Heat

We are having what some call a 'heatwave.'  I like to remind them that this is August and we are supposed to have heat in August.  They never thank me, just whine about the weather the week before.  When the sun is hot people sit in the park and turn red, then spend days whining about paid.  When the sun is hidden people spend days whining about the weather.  

This is UK normality.

The real problem is being one of the Atlantic Isles.

To the east lies a huge continent, to the west a huge ocean.  

From the west we get the jest stream bringing air of various qualities all the way from the far flung USA.  This includes their left over hurricanes which drench Scotland and the north west mostly, and occasional dross from their many volcanoes that they like to set off.  This week we have been enduring the smoke, high up, from Newfoundland wild fires, though we can produce these ourselves, as Edinburgh has shown this week.  No doubt, but without any evidence, all such fires are started by some wee scruff who thinks he is funny.  Occasionally accidents cause them, but cynic that I am I suspect arson.

To the east we have little in summer and Autumn.  It is in winter that these eastern types send us the Artic cold that they have developed and freeze the eastern coastline for days on end.  They, like the Yanks, never apologise for this.

I sit huddled over a hot laptop, with a thick jacket on my back, because of the draughts that have caused my throat to cease, my cough to continue, and left me knowing that if I go outside into the heat there I will get sunburnt in minutes.

Life is so unfair.

However, it is a good job I am not one to complain.  

Not being one to complain, and in spite of my reluctance, I hobbled down to the Liberal Club and the somewhat unfriendly locals, to meet the 'Last of the Summer Wine' contingent.  Nobody was there!  Only the leader was already seated in our corner when I joined.  One was away in Somerset, wherever that is, having another holiday, two are in hospital, one with his head and lack of use of legs, the other recovering in a hospice  treatment centre after a car accident I did not know about.  

I thought he was having a long holiday!  

Only two others arrived.  

For a SPAM meeting it was not good, and at £3:40 a pint I would rather have been bored back home.  

We did not even begin to put the world to rights.  A poor show really.  

I may suggest forgetting it next month and seek an alternative.

I clambered home, amazed at how the road moves as I walk, climbed the stairs and decided to seek a lesser brew next time.

Archaeological Vandals, & Spam...

A handful of us met together last night for our SPAM meeting.  

This is a glorified get together of men from the Kirk, a chance to socialise for a while. With many dragged away by the wife for family affairs, holidays (get them in before the kids leave school) and other excuses, only 5 of us arrived, and one of them was a stranger.

This man, who's name I missed, was talking as I arrived and still talking as he left some time later.  The others, especially those who talk much, could not get a word in edgeways.  I wonder who he was?

You know it is bad when you look at the others and blank faces greet you.  

Anyway, I discovered a thing called 'Belhaven Black.'  This is a type of stout originating somewhere in Scotland, but probably far from Belhaven!  I liked it.  It was only as I climbed the stairs back home did I realise how strong it was!

So, for us it was a quite night.  Few words spoken, ears burning, and we could not play the old men wishing we were young again.  I did learn the 75 years old had been out on his aged BSA motorbike, running around Suffolk.  He is planning a trip to the war graves in France, forced to take 3 others with him, much against his better judgement.  I'm not sure his wife knows this yet.

For some reason I was quite tired this morning.

Ken747

Flag Fen Roundhouse.  A reconstruction designed to inform re the people who lived here around 3500 years ago.  Discovered in 1982 the site has been comprehensively researched and a great many items have been discovered concerning the life styles of the residents from so long ago.  The roundhouse was reconstructed to indicate the homes used by the peoples of the time.  A flat somewhat watery existence with rising sea levels making life difficult I suggest.

However, the pint of this is simple, someone had burned the roundhouse to the ground!

Vandals, or just stupid people playing games, late Sunday evening smoke was noticed above the treetops.  Firemen were quickly on the scene and while they could not save the roundhouse itself, now used as a museum, they did manage to prevent any further damage on the site.  The roundhouse, built by volunteers, has been completely destroyed and will have to be rebuilt from scratch. 

To do this the general manager of the site is seeking support from local businesses regarding materials, timber, thatch, scaffold etc, as well as volunteers and around £50,000 to pay for it all.  

One stupid person, or deliberate vandal, has destroyed, at great cost, much excellent work that provided an experience many who visit the site will never forget.  Can we hang him?