masks, and Boris and co hiding.  Occasional comment re what Donald will do next, he has several large gathering soon, and hopefully he will be declared insane before then.  Nothing to do but watch all the football that is on today.  I suppose I can cope with that...

 

Stir Crazy!

I found myself going 'stir crazy' this morning.  Having not been out since Monday my mind wished to walk across the park, see the sky, take a bus trip somewhere nice, visit somewhere interesting or just get out off here!  My knees disagreed.  They thought a Monday walk was sufficient!  
Eventually I decided to take the empty glass beer bottles to the recycle bin up the road.  I could only manage one, the rest can wait, and so I toddles of, bottles crashing together, and dumped them noisily in the recently emptied bins.  
People queued outside the Pharmacy as I passed by, each several feet from the one in front.  Users in the car park avoided contact and having dumped the bottles I wandered past both Sainsburys and Tesco admiring the queues.  
These were admirable, keeping their distance, uncomplaining and happy the sun was attempting to show itself and warm them up, to some extent at least.  It was somewhat depressing to see all the shops closed, those that are not charity shops at least.  The only one open was a cycle shop, they are seen as 'Key' to please Dave's heart.  The owner stood at the door discussing gear changes with an individual on a bike, whether he was actually allowed in in unclear.

The queues outside the supermarket were a bit off putting, I was a bit afraid I was going to run out of milk this weekend but did not wish to join the long happy crowd.  However in Bank Street, so called because of the bank, indeed four banks these days, I noticed Iceland was open.  As here were a mere six individuals queuing I thought I could nip in here for milk.  However the movement was slow.  It appeared all the women inside, typically, were collecting huge trolley fulls and having them delivered.  Therefore this took time to organise at the tills, of which only two were operating, neither being operated by the top staff at that!  The queue moved slowly, one out, one in, and being men of stature we did not mutter a complaint, well not out loud anyway.  
A woman took her place several feet behind, moving further away each time I coughed.  She began at 6 feet and as I eventually entered the store she was on the other side of the street.  I could have explained to her there was nothing to fear but decided it was a bit of a giggle so didn't.  

 
Waiting that long and just buying milk (large bottle for £1, jings! half that cost 80p elsewhere) I accidentally discovered one or two other things that would help fill a gap...a £20:80p gap at that!  I may have queued too long!  On the other hand Monday at Tesco will be quicker as I have less to obtain there now!  
Watching the people queue in the comparatively quiet streets, what shops open all had a small line of people furtively looking around them, occasional cars passed by, and all men over 35 walking around carrying a shopping bag to ensure the Stasi do not stop them and question why they are out. Even the dog walkers are hesitant these days, the dog on a leash keeps a good distance between folk.  I have locked myself back in, will I get out again?

That nice Mr Hancock has promised to do 10,000 tests a day, but from when?  Who will get them?  Will I be offered?  How soon?  Like all information from this slippery government we have no answers, and if we have answers we do not believe them...

Sleep in peace...

By the way, over 150,000 people have died already this year, only 2500 from this virus.  Keep that in mind and be careful crossing the road.

Now I am Not One to Complain but...

So I got up this morning, put on my happy smile face, and went out to meet the world. A glance at the 'To Do' list was greeted with joy as I had forgot to put anything down. Using this as an excuse to do nothing I ate breakfast and browsed the papers online. As I noted the Glasgow Mafias desperate attempts to attack George Burley I also noted a birthday on the calendar! Yet another nephew needing a card and demanding cash within it! That is the second birthday this month, and it's only the tenth! Jings there's another on the twentieth! So with my breakfast spoiled I went out to deal with this situation. However unknown to me trouble was brewing!


Yes a supermarket! This one has just taken over the 'Woolies' that closed recently. Today it opened, without answering my offer of employment with them, and foolishly I entered. I admit I was still half awake from my late breakfast, and I rather stupidly walked in looking for 'Mince Pies.' As the store had just opened it was full, how full, and how badly organised I soon found out. The idea of carrying a basket/pushing a trolley without hitting every single person in the vicinity did not appear to strike most of the females and many of the men in the shop as important. I have stood in a football crowd of more than 137,500 and felt safer! I am reading about 3 Para serving in Afghanistan in 2006 and believe this would have been a better option than 'Iceland!' Eventually I gathered a few items and headed for the queue to find I was already in it! Those folk browsing the shelves were doing so in a line, a long line, and I was at the far end of it! Around a decade and a half later I reached the checkout! Several billion people, ten thousand trolleys, four buses and a herd of Buffalo had barged us aside as we waited, and then at last we saw the girl at the desk. We might have been quicker but the attempt to place her goods on the counter by the blonde was taking a while, discussing what Mary had been doing at the club meant she could only place one item, with one hand, at a time in place. GET A MOVE ON BITCH!!! Before she packed her bag she had to spend several eons looking through her purse before deciding to pay. It may surprise you to know I was frothing at the mouth by now, and not because we were in line with the special offers on booze! Surely 'Magners' is cheaper than that in Tesco? On top of this the main reason for the staff sloth was the Iceland 'Bonus Card.' Every single person was asked to fill in a form and collect a card! WHAT!!! How slow is this? Half of them cannot write joined up and the rest take for ever! Three women had collapsed and died of old age by the time I collected my goods, 'No! You can shove the Bonus Card dearie!' I then carried on for the birthday card, one that was by now at least a year out of date!



It was when I got home things took a turn for the worse. The monitor has been giving problems recently in that it would not switch off. Today it suddenly decided to not switch on, or at least it came on but went bye bye after ten seconds. Much cursing and pushing buttons convinced me the PC was OK, but the monitor was dead! I stared at the bills lying beside me, and the kind note from the bank about being over drawn, I keep that with the two letters from folks asking why the direct debit has not been paid, and somewhere in my head a light went out. There was nothing for it but to visit Tesco, they being the only place to buy such devices quickly. They had one, I took it. As I passed I thought I would acquire a new indoor TV aerial as mine is poor and needs replacing. Money, who cares now? Back home I first thought about the TV. I had not used the telly all day, I was avoiding the arrogant English 'We will win the World Cup' cobblers that was on every channel. After careful placement, and some tinkering I know have a new TV aerial that doesn't work on Freeview at all! I realised how Napoleon felt when an aide whispered, 'Blutcher's here.' Getting up from a prone position on the floor I set to with the monitor. After a comparatively short time, about half a lifetime, it now works and the PC is up and running again.
I would smile about this but I have yet to work out how to tone down the brightness which is burning though my retina! Still, wearing dark glasses, I continue.



Oh and as I sauntered out to Tesco's I decided to fly spray the abode to remove the sudden influx of flies. Whether this was caused by the milder weather or the slackness in clearing the rubbish this week i dare not say, but I suspect the latter. So I sprayed each room, closed the door and windows and left. Since returning I have been attempting to fix the aerial and monitor all the while breathing the stinking stuff! The windows are open, and I am freezing as the north east wind is now bringing air that should be at home in the Faroe Islands comforting cormorants to my desk! Of all the times to have a north east wind? Have these weather people no thought or consideration? It's a disgrace!


Quite how I manage to keep such a smiling appearance during such days is a wonder to me. Especially after another glorious Scotland defeat last night. For a while I actually thought we were about to achieve our goal, but naturally with old fashioned Scots ineptness in front of goal, we failed. However I still think Burley did well to fight the Glasgow Mafia, the SFA stabbing him in the back, Several Rangers players doing likewise, yes Chris Boyd, I mean YOU! Most players gave their all for him but the press will make sure he is removed. I may be a little bit cynical sometimes, but I reckon the new man is already in place, and he, gasps of astonishment, will be one of the Glasgow crowd! To top it all the day started with an early postal delivery. The postman, obviously one of my old friends, was keen to chat for a moment and I realised why as he made his way back to the vehicle. 'Up the Dutch' he cried, smug grin on his face, and drove of satisfied. I bet there was a fight to see who could deliver that packet this morning! Bah! I'm off to bed!