The Tuesday Repose

Repose it is indeed as after a busy morning I need to place my blubber filled hulk into a chair and do nothing that taxes the intellect.  This I hear you cry should not take too much bother, and I find myself unable to disagree with that opinion at this moment in time.  
In this neck of the woods it is half term holiday and the schoolkids are filling the streets.  They also filled the museum this morning as we put on little happenings for them.  When I arrived I had not realised this was half term week, I thought it was next week, so I had to prepare for the crowds.  This would have been easier had my colleague turned up but he also was off this week, indeed two others were also leaving me at one end and her who must be obeyed at the other.
The shortage of materials means we must limit the numbers of kids, many have booked themselves in, most have previously paid, but as always others turn up on the day and we hope somebody drops out.  So while several happy mums and kids went through to the event (making volcanoes indeed!) I was met with several who were disappointed.  Hard hearted folks just say 'Too bad' but I felt rotten for the kids as they were a wee bit down, as were mum and a dad or two.  However as the sun shone for once many who bought the whole week ticket (£5 a session or £7 for a whole weeks events) did not bother to turn up, or indeed tell us they were not coming as some of them usually do, so I could send all my disappointed down to the other end.
The stress is killing!
The folks were good about this on the whole but one or two were peeved.  Once they got down there, cutting and pasting, filling and painting, making mess and having fun (mums and dads covered in paint also) they were all delighted and no complaints received.  Most will be back tomorrow!  
The exploding volcanoes (don't ask me how) were used last year and as popular then as now.  The kids thought it great and most took them home.  
Add to this the other customers passing through, the impossibility of leaving the front when I needed to several times, and shop customers actually spending money I found no time through the day to weary.  But I was weary at the end.  By the time I left after helping clear up, more paint on tables than on volcanoes, all was quiet.  How do teachers cope?  How do mums cope I wonder?  I canny mind what it was like to have kids running around, that was so long ago, and in the days of yore I had energy.  In fact several grans and granddads were in today being led by the nose by children.  The men especially were on a lead!  They will be delighted when the week is over!
Now, back to WW2...

I'm Tired....

I'm so tired!  Half term holiday and thousands of kids arrived at my door.  Just after Jean remarked that it was quiet, 10:30 ish is always quiet, we were inundated with mum's bringing the kids in.  The sun shining brightly fooled them into thinking it was warm, it wasn't really, but they had to get put of the house and here they arrived.  Not only but also there were human beings also visiting, lots of them. Many others came with queries, asking re photographs or tourist information, one visitor liked to talk as being far from home and alone he was a bit lonely, very nice he was.  Then I had to return later as the lass had to go visit a woman to record information re her wartime experiences. So I missed my much needed afternoon siesta and this is not good.  Adrenalin kept me going and now it has ceased!  
I might not be able to keep my eyes open during the football, this is bad....

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An Old Bird

I met this old bird in town today, he didn't say anything and was not all that keen on his visitors. As the dear kiddies are off school this week for yet another holiday (teachers have such an easy life don't they?) the shopping centre in town puts on events.  Yesterday a couple of shetland ponies from a rescue centre ignored the kids and today a menagerie appeared.  White ducks, rabbits, a bored dog, sheep, chickens and a goat or two, oh and a bored pony.  Small pens kept the beasts from the animals (yes that is the right way round) and it reminded me of the old pictures of the town when market day really was a market.  Similar stalls stood in front of the pubs while folks sold sheep, pigs, horses and cattle. The pubs did a roaring trade as they fed and watered those coming a distance to market.  The Victorian way was everybody around one big table and eating when the landlord got things ready.  I think such a scene happened in one of Dickens books but I may be wrong. 

     
Goats and horses are always happy together I am informed by those who know, this pair prove that. Possibly bored, possibly just weary they made it difficult to obtain a picture when both had eyes open. The little pony and his mate were content however and the pony happily rested on his mate. Interesting how these two creatures get along so well.  

The other big chick was not much more impressed than his friend.  I suppose as I was discussing preparing 'Cock-a-leekie' soup with a woman he was offended. I had to be careful with the explanation of the soup also, English women are not very bright at times.  Still he was a beauty of a bird and both have been well prepared for their day out.  I suspect they both have practiced that suspicious expression of theirs for some time as it was very wary.  I was surprised at just how big two these birds were however, this is not how I imagined them up close.   

I always considered such beasties as wee birds, or at least not this size! Possibly they are shown at er, shows, as well as paraded around for the kids.  I am quite glad they chose not to show us just how loud they could be however.  Every so often a news report indicates newcomers into the country have complained to the local council re the noise of such birds crowing early in the morning.  Some have been known to grumble, which I never do, about cows 'mooing' too loudly in the fields nearby.  Not that long ago a young couple objected to a town clock that insisted on chiming every 15 minutes and clanging away on the hour!  Now if you retire to the country for peace and quiet you might well find it but if you don't do the homework a council, on some occasions a judge, will tell you to move back into town if you can't stand chickens or cows.  They make noise, that is what animals do!  A clock that has rung continually for a couple of hundred years will not cease because you are a spoilt brat either.

That said I am glad to have found the beasties. It brightened up a poor day. The brain is not quite functioning yet as the bug still leaves my mind weary and I have written and rewritten the intro to the war for the museum exhibition booklet around a hundred times, and that only this morning!  That was the reason I went out, to oxygenate my brain.  It failed.  I'm going back to bed.

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Busy Tuesday, Art, Georgia and Kids.

I watched, from a safe distance, as they prepared the 'Open Art' exhibition at the museum this morning. As part of what they refer to as 'Community Involvement,' using that meaningless word 'Community,' we do this each year. The art is often local amateurs although some folks make good money from this type of event.  Last year some of it as always made no sense and still other items were excellent and deserved a good sale.  I mention this as I had come across this story in the 'Daily Mail,' this morning. What Tracey Emin called her 'confessional self portrait' is being sold by owner Charles Satchi and is expected to go for around £1.2 million.  Satchi of course is renown for spending squllions of pounds on modern art.  As I looked at the art being piled together awaiting hanging I compared it to Emin's efforts and noted once again how false the art world is.  Art at the expensive end is not based on talent but on what sells.  All sorts of muck can masquerade as 'art,' if the 'artist' places it before a dumb enough 'desperate to be accepted by the chattering classes' rich guy.  Russian friends of that nice Mr Putin appear keen to put their (well, Russia's) money into art and will pay millions for anything that is modern and available. To expect them to actually appreciate art may be filling the wrong samovar.  Her money grasping friend Damien Hurst I note has gold plated, well his staff have gold plated, a skeleton of a dead beastie, canny mind what, which will grace the art world and make trillions from some mindless sap with too much off other folks cash to launder.  This is not art, this is taking sweeties from babies.

Now I accept that what I call art and what you call art are different.  We are different people, our cultures are different, our backgrounds vary, our life experience cannot be the same and this means we see what is presented as 'art' through our own eyes.  I accept that a mess on a wall might be an expression of an artists emotions, however the stuff I drew at school, all abstract and going nowhere, might have been an expression of my inner soul, but it may possibly be that I am just unbalanced. Quiet at the back!  Anyway one was placed on the school wall, so the teacher either liked it, appreciated my effort or fancied me.  He certainly fancied that curly haired teacher in the class next door.  The janitor probably dumped my esteemed artwork in the bin later.  Had I been less scrupulous and more determined to alter the world through art I might have been rich!   

Anyway I blame Thatcher!  It was her idea of closing all the psychiatric hospitals to save a few pennies that allowed all these 'artists' to walk the streets when they could be inside out of harms way getting the treatment they desperately require.

In a month or two the Tour de France takes its usual deviation out of France and passes close to the town.  Two miles up the road preparations are under way for the mass influx of people who will venture out to watch the bikes flash past at thirty miles an hour and disappear over the bridge and never be seen again.  That's it! Up here they will not race just stick together as they cover the miles, sorry kilometers!  It is later, down near London itself, that the action hots up. Here we will see little and to find a spot to observe this will be very difficult. However the kids today were entranced by making masks featuring bikes, and good masks they were too.  The kids were pleased with their efforts and mum was happy as it was free plus by escaping out the back door they avoided the kids entering the shop and spending their cash. Bah!

  

We had several visitors, Gran and Granddads bringing kids dumped on them for the day, others reminiscing about their local past and a couple from Georgia who know Stone Mountain.  All these it must be said paid only the concession rate!  Most were cheery but one attempted to question why Scotland should be independent, even being silly enough to believe the papers that 'England pays for Scotland.'  I soon put him right on that.  The English cannot conceive Scots attitudes.  To them we are all the same but they have not been treated as second class.  This area of course is far from Scotland and very much a backwater in some respects.  Scotland could be Greenland as far as some here know, but money is important to them and the feeling that they pay for Scots benefits hurts, even though it is a lie!  

The Georgia couple were not very friendly.  Usually the Americans come to see their ancestors or the old airfields they were once based.  I am not sure what this couple wanted but he was very offhand.  She did the buying postcards bit and I managed to force a book on her suggest a suitable book of old photos that might help.  The house they believe their ancestor lived in they had identified and that pleased them but I refrained from suggesting a walk round the cemetery to find a suitable grave as the weather is dreich and he might have suggested putting me there.  He's an American so probably was carrying a gun! Still I got just over £10 out of them but wish I could have cheered them up somewhat.  Possibly the weather pout them off, possibly tiredness possibly the town itself.  The town is not the greatest place to visit in the rain or even in the sunshine! At least I know one Georgian lass who would enjoy it here whatever the weather.  

  

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Hard Work!

Tuesday is museum day, unless someone skives off and I am back later.  Being half term the brats wee ones are annoying their parents by demanding attention seeking action, standing in herds outside (and inside) shops like the neds they are, and crowding the streets when decent societies keep them locked up ins school.  Our one presentation this week is something about fitness.  The kids jump about for a minute then find their pulse.  What else they do I know not as this was too energetic for me, so I hopped it back to my seat.  
However since arriving we had been on the go as there was a second event to be organised and no one had done the preparation the day before!  The poor girls were running around desperately looking for things that ought to have been prepared for them.  I kept out of the way as they breathed fire while smiling sweetly to the folks attending.  
A reasonable number of parents brought the kids in for a look around.  This led to many conversations with one or both parents, WW2 Burma, old town history and history of a local farm, spelling off names were discussed.  Great stuff!  We also managed to make some of them part with their cash!  This was indeed good!  The kids all behaved like kids, which is why dad or mum bringing them on his/her own were sweating blood by the time they left.  Lovely to see! The wise mums bring kids to the events and leave them there.  They then wander through the shops, sit in the cafe's or entertain themselves in peace for an hour or two.  
Would you believe tomorrow someone has cried off and I will be in during the afternoon.  Tsk!

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Museum's Twentieth Birthday!

It is twenty years since the museum moved into the old school.  Today as a small celebration we had old Austin Cars outside, Face painting (for kids!), a World War 2 group with lots of stuff, spider making for kids and other activities likely to bring in the punters.  Over two hundred wandered through.  

My day was spent rushing around obeying orders or talking to a variety of people about history, or children!  Do you understand how difficult it is to blow up balloons and attach them to a stick?  I do now!!!  All the high heid yins turned up for the presentation at the end, when we had chucked the public out, and cake and imitation champagne was the order of the day.  However I ended up washing the glasses once again.  Just where do the women disappear to when washing up time comes around?  

                                                            An Air Raid Warden on Duty.

Watching the man turn balloons into a variety of shapes for the kids was a great experience. Stupidly I forgot to take pictures of them as their faces were brilliant!  He and I wandered the streets giving out leaflets and offering such balloon creations to whoever wanted them.  No better way to disrupt the street market on a busy Saturday!   Now my feet and all else are killing me and I have tons of research bits to do.  A good day all round.

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Haunting History

The word Haunting put me off when I first noticed this, however it is used in a non ghost manner, more or less.  This week the kids are expected to look around and investigate the ancient world, both locally and abroad.  The Celtic tribes, Romans and Egypt kept them going this morning.  I spent a while watching them while discussing local history with a chap who came into the museum to see one particular aspect, when I found him in a dark corner he had not got around to the bit he was looking for, he was so involved with his own past he discovered in front of him!  That was really good!  This museum adventure was good today.  I only upset one fellow who was a wee bit full of himself, and got on well with all the folks I spoke to.  

Now that's news!  

One poor kid decided to be sick during the Kite Making session, so while the tutor instructed the others in flying kites I was sloshing about with a mop and bucket!  I was like a janitor in school!

The mums in attendance were all used to such events, it goes with having kids.

I really enjoyed finding out how the kids liked the things on offer.  One or two are brats but the majority today were interested, and many are returning for other activities.  How unusual, a successful day, in spite of thunderstorms and pouring rain!  

No other news in the UK today I see....... 

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The Longest Day Once More

The middle of the year comes round again and all that was missing was the sun.  The mist so deep and cloud cover all day until now meant it spoiled the day somewhat.  That will not please these Italian chaps who have been set in the town centre in what the council call a 'Solstice Special.'  Usually there are more stall like these but I suspect there are many such events this weekend.

Items like this grab my attention until I notice the price!  I know Italy is a long way but I'm not paying for your petrol mate!  Still I could eat those quite easily.  I wonder if any fall off during the night?

Kids are well catered for, although they appear in short supply at the moment.  I suspect tonight there will be more action, certainly tomorrow this man will make some money.  The one at the back ties the kids in and bounces them up to a height.  She would not let me on claiming I was to big even though I am merely 8 stone.

How I wanted that Candy Floss, sadly no-one was in the stall and my money was in the bank.  Several folks were attempting to Hook-a-Duck and at least one brat had himself a prize.

The usual things abounded here, Bouncy Castles who also banned me, Puppet Theatre, A man on stilts with a small bike, and a Town Crier who I heard but luckily avoided.  There was also a man with balloons.  He was twisting a Poodle around until it became a balloon and sold it to the children.  I hope it doesn't burst!

On my way back I was fascinated by the wee plants growing on this wall.  Sadly I could not get a proper picture of them.  Nice mind.

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I Have Nothing to Say

It's one of those weeks. The things that have impressed themselves on my mind, the museum, dead soldiers, Rangers men lying in their teeth, and our corrupt government have not been the stuff to raise laughs or interest those in far flung places such as Texas or Dalkeith.  No sir my scrawls have gained little attention and on top of this the rain keeps coming down.  The weather is of course a talking point in the UK.  With the vast Atlantic on one side and the continent on the other weather patterns vary considerably.  Left over US hurricanes lash our western coast and drop rain everywhere while snowdrifts from the Arctic arrive via Siberia from the east.  This leaves a lush, green landscape in which crops can happily grow.  However it can also depress those who spend several days at a time with raindrops falling on their heads.  Gray skies do not bring smiles, although in the UK blue ones don't do that either.  Walking into a closed glass door however can bring a smile to those standing nearby!  It has been known for the wind (The Mistral?) to blow north from the Sahara to arrive in the south of England on occasion.  While it deposits vast amounts of sand grains in the southern aspect of Spanish homes, while leaving the north grit free but chilled, rarely does the dust come this far.  It does however bring a welcome warmth, we miss it at the moment.  What is arriving, whether from west or south, is Atlantic rain!  Tons of it is falling, a months supply at a time, and the plucky Brit is doing what he does on such occasions, he grumbles!  Of course while the rain is indeed heavier and more persistent than usual it is Springtime and this weather occurs every Springtime to some extent.   The plucky Brit of course has forgotten this and merely whines about how bad it is, global warming, ice age, and the Labour Party's fault!  Unless we have to the answer is to stay indoors unless the sun shines, but that would lead to folks complaining about being trapped I suppose.

Not being one to complain, or indeed to blow my own trumpet,  and I remarked as much this morning in Tesco's where the lass made a comment about kids behaviour.  "I wasn't perfect," she claimed, "But they are so bad today." I took the opportunity to remind her I had been perfect as a child, and her story changed. "So was I," she lied!  The young woman following on suddenly woke up to add, "That makes three of us."  I decided I was in a store full of gloating maniacs and left before anyone else joined in.  But is it true?  Are kids really worse today than 30, 60 or 100 years ago?  I doubt it.  Human nature doesn't change and certainly not in that time.  Culture does, discipline does, and we live in liberal times where freedom easily becomes licence. Personal freedom is more important than other people, and consideration for them lessens from parent to child.  However all is not lost and never indeed was in danger of being lost.  People were just as bad in the past, two major wars, a depression and less wealth all round covered up selfishness and human sin.  Things are more open today, exaggerated by tabloid press, and the good that has always been done by all manner of people still continues.  However that said all brats should be locked in school 24 hours a day, seven days a week in my view!

The museum has a Victorian classroom, a very good practical idea in my mind, that educates the brats on past teaching methods.  Dressed accordingly, but with shoes not worn by kids in the past, they learn the highly disciplined schooling of the mid Victorian times.  I thought of this yesterday while attending a meeting to discuss a new layout for the museum.  Surrounded by knowledgeable people who knew their subject i was a bit out of place, but opened the gob anyway, and found truly I was out of place.  After a morning discussion I confess to still not being sure of what has been decided, my lack of concentration, the debate, and many suggestions means I await the next news.  The Victorian times do interest me.  Vast changes in western society, influencing the entire world, mass movement of people, railways, leading to industrial development, increasing wealth, and indeed leisure times.  They are so near to us it is possible to identify with Victorians in a way we cannot with those of previous centuries, they were too different in every way.  Our towns are still based much on Victorian development, as is the rail system and much else.  Prices have changed somewhat mind!  It's a very interesting period and I would like a time machine to go back there for a look around, although taking all the medicine I require with me of course!

 I did however discover a wonderful thing today.  The old telly, no longer used since the 'analog' was replaced by 'digital' signal, does in fact play the videos that are stacked around here.  This is good as there is many wonderful programmes available, much better than the junk now filling TV.  I was beginning to wonder if I would ever get use of them again.  I remain content with small results.  Great events shake me not!  Who said cheapskate.....?  

Of course much of my time has been taken up on newspaper sites adding pertinent comments on the Rangers FC situation.  This club, sectarian to make money, arrogant and offhand to the rest, has been discovered fiddling the taxes, around £49 million, and this added to failing further tax by fiddling the way they paid players doubling the money owed by the 'loyalists' to the queen they sing about each week.  The abuse, the threats and the refusal to accept blame has risen to a level that would embarrass residents in Barlinnie Prison.  Pleading a 'special case' because '"It's us," appears to be the theme.  I am happy to report few attempt to justify their behaviour on the comments, almost all condemn them.  It is the club that whines and bleats in a shameful manner, blaming this one and that but never admitting their fault.  Regrettably  the more they speak out the more I hope for their demise.  An altogether terrible situation all of their own making.

Not much to laugh about, although I did laugh at Rangers, saw humour aplenty amongst the volunteers at the museum, laughed at folks blogs, where intended I mean, and am within myself beaming these days.  Have I been drinking......?

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Braintree District Museum

I spent an enjoyable morning at a volunteers get together at the Braintree Museum this morning. (Where most of the pictures come from) Delightful to see so many willing to do something to aid the town's history.  We had an lovely time attempting to decide what we liked and disliked about the museum.  Small groups gathered to discuss the various sections, I managed to claim one Warners section was not my favourite, it just happened to be the company the lass next to me had worked 28 years for!  I meet people when I am rude.....

It was generally agreed the outstanding aspect of the museum was the Victorian school room.  This receives groups of young folks (children were considered 'small people' not 'children' in Victorian days), dressed in period costume, who endure a Victorian type education for an hour or so before experimenting with this or that elsewhere  Playtime features suitable games, no iPads allowed!  As the building was a school built by one of the Courtalds in the late 19th century it seemed an obvious idea.   

My primary had desks like these!  The teachers however had more appropriate 1930's style desks, containing a 'strap' (a Lochgelly Tawse) for punishment.  I am not quite sure where the spears at the back came from.  There are shields and drums of an African origin elsewhere and I wonder if these are the fruits of English imperialism?  We heard of future projects and priorities for the museum, and the Warners Archive, for which we were shown the new website.  Warners had a large mill nearby and the archive not only keeps alive the history it is an active producer of material.  Silk manufacture is a highly skilled affair and designs and materials are still produced and sold there today.  Not quite the same volume as in times past of course.  Warners Archive

Note the obvious mistake with this Victorian tableau!

I love the Victorian era, especially as I did not live through it, but my aged family were close to it, one uncle being born in the 1890's.  The attitudes of the day was seen to some extent in the family members throughout the seventy years or so they lived.  Much of Victorian infrastructure lies about us still, railways, buildings, crowded High Streets, churches for a sample.  We are much closer to Victorian days than we realise.  

However I also like the distant past and artifacts that reflect life here from 2000 BC or thereabouts are very interesting.  To be in possession of a daily object from so long ago releases a strange emotion.  I am not sure what it is, maybe I had too much porridge for breakfast.  Anyway I love bits of aged pottery, a coin or an axe head from the distant past, it connects us to those who lived and died here so long ago.  Why should people be forgotten?  I am frequently amazed at how little information appears concerning men who lived, worked and served in this are from a mere hundred years ago.  Many of their houses remain but just as many have long since been demolished, and with the house goes the memory of the individual.  It often appears as if they had never existed, but an effect of their life remains with us all, usually never realised.

When the school took us to the Royal Scottish Museum in Edinburgh as kids we were forced to sit in front of a large glass display and listen to a wifie discussing the stuffed birds found therein!  How enthralling!  At least on one occasion we were confronted with a Japanese crab with claws six foot long.  Why I have absolutely no idea, there were few of those around our way.  Some people find Museums to be boring and kids need to do something, not be lectured about stuff.  Make them enjoy something, even if it appears to be boring, and they will remember it.  Folks remember humour better than dullness.  Dressed up like 19th century waifs, but smelling much nicer (well up to a point), the urchins have a more 'hands on' affair in the museum today.  The RSM had one or two very expensive machines that revealed the working of coal mines and the likes, but miserable teachers insisted we ignored those and stopped sliding along the polished floors and sit down and belt up.  I am happy to report no miserable, bullying, harridan like witches were found teaching there today.  Instead I found a group of interested knowledgeable volunteers who wish to discover more and make the towns history known.  I myself am happy in a dogsbody role, to me this is a promotion, and I am learning from those that really know.  I am well impressed with the knowledge found here amongst professional and volunteer workers.  

So that's where my old bike got to!

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Country Air

For the first time in a while I cycled, slowly, up the old railway line. I went around eleven as it is quiet then and stupid me forgot the kids are on holiday. Therefore as the sun was shining the families ponderously made their way up the line.  The kids chatting to all the dogs that passed by, when that is they were not wandering through the bushes, the women gossiping about nothing and blocking the way for normal human beings going about their lawful business. The dads being dads, carrying the bags on their backs, sometimes alone with one child, as indeed were a granddad or two, and making me miss the not so young kids way up north.  In one way this was nice to see, in another they just got in the way! A good day out and of course I ache all over now. I must get out more, as people often tell me.


I was attempting to add the 'Beach Boys' song 'Country Air,' because this came to mind when sitting enjoying the sun, greenery and fresh air.  EMI do not allow this (are they not the folks who turned 'The Beatles' down?) so find it on 'YouTube' and hum along as you read.  I was indeed 'humming' when I got home.  

A good day also in that I had a £5 off voucher for the new 'Morrisons' supermarket. The staff, for the most part, are very friendly, you can tell they are new to this game, and I will certainly return next Friday - I have another voucher!  This means that this small town has three large supermarkets represented.  Tesco have three stores, one which has just been redeveloped. Sainsburys have one which is about to be redeveloped and they plan another so big it will replace a small industrial estate! There is already a 'Lidl's' and now the Co-op has closed 'Morrisons' have moved in.  Just how much do the thirty five to forty thousand folks here eat I wonder?  I spent £16:98, and that was after taking advantage of the voucher to stock up, consider how much others must be spending on things they can afford but do not actually need?  Being poor makes me careful with money and I tend to notice prices more.  I also notice how folks buy things with little thought and choosing the label not the product!  An expensive item will be brought rather than try the store version, even though they are just as good nowadays.  Something is bought because it has always been chosen rather than because of any worth it may have.  The tricks of the store also make us all spend on things we don't want and they laugh all the way to the Swiss Bank where the directors store their ill gotten gains. I prefer 'Tesco,' but I will suffer 'Morrisons' for one more week as I use up the last voucher.

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Walking Alone

Before the rain clouds gathered, and then failed to gather, I walked down to the pretty bits. I didn't mean to but got distracted after I met an old friend who has been gone from here for a while. By gone I mean he got himself into one of those corners life throws up and sought a way out. Being an employee of Royal Mail entitled him to search all RM jobs and he found one he fancied, in the Shetland Isles! Quite what brought that on I have no idea but his move has been a success for him. Obtaining one of the easiest jobs available and picking up a woman at the same time. Excuse me while I look up the dole office there online.

Anyway as I was gibbering I was distracted by our talk and instead of the healthy walk down that way past the rich folks new houses and up past the age old houses containing the rich who moved there to be with their own kind in spite of the cost and the heavy traffic outside their window, I ended up in a wood! I sauntered down over the remains of a stile, damaged beyond repair by twenty years worth of 'youth traffic' headed for the nearby college, greeted a surly, imitation middle class artisans family as they, well she, struggled to cycle up a slope while nursing whatever bad mood had dominated their morning, and decided to wander past the 'burn' they call a 'river,' rather than the moneyed classes dwellings. Now being brought up overlooking the Firth of Forth a 'river' to me is something that is two miles wide and full of shipping. This one is a dozen or so yards across and slower than my mother in a Post Office! Now this is nice, and not to be sneered at, but really, is this a true 'river?' Ptah! Having had no breakfast to speak off (lies all lies) I was reluctant to wander far as I knew the path could go on for ever! Folk have been known to wander there for a picnic and never been seen again! I swear there is a platoon of Japanese soldiers who are still fighting the second world war there! Anyway I wandered around in the mirk for a short while.

Now to return to my theme. I was alone! Nobody else moved. Nothing could be heard but the slow gurgle of water trickling, the birdies twittering and pages yesterdays papers some lout had deposited here and there rustling in the bushes. What does it require for someone not to realise that old papers, plastic bags and empty beer tins do not add to the beauty of the woodland? I asked a passing Mallard if the paper was his but he denied it. That apart the sounds were country like and enjoyable. However I was alone and as often happens, maybe because I read the papers to much, I began to wonder. I wondered what others thought if they saw me walking alone in a wood? I often pass a primary school when going along the old railway and half expect the neurotic mums to start screaming as I pass, alone. Now if I sat alone by a river bank with a fishing rod and stared into space nobody would ask a question, just a man fishing. However, if I sit alone by a river bank I get funny looks. A single man is not there to enjoy the nature around him, he is up to something! Other men often confess the same fear and it annoys me. When I was young we were told if something happens, get help from an adult. While were were warned about 'strange men' it remained an instruction to ask an adult, either sex, if there was a problem. Do kids get told this today? If a five year old lad fell over would I pick him up, cuddle his tears away, and set him on his road? Would I not be more likely to pass by in case a neurotic woman with short hair and dangling earrings came rushing out shouting 'Pervert!' If that happened I confess I may well murder her I must say.

I realise some women feel hesitation in walking alone in some areas and at awkward times, but at least they never have the fear of being classed as a paedo! I suspect that fifty years ago there were proportionately just as many paedos around as today, but the fear is greater! The press are much to blame by screaming headlines, and government, national and local, just as much to blame by not offering an objective overview and proper judicial care. Our council rehoused a paedo a few years ago, his new place was opposite a children's playground! A small thing and I have never actually ran into trouble like this, but it is always a thought at the back of the mind. In fact some years ago at Pool Harbour they had a stall enabling kids to go 'crabbing.' While most gathered around the hut one lad, about nine year old, separated himself from the bustling mob, a leader of the future I reckon. As I passed he spoke, wanting me to be impressed with his considerable catch. Indeed I was and told him so, with one eye on the folks in the distance awaiting his boxer dad rushing over and planting me a thruppenny one! This did not happen but it was in my mind. I am in danger of becoming as neurotic as the readers of the 'Daily Mail!'

Sunshine

I was going to fill up a few minutes of your empty lives with a few thousand words of bile. But then I realised how good God has been to me, how lovely the world around us actually is! The good Lord has created a wonderful place for us and I thought it better to muse on the good things around us in stead of the bad.

"Consider the lilies of the field" said Jesus, and I have no idea which 'lilies' he meant, "They neither sow nor spin yet even Solomon in all his glory was not dressed like them." And this is true! Flowers come in all sizes, a wide variety of colours and shapes, give off a wonderful fragrance and yet while almost flimsy to the touch they endure all sorts of weather conditions. Plants of various kinds can be found hidden under desert sands, appearing as if by magic when rain falls, some live high in the snows of the mountains and others even survive in Scotland! On top of this they lay an important part in our ecology, if that is the right word, without those little flowers the planet would not survive, and they say we 'just evolved?'

I cogitated on the wildlife around us, partly because passing through the gardens I was disturbed from my daydream by a 'roebuck' which lives there and occasionally races past the unsuspecting. There is a huge assortment of animals around us, from the family cat to the rhino in the local zoo! Such beasts come in all shapes and sizes and have a great many uses for us, and if not we eat them! So at least they have some use. Those animals forbidden to Jews and Muslims appear to be the scavengers of this world, on land and sea. They were banned because what they ate cleaned up the environment around them but did little for your insides, so there was a purpose for them. Try eating a local pigeon today and find out how it would feel.

While it is clear the world can only get worse, overpopulation, shortage of water, routine political instability, famine and natural disasters will lead us in this nuclear age to melt down in a few years, this does not mean there is nothing to enjoy on a day by day basis. Sometimes enjoyment comes with guilt. I felt this today while watching a news broadcast that actually said something! A photographer back from Ethiopia brought pictures of folks starving to death, and in the UK we complained when Gordon Brown said we throw away too much food! We throw away a third of what we buy and millions starve, can this be right? Luckily I have been careful in this regard for some time now, wasting food is awful in such circumstances, but while they starve I am overweight! While we complain about our 'obesity' problem this photographer spoke of sitting before a woman his age dying of starvation, this is 2008 isn't it? 'Tear Fund,' some years ago had a slogan, 'Enough for everyman's need, not for everyman's greed!' I believe it was dropped, maybe someone thought it to 'communistic!'

However, while we do what we ought to help those suffering we enable them to enjoy the world around us. I think it's great, especially in the sunshine. Kids playing happily in the park, fussy mum's scolding them for no good reason, blue skies, flowers and fauna, glares from half naked ladies who do not think old men are the ones who should be looking (close your curtains then hen!), swifts tearing through the sky, screaming as the pass by the window, and an altogether better atmosphere from all around.

Isn't life good?