Thoughts

Actually I have no thoughts.  All week the mind has been dead for the most part.  A strange tiredness, biting cold wind, constant dreich weather and a general slackness all round has been the order of the day.  
I did manage some thoughts in the supermarkets this morning however, and these were not pleasant. When tired and slow brained why is it at that moment those people cross your path?
Bright and early, except that is was dreich, damp and half past seven, I hobbled up to Sainsburys. There I possessed myself of the heavier goods bottles, etc, spoke kindly to the friendly checkout staff, greeted those known to me and returned home for a thundering good breakfast of something or other, not quite sure what, the room was still dark.  Then, refreshed but half asleep I ventured to Tesco for the things the other lot did not stock or grossly overcharged for.  If you wish to get rich open a supermarket or a bank.  Once again the staff were reasonable for a Friday morning but why is there always one woman who is inconsiderate?  This sort of creature is often found in such places but why when I am irritable, tired and weary sadly I find I had to garrotte her as you do. There was no other course of action open to me.  You can find her in the freezer with the pizzas.
Once home I noted the things I had missed.  As the sun actually appeared and removed the grayness I ventured out once more to  find the sun bright but the heating was turned off, there was however the cold blast of winter.  (Actually I'm told 'winter' does not start until December 22nd so this is still 'Autumn.' someone's having a laugh I say).  Now by this time it was almost noon, and this meant the Morrison's would be busy and attracting the wrong sort of customer. This was the rougher sort who drove trolleys into peace loving people, the obnoxious sort who walked into people and didn't care, the sniffy ones that looked down their nose or the type who just kept getting in they way while you attempt to read the price tickets on the shelving!!!   They were all there in the hustle and bustle of the store, they still are, just look in the bins round the back but be wary, decapitation is not always pleasant.
I was shown a video that I cannot pass on to you as I've lost it.  In this a man in a checkout queue somewhere in central Europe is confronted by a child ramming him constantly with his trolley. Several times the man suggests this stops, mum does little to stop the brat.  Eventually the chap selects a carton of milk from the lads trolley and empties it over his head.  Mum grabs child and leaves, man smiles.  

I think I was a bit 'liverish' today....

Monday 24th

After a breakfast of stale bread and mushrooms, the mushrooms were growing on the heel of the bread, I decided I needed to both exercise and shop so I wandered far down the road to the 'Lidl' place where folks tell me things are real bargains.
The lied!  As in a previous venture there I found the store cluttered, confusing, prices badly displayed if displayed at all and the customers rough!  Not what I am used to in Tesco.  The bread was poor and overpriced, two items I bought were under false prices and nothing appeared to be cheaper than the regular shops, so why do folks claim this place is cheaper?  Not to me it aint.  The three main supermarkets have cheaper prices in my view, or maybe I just know better as to how to work them I wonder?  Having walked all that way in chilly bright sunshine I then had to walk all the way back again, not one person offered me a lift.  
Having discovered on Saturday just how unfit I am I rediscovered this while crawling back home. Several cups of tea and a long perusal of Jerry's new book I then had a choice of fixing the PC at last or painting the bathroom.  Here again I was wrong as I realised I had to make soup first.  Lentil soup of my own recipe, the kind of thing that puts hair on your chest, it certainly does that for the pot I make it in!  I will leave it fermenting overnight to see what happens. I may get a Nobel Prize for chemistry one day.  Then came the painting. However after struggling with the first coat, including the ceiling, including learning the art of falling off without landing in the bath, I decided that was enough and found myself fair puggled with all the effort.  The second coat can wait, and luckily I have the museum tomorrow so it may wait until Wednesday.  However after all this I still have loads of stuff that require attention!  How come I am so busy, in between medical assistance, that so much has not been done yet?  Do I need a secretary perhaps?
I would have written something much more interesting but I was forced to watch Hull City beating Brighton tonight. Tsk! 

The picture is just part of the old workhouse/hospital extension that caught my eye in the sun this morning.  Looking up you often see such things on buildings, on occasion they are interesting.

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A few days ago I ventured into a new experience.  
I bought meat!  

Rising from my pauperism to a level known as 'poverty' I had the good fortune to receive one of those gift voucher cards for Christmas.  So clutching my card tightly in my grasping mitts I ventured up the road to the shop early in the morning.  The rain did not deter me, although I thought it unusual to rain on the first day of February - it’s usually snow!  Sloshing through the smaller puddles to avoid the rain getting in the holes in my boots I soon reached the destination, eager to buy.

It was at the store when I realised  I had a problem.

I hailed a passing assistant, “Meat,” I said, my eyes pleading.

“Over there,” said the lass, her eyes bright and glinting full of light and happiness.

“Thanks,”said I, “But, er, em, this meat, er,... what exactly is it? I haven’t bought any for a very long time”

Her eyes dimmed somewhat and she muttered something under her breath.  

Taking my hand, in the manner of a nurse in a care home, then letting it go suddenly and wiping hers on her uniform, she led me to the counter and explained the red things found therein.

“Some comes from cattle, that’s called beef, some from pigs, that’s called pork, and some from lamb and that’s called expensive.” She spoke as to a six year old.  

"And that?" I questioned, pointing to packets of blackish stuff.

"That's offal."

"If it's awful why is it on sale?"

She gave me a look that would send a shiver through Maggie Thatcher.

"I mean, that this is liver or kidneys."

"Oh, sorry," I muttered. 

What's that over there?" Muttered I, my eyes blinded by the price tags.

"That's all Fowl that side."  

"Foul?"

"CHICKEN!" she said rather too loudly, her eyes becoming white balls with a black dot in the middle. Some people turned round and gave us that embarrassed smile, others moved away silently. I glanced at the prices, searching for those yellow price reduction ones.
"Chicken, goose and," she looked meaningfully at me as she added, "Turkey are all found over there.  Sausages and bacon over there!" She indicated this with an abrupt wave of her hand." 

" Hmmm what.....?" I began, but hesitated as I saw her eyes were now small slits, rather resembling those seen on pill boxes with machine guns peering out. "I, er, em......"

She wandered off clenching her paws and kicking the stick from under an old fellow who just happened to look towards her as she passed.  

I wandered back and forth, annoyed I had not asked her how to cook these strange red shapes, being a woman that sort of thing would come naturally.  I am more used to mince myself, however I was wary about asking another assistant.  There were several to be seen, including the two now picking up the old guy from the floor and returning his stick.  Selecting several items according to price, yellow label, and colour (I mean should meat be a dark greenish shade?) I hovered around until the security man returned once too often and moved further into the store.  

Glancing around I detected a lack of the 'Wal-Mart' types often seen on the web, most people appeared to be normal humans here.  I remembered the Tesco store in Portobello Road in London, now that would be a haunt of such types today I imagine.  Residents here indicate how boring this town is.

Checking the prices of my more usual stock I was impressed how the increase was constantly higher than the rate of inflation, however you calculate this. Supermarkets having killed of all opposition bar other major supermarkets are having a field day in times of austerity.  Beans that were selling at 9p a tin rose to 29p when the economy collapsed.  The store knew people would turn to 'own brand' goods and increased prices accordingly.  They could build a new store on the profit made of one weeks national sales of tins of beans I suspect.

Having carried my basket full of meat (meat!!) round the shop (I always use a basket as it is easier to get past the women with trolleys blocking the path) I selected several smaller items from the wines and spirits biscuit row and proffered my card at the smiling checkout assistant. This one smiles at everyone and her smile reminds me of the ‘Joker’ from the ‘Batman’ series.  I did not mention this.  I offered first the voucher card, then a small dollop of money to complete the purchase, gathered my several thin plastic bags, and struggled manfully homewards.

Passing my friendly helpful assistant as she stood near the entrance I offered a happy greeting and she spat out a retort I did not catch, however the 'Big Issue' seller opposite beat a hasty retreat.    

Now the freezer has sufficient for a month.  The cupboards are bulging, and when I eat I am almost satisfied with life.  I noticed today also that the helpful assistant now works for Morrison's up the road, you know, the store I never go into........

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Rainy Thursday

I sit here perusing the things done today while the rain pitter patters on the window once again, and I cannot remember what I have done today.  It has been quite busy but for the life of me nothing appears to have changed in here.  The 'To Do' list is now approaching its second volume, so I have not touched that, the carpet is gray with dust, so no hoovering, and the sink blocked with dishes, so that's normal.   What did I actually do?  I wrote a couple of e-mails to intelligent folk, begging, perused the press and was depressed by it, bought milk and bread and argued with the woman in 'Morrison's.'  Actually I argued with the 'self service' machine.  These brutes always go wrong for me, and this one is particularly bad.  Not only is it badly designed, possibly by a 'work experience' teenager, wearing headphones and a sulk, but the woman nags all the way through and at the wrong times.  The bag is to far from the basket of goods, the voice constantly tells you "Please wait for an assistant," although you are not aware of any fault, and of course it will not progress until a long suffering assistant arrives. 
"Place item in the bag," the ratbag says in that irksome voice. 
"IT'S IN THE B-A-G!" In inform her, "Please wait...."  
Eventually I enter four items only into the bag, choose, under her direction (three times) how to pay, enter the cash, once I have worked out how to, into the appropriate slot which doesn't look appropriate to me,  and stand there awaiting action. 
"Please enter your cash......"
"It's in woman, as your head will be soon!"
Assistant enquires wearily, and rushes of to other machine as "Please wait....," rings out. 
A short eon later the change arrives, the receipt pops out, just after "Please take your bag."
I head for the door muttering. 
 "No wonder your man left you, divorce was not enough, drowning in the bath would be better."   "Please take your bag" 
"I've got the bag woman!"  
"Thank you for shopping at Morrison's." 
"Get lost!"
Those smiling checkout girls at Tesco look better to me as I wander away, muttering......


Maybe now I know why I did so little after that......


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Boxing Day

The bright Boxing Day sunshine tempted me out this morning, although I had no intention of boxing with anyone, certainly not after the last time, mind you she was a big girl, and I ventured into town in search of Honey!  This I, am assured, will ease the cough that never ceases, or so they say. I am willing to try anything to end this horror by now.  As expected most shops are shut but there is always one supermarket here which opens to prevent the citizens starving to death. The shops take turns in doing this, and this appears satisfactory to one and all, at least judging by the waist lines around me today.  The shops all shut on Christmas Day, all bar the Muslim corner shop, and their closure renders thousands of people bereft of necessities after the long 24 hour closure.  A grand trade was under way as I passed through with my Honey and it never crossed my mind that a billion go to bed hungry and around a million will starve to death today as I watched overweight folks (like me) scrambling for the bread reduced to 60p!  


The streets were slightly busier today, although the shops were mostly shut, and most folks still appear wrapped up in family doings or recovering thereof!  Yesterday few moved.  Any cars that passed early on in the day contained mostly folks dressed up heading to church or on their way to Grannies. Later several children on bright spotless scooters or bikes were tenderly attempting the skatepark and asking mum or dad where the 'Elastoplast' was kept!  Strangely enough only one or two drunks were heard, and at least two pubs, the rough ones, were open.  Major shopping centres had their crowds of course and the takings  from the 'Sales'may prevent  some of these closing down.  The recession bites hard so bargain hunting (for things we often don't need) goes on apace.


My tired an emotional mind has been entertained by watching feeble English football (all day), which is all my mind can take just now.  When will this virus leave?  I conked out today after the lunch of left over offal, and indeed it lived up to its name, and small pint glass of wine, I blame the bug.  My wonderful niece sent me a book!  'The Real Dad's Army.'  A diary made by a chap who served in the 'Home Guard' in Kent on the south coast, right in line of Hitlers attacks, during the second world war. My favourite niece who never gets a book choice wrong! Mind you now I think about it the last one she sent was a magazine annual, the magazine was called 'The Oldie,' and the one before that was based on the TV series 'Grumpy Old Men.'  maybe I ought to have a word....



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Friday Night Entertainment

There was a time when I couldn't wait for the No 17 bus to arrive.  At 7:30 on the dot, except when it was late as it was most Friday nights, I would clamber aboard and head for the bright city lights.  Usually this meant a pub in Edinburgh's  Rose Street called the 'Goblet.'  There we would carouse along with other citizens as we wasted our money and lives on lager at one shilling and elevenpence a pint. Oh that was living!  Actually no it wasn't but there you are.  Gordon Brown was one of the residents of the lounge, although we didn't know he was Gordon brown until many years later.  He was just one of the student oiks who sat behind the door. Nice blokes but clearly students as they had more to drink than we could afford!  Friday nights around the world remains the same for many. Seeking the life of adventure, company, friends, entertainment and jollity they crowd the city centres, the pubs and clubs and other places of 'entertainment.' Once I could not wait to get out and join the happy throng and not be trapped in the house. Friday, and Saturdays for that matter, meant I had to do something 'out there, I could not be inside while 'life' happened and I missed it  My life needed to be where it was all at, even if it wasn't actually, but at least I was there when life didn't happen.


I was cogitating on this earlier tonight as I happily browsed the 48 page 'Tesco Big Price Drop' brochure,  selecting bargains with which to fill my kitchen cupboards. Rejecting the page full of '£1 OFF' vouchers as the products so reduced were not worth having even if free I checked the prices of a wide variety of special offers, all of which are way over the cost of the 'Own Brand' versions, even when reduced. Comparing the price on the 'Jacobs CLUB' with the price of 'Raisin and Lemon Pancakes' I suddenly realised that I was an old woman.  I ought to have known this as it is something that has been pointed out to me quite often before. By 'quite often' I actually mean daily since around 1960.  Before that I was just 'stupid brat!'  In spite of all the evidence to the contrary I have continued to ignore this rather obvious revelation even though I now have a collection of Supermarket 'Special Offers' leaflets going back to 2001. Doesn't everyone keep theirs....? Man how prices have changed!  So here I am no longer concerned with the bright lights nor the drink that makes them brighter, the attractions of the world appear to me to be empty, worthless and stupidly expensive.  Yet I am happier in many ways now than I was then.  Life is strange, innit....?



 Oops, 8:45 pm, almost time for the cocoa.......        



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Country Air

For the first time in a while I cycled, slowly, up the old railway line. I went around eleven as it is quiet then and stupid me forgot the kids are on holiday. Therefore as the sun was shining the families ponderously made their way up the line.  The kids chatting to all the dogs that passed by, when that is they were not wandering through the bushes, the women gossiping about nothing and blocking the way for normal human beings going about their lawful business. The dads being dads, carrying the bags on their backs, sometimes alone with one child, as indeed were a granddad or two, and making me miss the not so young kids way up north.  In one way this was nice to see, in another they just got in the way! A good day out and of course I ache all over now. I must get out more, as people often tell me.


I was attempting to add the 'Beach Boys' song 'Country Air,' because this came to mind when sitting enjoying the sun, greenery and fresh air.  EMI do not allow this (are they not the folks who turned 'The Beatles' down?) so find it on 'YouTube' and hum along as you read.  I was indeed 'humming' when I got home.  

A good day also in that I had a £5 off voucher for the new 'Morrisons' supermarket. The staff, for the most part, are very friendly, you can tell they are new to this game, and I will certainly return next Friday - I have another voucher!  This means that this small town has three large supermarkets represented.  Tesco have three stores, one which has just been redeveloped. Sainsburys have one which is about to be redeveloped and they plan another so big it will replace a small industrial estate! There is already a 'Lidl's' and now the Co-op has closed 'Morrisons' have moved in.  Just how much do the thirty five to forty thousand folks here eat I wonder?  I spent £16:98, and that was after taking advantage of the voucher to stock up, consider how much others must be spending on things they can afford but do not actually need?  Being poor makes me careful with money and I tend to notice prices more.  I also notice how folks buy things with little thought and choosing the label not the product!  An expensive item will be brought rather than try the store version, even though they are just as good nowadays.  Something is bought because it has always been chosen rather than because of any worth it may have.  The tricks of the store also make us all spend on things we don't want and they laugh all the way to the Swiss Bank where the directors store their ill gotten gains. I prefer 'Tesco,' but I will suffer 'Morrisons' for one more week as I use up the last voucher.

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The Power of Advertising

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A post by  a pretty American lass reminded me of a programme on telly a few months ago. It revealed the way to make something sell, even though we all obtain the same substance almost free daily. It concerned the rise of bottled water, in spite of the stuff coming into most folks homes by a tap! 

Since it was discovered that foul water brings disease such as Cholera in its wake the supply of clean water has become important in the UK and elsewhere. Today water flows (at a high price thanks to the stupidity of privatising peoples needs) freely into every house. Clean, safe water, doctored to preserve the purity at the pumping stations and keeping the nation clean, healthy and thirst free. Who can complain about this? No-one, it is just not possible to whine about something so important coming direct into the home. Of course natural resources differ. In Edinburgh the water is 'soft.' This gives a lovely 'feel' to the water, an improved 'taste,' and when thirsty nothing 'tastes' better than cool water. In some areas, such as the south, water is hard and leaves a 'limescale' deposit around the sinks and inside kettles and the like. While harmless it is an irritation and the water tastes somewhat 'dull' in comparison with 'soft' water.

This is where advertising men saw their chance. Knowing that the rich 'trendy' set are always on the look out for expensive 'one-upmanship' opportunities, those given the job of selling 'Perrier' water in the eighties went to work. By suggesting sparkling water that arose 'deep in the earth' was healthier than the stuff coming out of the tap, by including sexy women and of course an expensive price, the adverts touched something in the 'Yuppy' mentality of the time. Soon those bulbous green bottles were everywhere, and within moments dozens of others appeared in the shops. Today this is a multi million business.  From large enterprises to small a business is to be gained. One man found a disused well in the back garden of his new house and produces thousands of bottles, at high price, for five star hotels in Scotland! Straight forward 'water' in plastic bottles flew of the shelves at high prices as customers wished either to be seen with the right kind of water or fell for the idea that water filtered by a mountain was cleaner than that filtered by Fred Bloggs at the pumping station. Much later it was revealed that more bacteria is found in the plastic bottled water, of all kinds, and that tap water was healthier!  Facts of course do not end beliefs! The bottles still fill many shelves in the supermarkets, and price is no object to the daft ones who 'prefer it' because of 'health' or 'society' reasons.

I buy cheap sparkling water, and clearly not to impress the society around me!  This is because I looked at what is contained in the average soft drink, available at high price in the shops. Whether Pepsi, Coke or any of the dozens of other available they all contain at least eight spoonfuls of sugar and various other stuff, some of which I am not willing to trust. I decided to buy cheap carbonated water to provide for a 'fizzy' drink.  The stuff available in the shops costs from 40pence to over a pound if you are daft enough to pay for it. I pay 17 pence for the big Tesco bottle shown. Mix it with tap water and it is fine to drink, less harmful than canned drinks and with no additives bar the bubbles, and as I drink a lot of water these days it is better than the canned stuff.  When out and about during these hot summer days, yes there was one recently, buying a plastic bottle of water does make some sense. However paying £1:45 at a railway station appears to me to be just a bit dear myself!  OK if desperate but the word 'rip-off' goes through my mind here. People will not believe me when I tell them it is advertising, and the labels, which make them pay through the nose for water available from their taps. Advertising speaks to something within us, usually greed, 'keeping up with the Jones's' or a deep psychological need recognised by the advertising people. Such folks make better psychologists than psychologists! 

This is a (US) sample of the hype from the eighties, although all of my female readers will not be old enough to remember this sort of thing.

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Hmmmm, the French do things differently of course.....

                                   



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Lidl

Early (for me) this morning I decided to march to the edge of the known world and visit the new Lidl supermarket. Having turned into an old grannie I thought I must test all new shops when they open. Naturally when I got there the trouble started. This Germanic enterprise does not allow the use of baskets! Now this is a problem for me as I always shop using a basket rather than a trolley. The basket is easy to manage if you pack the goods correctly, enabled me to pass the women parking their trolleys all over the shop rather than in a sensible position, is quicker to manoeuvre and can be put down appropriately stopping said women from knocking me over. It also allows me to use the 'Basket only' checkout as I with said basket am quicker at packing than said women with said trolleys (usually!). However Lidl in their Teutonic wisdom have done away with such sensible options and forced me to use a trolley. The helpful staff member (this store turned down my job application by the way!) apologetically informed me that there were two sizes of trolley and indicated their whereabouts. However I discovered that the Krauts did not trust the people of this town and it cost £1 to remove the trolley from the chained link! Naturally I had no coins in my pocket! No baskets and costing £1 to use a trolley? I think these folk must be off theirs! I was off too, the long way off to Sainsburys who have a more sensible approach to shopping. I may never know if Lidl are in fact cheaper than others as they say!

Life was easier in English run Sainsburys. I stress 'English' as this store refused to cross the border until the late eighties when greed made them expand north. Maybe the three Scots banks issuing their own notes confused them?  So grabbing one of those plastic baskets, much better than Tesco's by the way, I worked my way through my list shopping only for the cheap 'Basic' range goods wherever possible.  Avoiding most of the female customers who appear to think that if you drive a trolley straight at someone they will do the gentlemanly thing and move (how wrong they were) and grabbing my wants, avoiding the retired men accompanying their wives and gossiping in the middle of the pathways oblivious to everyone else,  and attempting to keep a calculation in my head I made for the door. Naturally when I took my heavy basket (those '2 for £3' offers are good aren't they?) to the checkout I noticed only three were open and seven stood empty! A quick calculation showed the far away one had only two people there, one going through and an old couple,with three items next in line. The long queues at the others to be avoided I headed there. An eon later the old biddy had packed the twelve items, paid, slowly oh so slowly, her bill, took another month to shut her purse and move. As the old couple hobbled forward I glanced at the now deserted checkouts further down. A millennium later the three objects, those that had not melted, had been packed and paid for and I was allowed to go home and have the shave I did not require when I set out!

It is not yet eleven O'clock and the day lies ahead. I can tell it will be another full of joy and happiness. Oh good! The postman has just brought some white, official envelopes. I can't wait to open them...... 

Now I am Not One to Complain but...

So I got up this morning, put on my happy smile face, and went out to meet the world. A glance at the 'To Do' list was greeted with joy as I had forgot to put anything down. Using this as an excuse to do nothing I ate breakfast and browsed the papers online. As I noted the Glasgow Mafias desperate attempts to attack George Burley I also noted a birthday on the calendar! Yet another nephew needing a card and demanding cash within it! That is the second birthday this month, and it's only the tenth! Jings there's another on the twentieth! So with my breakfast spoiled I went out to deal with this situation. However unknown to me trouble was brewing!


Yes a supermarket! This one has just taken over the 'Woolies' that closed recently. Today it opened, without answering my offer of employment with them, and foolishly I entered. I admit I was still half awake from my late breakfast, and I rather stupidly walked in looking for 'Mince Pies.' As the store had just opened it was full, how full, and how badly organised I soon found out. The idea of carrying a basket/pushing a trolley without hitting every single person in the vicinity did not appear to strike most of the females and many of the men in the shop as important. I have stood in a football crowd of more than 137,500 and felt safer! I am reading about 3 Para serving in Afghanistan in 2006 and believe this would have been a better option than 'Iceland!' Eventually I gathered a few items and headed for the queue to find I was already in it! Those folk browsing the shelves were doing so in a line, a long line, and I was at the far end of it! Around a decade and a half later I reached the checkout! Several billion people, ten thousand trolleys, four buses and a herd of Buffalo had barged us aside as we waited, and then at last we saw the girl at the desk. We might have been quicker but the attempt to place her goods on the counter by the blonde was taking a while, discussing what Mary had been doing at the club meant she could only place one item, with one hand, at a time in place. GET A MOVE ON BITCH!!! Before she packed her bag she had to spend several eons looking through her purse before deciding to pay. It may surprise you to know I was frothing at the mouth by now, and not because we were in line with the special offers on booze! Surely 'Magners' is cheaper than that in Tesco? On top of this the main reason for the staff sloth was the Iceland 'Bonus Card.' Every single person was asked to fill in a form and collect a card! WHAT!!! How slow is this? Half of them cannot write joined up and the rest take for ever! Three women had collapsed and died of old age by the time I collected my goods, 'No! You can shove the Bonus Card dearie!' I then carried on for the birthday card, one that was by now at least a year out of date!



It was when I got home things took a turn for the worse. The monitor has been giving problems recently in that it would not switch off. Today it suddenly decided to not switch on, or at least it came on but went bye bye after ten seconds. Much cursing and pushing buttons convinced me the PC was OK, but the monitor was dead! I stared at the bills lying beside me, and the kind note from the bank about being over drawn, I keep that with the two letters from folks asking why the direct debit has not been paid, and somewhere in my head a light went out. There was nothing for it but to visit Tesco, they being the only place to buy such devices quickly. They had one, I took it. As I passed I thought I would acquire a new indoor TV aerial as mine is poor and needs replacing. Money, who cares now? Back home I first thought about the TV. I had not used the telly all day, I was avoiding the arrogant English 'We will win the World Cup' cobblers that was on every channel. After careful placement, and some tinkering I know have a new TV aerial that doesn't work on Freeview at all! I realised how Napoleon felt when an aide whispered, 'Blutcher's here.' Getting up from a prone position on the floor I set to with the monitor. After a comparatively short time, about half a lifetime, it now works and the PC is up and running again.
I would smile about this but I have yet to work out how to tone down the brightness which is burning though my retina! Still, wearing dark glasses, I continue.



Oh and as I sauntered out to Tesco's I decided to fly spray the abode to remove the sudden influx of flies. Whether this was caused by the milder weather or the slackness in clearing the rubbish this week i dare not say, but I suspect the latter. So I sprayed each room, closed the door and windows and left. Since returning I have been attempting to fix the aerial and monitor all the while breathing the stinking stuff! The windows are open, and I am freezing as the north east wind is now bringing air that should be at home in the Faroe Islands comforting cormorants to my desk! Of all the times to have a north east wind? Have these weather people no thought or consideration? It's a disgrace!


Quite how I manage to keep such a smiling appearance during such days is a wonder to me. Especially after another glorious Scotland defeat last night. For a while I actually thought we were about to achieve our goal, but naturally with old fashioned Scots ineptness in front of goal, we failed. However I still think Burley did well to fight the Glasgow Mafia, the SFA stabbing him in the back, Several Rangers players doing likewise, yes Chris Boyd, I mean YOU! Most players gave their all for him but the press will make sure he is removed. I may be a little bit cynical sometimes, but I reckon the new man is already in place, and he, gasps of astonishment, will be one of the Glasgow crowd! To top it all the day started with an early postal delivery. The postman, obviously one of my old friends, was keen to chat for a moment and I realised why as he made his way back to the vehicle. 'Up the Dutch' he cried, smug grin on his face, and drove of satisfied. I bet there was a fight to see who could deliver that packet this morning! Bah! I'm off to bed!

Early Mornings

A woman was shopping at her local supermarket where she selected:

a 2 pint bottle of 1% milk,

a carton of eggs,

a carton of orange juice,

a head of lettuce,

a large jar of coffee and

a 1 lb. package of bacon.

As she was unloading her items on the conveyor belt to check out, a man standing behind her watched as she placed the items in front of the cashier. While the checkout girl was ringing up her purchases, the man calmly stated, “You must be single.”

The woman was a bit startled by this proclamation, but she was intrigued by his intuition, since she was indeed single. She looked at her six items on the belt and saw nothing particularly unusual about her selections that could have tipped off the bloke to her marital status. Curiosity getting the better of her, she said “Well, you know what, you’re absolutely correct. But how on earth did you know that?”

He replied, “Cause you’re ugly.”

This story crossed my mind as I attempted to purchase the 'shop soiled,' 'reduced price,' and 'Basics range' products this morning. It was as I took up position to pack the bag at the checkout when the woman before me spoke as she slowly put three items into her bag. "They say the Arctic ice will all melt by the summer." I looked at the girl behind the desk, and she returned the blank expression. Ignoring the woman as I waited for my selections rejected by decent people to arrive I heard her repeat the point and this time asking me (thrice) what I thought. I was forced to volunteer an answer. "No" I responded in my grumpiest London style 'Go away and leave me alone' voice. She then slowly left continuing to talk to the checkout girl as she moved on. We stared at each other. "I don't think it will melt by summer," she said in a low voice full of wonder. "No, I don't either," I replied courteously. We struggled through the deal and I moved on wondering about the ideas that fill folks minds. I was still full of wondering when I returned ten minutes later having to change the coffee beans I bought for the coffee powder I ought to have got, idiot!

Now this woman was serious. I don't believe she said such things for a response, although she may have been lonely and that can inspire desperation in some. I think she believed what she had heard. Possibly had she read it somewhere. a woman's magazine perhaps? Maybe today's 'SPORT' was pushing this idea in an attempt to fill space usually reserved for the awfully interesting goings on among the 'B' celebs of the day? It got me thinking how stupid we are at believing whatever we read. It was of course ever thus!

When the Soviet Union was in full swing there were constant reports of sightings of UFO's in the distant parts. We also hear now and again of young girls who have visions of the Virgin Mary in Latin or Catholic countries. While in the UK there was a time when every week there was someone sighting Elvis Pressley working in a burger bar, usually in Rochdale or Halifax or some other unlikely place. There are always people who take these stories seriously. Conspiracy theories abound re the Kennedy killings, 9/11, the sinking of the 'Titanic,' and every, major event in the world! Is this because we are lacking intelligent leadership from the top, an honest media or are we just stupid? I go for the latter as we have all fallen for something like this, and we keep that info to ourselves in case folk laugh! That seems the best way.

I feel guilty now about the woman in the shop. Maybe she was lonely and just needed to talk to someone. Maybe she is a bit daft, either way I should have been kinder. After all, next time something daft is said it could be me saying it!