Daffs are a Drug

You will realise that as the £1 bunch of Daffodils in this old pint mug have overnight responded to the failing light through the window, I will now fill the page with Daffs?  So far two have opened out, and the rest are beginning to follow.  Not bad for £1 from Sainsburys, and they brighten the place up no end.

In the park opposite the council daffs are standing green and ready to open.  This too brightens the area.  A swathe of bright yellow fills the sight, and brightens the heart.  That I suppose is why people steal them rather than paying £1 at Sainsburys.

Flowers are amazing things, so slight, so colourful and of huge variety.  They work also, making use of the bees to keep the world going.  Do they breathe pollution in and oxygen out like trees?  They certainly make the world a better place.

The park was full of youth this afternoon.  I have no idea what was occurring, I thought it was a drugs fest at first, or a gang fight as in days of yore, but instead it all appeared organised, well run and left me with absolutely no idea what was going on.  Most have since dispersed, youth feeding time calls, and those left gathered in small groups teenage style will no doubt disappear soon.  

The past year has seen few gather here to take drugs and hang out.  Each year the faces change, age catches up with them, and in recent years there has been little noise or problems.  Action has been taken to remove one drug hiding place, now someone wishes to build flats there!   Those that are doing deals must be doing them elsewhere these days.  

Travel Thoughts

Funny how our thoughts change with time.
I was reading a blog in which a young man tells of the difference between spending time travelling and then returning to the real world.  I think reading it we can all find something to identify with in his tale.
He talks of hitchhiking around, the people he met and places he visited.  He discusses the differences in attitudes between those friendly folks he met while walking and the daily grind where smiles do not exist.  We have all been there.
I can recall similar attitudes.  The difference between the behaviour of the people on the Edinburgh to Kings Cross train and the attitudes found in the deep, dank London Underground come to mind.  People travelling long distance often, but not always, show a more relaxed approach to those around them while the man in the 'tube' cares little and fears much from his companions.  I understand that!  People who pick you up when hitchhiking along the A1 I found were often friendly and helpful, not counting the old fella late at night south of Newcastle who offered me a fiver for a little job!   
The fact is when in your youth travelling around, especially slowly, lets you see the country in a way never seen by staying in a boring job or never leaving one place of residence.  Changes in landscape, how others live, local foodstuffs, dialect and language differences all leave a mark and returning home life seems in many ways safe but boring.  
My adventure in 1974 in which I bought a bike, not having ridden one for years, piled stuff into the saddlebags and two or three weeks later cycled off to London gave me similar thoughts.  It also gave me the thought that I ought to have bought the stolen bike six months before not three weeks! However I saw a world I would have missed, met people I would not have known and been considered mad by folks who did not know me as well as those around today who consider me mad from experience.
Those rich kids who can travel to exotic places, Europe, the Americas, Australasia or Greenock benefit even more by finding sunshine, exotic foodstuffs, large spiders and Berri-Berri, all this makes the mince and tatties of their childhood pales into significance, especially the Berri-Berri, however in some cases it may become all to familiar!
However in the end reality sets in.  Home, wherever it is made, means work to earn the cash to pay for the lifestyle.  No matter what you do, no matter how talented, no matter how freelance you may be there are always deadlines to meet and people to obey.  Freedom from work does not exist until you retire and for many a cheap life is all they have then.  Mind you when in the 90's a cheap life is what most need!  I will soon know. 
The joy of heading down the road into the sunshine is great when young.  I recall returning to Edinburgh and watching a drama in which a young man heads off by rail into the future.  As he stood discussing this with his near tearful girl the rail line stretched out behind him and as a 20 year old I so wanted to follow that railway - anywhere!  Today I know that at the other end life is just the same as here, such a disappointment!  
We are lucky that in some cases our life improves when we follow the railway.  Jesus took me back to London and life with him is better than any other.  Others make a good life even if the rainbow does not land outside the door, some of course fall through the net and vanish.  In the end the desire to see the world and the newness of life fade somewhat.  Life can be good but age and experience alas arrives.  The good things alongside this can make up for this, family, friends, wealth, hobbies, lifestyle and the like but the youthful outlook will perish. 
Such a shame innit.