Season of Leaves and Chick Pea Soup

'Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness?'  Not if you are one of the many men now sweeping leaves up from pathways, car parks, various buildings, or just clearing them from the gutter of a great many houses.  I was considering this as I watched these leaves fly off the tree opposite, aided by the 16 mph wind, according to the BBC weather site.  As the afternoon sun glints on the leaves, both in the tree and scattered on the ground all around, it looks marvellous.  For those slipping on them on the pavement a different emotion might be coming into view.

I recall at the hospital in Maida Vale the three or four trees we had the privilege of watching.  This was not considered a privilege as we swept up between parked cars day after day.  Of course it does not last, but if you were on the early shift you had most of the work to do.  How come I was on the early shift when leaves were falling I ask?  Tsk!  

This seasonal thing makes me wonder.  Why seasons?  Why not just have one season where things grow all year round and leaves fall, er, compactly?  Why cold and heat, why not just nice temperatures to suit?  There again some seasons are well worth having.  The sunsets and autumn colours can be magnificent.  The darkness less so.  Imagine darkness before electric light?  No wonder the ancients went home and locked themselves in at night, that is nightfall, none of this midnight day ending rubbish, I think that began with the Romans.  I suppose many societies had forms of lighting at night but only when gas and electric arrived could we pollute the night sky as well as we do now.  

Snow of course produces wonderful scenes, though it left me and my neighbour flat on our backs at different times.  Summer speaks of long days, joy and happiness, Spring however, in my humble view, and you realise how humble this view is, can be the best of seasons.  Looking into the bright fullness to come, the new life all around, lambs gambolling, buds opening, birds flocking in from Africa, and a happiness seen amongst people, even in big cities.

We now approach a proper winter.  The leaves fall, the weather gets colder, winds come from the north, and the gas and electric take a great leap upwards in January, the busiest time for these crooks!  Do we have a Tory government?  Do Ofgem represent the public?  Is the Pope a Catholic?  

Bah!

Once again I attempted Chick Pea soup.  This is usually OK, and today I added, amongst other ingredients, Turmeric Powder obtained from Sainsburys.  To this I added a wee bit of Cayenne Pepper, and other things.  Unlike the fish in the oven that I forgot while scouring Twitter the soup did not burn.  This surprises me however, for when I attempted to eat some tonight I realised I had been somewhat overeager with the ingredients.  Cayenne and Turmeric go together quite well but possibly not in the amounts that fell into the pot today.  That pint glass of water has come in handy tonight, and I may not require to put the heating on for a day or two, no matter how low the temperature drops.

Still, I suppose this is healthy...

A Sunday in the Life

BiblePlaces

 

Sunday saw me shuffling down to the Kirk.  

I have not been for a few weeks and it was delight to see how the young women crowded around me.  I did not realise just how much they missed my weekly cash offering!  My tired mind did not enjoy much however, the service was a long one, too long for tired little me.  

Not only was it the church's 53rd anniversary, but it was also the 'Harvest Festival.'  This adds to the time as offerings were made, offerings this time being items wanted by the local 'Food Bank,' which the church supports and is itself used as an 'Food Bank' opening.  So, plastic bags of required substances abounded at the front, unlike in days of long ago when a sheaf of wheat or two would lie alongside local apples, fruits and vegetables.  Today, a more practical, and sadly required, offering is demanded.  We have a Conservative MP, who is also the Foreign Minister (at the moment, but things change quickly under this government), the town council is almost totally Conservative, and the County council also dominated by the Conservative Party.  However, the 'Food Bank' in this town has two openings within the town, and one on the rather 'better to do' area just outside.  There is also another in nearby, and better off, Halstead, and one in not so well of London overspill Witham!  Conservative areas these, and the MP has not, as yet, visited any of them.  All of these are based in church halls, I wonder why?  Does no-one else have the care, or would it cost too much?  Maybe the next 'Harvest Festival' might be different, maybe of course, it could be much worse.  

On top of this we had a child baptised.  Now I am not one for Christenings or child baptisms, however, the CoE is, and the vicar goes along with this so, when a local woman requests baptism he accedes to her demand, and attempts to use this as an 'outreach' to those who attend church only for 'Birth, death and marriages.'  And as I entered, shrugging off the women, I noticed the first three rows taken up with men in suits, and women dressed for an occasion. "Strangers," thought I.  Easy to identify such as the rest of the church takes a 'Come as you are,' approach, and rightly so, this means visitors all dressed up stand out.  Funny how they all think going to church requires 'dressing up,' I wonder how those thoughts get into their minds?  It does however, show the lack of understanding regarding churches today.

I say Christenings and child baptism have no place in scripture.  Such are never found there, what we do find however, is, for instance, in Mark's 'Good News,' where the disciples are clearing up after Jesus has finished for the day, and the women then approach for Jesus to 'bless' their children.  Obviously, no major Rabbi of the time wishes to waste time on the women or their children, so the disciples lovingly tell them to "Clear off."  At this Jesus, says Mark, is 'Indignant.'  The Greek word he uses is a very strong word indeed, indicating how God in human form, walking the earth, saw the women and children.  

However, baptism, such as from John at the Jordan, and occasionally elsewhere, does not mention children, only 'people.'  It is possible they were involved, but no mention of them is made.  The 'Christening service' is unknown.  

Non-denominational churches, based on scripture rather than 'liturgy,' do not have 'Christenings,' but what I might call 'presentations.'  That is, new born children are 'presented to God,' and the church, along with thanks to God, promises to care for them.  Can I just say at this point, I am no longer available for babysitting.  

They are welcomed into the church but no demand on the child is made re belief. 

The reason child baptism is accepted is based on Pauls time in Philippi. 

When Paul was in Philippi spreading the Good News, he was confronted by a woman with an evil spirit.  She was a slave girl, common in those far off days, and not uncommon even in this country today, who earned much for her owners by fortune telling.  Demons have much knowledge and are not to be laughed at.  This woman followed Paul telling people that "These men are servants of the Most High God, and are telling you the way to be saved."  After a few days of this Paul turned round and in Jesus name commanded the spirit to leave her.  This was seen by the owners as unfortunate as they lost money, so a 'hubbub' arose and a crowd soon saw Paul and Silas stripped and flogged, then dumped in prison as serious offenders.  My reaction would have been one filled with rude words, Paul and Silas are found at midnight praying and singing hymns to God, with the other prisoners listening to them.  Clearly they had an effect on the others.  

An earthquake follows, not unusual in the region, and the prison walls shake, doors open, fetters loosened.  Not surprisingly the prison jailor fears for his life as everyone must have escaped.  However, Paul stops him and indicates all remain inside, revealing Pauls hold on them.  The Jailor then asks, "What can I do to be saved?"  The answer, "Believe in the Lord Jesus, and you will be saved, you and your household."  Paul then spoke the 'word of the Lord' to the household, the jailor washed their wounds, and soon he and his family were baptised. 

It is this incident that allows some to accept child baptism.  The jailor 'and all his family,' to some, indicates children were baptised.  But I wonder?  

This was Philippi, a Roman town, a place emptied by Augustus in 42 BC and used as a pension for retired Roman soldiers.  Each man was given something, a wine bar, a fast food joint, whatever suited them, and that was their pension.  By Pauls time their sons and grandsons, plus other ex-service men had filled the town, thus the jailor may well have been a member of the Roman army at some point.  I see him as a man, at least in his 40s, if not older, with grown up children, at least of teenage years.  His position as prison governor would not have been given lightly, so he may well have been at least a Centurion, with experience of leadership.  Therefore those who reckon children were involved in his household being baptised are merely surmising that to be the case.  My surmise may also be wrong but I will not mention this.    

Anyway, the kid here was baptised, then, learned how to toddle freely, spent much time toddling around the church drowning out the vicar, to everyone, bar the vicars, amusement.  These days kids get more freedom than in days gone by, but eventually someone grabbed him and others and dumped the in a play room.  Being a special service the normal kids events did not occur, and this may have been a mistake.  The kid was enjoyable, and all loved him.

 

I did not wish to stay and talk, I was very tired, but enough people spoke and listened to my idea of 'TikTok' fame.  The results were disappointing.  " What, You?" was a common expression, "Fame?" followed by sarcastic laughter, another.  Some wondered if a live picture of myself early in the day might breach the 'Law of England & Wales.'  One suggested wearing a Burqa, just in case.  The treasurer wished me well in obtaining cash and gave me the church bank numbers but with a strong hint of sarcasm as he did so, his son, a 'TikTok' follower just banged his head on the desk muttering something unclear.   I failed to understand their thinking.  Other indications of a lack of support drove me from the field and home to rest my ego and remain in poverty.     

With no little relief I have finished my Turmeric soup.  I am now planning another, somewhat lighter, and this time I may even attempt to add flavour, maybe...  

Calamity All Round Day

Another week filled with joy and happiness heads towards its end.  The thin cloud covering the world, the chill in the air, and the leaves lying across the world indicate the time of year.

The choking cough I suffer today indicates I did a  washing yesterday.  This involved a lot of shirts and one blanket.  Some fool forgot that this blanket leaves fluff on everything, so I now have fluff on everything!  Including my throat.  I had kept the red duvet cover separate to avoid more pink items, and put that through on its own today, but having done that separately I now have to wash all the rest once again on Monday.  Life, as it is normally lived, in this house!  

Oh yes, and I had to hoover the fluff off the floor afterwards also.  Fool!

Of course I can add to the delights my Turmeric soup.  I did not plan on making Turmeric soup but as I added a bit of this, a bit of that, I also added a bit of oops, too much Turmeric!  The flavour, for want of a better word, will not earn me a place on one of the ten times a day, cooking programmes  on television.  I heard the dog downstairs howling as I ate, I suspect the aroma got down to him.

As it is the end off the week the weather had deteriorated accordingly.  Wind has gathered its power, clouds gather, huge clouds gathering in mid Atlantic awaiting Monday morning, and football ruined by the wind.  Tsk!  The clouds also mean I canny get a better shot of Jupiter than the last one.  Once again my wee camera is not reaching that far out.  I thought I had got something special last night, but it was just a plane leaving Stansted and passing over us.  Those lights are confusing.

It now transpires there are only three Prime Ministers until Christmas.  How time flies?  The shortest ever Chancellor has gone back to making more money and dodging tax, while the woman responsible for his policies that ended with him thrown under the bus in a vain attempt to save her own skin, remains planning decorations at No 10.  

I'm not sure she needs bother.

The somewhat smug Chancellor has been replaced by a very smug Chancellor, one Jeremey Hunt of Freudian slip fame.  He of course is no fan of our Liz but he is a fan of taking her job.  Clearly he sees an opportunity falling towards him here and she has not.  Liz not comprehending surprises no-one. 

So, what now?  Satirists are struggling to keep up here.   It is not possible to write something today and know it will not have changed by tomorrow.  I wonder if she can find a small war to occupy people's minds?

Soup, Spiders and Australian Railways

 

Because a bug attached itself to me I have managed to lose almost half a stone by not eating.

Today however, I began to eat.  I put some chopped Chick Pea things, I forget the name, in the pan last night and covered them with water.  This morning I boiled them, flattened them, sort off, and added the ingredients.  These are easy to find, I just put in what is lying around.  Salt, brown and red sauce, cayenne pepper, vinegar, turmeric, coriander oops, too much, chicken Oxo and tin of chicken soup.  Add onions, green lentils the only tin available, and some frozen leeks, heat, simmer, and wait.

I now have a coriander soup.

This is not one the local cafe's will be asking about any time soon.

I did my best, ate two bowls of this, er, stuff, and cooled the rest for the week.     

My prayer, "Lord, I'll get it down, if you keep it down."

I have been hosting quite a few of these guys recently.  One has been above me in the corner for several years now, though whether he, or she, is the same one I cannot tell.  Above the window a long legged creature has been moving about for some time, first here, then there, sometimes just 'hanging about to my left.'  This smaller fellow is living on the wall just outside my door.  He has been there several days now.  No web, no friends, possibly no idea where he is heading, but he is still there, though he has managed to move several inches during today.  

None of these are the Australian type, small, non dangerous, and mostly wanting to keep in the dark places rather than a hallway with occasional lights.  My aunt, who moved to Australia in 1926 I think, was not impressed with my sisters response to what she referred to as a 'small spider.'  My sister was not impressed by what she considered a 'dirty big brute.'  I think Aunt Lizzies tales of the spiders she met while living in one of the big houses (as caretaker) on one of Sydney's many bays put my sister of her dinner for several days.

They can stay in Aussieland.    

When I am rich, I will take the train, the Indian Pacific, from Perth to Sydney one day.  There is only one way to meet Australia, to see the lie of the land and to understand how the people develop, but by train travel.  Railways open countries, first of all in the days of long ago, and now in the days of tourism.  Commuter travel is still a busy rail service, though clearly it is quicker to cross such land masses by air.  To see the land however, you must take the train.

Hmmm...I canny even get to the train here.  I must jump on one soon, before all the strikes restart. 

Soup

I have just made soup.  As I walked away, leaving the pot steaming gently for a while, I browsed the catastrophe in the kitchen.  Where did all that lot come from?  How can such a small space contain so much mess?  The above cartoon, found on facebook today, came to mind.  'Cheney' sums up the mess left after an hour or two of me attempting something in a kitchen.  Lentils, tins of various beans, sauces and whatever else was lying around all get thrown in unceremoniously, and behind them lies a wake of empty, soiled tins, dishes, cutlery, empty unrecyclable plastic packets, and drops of various coloured stuff lying everywhere.  Where does it come from?  I was so sure I was being careful.  

Anyway, the mess is brewing behind me slowly, the actual soup mess I mean, the rest of the mess has been cleared away, and now I wish to lie down for an hour!  I met a young lad who belongs to the local Air Training Corps.  He wishes to join the army and become a cook, he must be mad!  That's all I can say.  It is bad enough cooking here, imagine what it is like out in the field, any field?  Tsk!

I suspect my soup will taste like all the others I have concocted, something similar to the mud so beloved of the 'our boys' in Flanders fields. 

In the Soup

As I walked out the other morning the weather she was gray, the sky cloudy, the wind chilled.  Frozen, I wandered around 'exercising.'  Today, trapped by the smelly washing and then making chicken soup I am stuck inside while the sun hits the 60's F.  Innit typical!  

The soup came from a chicken of dubious heritage, or is it just that no chicken today provides nourishment?  Yesterday I prepared the chicken and turned on the oven at 20 minutes to ten, then sat at the laptop awaiting the oven heating up.  At 20 minutes past 11, I remembered the chicken and placed it in the oven!  An hour and a half of warm house but uncooked chicken!  It was nearer one before I could eat.  My whole day was put out by crass stupidity, and not for the first time.  I could not hobble to the church this morning, too far for me today, though they were open, and could not find a proper service online, it being hours before our online one arrived, so I filled my time with listening to Alistair Begg again.  This however is not the same as meeting people, even wrapped up according to the orders, but he is always worth a listen. 

With the clocks marching forwards we see Spring in action properly, the gas and electric folk want a meter reading!  This means clambering down the awkward stair and then clambering slowly back up again tomorrow to read them.  Have they no heart?  Can they no longer employ people to read meters?  No, they cannot, that costs money the shareholders want!

 

Soup, Burns and Woke.

Epitaph for James Smith

 

LAMENT him, Mauchline husbands a',
He aften did assist ye;
For had ye staid hale weeks awa,
Your wives they ne'er had miss'd ye.

Ye Mauchline bairns, as on ye press

To school in bands thegither,
O tread ye lightly on his grass,—
Perhaps he was your father! 

 

Rabbie Burns

Poem Hunter 

On 'Burns Night' it is the thing to celebrate the Bards birth by eating haggis, reciting 'Address to a Haggis,' and gulping down whisky all night.  Whichever one is the most important aspect varies from house to house.  I suspect however the majority of Scots have not purchased a Haggis for tonight, though some have the whisky, and many a Scots child is refusing haggis and choosing instead a home made 'MacDonald's' for tea instead.  Personally I had a haggis over the weekend and did not find it very enjoyable.  Too dry, I did not find it gave me energy, and I was somewhat disappointed with it.  Maybe my Forres butcher makes a better one?  Anyway tonight, having spent time breaking apart the chicken bought from Tesco, I should have killed it first, and then making soup, better than last weeks but not great, I cared little for haggis, or indeed anything else.  So chicken and chips flung together with scraping of veg had to suffice.  It was not great.  I would like to hear Rabbies poem based on that!

 

There is something to be said for that cartoon.

I took time out from my busy day to upset the 'woke.'  

The Urban Dictionary describes 'Woke' as being:

 

'The act of being very pretentious about how much you care about a social issue.'

Now I am not saying these people do not care but I am saying their care was not 'Love.' 

This came re an item about those searching Edinburgh for people involved in the slave trade in the distant past.  Now we all agree, today at least, that this was a repugnant occurrence.  We also agree that many in Scotland, especially in Glasgow, were involved.  However, I am not one who is convinced those pointing out, indeed writing books and leading tours, round houses built or lived in by those benefiting from such trade is done for the correct reasons.  Some wish to remove statues, some wish to knock down houses, others want the present day descendents to 'cough up the cash.'  Fat chance! 

You cannot change History, you cannot forget it.  However, this History was not taught when I was young, though the slave trade was abhorred.

Naturally lots of white, middle class 'woke' are jumping on the bandwagon.  These I encountered today.  I indicated that Scots miners, my family among them, were enslaved by the Lairds of their day.  This of course was rejected as irelevant or off a 'different hue.'  I am not sure my folks in Fife digging coal deep down with no prospects to speak off would agree however.  

The point that annoys is the eagerness to join the mob, not from love of black slaves, white slaves exist also, but belonging to the right crowd is what matters.

These folks share the same causes, join the same protests, believe the same things, none of them stopping to really consider what they are doing, indeed their limited world does not allow this.

Of course we have all done similar in past times, that is why we see it for what it is.  I have joined the cause, then realised it was the wrong way to do things or indeed a wrong cause.  Have we not all been there?  I am left wondering how many of these anti-slavers will pay money to those fighting slavery today?  It never fails to amaze me how such enthusiasm disappears when cash is required.  

Another example comes to mind.  For long years a protest stood outside the South African embassy in London.  Fight for freedom they said, free the black man in South Africa.  After Mandella was released they all went home.  However, when Zimbabwe leaders were killing black and white men no protest appeared.  Black led nations could go to war, no protest was found.  Why was this?  Because these people did not 'love their neighbour' they just took up a popular cause.  

When they gather together to stop todays holocaust, the murders of the unborn child, then I will believe they really care about slavery or any other cause today.

 

Monday Mumbling

Mumbling about nothing today.  Rain spoiled everything.  I wrapped my sisters cheap birthday present and sauntered down to the Post Office run by the nice Asians.  A cheery smile took my money and off the packet went.  On the way back the rain teemed down just to annoy me and soaked as I was I sought refuge in Tesco.  Upstairs the clothing department sold unsuitable hats at a price I could consider so clutching my bottle of milk I squelched my way home.
Nothing else happened.
Oh it did.  Firefox would not work this morning.  It worked OK last night, Google Chrome was working OK yet Firefox would not connect, it just kept claiming it was reset.  I searched for an answer which remained hidden and getting fed up forgot all about it.  Later when I switched back on it worked fine, it still does!  
Nothing else happened.
It should have happened but somehow when I looked at the clock it was four o'clock and the day had passed by.  Where did it go?  What happened there? Nothing!  
Oh wait a minute, I made soup.

Sometimes I wonder if I can go on at this restless pace.......

.

Another Dreich Day, Hooray....

Start the day with a smile they say, and get it over with.  Well I did that this morning.  Rising before the sun by seven thirty I had dumped the rubbish, eaten what is laughingly called breakfast, began to make soup, planned the 'wartime shortbread,', and made a list for a Tesco visit. 
Naturally it all went wrong
Too early to thump around the kitchen without waking neighbours (why are they not at work today I ask?), I noticed rain beginning which by eight was teeming down and remained so for hours, and I became immersed in some rubbish in the online papers and then facebook.  
The soup.  This was simple, add black lentils (I canny spell 'lentilles vertes'), rinse, boil for ten minutes, simmer for thirty five, then add stuff.  The mistake was to put all the lentils in the pot. As they were small I dumped in the whole packet, I did not realise they would swell up so much! I expected some degree but it meant there was insufficient space for the rest of the veg.  Onions and sauces only!  Tasting it much, much, later brought to mind a cartoon from forty years ago, a couple stand by the cooker on which a large pot bubbles, he holds a spoon to his mouth while she intones, "You can add salt if you like, but it won't get your socks any cleaner."  That is what this tasted like.
As I spoiled my lunch I made use of the recipe, using rough, wholemeal bread plain flour as it gives a better result in my opinion, and slid the hastily created biscuit into the oven.  As I toiled at the laptop, the rain hammering on the window drowning out the sound of my chattering teeth, (why is winter always cold?) i noticed a burning smell.  I ran to the soup, which simmered nicely, I opened the oven and stood back from the smoking black object therein.  Still, it will fill a gap I suppose.  Probably the cracks in the walls.
The cold rain kept me indoors, although if it's cold inside it is usually warmer out, and with the use of those woolen gloves with the fingers cut off I listened into Radio four's Agatha Christie tale.  Not a story but a chap following her adventure as she took the train to Baghdad!  A repeat maybe but very interesting.  
Late in the day I managed to spend far too much in Tesco's, and still forgot several things.  The picture above fits well.

The Scottish Independence Referendum is less than a year away.  All the media is London based, even the TV and Radio have a London bias among the staff.  Almost everyday there is a scare story informing Scots of the end of the world if Scotland becomes an independent state.  All arise in Westminster, all are indubitably nonsense.  One even had Rowan Williams the ex-Archbishop of Canterbury talking of the disaster if the union breaks apart.  Tsk!  The real truth is that Westminster NEEDS Scotland.  It needs the money that flows into Osbornes exchequer, England cannot survive without Scotland, that is why in 1707 Scotland was forced needlessly into the union in the first place!  While treating Scotland as a second class citizen who is expected to doff the cap to the mighty at Westminster the powers that be lie in their teeth to pretend they care, some not even being sure where Scotland actually is, it's somewhere beyond Watford is all they know!  The banner was, I am informed, placed on the headquarters of the people demanding a 'NO!' vote in the referendum, and was an excellent way to represent the peoples opinion.
Vote 'Yes!'

Wednesday Evening

How to Boil Water

There is nothing worse than setting aside several hours to make soup than forgetting to eat the stuff! I slaved over the cooker (always called a 'stove' in some parts for no good reason) cutting up onions, pouring red, green and black lentils into the pot, boiling water, adding two, yes two, chicken OXO cubes, cayenne pepper, tomato AND brown sauce, and using up the electricity to ensure this bubbles long enough to kill all the germs. Then, when all this is done, cooled and stuffed into the freezer I forgot to eat the stuff! I did eat, that tin of pink salmon has been in the fridge for several days now so I suppose I had better use it up as it was open. The bread was also a little stale, but I got it cheap so cannot complain, (Not that I am one for that anyway) and all that remains is the open tin of green beans. Funny that as they were not green when I put them in there. I did however obtain a load of salad stuff for £1 at the market. This will reduce my cholesterol and keep me on the run!



It is quite staggering to think of all the folk who have passed through, and by, this church. It has stood there since around 1200 and one wonders at the tales it could tell. Wars have passed by, reformation and counter reformation has seen the church altered and re-altered. In days of yore people stood, the important at the front and the social hierarchy lowering as you neared the back, hence climbing the social scale, (very biblical!) and when tired folk 'went to the wall' to rest.
The fact that people wore the same clothes constantly, and even the rich did not bother to bath, meant that an odour was palpable in the crowded church, and it would be crowded as attendance was usually compulsory. Flowers were strewn on the floor to combat this, feet crushed them as they passed and the flowers on the stone floor gave of a pleasing scent. Attendance at the morning service, often the evening was reserved for the top brass or those who really wished to be there, attendance was not always popular and the vergers were often forced to take action, waking some folks, stopping others writing graffiti or scraping pictures on the walls, on occasion stopping others calling out their objections or attacking the celebrants. The local churches are not like this today!

Saturday Evening

Saturday is alive once again! Jeff Stelling, the awful banter between him and his knowledgeable group of ex-pro's. Football results, reports, shocks and surprises. Weeping and a wailing one moment and rejoicing and breathing huge sighs of relief on the other! Football (almost) is back again! I say 'almost' as the actual season does not start for the Heart of Midlothian (bow your heads in respect out there!) until next weekend when the big boys come out to play, however when Jeff appears Saturdays take a turn for the better! This was topped by a great surprise this evening as I was pondering how to bring tedium to the world, the BBC showed WBA against Newcastle! Brilliant! I did not know they were covering the 'Championship' and I was plenty surprised when I came across this. Woohoo! Something to ease a Saturday night here in the Cave of Adullam! It certainly brightened it, what numpty made Newcastle United wear yellow shorts and white and yellow wide stripes on their shirts? I suspect it was chosen by that idiot American owner. The sooner he goes the better!

Of course in recent years this Saturday afternoon has become a time for doing several things at once. Listening to Radio Scotland for the Glasgow based anti hearts report, watching the results come in on Sky Sports with Jeff, and most important,making next weeks meals! Today was no different. Today was a day for throwing a lot of black lentils, a few red one, a handful of green ones, an onion, three potatoes, cayenne pepper, two imitation 'Oxo' cubes, a pinch of coriander and masses of brown sauce into the pot and let it incinerate. Several large doses of E-Coli there for next week I reckon. Of course I did not cook any 'meat' this time, not having obtained so many tins of oily fish. As such fish, so we are told, are good for the brain I expect my IQ to rise considerably in the next few days.
What's that you said?

Ah yes, my improved diet is indeed making itself felt, I have been starving most days! However once again I dragged the aching knees up the old railway around 9 a.m.this morning and went that little bit further than usual. I feel the benefit all over me today. It is there alongside the dead flies, insect bites and scratches that come from nowhere. Mind you at that time on a Saturday out come the joggers. These are folk who I suspect commute to London or whatever and I expect that jogging is something they feel is part of their 'lifestyle.' The women tend to go in for Lycra and carry bottles of water, probably the type with a 'teat' as that is what the models in the magazines do! The men are in paid for T-shirts and shorts. The men who wear Lycra and pose for the world are those who go in for cycling in a big way. They watch the 'Tour de France,' always referred to as 'the tour,' and dress they way they are supposed to, cycle shorts, colourful tight fitting cycle shirt (in team colours), gloves, helmet, and wrap around sunglasses. They have a tendency to despise those of us who just 'enjoy' cycling as opposed to them who travel a hundred miles a day in record time. Both the joggers and the cyclists reveal our desperate desire to be part of the crowd when we show our individuality. Both feel superiour to those outwith 'their crowd.' Both are sad. What is sadder is that we have all been there, and in many ways still are.

We all want to be 'loved' and especially when in our teens and twenties we need to fit in with a group which suits our tastes. Obviously this is understandable, however it also becomes a shield in which we can hide away from the world. Even those of us over thirty five (you know who you are - no girls, not you! Your never over twenty three are you?) who show less respect for fashion (cough) follow the conventions when necessary, and rightly so. After all if you go out of your way to be different you are still shouting out about yourself and not content within. You also become a bore, which is where we were supposed to come in!

Well my health fad is about to be broken for tonight. I accidentally picked up four 'reduced price' sugar covered jam donuts in Sainsburys when I went up for bread. Tsk! They have to be eaten as the date is running out......

Soup

This cooking business is easy. I quite understand how men go into this cooking business, especially on TV, and make money out of it. You will remember that my 'Flanders Stew' has become world famous, there again so has 'Swine Flu' I suppose, but cooking is easy-peasy and I am thinking of making a cook book with my own special recipes. I would put a recipe on one page and a meditation from the Psalms on the other, I would call it "Wok in the Spirit!" It will be a success and I am sure thinking about it brings a lump to many throats. Take my home made soup for instance, something I began when musing on my mothers potato soup. My mothers soup kept us alive when young and few mums today cook in similar fashion. My great niece insists on this when visiting her great gran and has been known to take some back home with her because her mother, and gran, are so bad at cooking! This inspired me to try my own home made soups.

Today I took some (No need to soak) Red Lentils and chucked them in a pot and added boiling hot water. To this I added some green (No need to soak) Lentils and stirred. Having raided the cupboard I discovered some 'Lentilles Vertes' (No need to soak and what are they anyway?) and flung them in for luck. The next step was to chop up some foul looking potatoes, and even fouler looking onions, and amid tears and much stink fling them into the cauldron. The recipe obviously requires something to develop the taste so I crumbled, and then when I recovered placed an imitation chicken OXO cube in for flavour. Adding a dollop of cayenne pepper to spice things up a bit I then added the most important ingredient of all, Brown Sauce! There is no doubt that this is the true secret of success. I stirred the lot, allowed it to simmer and, eventually, sat down to lunch!

It was Foul!
It tasted rather like the famous Black Broth the Spartans lived off! Now, where is my spear....?





Possibly the hottest day of the year today, so I wandered away from my strenuous mental exertions and sat in the park and watched the girls read my book. Stretched across the bench I soaked up the sunshine and soon, like a pig in the sun, I was bacon. (Get it? oh never mind) After thirty or so minutes of this I removed my shirt in the sunshine for the first time since the early eighties. On that occasion, being unused to soaking up the sun, I sat there for hours slowly turning a deep beetroot colour. Soon afterwards I discovered this was unwise! The red turned to itching, the itching turned sore, the friends and colleagues turned ugly and insisted on rubbing my chest on each and every occasion. I often volunteered to do the same to theirs but women are fussy creatures you know. Naturally I did not stay too long like this, less than forty five minutes all told, and ran for cover. However I did enjoy my short stay in the sun and while there attempted to study the book, 'Western Society & the Church in the Middle Ages.' This was difficult as it was much better to inhale the aroma of the flowering bush nearby, watch the girls swifts chase one another across the deep blue sky, and generally just indulge myself in the rare pleasure of hot sunshine. Those who were not brought up in a nation in which cloud covers the land two days out of three, often carrying rain which it delights to leave with those below, will not understand the British preoccupation with sitting starkers in the sunshine.

When I first came to this county I discovered it had the lowest rainfall in the UK, this I soon proved wrong when I became a postman! I also disproved a theory at that time that the area was as flat as Norfolk, it isn't! Indeed there were many on my rounds, one right around the corner! But I must not let you think I am one to complain must I? Anyway I am enjoying the warmth of the earth, and understanding how people wish to sit under their own olive trees and rest in peace and safety. We Spartans can cope with this, for a few days!

A Mixed Saturday

Getting up early this morning I decided to wander around Sainsburys for the weekly fruit and veg. I knew that with it being a holiday weekend, and with snowflakes attempting to fall, that the market stalls would not turn out today. Naturally, as I left the store, I could see the usual veg man trying to erect his stall in spite of the wind fighting valiantly against him.
I then attended to the clean up and washing and all the other things that must be done on a holiday weekend when some folks are enjoying a break and I am plodding around looking for Somerfields own brand washing powder. Well it is actually a kind of purple liquid but you know what I mean.
Smugly satisfied with myself I then turned to the main project of the day, attempting to complete the reinstalling of XP that I began yesterday. All day I spent downloading, installing, scratching my head, installing, querying, and installing till the candle was near the end of its life. Naturally my work had not been completed, I still had to connect to the web and reinstall OE. Today that was accomplished, and some hours later Outlook Express finally allowed me to use it. It is one of the wonders of this computer world that instructions for a wide variety of computer hard and software come incomplete! However I had wisely kept the secret hidden away and, once I remembered this, Success was achieved.
The word success does not include sound of course. No sound whatsoever can be obtained at the moment. 'No audio device' it claims, although I do get a buzz every so often - not like that - so something makes a noise. Oh yes, and the 'floppy' still wants a disk inserted in 'A.' So that is lost also.
However I managed to make an almost uneatable soup out off a wide variety of near penicillin veg that I had lying around. That I used tonight to take away the taste of the 'Flanders Curry' that I had for lunch, with oatcakes. The dole office have never suggested I take up cooking for a living, which is just as well. I once fed beautiful young lass who worked for the environment folk at the council. She closed down my kitchen! While doing this I listened to Sky Sports as the season begins to draw to an end. My ears were anxious to hear the good news of our mighty hammering of Falkirk at Tynecastle today - it never happened. It seems instead we had a dreary nil-nil draw which does not suit us at all. There will now be a moment for sympathy.

Thank you.

An unusual thing did occur tonight mind, I laughed at 'You've been Framed!' One of the sequences had me in tears of laughter and that has not happened for a long time, tears of woe and despair oh yes, but laughter - no! Mind you some folks blogs have come close to it in recent days. Usually deliberately!

But as I looked out of the window I realised just how much I love Spring. The birdies flit cheerily through the trees, singing happily while they begin the breeding season, maybe that's why? The chaffinches and robins, dunnocks and blackbirds pour out their song brightening the dawn. One advantage when I was a postman was to hear the dawn chorus beginning as I cycled to work, marvelous that was. High overhead a kestrel may circle or hover while seeking out the tiny speck that is a mouse or vole far below. Wood pigeons coo irritatingly loudly outside folks windows long before the alarm clock has threatened them into life. Massed ranks of rooks or crows,(who knows the difference?) caw loudly high in the trees, and somewhere a thrush takes time off from listening intently for the worm and instead sings beautifully while announcing that this is his patch so clear off. Among the trees covered in budding leaves are masses of bluebells showing through the darkening floor. Daffodils can be seen in many places, and snowdrops and little blue flowers begin to appear. Lovely, just lovely. The sight cheers the heart, a lightness within accompanies the lightening of the skies above, and the sun climbing higher each day, ensuring the sky is that little bit deeper blue, and the whole world appears a better place. No wonder folk in Norway and Finland who suffer six months darkness each year go bananas! That is enough to turn anyone into a Viking invader!

Admittedly, being Easter, the weather would turn a tad chilly. There is a slightly cold front moving from the north, starting at the north pole and passing through Iceland picking up snow and ice on its way. Kind hearted as it is the front is leaving Spring snow all across the highlands and down the east coast of England. Some of it has been plastering itself against my window all afternoon! To be honest it is bright and sunny at the moment but I can see in the distance another huge dark gray cloud heading towards us. From the light blue sky above small sleet like flakes are drifting by, doing their best to grow up into snowflakes. Now in my humble opinion, if the ice flows are melting, glaciers shrinking, and the Maldives and other places beginning to flood maybe it would be a better idea to keep all this white stuff up there in the north where it belongs? Could we not persuade the weather folk to do something about this?
Clouds have always fascinated me in some ways and I can see why Constable put them in his pictures so often. I doubt he realised just how large a cloud could be. In the far distant past I flew home to Edinburgh and the whole journey was above cloud. Later that night the weather forecast showed the size of the cloud. The picture revealed one single cloud that stretched for thousands of miles from the Arctic to the Mediterranean, and from the Atlantic to the centre of Asia. What a size! Add to this the variation in the clouds, what the meteorologist will understand from them, and what they comprise, it just leaves me wondering in the same way I do when confronted by other elements of creation such as the sea, or mountains. Fascinating. Wonderful stuff, but I would really rather get sunburned somewhere in the Mediterranean!

I am however suffering that guilt that turns up every so often. The guilt caused by talking to my mother! My Mum is a wonderful person and does so well for someone who is 93. However while I want to keep in contact I really find less and less to share with her. My conversation is limited at the best of times, and she is trapped indoors too much at this time of year, and after discussing the weather, the 9 year old, what she eats, and nothing else really there is nothing to say. Women need to converse in a way men don't, and all to often this is plain boring, and add to that my life being very different for the family up north, and indeed everyone else on the planet, it is a very trying time. Until my sister died things were OK, she would call and talk for hours about nothing, and she was just around the corner, not 400 miles away! It is so frustrating, and made worse by here deafness. I am not going to spend all night shouting down a phone!
So nearly every time I call I end up full of guilt, and angry! I want to do more, and I don't want to spend time talking about her dinner for an hour-again! Excuse me, I am just off to gas myself!