Dreich Time

It's been a bit of a bind in recent days.  My knees not being good, overdoing it on the front and scunnering myself for over a week, then as that eased I fall flat on my face and do my arm.  That will take a while to go, possibly months, and twice today I have screamed after I did this aaaaaaaaaaaaagh, and what is left of the muscles in the arm did not like it.  Ice packs aplenty in here.  I have only been to Sainsburys and Tesco, and that's too far, and now I just wish to sleep all day.  Mind you I am happy with that.   

What limited hope has been from watching England fail.  Sadly this has not happened.  Russian VAR men and a German referee threatened by England before the game saw the officials miss hand balls and gave penalties that did not exist.  5 million Scots very unhappy, let alone the Dutch and the rest of Europe!  Only Rangers fans and a handful of Scots Tories support the colonial imperialists.

Viva Espania I say!

One man heading for the final will be England's Prime Minister.  And I mean 'England's.'  Just in the door and he is already stopping them drilling for oil, his 'Scotland at the heart of Government reveals one cabinet minister only, and Keir's promise to women that he would protect their private spaces has gone out the window as he has installed three women and one man all of whom support the trans lobby.  One calls herself not Miss or Ms but 'They,' the man Kinnock's son, has a son who dresses as a girl, and the rest have no idea about life!  Scotland and women down the drain, I await a 'U' turn soon.

Twitter has been as mad as always, however, most of the Reform bots have gone.  It is interesting to see how many claim to be REFORM, joined Twitter 10 or more years ago, have lots of emojis alongside their name, and have 25,000 followers!  Somehow I fell these are as false as the REFORM candidates that did not exist. 

I also clicked somewhere on a catholic post, I know not which, and have been inundated with people arguing about the Latin Mass.  It was tempting to join in and upset many but I just blocked them all, though others still arrive.  

The algorithm sends hundreds of posts because you 'liked' or commented on one.  No matter what you are then inundated with them.  At least most are UK, up till now they have always been US led and of no use to me.  

Book reading has been slow.  Not helped by more coming through the letterbox, and more on the way.

There is no time to read them, or am I just slowing up?  

I noticed today some 'WhatsApp'  posts I have not answered, and other things are being left undone. Partly this is because of movement difficulty and I suspect too much football at the wrong times and a great deal of sloth could be involved.  Football is however, slowing, and less will be available for a while.   

' O to go down to the sea again,

The lonely sea and sky.

I've left my shirt and socks there,

I wonder if they're dry?'

Spike M.  

I feel like that also.  Though I suspect the beach we see here will be mobbed by hundreds and thousands at this time.  A little bit of sun and warmth and the UK population rush to the coast to get away from it all, and are stranded among millions getting away from it all.  It would be nice.

Gerald Taylor, yet another Costa Rican international who has joined the world's most important football club.  If he is as successful and his predecessor Vargas we will be on to a good thing indeed.  I am not sure where his finica will be in Gorgie...

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.

Victorian Fishing Scene

What a good picture this is.  'The Mornings Catch,' by James Clark Hook, 1877.

This tells us much about the rough lives out forefathers lived.  Not just the danger of all night fishing in rough seas, often quite far out to sea, but also the hard work left for the women in the morning.  The fish has to be sorted, taken by creel to where customers lay in wait, and hopefully a good deal done, possibly door to door.  This on top of whatever house they possessed, possibly rented, stone or hard dirt floor, outside toilet, no running water, several children at that time being sent to school, and normal daily routine had to be followed.  

There was of course no pension, no welfare state, and people worked until they dropped, unless they, or a relative got lucky and made a fortune.  Fortunes in the 19th century could of course be made and lost within a generation.  Limited medicine, no painkillers bar chloroform, smoking, poor diet, though the fisherfolk and farmers could manage reasonably well, and most dead by their 50s.   

James Clark Hook 1819 - 1907, became quite famous for his sea pictures.  He painted so many they were known as 'Hookscapes.'  

I must admit I like sea pictures and this one, the view, the colours and the reflection of life in late Victorian Cornwall (at least many were painted there) appears true to life.  Painting however, does not indicate the smell of the fish!  In this way we are lucky.  

Spotting from Home, or Bored!

 

Bored with rubbish football last night I tried my hand at 'Spotting from Home.'  This is something usually done by those railfans who cannot get out and about these days so instead take pictures from their laptops.  Sitting in bed, bored with Luton Town last night, I picked up my cheap mobile phone and snapped favourite places.  

I decided to do this when watching far off Deshler, Ohio, somewhere in the United States.  Here is one of my favourite views, though usually it is not covered in snow.  The US is under a freak downwards curve of cold air and while Ohio may be used to such scenes further along in Texas, and even New Mexico, they suffered a blanket of thick snow.  A slight dusting they can cope with, several inches brought anguish.  

The engine in this picture is awaiting the passing of a train heading East which crosses just behind the camera view.  This has not yet arrived so our man just sits there and cogitates.  This is a not unusual sight at this point.  These frieght trains have to be well planned before they leave, a train 150 trucks long takes up a lot of space on the railway!

 

Unlike the engineer, that's 'driver' to you and me, I got fed up waiting so I moved to  Waupaca, Wisconsin, no, I have no idea where that is either, and discovered the foundry there was still working, possibly because this engine had just moved some of the trailers, filled with Coke standing in the background, into the furnace area.  This looks to me like one of those little 'wild west' towns that has little to build on but the foundry.  Quite why this town exists is not made clear but it appears to prosper.  Small town America lies before us here.

 

 

This, somewhat darker than it is in real life, seaside image, makes a change for those who do not appreciate the joys of railways.  Videos, sometimes live, of beaches wordlwide are very relaxing I find.  Here we can enjoy the birds gobbling up wee beasties we cannot see, but they know are there hidden beneath the sand.  There is something relaxing about the sea, the light reflecting of the water, the bird life, the air, all gives a relaxing feel to the mind.  I miss it.  

 

 

I used to see this view, from the side, regularly.  Crossing the Forth Bridge heading home with North Queensferry beneath us (give Gordon Brown a wave as we pass) the two road bridges to the right, and a few ships loading content to or from various refining plants.

In the past the Royal Navy at Rosyth, to the right, had half the fleet stationed here.  Vast numbers of ships, including BattleCruisers, were docked all around the area.  In the 50's when I passed a great many ships were still to be seen and Battleship gray covered the area.  Today these have gone, moved by John Major to who tried unsuccessfully to win a seat in Plymouth, thus leading to the loss of thousands of Fife jobs.  Who said the Union was a good idea?  

 

 

Not everyboby gets to see this view.

 

 

What?  Fed up with railways?  Heartless people!

OK, here are some Black Swans, somewhere in I suppose Australia, swanning about in a quiet, gentle, long video, one I often have on in the background.  Lovely to see and enjoy.  The colour obviously is better in real life.

I do like a lot of the old silent movies, hand cranked in the streets, while modern life, before 1914 that is, moved about for our entertainment.  This looks like France, a train arrives and all make a dash for it, the hopeful passengers, the men jumping off as the train slows, a great number of porters and station staff, and overdressed women, must be ones with money, pushing the men aside to get the best seat.

Fashion, you will note, doth make fools of us all!

 

 

The Sea! The Sea! I Wish I Saw the Sea!

 

"Oh to go down to the sea again

          To the lonely sea and the sky."

Well I got as far as the front where I removed some weeds and cleared up a wee bit.  That and aches makes up my day.  I did this job because I thought 'Hermes' were delivering and I wished to be at the door to ensure he did not run away again.  Naturally it is tomorrow he is coming...

At least I was outside for a while.

How I miss the beach at Bournemouth!

There are other small coves around where it is possible to enjoy the sea, especially when few are around.  My dream home would have the right sea view in front of me and not far behind a railway, preferably a 'Heritage' railway, running steam every so often.  The view is somewhat different at the moment.  

One day when I am rich...

A stolen picture, taken from 'Edinburgh Past & Present' on facebook.  I even forget the lassies name, sorry.  She took this while landing at Edinburgh Airport (still called 'Turnhouse' by me!).  This is the area where I spent my first two years and then entered the school almost hidden high on the top left of the picture.  The view from the house we moved to looked over the Forth towards Fife, a super view, and on that page people often post pictures of sunsets and dawns to make me jealous.  I see trees and a park...  

This could be a worse view of course.  When I came here I was offered a basement in Dovercourt with a car park behind.  The view, and the mould on the wall, now attended to, was not to my liking, so here I reside.  Dovercourt is by Harwich which is a famous Submarine base, this was attractive but the flat was not.  The wee town itself was a bit rundown in spite of the tourist possibilities.  Not that I saw any submarines there now.  Sometimes I wish I had tried to 'go to sea' as so many used to in the past.  The idea of a rough crossing may have been what put me off.  Interestingly, my father was living just up from Granton Harbour having gone to the school just above the dock, yet he joined the army in 1925 when he could get no work.  I often wonder if he had tried for a seaman's job or if the waves put him off also?  The ships he saw as he grew up and paddled by the beach included the 'Grand Fleet,' or at least part of it based at Rosyth.  These must have impressed him, and he showed me where big guns once stood to defend the harbour, yet maybe a bullying corporal in the army was better than a ship rising and falling in the waves?

Better than most of the jobs I did have.

 

The Sea! The Sea! As the Greeks said...

It's possible a Greek or two were wandering about when we landed on one of Europe's best beaches.  It ought to be best as they spend vast sums dredging up sand and piling it on to keep the beach in good condition, they succeed well.  Here we see one of the growing dunes that are being manufactured, the majority have grass planted to bind them together and lower the risk of the tide sweeping them away and the result is a more natural beach, natural if you remember much of it is dredged form somewhere out there.

  
Bournemouth beach on a Wednesday morning is one of the safest around.  Flags fly to indicate safe places to swim, large huts contain lifeguards sitting on watch, dogs are allowed but in parts restricted, security prowl looking for those who wish others harm. All in all they work hard to ensure a safe day out and it works well in my view.

The wind offered an opportunity for those who like sailing yet few were to be seen from here.  The cloud to our left allowed some sun to appear to our right where the 'Old Harry' rocks are situated.  The sea meanwhile gave different shades of light to us and I failed to capture the 'silvery sea' in front of me.  The settings wrong again!   Bah!

After inhaling all the sea breeze we could and discussing great affairs (she was back indoors scared of the sea so conversation could be deep and satisfying) it was decided to head upwards and get the view from on top of the cliffs.  

A great view of the sweep of the bay from Old Harry rocks to the far end at Hengisbury Head, a place she indoors will not let us travel as it's too windy.  On the beach we could not see these four yachts trailing one another yet up here all sorts of things appear in front of us.

What was he carrying as he jogged along the sand?  Such running is good for the fitness but in what looks like a wetsuit and carrying a deflated banana of huge proportions?  Maybe his dog was well ahead of him?

This one made several attempts to put out to sea but appeared to get no further than fifty yards before returning to shore.  Quite what he intended I was not sure but he did not go far.  It is not uncommon for people to row canoes (Kayaks?) around the British Isles but it is hard work in the seas round the coast.  In some ways I understand this, we all wish to do something rather daft that exercises the body, I cycled from Edinburgh to London once (once!) in 1974 at around fifty miles a day.  Not bad for someone who did not have a bike until a few weeks beforehand, rather stupid now of course!  The adventure of doing something physical and unusual is within us all, even though it is often daft!  I hope he makes it.

Behind us stood a long row of houses developed to take advantage of the view.  Some dated a little like this one (I will take a penthouse please), others replacing 1930's houses with modern three story blocks of wide windowed apartments costing just over a million each.  Down on Sandbanks where the rich live a modern home on the front could set you back five or six million, unless you wanted a big one.  Personally I prefer this block to the modern sleek trendy minimalist offerings.  I would wish for a home not a cold austere trendy flat, that is not a home just something to show off to others. 
My wishes of course make no difference, neither are coming my way nor I suspect will they come yours.  The view is great however and it is free to walk along the front inspecting where the ground has slipped away or sit and cogitate while gulls fly over the head and a Kestrel hovers over the cliff seeking lunch.  We saw one hover and suddenly swoop down below but we did not see him rise up again.  I wonder if he got fed or is still there chomping away?

    
This area was quite quiet while we sat and pondered but down below every 250 yards or so sat small pockets of people, usually a couple of women and a huddle of children, near the water and chucking down sandwiches in between enjoying the beach.  With the holidays round the corner it is clear that this area will be a mass of people doing similar and I will be happily above on the cliff rather than down there in that throng on that day.

These Scots thistles get everywhere, you see it is a fact of life that without Scotland or Scots this world would not work!  I er, will not attend church today in case any racist comments and or bottle throwing erupt during the service as comments regarding last nights result might be considered provocative....

We scurried home for lunch stopping only at the gorgeous Poole Bay!  Here those who stand on surf boards armed only with a sail learn to develop their hobby in the knowledge that this water is less than two feet deep.  In the distance sits Poole Harbour, which along with Christchurch at the other end of the bay have been the only workable harbours here since the Iron age, that's from around 500 BC until today.  Bournemouth itself was no use to anyone bringing goods ashore as these two places provided the harbour for the area, it being fear of Napoleonic invasion and the occasional smuggler that led some to seek the Militia to defend the beaches against such invasion that brought the Bourne Mouth to prominence. Lewis Tregonwell, a captain in the militia secured this area and after his wife suffered depression when their child died they holidayed in the area.  They loved it so much they built a house in 1812 and moved in.  Knowing sea bathing had become the cure all for all sickness Tregonwell built large villas, for the rich, to indulge themselves while holidaying, secured his fortune and created Bournemouth.  Now it possesses almost 200,000 souls and combined with Poole, Christchurch etc, almost half a million live in the area.  Too crowded for me.

 Naturally the water means a great many live as they have done for generations on the water.  Quite what this one was doing was unclear but I suspect his boat gets more use than those that appear unloved around him.  It is not unusual to see such craft slowly die and disappear into the mud.  Cheaper than having them broken or removed I suppose but there again do they not pay mooring fees?

Having lunched, how nice to eat properly for a few days, we two returned to the front late in the afternoon.  This meant parking in the cheapest place and how attractive such car parks can be!  Several levels of concrete with millions of pounds worth of debt laden cars in buildings using cheap paint to keep costs down.  Few holiday here but it is clear why movie makers often find themselves in such places.

   
Walking though the gardens to the pier we saw something of the huge numbers of young folk who fill this town while attending the University or the many language schools.  Vast numbers filled the park, kicking balls about, shouting, chasing one another, or as here on the beach, posing so as to attract the girls.  We sat amongst the throng, something you realise we were not too keen on, people watching for a while.  How much better the view was from high up above the cliffs than sitting amongst so many people here at the centre of beach life.   While it is right folks ought to enjoy the beach, and it is a great beach, I wished it was November, then the beach would still be great but these folks would be elsewhere!

Like the gulls we were wondering 'who ate all the pies?'  Or was it 'who drank all the 'Stella?'

Did I explain I enjoy Bournemouth?  My spiritual mentor was there, and she just as important in this even though the phrase I mostly hear her say is 'Shut up!'  The beach, comfy bed, good food, the sea, the countryside, the castle and the variety of intriguing houses built by the wealthy over the years are a delight to me, especially as I have not been there with them for two years.  Enjoyment is the word to sum it up.  You will be glad I am off home now...

A Second day (well actually it is still the first...)

Climbing the Matterhorn meant that he and I had little enthusiasm for anything but lunch.  So it was off the beaten track to a beaten track at Hartland Moor where we scoffed lunch and rested bones.  This type of moor is somewhat bleak in my view, the purple stretches for miles into the hills in the far distance and small beasties crawl here and there but few birds fly by and in my mind there is no obvious beauty to be seen.  To observe that requires careful searching into the scrub to find the many insects that live here but at first sight I see it as somewhat bland.  This did not stop people, aged and with dogs, appearing out of nowhere and disappearing in similar fashion into the distance.  The road is quiet and apart from a selfish female cyclist who would not let us pass on the narrow road, he man moved aside, few other vehicles came that way.  A good place to stuff the face when the sun is shining.

Then it was time for the beach!

Raised in Edinburgh, a city that slopes down to the Firth of Forth, I love to be near the sea.  Growing up we often heard the deep long blast of the foghorn based on Inchkeith and often we could see the light from the accompanying lighthouse turning around.  The advancement (?) of lighting and creation of blocks of flats where my old school once horrified they surroundings would hinder both, if indeed foghorns actually sound thee days.  The smell of the sea and the light produced by the action of light bouncing of the water does lift the soul I say.  There is something about the closeness of the water, the end of land and the reaching out to whatever lies way over yonder that speaks to us in some way.  In times past few lived near the sea as it appeared dangerous, only sailors and fishermen would venture near, but today the majority love the sea, crowded beaches show that.
Naturally the woman of the party despises the seaside and prefers moorland and forest!  This is good however as we dumped her on a seat at the front knowing she would retreat to the car and sleep the day off.  We trekked on bravely.

Swanage is a small town in a bay which gathers an enormous number of visitors.  Possibly it is comparatively cheap, I suspect it is not that cheap to live here, but lots of UK visitors were noticed.  There again Bournemouth and possibly Swanage attract young folks to 'Language schools' and Bournemouth teems with such types and maybe there were some among the throng here.

We did not venture far, the break in the buildings ahead offered a seat and a 'Heritage centre,' a well run small and very well set out museum resplendent with history and well informed volunteer helpers.  I am very impressed with this place.  If collecting stones, those shiny things kids love is your thing this is the place to go, they have thousands, this is the 'Jurassic Coast' after all.

We sat listening to a group of men in English shirts informing the world around of their inability to hold their drink while we cogitated on the number of 'Fish & Chip' shops advertised or seen in the small square.  The Jewish man who apparently began selling chips with his fish in the 19th century did not realise he was introducing the UK's main lunch when he did so.  The pesky foreigners keep changing good old English attitudes and it really must stop!  By the way it was supposedly an Italian, one who had walked all the way from Italy, who late in the century introduced Scotland's first 'Chippy.'  When you consider how in the last fifty years the UK now eats Indian (often Bangladeshi actually) and Chinese (are we still banned from saying 'Chinky?') you see how the nations eating habits have developed with the introduction of foreign Johnnies into the country.
 I await the popularising of Middle Easter cuisine in similar fashion however that may be limited by cries of 'Islamic Terrorist!' every time you went in for a falafel.  The gulls however cared not what you ate just as long as you ensured they got their share.

The sun shone brightly but there was a haze limiting the sight of the Isle of Wight.  At times it was almost clear but rarely could we see the lower end.  The sea itself was somewhat rough as the wind roughened the tops of the waves while the tide came in our direction.  The sea is very much colder than it looks and those tempted into it discover this fooled by the warmth of the sun.

 
Surprisingly few yachts were out there and this was good weather for that kind of thing.  Were the owners all off making money in the city in this heat I wonder?  Few craft of any king out there while we meandered about and headed back via the shops.  Lots of small shops still surviving in spite of business rates and greedy councils but a lot of them were, shall we say, tatty?  Lots of pap on offer, ice cream and chips, not at the same time,  and all the other requirements of holiday makers and their kids in the sun filled cheery seaside.  I wondered where these people resided?  On returning we found our madame still sitting there, now people watching, now gossiping with strangers, very like her.  These strangers were holidaying nearby, were others doing the same?  Swanage does not appear to have many obvious 'Bed & Breakfast' places, maybe I juts did not look. 

Then it was time to sail the seven seas, or at least make use of the Sandbanks Ferry.  

Timing it to be just too late to board we waited in the sun while people clambered out of cars, avoiding the massive chains that keep the ferry stable, and photographed their surroundings.  The young men on their jet skis bouncing upon the waves somewhat carelessly were less interesting than the madman trying to reach France by paragliding there on wind power.  He would be lucky to make the other side, which he would not do if he ran into the ferry from Boulogne.  It amazes me when you see the size of the ships which enter this narrow channel into Poole Bay.  Huge ships arrive and park themselves way over the far side of the bay yet in other parts the water is only a few feet deep.  For several thousand years men in boats, from dug out canoes to car carrying ferries have deposited their loads here, one of the reasons Many folks have made use of the hill upon which we found Corfe Castle and where I must have left two stones of ugly somewhere on the way up.  

Brownsea Island, not somewhere I have been but maybe if we could walk further we might venture onto one day, not this week mind.  Fampusly owned by one woman, famous for the first Boy Scout Jamboree (girls allowed but no boys allowed in Girl Guides for some reason) and we watched the ferry (yet another) pull away from the Island and make of round the bay.  Maybe next year but I doubt his missus will be up for that!  The island is now another National Trust property.

The Sandbanks Ferry has been running since the 1920's, a fact which surprised me as I always thought it a Victorian achievement.  £4:50 gets the car across in a few minutes accompanied on occasions by the sound of someone aboard informing a yachtsman or sailboarder of their opinion regarding how close he could get to a moving ferry chain.  Most big boats work the passage well.  
If you ever have too much cash floating around pass it on to me and I will buy one of the flats where I will waste my life watching the ferry move back and forth day after day, that is how active my body wishes to be these days.  I note one available for a mere £950,000 which appears to me to be a bargain that must not be missed. 

In the distance Bournemouth towers above the cliffs while on the beach thousands frolic in the sun, we will be there tomorrow.  Just think, around 1850 nothing much but bracken and a small stream, the Bourne, had its collision with the sea here, known as the 'Bourne Mouth' the name has stuck but now from Christchurch at one end to Poole at the other how many thousands cram into this place day after day?
I do like it however.