Sunday Sunshine

The weekend is almost over, that is, I am running out of football! 

On Saturday,as expected, the Heart of Midlothian sauntered past Inverness Caley, ths upsetting their manger who was sent to the stand.   Suggesting he would 'Knock our managers block off,' is not really the done thing these days.

The Scottish Cup, played at odd hours for the sake of TV money, is played this weekend, without ,as we considered we had won the trophy often enough in recent years and felt lesser teams ought to have a go.  

Two games down, two to go, one about to start and one on Monday evening.

 

While the sunshine is worth having around I was freezing after church.  We could only gather, at a distance, outside and the cold wind was chilling my back something awful as I listened to one of my women's woes.  It is good to have a few minutes with people, just to remember what they look like!

Not much time to talk mind you.

 

Today, 25th April, is ANZAC Day, when we commemorate the Australian and New Zealand forces in the Great War. For some this was the event that made both individual nations, seperate from the Mother Country.  Their adventures during the conflict have not been forgotten.

We see here an astonishing picture I think.  An off side portrait, the view behind, the face of a man who may well be happy to be alive, and I think it makes a striking picture.  "Alsatian prisoner of war captured by New Zealand troops. Photograph taken probably near Colincamps 15 April 1918 by Henry Armytage Sanders."

Football and the Duke

With another day of lounging Spring cleaning behind me I now look forward to the weekends football.  Several Scottish Cup games to enjoy, plus the old firm bigots, and this means nothing else can be done except stuffing the face.

Of course we also have the Duke of Edinburgh's funeral on Saturday afternoon while many football matches go ahead.  These are either starting around noon or long after five in the evening.  The media are lining their pockets over this, no doubt more 'Special' pull outs will appear in the weekend papers, all containing the same stuff they had last weekend.  

 

AutoEvolution

  

The Duke knows how to travel in style, and they claim he spent 16 years developing this Landrover for his funeral.  He works slowly it appears.  I suspect many will consider this beneath them, others will already be on the phone booking this vehicle for their funeral, 'The one Prince Phillip used,' and then climbing up the social scale even while dead.

A walk through Kensal Rise cemetery, and a glance at the many large tombs to be found there, gives the impression many consider they must outdo the neighbour even while dead.  "I may be dead but I am higher class than you," is the message.  Jesus meanwhile, on the other side, may think differently.

Someone indicated one paper showing the reader how to watch the Dukes funeral on TV.  He suggested they just turn the telly on and all bloody channels, all around the world, will be showing it!

 

Private Eye

 

Haircut, Football and Church

 

I sauntered up the road this morning after waiting for the Royal Mail van delivering my parcel.  He raced by which meant he did not have it, so out I went.  I headed for the barbers shop and wondered why no one was waiting outside.  Other barbers had queues of several people huddled from the chilly wind.  The reason, this was a shop big enough to seat several inside.  Not that social distancing was too perfect here.  Eventually a young lady sheared my gray locks and charged me £9:50 plus tip, for the pleasure.  It was a weight off my mind, indeed the head no longer feels like I am wearing a hat!

 

My saunter afterwards took me across the park.  The cold air contrasted with the bright sunshine, except when clouds decided to appear and spoil it!  And while the crossing is a short one it is good to walk among trees and grass with an occasional bird in the air around you.  

As I opened the door I was suprised to find that Chris the postman had already been, he usually arrives around 12:30.  I was also surprised to find a red ticket telling me he had my parcel!  Bah!  I sat at the window watching the park for a while, drinking tea and eating chocolate buttons, my diet has gone haywire again, watching to see if I could catch Chris as he returned across the park from his final drop. I never saw him.  Either he finished very early or is still with one of his women across the park.  So my packet will not be delivered until Thursday now!  Bah!  I used to wander to the sorting office to collect them but that is too far to walk at the moment.

 

 

As Chris had not appeared and as the bag of chocolate buttons appeared near the end I took it unto myself to get out and cross the park once again.  The sun had returned, people were enjoying the air and I just had to get my stiff knees out there.

I crossed slowly and at the Congregational Church decided to venture into the graveyard, where I have often been before, and found myself taking pictures of the names on the stones once again.  In the past I have looked up the names where I can and found some interesting (to me) stories of people who lie there.  I hope to investigate some later.  The wildlife is found here but is very scared of movement. Today only a wood pigeon or two were faffing around.  

I hobbled back home, slouched for a while, ate chicken from Sainsburys, and later attempted to watch Dunfermline playing Dundee.  This (very poor) game began at 6 pm, but I also had to watch the Curate getting made a Vicar on Facebook at 7:30 along at St Johns.  While Covid rages churches are adapting to social media!  This involved digging out the aged laptop, setting it up early, with much swearing and faffing around, before it was usable.  Then, settled in my bed, I also had to call a friend (my second family) on her 80th birthday while watching the football and preparing the other laptop for the church event.

This was all very confusing.

Eventually a very tired me got it all done, very badly, saw the poor game, spoke, or rather listened, to my friend, watched Vicar Colin in his robes, wondered about much of this event, especially the submitting to the Queen bit, and was glad he was at last, after 8 and a half long years of trying, now at last a vicar, and that over 5 churches!

Good Lord!

 

 

Heart of Midlothian and Queen of the South

Nothing much happens here on Saturdays bar watching football.  I had an afternoon of much fun watching the romantically named, Heart of Midlothian, struggle as I have watched them doing so many, many times before, against lesser opposition.  The commentator fussed much about this being umpteen years since the also romantically named, Queen of the South, had beaten the Hearts at Tynecastle, I know not why, I think since 1963 we have only played them here eight times.  I did realise as they spouted the usual nonsense that I was at that game way back in October 1963, several years before I was actually born. 

Scottish Football has many romantic names, Hamilton Academicals, Partick Thistle (who don't play in Partick), Raith Rovers, where the chances of watching them 'Dancing in the streets of Raith,' is very thin, and Brechin City, a city with less than 8000 people!

The Heart of Midlothian team that October day were a formidable outfit, Jim Cruickshank, Davie Holt, Norrie Davidson, Willie Wallace (who reached a hundred goals in less than 4 seasons) and the great Willie Hamilton, a man of outstanding ability of international level.  He ought to have been playing with Law, Baxter and MacKay for his country but rarely made it, the drink did not help, indeed it killed him at 38 years of age.  That great Hearts team played a Queens side that was heading for relegation and naturally in front of 10,817 spectators we lost by one goal to nil!  I cannot mind what the 'Boo Boys' said that day, but they would have been out in force at the end I expect.  Queens dropped down a division, a drop down that has, as yet, stopped them ever returning to the highest level of football.  We had to drop down to play them!

I say that defeat in 1963 was much worse than this.  That day we were in fifth place seeking to go higher, they were eleventh and heading slowly downwards.  It is a long and indeed popular tradition among the Heart of Midlothian that we lose to relegation threatened sides,  Most such sides have done this to us, a tradition that will, rest assured, continue.  You will remember the Lord Provost at the Heart of Midlothian's 50th anniversary telling his audience how "The Hearts are good for Scottish football, they beat all the big teams and lose to all the small ones," a tradition maintained to this day. 

The 'Woke' generation are grumbling loudly and offensively, but they need to develop the natural cynicism that comes with following the Hearts.  I think I became cynical by about 1967 myself.

Indeed while this game was a problem for many I find a much worse crime is lying at our door.  On TV at the moment we have a World Cup Qualifier between Netherlands and Latvia, fine so far.  However, I just realised the referee is a woman!  A woman at an important football match refereeing?  What's the matter, have all the pie stalls been closed by Covid?  Blatant sexism,  false equality, a women refereeing something as important as a football match!  The end is nigh indeed.

 

 

Saturday Rain

Another Saturday with nothing better to do than watch football.

Outside sleetish rain is falling, and has done since late last night, occasionally turning into snow and failing to lie.  

A normal Scots day I would say, in June!

The weather also hindered the few brave enough to make for the town centre, I was not aware of excessive Saturday traffic today, and with the town apparently a leading one where the Virus is living (though whether in the streets or in Care Homes is not made clear!) people are taking great steps to avoid needless crowding.  

There was no crowding in here today.

Instead I attempted to upset people on Twitter and failed, previous Bots failed to appear and thus there was nothing to do but eat and watch football.  The first football was mediocre English rubbish, so I fell asleep, but at three in the afternoon the Heart of Midlothian appeared to thrash Dunfermline Athletic at Tynecastle Park by one goal to nil.  That was good enough for me.  

I did grumble at the needless absurd camera shots throughout the game, why did we require constant views of the Pars number 3?  Did the director fancy him?  I would think it may well be female as clearly the director did not understand football.

Anyway, this was disturbed by rumblings from below.  It appears neighbours have moved in!  Not being nosey I have no idea who they are, but listening outside it was clear they are young!

How terrible!

No doubt noise from bad music and soap opera TV will soon appear! 

However, they may be human after all, but I doubt anyone under 40 is human these days.

Look, the six O' Clock game is starting, I wonder who is playing tonight...?

 

Saturday Delicacies

As I sit here, chomping on a 'Murdoch's Macaroni & Cheese Pie,' I contemplate the day before me.

I should be fussing with the water in the washing machine but instead I had to dismember the chicken from last night and boil the bones for stock.  It is now almost noon which shows how slow the day has been.

  

I suspect I will begin with Morecombe v Solihull Moors in the English Cup, or if they insist on the useless female commentator I will revert to Sky for Reading v Bristol City.   

After this comes the big game of the day, I have booked my ticket (£12) on the Alloa website and will enjoy the Alloa v Heart of Midlothian game in what is now called the 'Betfred Cup.'  How these names annoy!

This finishes on time for me making use of the chicken, now in the fridge, for tea and being prepared for the other 'Betfred Cup' match between St Mirren and Aberdeen.  

If my eyes still focus I may watch Atalanta v Verona or West Brom v Sheffield United.  Of course I may just be asleep by then, or if the Heart of Midlothian loose I may be round the corner sitting in the local Police cells being asked about things flung from windows in an aggressive manner.  

"Not me guv."

While quite used to being alone I have noticed how I have become more aggressive and indeed angry at things in recent months.  Whether this is 'Lock Down' or my tiring mind I cannot say but clearly both are having an effect.  The numpties on Twitter were getting to me so I avoid it now for the most part, but on Facebook similar people arrive and wind me up.  Good job we do not carry guns these days.  Imagine if Donald Trump was to shoot those who opposed him?  Count the bodies...

I looked into those I encounter and find how mixed up many people are.  Confused about life, their place in it, sexually confused, not sure if they are male or female, gay or normal, some politically motivated but appear confused re what their aim is or where they are headed.  A sensible answer to one upsets others, answer them and the first is offended.  

Talking of offended I see one football pundit has been suspended by the BBC for using the term 'Handbags' during a game.  Several people, probably girlies, objected, and the man dumped.  How silly the BBC has become.

 

 

 

Scotland's Success, Dominic's Failure!

 

 

Scotland qualifying, the hard way as always, for the Euro's last night was a welcome change from the mass of bumf that fills the screen these days.  By outplaying a feared Serbian side they deservedly won through.  Only Scotland however could allow the enemy to score an equaliser in the 90th minute of this game, an equaliser they did not deserve, and then, exhausted by the efforts over the previous hour and a half, almost throw everything away at the end.  Then, after an excellent penalty shoot out, it would be hard to find nine better taken penalties anywhere, and one excellent save from David Marshall we, at last, get back into the old routine.

In my youth Scotland made a habit of qualifying for such tournaments before throwing away all advatages on offer.  World Cup and European Nations would come and go, the only failure being not getting out of the section once we got there.  Nations close by with easier sections, as always, managed this regularly, even if they failed to make it to the finals in 1994 in the USA.  Now we have once again got back to normal I look forward to a glorious failure this summer, knives in the back for individual stars, and a mess of Bull in all the media.  That's normal in this country.  However, for now we enjoy and look forward with a smile, whatever that is!

 

Here is an excellent photo, not just because it catches the bright light indoors against the twilight outside, but because it appears Dominic is leaving.  I say 'appears' as we all know how much a part acting plays with this lot.  He may well be moving out, but his henchmen remain indoors, and his contact with his puppet will continue.  

There are those who consider a change is under way, Brexiteers are worrying, IDS and Redwood are spouting, and Brexit is six or so weeks away and many backbench Tories are worried, a 'No Deal Brexit may lose their seat, it may also hurt the nation but they are worried mostly about losing their seat! 

Our Heroic PM, the one hiding in a fridge, I suppose has seen a danger in this, the danger he may be pushed out in disgrace, something he wishes to avoid.  Moving Dominic, if indeed this is genuine, and obeying this weeks girlfriend, might just save his face.  Bidens victory has influencefuture talks.

Biden himself has shown his dark side.  This Roman Catholic, this nice man, has already stated he will give funds to those who murder children in abortion and reverse laws banning this murder.  That may give him support among the selfish but will lose it elsewhere.  This was a foolish move at this time.

 

Bleary Eyed Monday

 

This football is tiring!

I was forced to watch 4 very poor games yesterday, though I confess to falling asleep in one, and ought to have done in the others also.  On top of that I just watched two ex-Soviet sides failing to impress and now I have to prepare emotionally for Scotland playing against an unknown Czech side.  

This sort of thing leads to PTSD you know!

What with the virus, Lock Down, and silly players catching the virus when they ought to be at home there is always a backlog of games to play.  However, the men in suits have forced this tournament upon us which means crowding lots of games into a few days.  This is not good when so few players have had any games behind them at this time, even Belarus, who I just watched, were looking unfit by the end of the game.  Possibly as their season did not stop they may be worn out, but that was not a good sign.

Once more unto the viewer we go...

 

Boris, seen here with what he calls the 'British Flag, has been caught out again.  The 'Financial Times' discovered he was threatening to dump the Brexit withdrawsl agreement, in spite of the cost, and now is claiming it was a lie.  The story may change by the time I finish this.  I note the media are downplaying this, on instructions I suspect. 

Where are journalists today?  Where are the people in the mainstream media questioning this government?  The BBC, with the new Tory chairman, SKY, ITV and the papers do not question?  Not at all!  No government has such an easy run, especially when it is so inept.

Christmas and Brexit are close.  Stock up now!

'Tis the Season to be Jolly...?'

No it isn't, not yet, but the attitudes of the people in town today represented the Christmas cheer we meet annually.  Women blocking the way with buggy's, women walking into you in shops, miserable faces all around, cheerless shop staff cheerlessly dealing with the cheerless customers who cheerlessly obtain needless cheerless goods for others to break or wonder how to hide.  In short the Christmas season has started already.  All I needed to find was a drink sodden Santa Claus to make my day!

The day was indeed 'Dreich!'  Gray, rain sprinkled clouds from the south east hurried across the sky, blowing the remaining leaves around the streets and chilling those forced to walk therein.  Indeed the only bright lights came from the ambulance helicopter which landed in the park opposite to collect someone and rush them onwards to hospital.  
Umbrellas early on, removed by the 'breeze,' as the weatherman calls it, sprinkling rain afterwards and many a coat turned up and yet, as I wandered out of B&M after a fruitless search for children's cheap gifts I passed a man and his son in t-shirts.  Macho men who walked fro the covered car park to the shop showing us their strength.  Ponces!  

 
Boris has been on the hustings again, or rather has not been.  He was to attend a debate in his own Uxbridge constituency on December 5th or 6th, date not sure as yet, but has not responded to the call to attend.  This is the normal local debate at any election and he knows he ought to be there.  Possibly he cannot cope with an outraged audience, such as the one facing Dominic Raab at his local meeting in Esher.  He was 'booed' and catcalled and did not have an easy time.  Boris is not good at handling such scenario's.  Maybe he will just run away?  If he does they will just put an empty chair there and ask questions anyway, the chair might know more.
Of course it may be a ploy?  Maybe he hopes to be deselected by the election.  Possibly he hopes the electors will choose another candidate and dump him.  That would save him losing face with his financial backers and avoid having to deal with the Brexit farce.  We shall see.

Now I discover, this shows how little I have looked at news today, that a 'Question Time' special is to be aired tonight with, it says, 'Leader of the Labour Party Jeremy Corbyn, First Minister of Scotland and Leader of the Scottish National Party Nicola Sturgeon MSP, Leader of the Liberal Democrats Jo Swinson and Prime Minister and Leader of the Conservative Party Boris Johnson facing topical questions from an audience.'  This will be the only real debate, depending that is who asks what questions!  I suspect myself, if she is allowed to speak, that  Nicolas will wipe the floor with them all, however I will expect the chairwoman Fiona Bruce to ensure she does not get a 'fair crack of the whip.'  I wish I could watch this....

Unfortunately, as always, this programme will clash with the Linlithgow Rose v Falkirk Scottish Cup Tie at the same time.  How inconsiderate and quite possibly racist is that?  I am convinced this is to stop Scots watching the debate.  I wonder if Boris will actually show, if he does not will they 'empty chair' him or cancel the programme?   
It appears each leader will be given 30 minutes, they will take questions from the audience (how are they selected I ask?) one after the other.  Then I suspect they start breaking bottles over one another's heads and screaming blue murder.  It may not be nice but will suit the TV audience well...

The dreich weather along with my dreich walk about town, caused by missing the Free Bus, meant no photos were possible in the mirk.  So, instead we see a lot of old birds who hang around here, or did in times past.

Spring Ceaning, Football Programmes and Boris!

Yesterday afternoon I took a break from sorting my important paper file and stared out at the 30 degrees of heat seen through my dirty window.  The view was marvellous, sunshine improves the most hideous of places, the rusty leaves beginning to appear reflected the light, near naked people sweated across my view, I remained indoors half hidden behind piles of ripped up old papers.
The afternoon previous had seen me deep inside the store cupboard, the one full of things kept 'just in case.'  The reward for that afternoons work was four bags of recycled items dumped outside and one of total rubbish!  Why did I keep these things?  The electric kettle that did not work properly but remained just in case was dumped after several years of space filling.  Cardboard boxes, useful for sending things north, were dumped as nothing goes north these days bar birthday cards and store cards, piles of plastic bags kept for wrapping things going north, a sisters idea, have found where the recycled stuff is collected from and just what to do with a computer keyboard that came with my first computer in 1997 I have no idea!
However the store cupboard now contains important things, a box full of various electric cables which must be useful one day somewhere, recycled bags awaiting use (where did they come from?) and proper 'must keep' items that now have plenty of space, apart from the huge roll of bubble wrap that I kept - just in case I send things north!
There is a satisfaction in sorting out a cupboard.  In fact I was so impressed that before I began the huge file of urgent important papers going back four years I cleaned out the 'Brexit store' cupboard also.  Now the gleaming kitchen stands in contrast to the filthy oven which also demands work.
I looked away.

For some time I had wondered what had happened to old reserve team football programmes that I once possessed.  Monday Holiday in that store cupboard explained that.  In the bottom of a box filled with now recycled items there lay a pile of stored programmes, once at the centre of my heart, not at the bottom of a box! 
Naturally I cried as a man ought to do in such circumstances.
Some ten years ago when my mother died I had a large box filled with programmes collected over the years.  Most concerned the Heart of Midlothian from the sixties and on but there were many odd jobs in among them also.  What to do when clearing the house?  The answer was easy, I put aside some which meant something to me, a cup final, first 'big game,' and the like and we passed the rest, including a scrap book or two, onto the neighbours grandson who at that time played for the Heart of Midlothian under 12's.  I am unclear as to whether he made it, if so are free tickets abounding? but I do know he was delighted to have that box dumped upon him.  A quick look though those programme seller websites reveals it is probably he who is still trying to sell them at £3 a go.

The football memories mix with historical realities as we peruse the programmes.  The fact that the Hearts (pronounced Hertz at that time) produced programmes at 2d a go for reserve games in the 'North Eastern League and for 'A' team games in the 'C' Division indicates just how many people would turn up at Tynecastle Park in 1950 to watch. 
1950, a time when my mother had discovered an 'accident' was on the way, offered my dad just under £7 a week to deliver milk by horse and cart.  A time when the huts, used by the Royal Navy during the war and now abandoned, in the school field behind the tenement in which we lived were filled with people, often young couples, desperate for proper housing.  1950, five years after the war, was also a time of confusion for many as they fought to re-establish their lives after service overseas and with children who grew up while they were away.  People were grateful for the NHS and other improvements that arrived at the time yet managed to grumble against the government constantly, how unlike our time today?
The programme for December 2nd 1950 calls all Hearts supporters to attend the ANNUAL BALL on the 11th at the New Cavendish Ballroom. Dress informal, which means lots of demob suits put into action, while at 15 shillings a ticket just how many Hearts fans with pregnant wives and children could afford to attend that? 
In the middle of the page between the team line ups we see an add for RED HEART RUM an Edinburgh favourite while inside an add claims

BOOZE
       Doesn't Help
       It Just
      Bamboozels  
   
This did not stop the programme editor taking cash from Red Heart Rum however.
Two banks advertise, The Bank of Scotland proclaims £115 million in assets while the Edinburgh Savings Bank claims the best Defence is to open an account with them and save regularly.
On the other side is stated

A
GOOD SUPPORTER
IS LOYAL
     DO YOU
     SUPPORT 
     YOUR CHURCH?
Church of Scotland 

They would not advertise like this today, especially playing Celtic!
(Interesting however that so many football teams grew out of churches up and down the country.)
I wonder if William Scott, Gents outfitter still exists today?  Leith Street has changed too much for that.  Certainly THORNTON'S once a pricey sports outfitter in Prince's Street has long gone.
Also advertised was the 'Pink News,' the coloured paper that brought reports of games played every Saturday.  Rushed out at high speed they often contained mistakes, reports mixed up and some times in places upside down, but were the first with the reports of games played far and near, a must read in every city that produced them.  Indeed throughout the country sports 'Pinks' and 'Greens' were devoured each Saturday night and remain much missed though modern technology has done away with them today.
Incidentally the young winger playing in that game was one Cumming.  This was the great John Cumming who went on to dominate the midfield alongside Dave MacKay during the 50's earning more medals in his time than any other Heart of Midlothian player so far.  His comment when suffering a head bleed in the 1956 cup final v Celtic was 'Blood does not show on a maroon jersey' and he returned to the field carrying a sponge to wipe away blood.  This is now a much loved Heart of Midlothian slogan.
In 1963 I attended the Heart v Raith Rovers game,  game in which the great Jim Cruickshank allowed a feeble shot to run between his legs giving hope to the enemy.  We won 2-1 and I have collected the autographs of Roy Barry, Alan Gordon, Danny Ferguson and several other Hearts greats even if I canny read their writing today.  This makes me wonder what is the point in autograph hunting?  What did it do for me?  Nothing really but it might increase this programmes price by 50p.  This was a game Hearts had to win as previously at Paisley goalkeeper Gordon Marshall had been taken off with a head injury and Willie Wallace the kind of small centre forward took his place.  The ten men lost by 7 goals to 3. The 60's programmes reflect the growing wealth, 'we never had it so good' indeed, we never had it at all and I have kept that line up ever since.  The better quality programme, still with adverts for beer, banks, and Thornton's, now included photo's and much more information, mostly as such info always is, irrelevant.   
With the news that Bury FC have lost their place in the English league I find a programme featuring Bradford Park Avenue a club which also died during the 60's in similar fashion.  I believe such a club exists again today taking the name and is somewhere in the northern leagues hoping to recover their place one day.  The league table for December 1965 however shows this club in 10th place in the 4th Division, now League Two.  Not bad for a struggling club?  However the list is interesting as several clubs listed died later, Aldershot disappeared, Barrow are now somewhere in the Northern Premier,  Stockport County have just been promoted from that division, Halifax and Wrexham along with Hartlepool all reside in the National League today.  Several others also faced death by relegation or chairmen's ineptitude.  Several Scots clubs went through similar in recent years and have now sorted themselves out, well except Rangers of course, and more sensible accounting takes place now for the most part. 
We have to ask why such clubs disappear when often they are healthy enough when new men take over?  Inept management, bad luck, injuries or corruption all play a part.  However surely there must be a way to ensure such clubs do not die?  A football club has an emotional appeal business cannot compete with.  Once it has a hold little can remove this.  If only we had a government interested in what the people require...
Having collected these programmes I never look at them yet I am unwilling to let them go.  Part of me in in many of them, games I have attended, important events elsewhere, historical events recorded, all have a meaning as they lie in a box unattended.  Indeed I wonder if there is one from the first game I saw, it appears not but if one came along would I buy it and add to the pile?  
As I ponder this I notice the oven looking at me, I ignore it...

WHAT?

Football, Church Women and Holidays

Life has been much enhanced lately, yes Friday night football is back, and today the Heart of Midlothian are slugging it out with Aberdeen as we speak.  I will watch the delayed broadcast on BBC Alba at 6pm.  What a great use of a TV station!  No more Friday evenings wondering what to do, no more Friday evenings staring out the window watching people without TV football wandering about bereft.  At last life has returned to some normality.  
I have lost BTSport however, I could obtain it via Plusnet but this will cost £10 a month, and that is not on, I went there to save cash, anyway BT have BTSport only for this season then it moves to SKY.  This season I may take a 10 month ticket with Now TV to enable me to see Scots football on Sky, along with English rubbish.  I might be able to afford that.  
Of course after Brexit all these English players will be returned home, Trump fashion.  Then what will happen to English football?  A collapse at the top level is on the cards and Boris and his strange backers will line their pockets and run I expect.

 
At church this morning I noticed the three 'old' women gathered together again offering a view of a female 'Last of the summer wine.'  I began to imagine the kind of adventures they would become responsible for.  

'The Guild & the Missing Communion Wine.'  
Nobody knows what happened to the Holy bottles of QV Sherry procured from the Co-op but it was noticeable at the 'Bring and Share' Sunday they girls would not allow the children to drink the raspberry cordial on their table.  It remains unknown as to whether this played any part in their dancing on said table later in the day.  
The curate was later found in the vestry, tied up with string and with an offering bag over his head. 

Sometimes I laugh when folks talk abut little old ladies.  The impression given is of weak and not too bright women.  I remember being in a room full of ex-missionary women, their husbands, those who had one, had all died long before, and feeling more unsafe than when I was in some football grounds.  These women had had to succeed in difficult and often dangerous places, the Belgian Congo was one where many missionaries died, and in inhospitable habitations far from help.  These were not women to men with!

These summer days make me wake early each morning, usually so early that by 10 am I am back in bed!  I am surrounded by people telling me that they are off to Spain, Iceland, Majorca or some far off land while I mention my trip to Chelmsford to by sausages.  This does not seem right to me in some way.  
I keep asking for a pretty young lass who speaks French to drive me around the battlefields in France and Flanders but have so far met with little in the way of encouraging responses.  One or two have been specifically unresponsive I must say!  There again I have little desire to go where others go.  Spain for the sun, especially for those with kids sounds good but would be boring for me.  Iceland might be interesting but expensive and would mean eating a lot of fish!  For Majorca, sitting reading books sounds good but why go there.  If I go somewhere, if the knees let me, I would wish to see something!  Why g abroad to lie about all day?  What a waste.  The old battlefields would be interesting, foreign nations with a history far from tourists might also satisfy, but lounging about amongst lager louts can be done cheaper at home.  Not for me thanks.

 
 

Space Filling

I have been trapped indoors for the past wee while by my knees, housework and laziness.  So I have dug out old photos as I have only been as far as Tesco's so far.  The gray skies have also been a hindrance, it is summer after all, and I have therefore sat here staring at the wall.  It is not a great view.

Like you I have been much impressed with the English cricket teams ability to be totally outplayed yet come through and win, this, some claim, was aided by the umpires incorrectly giving them a run they ought not to have had, gosh, that has not happened before has it?  Today the media was splashing their faces across the screen and front page behind the word 'England!'  The Irish captain took it in good stride and the chief batsman, born in New Zealand, attempted to work out what the word 'traitor' meant.  Tonight the players are invited to Ten Downing Street, I know they will be pleased...  Some claimed this was a result of being outside the EU, though all of them now live within the EU, and James Rees-Mogg (born 1672) claimed this is what England can do after Brexit, forgetting the many foreigners in the team.  The captain indicated the side were 'diverse,' and 'Multi-cultural,' while saying Allah was with them.  
Brexiteers everywhere are now confused.
Have England won anything with home grown players?

Talking of racism how come the US president can racially abuse several members of Congress and get away with it?  His order for the four women to 'Go back to their own country,' would lead to prosecution even for a Tory member in this country why not in the USA?   It is clear he will use a great deal more such language in the next year appeasing the Rednecks to get votes.  

This dangerous clown leads us to Boris.  The affair of the US ambassador looks each day like a stitch up worked out between Boris, Farage, Trump and all the other Blackshirt leaders.  I really hope the Met Police do investigate properly and someone is brought to justice for this.  Such secret info should never leave the building and action must be taken.  The reaction tends to leave the impression that this was a step too far so maybe someone will be called to account.

At least the Tennis is off the screen now and with golf hard to find, cricket over, netball ignored and only the Tour de France left, I tend to watch it for the views these days rather than the race itself, we now await the return of proper football.  This has started in Scotland and soon the moneybags English will throw vast amounts of cash at the game to see their side struggle.  I long for the day the bubble bursts and football returns to normal. 

I see Alan Turing will be the new face on the English £50 note.  This man, a scientist of high achievement and ability, was of course gay during the days it was rightly illegal.  Because he was, the gay lobby say, 'hounded to death,' he has become some sort of super hero.  Certainly the secret services of the day did not trust anyone who was gay, the five middle class Communists, some of whom made it to Russia, were gay and MI6 were keen not to be caught out again.  But does anyone care about that?  Does anyone really care about his success at Bletchley Park?  No they don't, they just wish to use him to propagate the gay life.  The Bank of England has gone along with this.  
How far have we fallen?

Books!

Amazon

The first thing to note about this book is the lack of personal info re the author.  A Google check gives little away.  He is 'controversial,' writes occasionally for the 'Scotsman,' the right wing unionist paper, and has failed to be elected to either Holyrood or Westminster.  He writes lots of books on Scotland but only arrived in Edinburgh in 1975, when I left.  Why so little info?
Usually people criticise a writer, I found only one woman doing so, no info on him, his lifestyle, the company he keeps, this is surprising.  Or should we read between the lines?
The book itself, some 388 pages of small font, begins in the distant past when earth movements left volcano's and passing ice flows shaping the city.  From either of the two towering rocks, 'Castle Rock' or 'Arthur's Seat' we can see two more in the distance, one above North Berwick and the other across the Forth near Leven.  Redundant volcano's later used as fortifications by passing generations with 'Castle Rock becoming the home of Scotlnd's greatest city.
The sloping ledge which runs from the castle down to Holyrood Palace enabled a city to arise but the slope on either side also led to towering 'skyscrapers' long before New York thought of them.
Fry leads us through the growth of the city, ensuring his views are made clear each time, from the struggle of the Scots Kings to own the Lothian's and create a border, through the growth of the Canongate, the 1707 riots when England usurped Scots freedom, the '75 rebellion and the changes that followed as the new town arrived and up unto recent times.
It would be interesting to compare his book with that of other authors.  There is much interesting detail within but is his interpretation correct.  A second view would be good.  That said it is worth a read, he has clearly spent much time in the Central Library studying his subject and deserves to be read.  I must look for another viewpoint however.

 Amazon

Another Edinburgh book but slightly different.  This one concerns a Lawyer studying in Edinburgh who formed the First Foot-ball Club in 1824.  A lot of research has gone into discovering the author, not a man I would wish to associate with I must say, those he played with and their life afterwards.
Football of one sort or another has been played everywhere since man first kicked a ball.  Present day football was famously organised by the Hooray Henry's at Cambridge when they finally agreed on a form of rules they mostly accepted.  The arrogance of the English leads them to claim they began football while we all know the truth.
Forms of football were apparently played in Edinburgh schools.  That is middle class and 'toffs' schools as the majority of kids were working from the day they were born and schooling, let alone time to play football, was a pipe-dream.  While at university John Hope began to play in the fields around foot-ball with his mates, all from university.  John was meant to be a lawyer, his notes which are the foundation of the book detail every penny spent over the years.  Names of all, subs paid, and costs of ball and hire of field are all noted with precision, as a lawyer would do!
However John became one of those Christian types and a middle class Victorian one at that!  This did not stop the games, indeed he went on throughout his life to encourage people, especially the young and poor, to play all sorts of games and spent much money in helping them.  His personality meant that he was kind but a bit of a bore also and he never married.  With his money and legal position he would be attractive to some but romance never blossomed.
The 'foot-ball club' died in time but not before many men had passed through John's notebooks.  At the end of this book details of the men who joined are added and it is interesting to note that while almost all are middle class, wealthy, in professional jobs, many were medical men, the majority died in their 50's and a few long before this.  Only three or four made it to 90.  Even the healthiest smoked too much, suffered frequent illness which could not then be cured and the hazards of missionary or serving the Raj in far off places ended many a life at that time.
1824 is 50 years before the Heart of Midlothian and many other football teams as we know them today came into being.  This book reveals the desire for sch games long before their birth.  Indeed it was increasing wealth, shorter hours and half day Saturday after the 1860's that led to an expanse of all sorts of sporting endeavours for all classes.  John Hope would be glad he enabled many to participate long before this even if it cost him much money.  

Otherwise Occupied...

I may have made a mistake.
The other day I scrutinised the games still to be played and splashed out £30 on a 'Now TV' 'Sky Sports Pass.'  This enables me to see Sky Football coverage on the laptop.  Now as I also have BTS for Scottish football this enabled me to view more than the occasional match.  
Since then I have viewed quite a few.
Yesterday I watched three games and did almost nothing else.
Today I escaped from church a wee bit earlier than I wished, cadged a lift from a young woman and arrived home in time for the Edinburgh derby at 12:15.  This was better than last weeks wimpish offering and questions must be asked why Hibs players are so well liked by referees.  But I'm not one to complain...
After this, while preparing a burnt offering which may be with me for ever, I watched a bit of Burnley v Manchester City, this was disappointing after the proper football from Easter Road and soon I turned on to the Rangers v Aberdeen game where another showing of Glasgow Rangers bias enabled the blue bigots to win by two penalties to none.  Mr Defoe must wonder what he has to do to be sent off!  He not only handled the ball twice he also clouted the goalie and then feigned injury. The ref did not see a blatant assault ten yards ahead of him!
What is more is for the first time I realised that the referee, Don Robertson, is in fact now a FIFA registered ref.  Apart from a friendship with Jim Fleming who heads up Scots refs how on earth did this man get to that level? 
I then caught the second half of the rather poor English offering, Manchester United v Chelsea, a somewhat meaningless game after the first one I had watched.  This contained little emotion and less football but a lot more money.
I considered watching the MLS game from the US after this but wondered if maybe I was becoming hooked on this SKY lark?  As I look around I note lots of empty and half empty cough bottles, rubbish lying around, papers unread, mail unopened, dishes unwashed.  Could it be I need to switch off for a while?  
Surely not...