Music deer...

I just happened to be wandering about the graveyard at the rear of the Congregational church this afternoon when I spied this deer at the far side.  I thought I had caught her leaving a mark, but if you look closely, she is giving birth.  Considering this was what she was doing, I remained at a distance taking a few shots, it is unusual to see such a deer in these parts, and watched.  Roebuck deer, those with a loud doglike bark, have been around for years, but this looks more like the Bambi type to me.  I wandered a few feet away and when I returned she and whatever she had with her had gone.

 

I had ventured quietly into the graveyard as it is usually quiet and if you stand still long enough nature moves about.  In fact, a squirrel came running around the corner, stopped suddenly, looked up at me and hastened back the way he had come.  However, he and a couple of magpies were playing about at the far side and I managed to catch this shot of one.  I'm not sure if he noticed me.

 

I had wandered over to the park, as opposed to having a snooze after lunch, because a Skateboard activity was on today.  Naturally, the Punk Band, and I mean 'Punk,' played right outside my house!  Next week, the environment men will get a wee note from me!  

Deep Purple, Cream, Jimi Hendrix, and AC/DC had music along with the noise, that's what made them great!  Each track was different, inventive, had a purpose.  This lot had one note, and a very loud not at that, and a loud, if you excuse the word, singer at the front.  At no time did we notice any words.

Anyway, most of the kids enjoyed it, the man from the Essex Fire Brigade stand informed me of his two paracetamol tablets after this group finished, and much more action occurred, in an organised way later.

By six pm the music, by this time 'rave' music, that is music with a needlessly deep base and little else, finished, now we have peace.

Meditative Music

Long Night, Long Day

Another tiring day.  

Struggled to wake this morning, forced myself up, and breakfasted on a stale roll.  Some folks have less than this of course.  I cogitated on the day and decided I wished it to be a restful one, except of course I had the parcel to post.  Another birthday, another waddle down to the Post Office at the corner shop, I go there because the young lady always smiles at me, unlike the miserable dragons at what laughingly, is the main Post Office in town.  So, sun cream applied, desert hat on head, off I hobbled.  

There is a wind at the moment but the sun was about 70% as I headed east.  I could feel it on my face, in spite of the hat, and my absurd appearance meant several vans and cars slowed down to let me cross the road when required.  They needed the laugh I suppose.

After this my day was over.  Groomed and fed I just dozed away for a while.

This is the Longest Day, and the sky has been bright since very early, which I did not see.

The reason for the sloth this morning was easy to find.  Last night I began to watch Scotland playing Georgia, a 7:45 kick off time.  However, before the game began there had been an almighty cloudburst and 6 days worth of heavy rain fell in a couple of hours.  Now, major football grounds have systems to remove rainwater falling during a game, this was too much for Hampden however, and some decisions had to be made before the game went ahead.  

In spite of Michael Stewart constantly referring to having played in worse, which was a lie, the water was forming huge puddles, the ball did not run, bounce or flow, there was indeed now ay to play in such circumstances.

UEFA however insisted the game went ahead.

Players splashed about in dire conditions, Scotland even scored a goal, but the ref then left the field and we began well over two hours of debate as to whether the game ought to continue, or be abandoned and play again the next night in Paisley.  Any sensible person would play the next night.

UEFA insisted the game continued.

So we saw the ground staff, ball boys, volunteers aplenty attempt to brush the excess water from the field.  Eventually, well after 9:15 pm the game restarted.  Georgia were far from pleased, and quite rightly, and they were even more unhappy when Scotland scored a second goal and eventually ran out winners by 2-0.

The game finished at 11:20 pm, at lest what I made it, the crowd had remained throughout, they had paid their tickets and no information was forthcoming thanks to UEFA, and many a child was late for school this morning, many a man was asleep at work, and all considered it worth while.

During the waiting time the announcer played music over the Tannoy.  Above we see the list of songs played, many enthusiastically supported by the crowd joining in.  'Don't let it rain on me,' by a Glasgow group, the favourite of the night.

ABBA and Judas

The 6th day of April is the day we commemorate the day the music died!  On that date in 1974 the 'Eurovision Song Contest,' which at that time still contained songs, was won by the Swedish group ABBA singing their cheerful, yet hollow 'Waterloo.'  Music was never the same again.

Since the early 60s we had seen music develop from the 'Del Shannon' and 'Pearl Johnson and Teddy Carr,' type of meaningless, bland lyrics into something not just filled with life, such as 'Little Richard' and 'Elvis,' but into real meaningful songs by the 'Beatles,' 'The Rolling Stones,' 'Cream,' 'John Mayall,' 'The Moody Blues,' 'Pink Floyd,' 'Deep Purple,' and hosts of deeply considered musical genius's.  

ABBA killed this.

Music that was attempting to change the world for the better was quickly erased and replaced by banal, bouncy, drivel, always accompanied by flashing lights, badly overdressed men and women, not always easy to tell apart, and cheap, cheery, meaningless trivia, which once again ruled the airwaves.

Where did this lead us?

The 'Eurovision' itself continued with dross for 15 years before realising deviants and weirdo's sold better than feeble music.  Now it is not the song but what kind of pervert that gambols across the stage that counts.  Any song with a meaning will not be tolerated, not that such will be entered anyway.  

The banal 70s bounced emptily across the screen leading only, along with Thatcher's encouragement of greed, to the absurd meaninglessness of the 80s.  Big shoulders and fancy perms, and the women were much the same, dominated while barren groups disturbed our ears with inconsequential noise.  No wonder some took to Rap as they considered this had a meaning for them.  Quite what that meaning may be is a mystery to me, however, it is the result of ABBA arriving on the scene and killing music.      

Excuse me while I cover my ears from ABBA drivel and revive myself with proper music, Jimi Hendrix and 'Purple Haze.' 

Oh that's better!

Arrest Duccio-di-buoninsegna c1310

Judas followed Jesus faithfully for three years.  He was risking arrest and death yet he remained.  We hear from the apostles afterwards that Judas stole from the money bag he carried.  Can we conclude that in spite of the work he had watched with interest, indeed, on occasion doing similar work himself, that he did not trust Jesus with his money, his future, his life?  

At the last supper Jesus informs his men that one of them would betray him.  Not one considered Judas liable to do this.  However, they all stated 'Not I Lord,' and meant it.  When confronted by Jesus Judas however, replies 'Not I Rabbi.'  The eleven saw Jesus as Lord, the Messiah.  Judas saw him as a Rabbi, a teacher, not as Messiah.  Whatever his motives, and it is impossible to understand what they were, money was a sideshow in this.  Judas was disappointed with his Rabbi and sold him for 30 coins, that is about a months wage.   

Once Jesus was arrested and threatened with death Judas offers remorse and attempts to undo what he has done.  The attitude of the Priests, 'That is your responsibility,' speaks much about them.  There is however, no indication Judas yet sees Jesus as Messiah, just a worthy man whom he has condemned.

Peter, having failed to remain awake while Jesus implored his father now fails again by running away and then in the house of Caiaphas three times denies Jesus.  He too faces remorse, yet he still believes in his Messiah.  I am right in thinking Judas did not see a Messiah and had no hope?  Simon Peter saw a Messiah and had some hope, though all appeared lost at the time.

Jesus himself, knowing his father and what lay before him remained in charge of what followed.

Greasy Trump

Being the 'silly season,' the holiday time when politics and politicians are unusually quiet, the media has been desperate for something to fill the spaces.  Editors everywhere are glad Olivia Newton-John has died, now they have something to say.

Twitter was full of men of a certain age informing us of their first love, things like that I have no wish to know personally, but many who ought to have known better were in tears.  

For myself, a music lover, I was not a fan.  Having seen 'Saturday Night Fever,' when it came out, announced as they all are as a 'film not to miss,' and in my opinion 'with a rifle,' ought to have been added, I had no desire to watch a film full of 'pop' music and meaningless acting.   Naturally, we were all told it was one 'not to miss.'  Again I suggest the rifle.

The disease which took the lass is indeed unfortunate, sad to see a woman of 73 years dying like this.

The music, in my humble view, ought to have died in 1973, long before it came to the screen!

Think

The good news today, also taking up some space, is that the FBI have raided the orange liar in his Florida house.  The hope, and it seems likely, is that they will find stolen documents, items to connect him to 'suspicious activities,' and something to land him in jail.  Whooppee!

Naturally the right-wing press have launched a support drive for him.  Nigel Farage threw in the 'Deep state' word, implying something is amiss.  He is correct, though of course he is the one amiss, and if they come for Trump, they will come for Farage soon.  That is something I look forward to.

'Deep State,' is another of these none existing phrases thrown out by those causing problems.  The implication is that secret organisations are doing them down.  This is true, but Trump and Farage are behind any such organisation, although we know there is in fact no 'Deep State.'  Just like the word 'Woke,' when you ask them to explain what it means there is silence.  Just point over there and say 'woke,' and the sheep will be happy.  This is an old trick going back into prehistory, nothing new in lying.  

Trump is determined to get re-elected, even though most of the US government will oppose this.  Our Donald, Boris Johnson, thinks he too can make a come back.  Both need to as they wish to avoid jail.

Personally I hope they fail and end up inside.  These men have deceived their nations, and the world, caused misery to millions, broken every law, opposed democracy, and unless stopped those paying for them will cause economic disaster to us all.

Rush Hour Cars, Brexit and Forums.

Now I am all for warm weather. Where I come from it is always good to see it, we saw it so rarely up there.  Down here in this xenophobic nation it is more common, this county is supposed to have the least rainfall of all, so why do they grow all the crops here?  Anyway, when the sun shines we enjoy it and I am happy if the temp reaches 70.F and stays there.  

However, there are drawbacks.  

Today we have rain showers in between sunny spells, this gives all those driving their big open topped cars in those sunny spells the opportunity to bless us with all the pleasure of hearing the loud and indeed bad music they listen to!  Open windows, open top cars, occasional idiot with loud transistor, remember them? either will do, but we have to hear their poor choice of bad noise.  

Add to this the eejit who thinks we need to hear his loud phone calls, business sounds good where he is, and pleasure is abundant for all around, well maybe not for the man in the following white van who clearly has his own opinion on this.

No, I am not jealous.  I have no wish to join the 'rush hour' and sit in a car moving at two miles an hour in a queue so long you cannot see the beginning of it.  I have long lost the need to own a pretentious large expensive vehicle to impress those around me.  Indeed, I have not got the money to do so, and I would not do this, unless the Good Lord does present me with the maroon coloured Landrover I have been asking for these past few years.  

I do however, have a bus pass...

Bah!

It was good to get out of here today to return the empty beer bottles vinegar bottles and mayonnaise jars to the recycling bins.  I have been spending far too much time on Twitter and newspaper forums. The 'Daily Express' one in particular.  The Brexiteer is one with a closed mind, closed so tightly no fact can change it.  One grumbled 10,000 migrants have clambered into this country, I indicated 60,000 EU lorry drivers have been banned by Brexit, can these migrants not drive?  This did not go down well. 

The EU is at fault for everything, but free England, never the UK, has got them beat.  For a start the 'Express' extols our deal with the Far East, countries like Thailand, Laos and Vietnam.  These replace Germany, France and Spain!  For the Brexiteer this is a success?  A deal with Australia has enabled us to make £400,000 a year from exports, the Aussies make £1.5 Billion from the deal!  

This is another Brexit success?  The 'Express' reader, not counting 'Bots' or the '77th Brigade' doing Boris's work, does not like facts, he is blind to anything but Brexit, his life depends on this.

 

 

There is however, worse.

On Twitter I got involved with an American, so you can imagine the lack of knowledge, who boasted he had not been vaccinated even though all his workmates had been.  

Now the media today is full of such people bemoaning not getting vaccinated because they were considered physically strong, believed the lies on social media, and then catching Covid and sadly passing away regretting their foolishness. How sad then to see someone boasting not being vaccinated, made worse by claiming that he was following Christ Jesus and trusting him for health.  Indeed he ought to do this, but Jesus, like the vast majority of Christians, would say 'Get the jab!'  Several US pastors have caught the virus, some have died, all say 'Get the jab!'  We get vaccinated against measles, chickenpox, shingles, polio, smallpox and other things, yet we are supposed to consider this one 'evil?'  Some still believe the pandemic was caused by Pharma companies, some by the 'New world order' and others believe still that Bill Gates has inserted a bug into them to follow them around or tell them what to do.  In the UK most people call that bug 'Google' or 'Facebook.'  

I have been amazed at the opinions found on such forums.  I expect them from closed minded Rangers and Celtic fans, but the depth of belief on strange theories amazes me.  The blindness and unwillingness to listen by the Brexiteer leaves me considering this a 'cult.'  Is there an answer?  

Q. 'Why did the chicken cross the road?'

A. 'To avoid meeting Nicola Sturgeon.'

Dmitri and the 'Leningrad' Symphony Book.

Amazon

Most are aware of the Nazi's long and ultimately failed siege of Leningrad during the Second World War.  Few go into the details as the descent into deprivation caused by hunger, fear and human nature is not always good reading.  There is much in this book that would put you off your lunch.
The author, an American who thinks 'Football' is called 'Soccer,' has made use of several books concerning his subject, almost all of them untrustworthy.  Being brought up under a Stalinist regime means nothing is clear, nothing is truthful and desperation for survival brings lies and guilt which breed more lies.  Therefore we have a biography with limited primary sources, and those debatable.
However it is clear he was born into a middle class home, grew up during the First World War, saw his father participate in the revolution, endured life as a competent composer while Stalin took power and invoked the 'Terror.'  Then, after experiencing 'Terror' himself the Germans invaded and soon Leningrad his home was under siege.
I found the writing easy in this book.  The descriptions of the 'Terror' of the 30's is clear, we all know about that, and then the details concerning the surrounding of the city and the description of the struggle for survival while appalling at times straight forward and ghastly.  The dead mount up, starving people turn to robbery or cannibalism, yet others join together to eke out the little they have, not counting the Communist leaders of course who did very well.  The struggle shows how low the human nature can go, it also reveals the height some reach in aiding one another.
Dmitri Shostakovich continues to write his music through all these troubles.  Rising to fame in the 1920's with appropriate songs for the revolutionary times, amended to fit the Stalinist realism of the 30's, it saved him visiting the Gulag.
One aspect of the story is his desire to help others in any way he can, however at many times he has to say and do things with which he disagrees, he faces opposition from Stalin himself at one point and gets very near his end but survives.  On one occasion he is brought into the centre jail and asked to inform on people he met at a party.  He cannot as they have not sought to rebel.  He is told to return next day ready to admit their fault.  He arrives and is kept waiting.  Eventually he enquires of an NKVD officer as to what is to happen.  It transpires nothing will happen, the officer who threatened him the day before has been arrested and shot.  All his meetings have been cancelled!  Dmitri goes back home and hears no more about it.  Such was the Soviet system in the late 30's.
With his city suffering he begins a symphony designed to lift the nation.  Eventually news of this leaks out and he and his wife and children and removed far from Leningrad.  Here he finishes the symphony and sends it back to be performed in the city itself.
The orchestra has of course been dying off.  Most remaining, about 15 of them, were starving, those brought from outside, including members of the army bands, were also malnourished, and a terrible scene reveals the desperation to rehearse the music.  Eventually, once the music has been exported across the world and played in London and New York to a world audience awaiting encouragement from Russia, the war had yet not turned in the allies favour, the Leningrad Symphony was played in Leningrad.  At the time the book claims this alone inspired the Soviet people in their war against the fascist aggressor.  Because the Germans were.  'National Socialist' the Soviets hid this by calling them 'Fascist.'
After the symphony was played things began to turn.  In late 1942, before the playing of the work, British Empire forces had won at El Alamein and began clearing the enemy from North Africa.  Soon after the inspiration of the work the Soviet forces began to end the siege and within a year the city was damaged, haunted, full of guilt and fear, but free from German oppression.  The book likes to claim much credit to the music for this result.
The result of the war is well known, it was in all the papers, yet even after the war Stalin sought a 'terror' once again in which Dmitri and his music became criticised.  He survived, just, and eventually died in his bed in 1975.  It took me a week or so to read this book, what with coughing and straining my muscles.  It was an easy read in spite of the Americanisms within and well worth a go for those interested in composers like Shostakovich.  The book shows how much of his work arose in dire trouble and reflects the society in which he lived.
This book was a Xmas gift from my beautiful and intelligent piano playing niece.  She also sent me the music CD to go along with this book.  Clever girl!

 

Sadly not the St Petersburg Orchestra  have, but this will do.

Busy Week

It's been a busy and tiring week.  The virus tried to kill me at the start when enduring the museum meeting, then a day's work the next day followed by the housework missed since time immemorial.
Thursday saw our Museum awards evening and while I intended to sleep off the week on Friday I was ordered out to take pictures of Keith Flint's funeral as it passed through Bocking on its way to St Mary's, Bocking.

Having survived work (the term is used loosely) I made it to the Annual Awards ceremony where volunteers are rewarded for their time and effort.  All receive something,  mine was for changing a light bulb, and the dressed up and wells scrubbed ladies looked so different from their normal appearance.  Of course normally they have been dealing with children so this does make a difference.
The big boss from the trustees came along and presented the awards.  She done this very well smiling when she had too, listening intensively, asking the right questions, and laughing at the right place.  What she really thought was well hidden.
So a glass of cheap wine and back home to fiddle the pictures taken in poor light and prepare for a day of rest.

Almost the first thing to arrive at my email on Friday morning was an order to get down to Keith Flint's funeral and get pictures for the museum.
Flint's family moved to Chelmsford and split up and Keith himself had trouble at school.  It appears he was dyslexic and a bit rowdy being thrown out at 15.  He worked as a 'roofer' and became front and took to the 1980's 'acid house scene.'  By 1990 he became the dancer and front man for a music combo called 'Prodigy.'  
This band became famous during the 90's and the 'electronic music' was much admired by that generation because they smoked funny cigarettes while having it blasted in their earholes.  The singles such as 'Firestarter' and 'Breathe' helped them sell around 25 million records worldwide.  This is not my kind of music, music ceased in 1974 when 'Abba' appeared on the scene, but they spoke to a generation as music does and retained a large following in this area.  Keith, known as 'Keef' in the southern English manner, lived in a large house not far from here in Great Dunmow.  Music which sells brings rewards.  
Keith  took part in events in the area and appeared a decent likeable bloke in many ways.  He had an aggresive side, once attempting to get into the pilots cabin by knocking down the door and had to be restrained, possibly the result of drugs, yet remained popular and an animal lover.  His house was designed to attract wildlife as well as having space to play with his motorbikes!  He lived in the house with his Japanese wife but recently they had become estranged and she was in the far east rather than with him.  It appears however he had a tendency to depression and a month ago while alone he chose to hang himself.
He was 41.

The cortege was due to leave at 3 pm, I limped sown to what I thought an appropriate spot arriving at 2:30.  There I, alongside a gathering crowd, waited, and waited, and waited.  We expected things to be late but it was ten to four before the cortège arrived.  
The crowds applauded and cheered, in the background 'Firestarter' and other Prodigy music blasted out as they passed, indeed had been blasting out all day.  The six black horses somewhat nonplussed by the crowds appeared ready to run, I suspect they are more used to reserved occasions and must have been difficult for the driver to control.  
There followed a stream of cars and also motor bikes, Keith had his own team in the Isle of Man TT and was a biker enthusiast.  Crowds then followed and while I would have liked to join them the distance to the church was far too much for my knees.  The crowds at St Mary's danced  away the time, outside and inside the pub, while offering respect for he man and the service relayed on Tannoy outside. 

   
This was a very different happening to the one I attended the night before.  We had a rather happy gathering and I have already begin to prepare my acceptance speech for next year.  On Friday the atmosphere was different but not what you might call sombre.  Death tends to make people think about life yet there was none of that visible in the crowds here.  Not that we can tell what was going on in their heads however the Spring sunshine enlivened people, children looked to the event, beer and who knows what else certainly kept others minds of reality and the well behaved crowd were part mourners and part celebrants of an event, I know that was my position.  Had I not been ordered to attend I doubt I would have noticed the happening.  
  

Babbling...

Saturday morn saw me wandering about with a bank card in my hand.  I had decided to spend money on a decent mattress after all.  No chasing around all the shops I returned to the man who gave me the last dead one around 18 years ago and spent £270 on a new one.  This one is much firmer, although he forgot to mention how long the guarantee s for, and on Monday he will deliver and help me up the stairs with the thing. It will be fun as I can hardly get me up there and then there is the tight corner to negotiate!
But all that money.  
I came home and sat trembling at having to pay put more than I normally do.  The emergency fund was put to use and that too is shaking badly!  Ah well, it has to be done, and so it now has been done.  I hope this one will last 20 years, I will not care about a few sharp springs coming through by then, if I'm still here.

Quite who the dancers were I know not but they offered some sort of traditional English dance, found somewhere in drunken England's distant country harvest celebrations I suspect.  Whether debauchery followed as it did in the past is not clear as I hurried on before the rain came and left them to it.
The men played their tunes, the woman banged the drum in a constant and very loud beat and the people danced.  All very simple and while the drum would certainly go back many centuries I am not sure what instruments would be available in times past.  The accordion came into being in the early 1800's, the banjo of sorts appeared in the 1700's and may be based on instruments found in Africa long ago, but wind instruments go back well into ancient days, nose flutes (disgusting thought) were common in Greece as indeed were the people who played them and I suspect the two main instruments would have been found in many rural areas, possibly travelling minstrels would make a living touring the Harvest areas and leading the jollity.
This morning I was remembering the Harvest Festival back in Edinburgh concerning a time in the mid 50's when I saw a great display, including a whole wheatsheaf standing proudly there, a huge display and I realised that this was shortly after the end of rationing.  Folks then knew about rationing which ended in 1954 so such a display must have been wonderful not long after.  These days such churches are more concerned about those abroad starving or lacking fresh water than themselves and quite right too.  Our offerings today, and people brought a great deal, went to the local foodbank, another result of Tory austerity and the disgraceful removal of benefits from the needy.  I was told the local foodbank had increased demand during the holidays, free school meals not being available some folks could not feed the kids.  The Conservative leader and her party need to read the book of Amos and soon.    

Earworms and Books

Each morning I wake, look out at the clear blue sky (no really) and find my head filled with music I do not wish to hear.  There has been a selection of appalling tunes that have wandered through my head for a while before I can get something musical into the head.
Bing Crosby crooning one morning, Sousa marches the next.  I have endured bland inconsequential pop music that I have had no idea I knew, even Irish rebel songs stuck there for hours one day.  Now I can accept Van Morrison repeating the same line over and over but I am not putting up with 'Buck Fizz' under any circumstances!  
If only there was a way of fixing it that certain tunes and melodies would fill the head when empty rather having rotten dross take over the space between the ears, and you see how big that is.  I look for one of these old systems we used to have on gramophones that dropped the next record onto the pile and played what you wished rather than what is given.  I suspect this is a problem that will not go away.
I note that walking up the street at various speeds (slow, slower) then music in the head fits the speed.  Possibly this is why I am so slow at walking?  Maybe a bit of Beethoven or AC/DC would speed me up?  I do not however wish for tunes to fit while shopping in Tesco, that would be unwise.

  
This card makes sense to me.  The writer missed out charity shops, remainder bookshops and anywhere else books are on sale.  The only disappointment is when they are all junk books, you know the women's books that no man would read, the famous authors that are not as good as they are made out, the books that win trophy's that are junk, all that can be ignored.
However it is fascinating to search a large second hand bookshop, always the best if you can find one, when you find a book long forgotten but always desired.  A book read years before or concerning someone or something that connects with you that has not be wither known to exist or extremely rare.  It helps if it is cheap also.
I think I may seek a bookshop tomorrow...

Our History Mate

The exhibition goes over the 60's 70's and 80's, three dramatic decades for those who lived through them all, not always enjoyably it must be said.  The 60's were the best musically, so much invention and wonderful stuff from the USA west coast in particular.  On top of that the attitudes were very different, at least at face value level, at heart human beings never change.  The Hippy days if peace and love were a delusion but an enjoyable one, however for most they were hidden behind a veil of drugs that brought many an early death.
The 60's brought the Vietnam war among other things and while the 'West' enjoyed material prosperity (I got £5/10/- a week in '66) some 50 million were being killed in the 'Cold War' in Africa, Central and South America, South Eats Asia and elsewhere.  We were protected by 'M.A.D (Mutually Assured Destruction) and several million men spread across western Europe. A few thousand nuclear bombs kept some awake but not all of us.

Fashions changed somewhat and it is noticeable how many women donated aged dresses for the exhibition and not one man!  I suspect some men are still wearing things bought in the eighties, I would be but they appear to have shrunk in the wash.  I doubt my flares would fit and I seem to lack the desire to wear such these days.  80's fashion, like its music, was vile!  Men with permed hair and rolled up sleeves singing puerile songs did not do anything for me especially as we were faced with the totalitarian Thatcher regime.  Today Thatchers daughter lack both her brain and her heart and few would have expected that to be possible.  The 70's began well and for me was the worst decade of all however this changed near the end when God began to really do things in my life.  The music died around 1974 and was replaced by 'Abba!'  Platitudes, empty ballads and glitter ruled the radio waves, not in my house. 

There was of course two wars at this time, the Falklands war that generated much attention and the IRA Provos shooting people in the back in Northern Ireland generating the UVF and others to offer needless reprisals.  The UK got fed up with this war and wished it would go away especially on the occasions the IRA set off bombs around the UK.  London however (apart from me) did not panic in a manner we see today re Islamic terrorists.  We handled the Irish problem far better than the Islamic one I say.  
The Falklands saw as needless a war as can be imagined.  While ruining their country the military Junta decided to avert attention with a landing on the 'Malvinas.'  They lost around 3000 dead we around 3 billion pounds and a hundred or so men.  One or two ships went down and all in all the whole thing was ridiculous.  How easily wars can be begun for wrong reasons, how difficult to finish and how often those responsible walk away scot free.  Are you listening Mr Blair?

  
The Beatles are not what they were, I wonder if they have not been eating right?

The thing to have in the 70's for young men and no doubt a lot of females was a 'Chopper' bike.  These American styled bikes were popular but too flashy for me.  I had to use my sisters bike years before and others obtained what they could and added 'Cowhorn' Handlebars to their junk bikes.  I think I would rather have one of those than the 'Chopper.'
At the time I used the bus or a proper bike I now remember, cycling to London for a cheap holiday.  Ha! 

I know you girls all dressed like this when at work.

Mary Quant came along at the right time and changed fashion in the 60's.  Born in 1934 she became famous in the 60's with mini skirts, which I noticed occasionally, and other things I didn't.  She, unlike so many, married a husband and was still with him when he died in 1990.   At 83 she does not design much today I would think.  

Friday Music

'Ae Spark o' Natures Fire'

Today I elected to board the 12:08 Zimmer Bus but for reasons beyond comprehension the bus left exactly on time meaning I missed it!  Since when did 'First Bus' buses run to timetables around here???  The little problem was the timing. This bus takes 43 minutes according to the timetable, this ignores roadworks, car crashes and bad weather of course, and had I been aboard enabled me to arrive at the theatre in time to select a decent seat to watch my best looking, most talented and highly intelligent niece perform at the piano alongside her singer.  As it was I did arrive well into the concert and squeezed myself into a seat between songs much to the numerous audience members disgust.  This small theatre holds about a hundred seats and was quite full, these (cheap) lunchtime concerts entertain music lovers and fill in time for people off the Zimmer Bus.  

My wonderful niece played superbly.  I have the CD of the concert they gave during the Edinburgh Fringe (sent by another attractive young niece) but to see her in action was a real treat.  It is two or three years since I saw her play so with a memory like mine this was a new experience!  It was good to see how she has developed her skill, the variety of songs gave a lot of opportunity to shine, some soft, some rather rugged in comparison and watching her hands work the keys with each was super.

Jillian her singer took centre stage (singers always do) and they went through a wide variety of songs, some Rabbie Burns, some from Spanish writers, some Russian.  It amazed me how she could concentrate on her singing and remember all the words of so many songs.  It was interesting to note how she almost acted out some of the words yet did not go so far as to lose track of what she was doing.  I mentioned afterwards how many of the locals would fail to understand the words of the Scots songs, they probably understood more of the Russian than anything by Burns.  There again with sopranos it is more than the words it is the noise produced (am I allowed to say 'noise' at this point?). 

I regretted greatly missing most of the first 30 minutes and have spent much time this evening seeking suitable works on YouTube but only one can I find from their act, the one above.  However I had a really enjoyable hour what with the music and meeting my favourite niece, what more can I ask?

Books!  That's what I could ask!  After leaving them to their devices, probably the pub, I made my way down the Big City back alleyways looking for the new 'Foyles' Bookshop.  Naturally while following strict instructions how to find it I ended up in a car park!  Wandering round the back streets I found gleaming buildings that were not there six months ago when I last passed this way. One of them was the gleaming 'Foyles' Bookshop.  Two floors of books surrounded by huge windows and lots of space, too much space in my view and not as much 'cosiness' as found in old fashioned bookshops.  One real irritant was the placing of books at ground level, I canny get down that far and with one section of small sized book crammed together my eyes found it hard to read the titles.  At least I made use of the generously donated bookmark with a book or two which now join the queue to be read.  This means five books are in that queue and I think I am reading eight others at the same time.  As they are mostly in the loo, a place most men use as a library, it may well be I do myself some harm while stimulating the brain.

Friday Night is Music Night, at least on here...

  

  

Music to make the head think and the heart leap!

 

It's Been a Long Day...

It was a long day at the museum, made longer by listening to the WW2 music CDs we had
to play for the exhibition.  I now sit here with Tessie O' Shea in my head.
I can only share this with you - and believe me you can keep it!!!!

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Lee Gets it Right!

Lee appears to think this song fits, I wonder why...?

Life Gets Tee-jus, Don't It

The sun comes up and the sun goes down
The hands on the clock keep a-goin' 'round
I just get up and it's time to lay down
Life gets tee-jus, don't it, hmm.

My shoes untied but I don't care
I ain't a-figurin' on goin' nowhere
For I'd have to wash and comb my hair
And that's just wasted effort.

The water in the well just gettin' lower and lower
Can't take a bath at six months more
But I've heared it said and it's true, I'm sure
That to much bathin' will, will weaken you.

I opened the door an' the fly's swarm in
Closed the door and I'm sweatin' again
And in the pros... (a huchh) crack my shin
Just one darn thing after another.

Old brown mule he must be sick
I jambed him in the rump with a pin on a stick
He humped his back but he wouldn't kick
Now there's something cock-eyed somewhere.

A mouse a-chewin' on the pantry door
He's been at it fer a month or more
When he gets through he'd sure be sore
'Cause there ain't a darned thing in there.

Hound dog howlin' so forlorn
Laziest dog that was ever born
He's a-howlin' 'cause he's a-settin' on a thorn
An' just to tired to move over.

The tin roof leaks and chimney leans
An' there's a hole in the seat of my old blue jeans
And I ett the last of the pork and beans
Just can't depend on nothin'.

Cow's gone dry and the hens won't lay
Fish quit bittin' and it's Saturday
Troubles are pilin' up day by day
And now I'm gettin' dandruff.

Grief and misery, pains and woes
Debts and taxes, yea, so it goes
I think I'm gettin' a cold in my nose
Life get tee-just don't it?...

Walter Brennan

Clarkson and Psychology

Difficult to say what is the biggest news item today.  Is it the plane crash costing around 150 lives or the sacking of Jeremy Clarkson from 'Top Gear?  I notice another contender is causing tears, screams and outrage in that a member of a group called 'One Direction' has walked out and wee girls are throwing themselves out of windows everywhere because of this.  For myself I tire of the delays in dealing with Clarkson, who has gone too far once to often, and sacking was the only step possible.  The information regarding this plane crash in the Alps is as always limited and I am not willing to read acres of space telling me how relatives are in tears.  That is neither offering information nor necessary.  Let people grieve alone I say. 
Clarkson was good in that he often said what many think but are not in a position to say so.  The PC lobby shuts the mouth of freedom far too easily, Jeremy cut through this.  He did go too far and there are those who say that lamping a producer because his dinner was not ready is a step too far and sacking was the result.   The singer, if he is a 'singer' concerns me not.  Such groups are there to sell to wee girls, not to produce music.  I suspect like most of this kind their offerings would be covers of others songs. Real musicians, The Beatles, Rolling Stones, Kinks, Jimi Hendrix, Van Morrison and Joe Cocker and many others wrote and sang their own works usually.  They had something to say unlike the 'Bubblegum Music' still on offer today.
What's that about ageing...?

Scots they say are the most friendly and open people, Londoners the most miserable.  At least according to a psychological survey just published. According to whoever runs this thing where you live affects your personality, gosh I never thought that!  
Of course where you live affects you, the history of the place, going back thousands of years, the environment in which you live, hill, seaside, plain etc, all have an effect on you and those brought up there.  How could it be otherwise?  I could have told them how grumpy Londoners can be after 20 years of it, and it has always been thus, and Scots are of course happy, jolly always keen to be friendly type of people, and don't you forget it pal!   
However I sometimes wonder about psychologists.  Once upon a time it was the popular thing to study, then it was media studies as the money was better, I suspect the chattering classes are into gender studies today.  Rarely do such folks study something useful, like History!  
Some degree of psychology is a requirement, to attempt to understand humans is a good thing, however all to often some crazy studies appear with little practical or positive effect and such as that are published in the press.  This long study has only told us what we already know, was it worth it?

Sunday Night Sounds

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Friday Night Music

Ackers Jazz

'Stranger on the Shore' is one of those melodies that were first heard in the early 60's and remain in the head for ever afterwards.  Acker Bilk, the name 'Acker' is a term used in the South West of England meaning 'mate,' Acker Bilk made his name with this short track and he saw it as his old age pension!  It made his and his trad jazz bands name and they have been successful ever since.  This was not his only hit of course, the other is often heard even today.  He passed away the other day aged 83.  

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