Morning Cycle for Fuit & Veg

Just after half six this morning I got on my clean, oiled, yet still rusty in many places bike, and forced my knees to whirl me around town.  As the blinding sun rose I snapped with my new camera, a present from above, this bird enjoying the rising warmth while trying to avoid the chill in the wind.  All around the birds were either finishing breakfast or like this one sitting in the sun awaiting a mate. Spring is in the air indeed!
The early morn is a lovely time to be up and about.  Traffic is slight, only those forced to work bleary eyed pass by, and occasional dog walkers, just as bleary, mutter 'Good morning' while following the English manner of pretending they did not see you until you speak.  The dogs are more open about their thoughts.  

   
'Ichabod' and I have been together now for almost 18 years.  One day I will ensure everything is in the right position and that the gears are at the right tension, until then we travel on happily, but very slowly! These days many have become infatuated with professional cycle racing and this area is flat enough for those who consider themselves manly enough to wear Lycra and tear along the roads for a hundred miles or so.  I worked with one or two who have done this around here, I am not one of them!  The term 'flat' maybe true in comparison to the Scottish highlands however I can assure you there are hills and long slopes which while a delight to go down are a pain to go up.  My attempts at the 'manly' approach failed long before 'Ichabod' arrived.  
Thinking on this in a couple of months the women's cycle race will pass by my door.  A letter recently fell through the door informing me of the road closures etc.  Such a shame the 'Tour de France' came close last year but never passed by my window.  At least the roads will get some treatment and we will all benefit from that.  Canny have a cycle race where potholes exist.

In an effort to stop these virii that keep giving me nasty symptoms I am endeavouring to eat more fruit and veg.  After getting off the bike I hobbled, slower than usual, round to Tesco and obtained some of the goodies from there and the rest from my usual fruit & veg man.  That done I have already stuffed a healthy breakfast down the throat and am convinced this will keep me on the run! An attempt must be made to eat more fruit and veg as it is better for us than the muck we normally have.  So much we eat contains things that do us no harm if eaten occasionally but build up and make us suffer.  No wonder kids go mad with things when they are pumped full of sugar and additives and things we do not get told about.  I am reminded of that biblical king who went mad and ate grass like a donkey for seven years. The reason was obvious, Daniel the prophet refused the rich foods given him and ate veg, he remained healthy, the king stuffed only with the richest food became toxic and the grass cured him, though slowly. I am told this has been recorded elsewhere among others also but have no links.  I am sufficiently donkey like in every way to wish to avoid being found in the park amongst the pigeons and crows early in the day eating grass.  The council would not like this.

Now I have the day before me and my knees are beginning to seize up, I'm back off to bed! 

More!

As yesterday's post was so successful I will post a hundred more pictures from the day.  What's that you say....?  

Usually this river is teeming with ducks but at the time only this family of swans were elegantly dumping their damp feather all over the bank.  Difficult to take pictures when the vehicles are an inch from your heels.  Old villages ideas of wide roads do not fit in with mine.  

These have the look of Victorian Alms Houses, designed for the 'deserving poor' to keep them in their old age.  Quite who qualified and how I know not but it is better than the Workhouse. Who lives their now?  Something at the back of my mind indicates they have long since been sold.  I do like the statue at the door however, that is the first time I have seen one that fits in place!

This is Spooner's House dating back to 1467 they say.  It does look like two houses have been knocked together and what once was doors are now two large windows.  I preferred the doors that once stood there but I suppose these folks like to see what they are eating.  Of course since they were built all these houses have changed inside and out over the years.  If only my landlord would change our windows instead of just painting them to make them look as if they are OK.

Outside one of the remaining junk antique shops i saw this bike used as dressing for the shopfront. Very good indeed I thought and I was impressed by the finding of a bike in worse condition than mine!  I suspect this bike was dragged from the bottom of the river but whether the lass riding it at the time was also recovered is not made clear.  

Of course if I have nothing else to say I will use the other pictures....

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Free Day eh?

The two crows moved steadily, intent on their destination.  Behind them transparent white clouds streaked the deep blue of the morning sky.  Two tall trees, resplendent in their greenery, brightened the day as their leaves twittered in the breeze.  A female blackbird hopped several paces and stopped, cocking her ear to listen for movement underground.  She hopped three steps more, then again, continuing on her way, coming close to me, happy that I was not going to disturb her routine.  In the distance a female form with white top stood in the shadow of the trees.  She gazed into the distance as if awaiting someone yet no other movement could be seen. Two cyclists, independent of one another passed by, both wearing those lime green 'Hi-Viz' vests, ideal for crossing a near empty park in bright sunshine.  A young women paced by with determined expression, laptop grasped tightly in hand. Someone out to change the world perhaps, a young lawyer about to save the needy, or a businesswomen heading for financial utopia I wondered.  My existence appeared to mean little to her. 'White top' had moved.  She had come out of the shadows and now at last I saw her understandable reason for hesitation, a small black dog.  This, possible a 'Scottie,' ambled slowly, content like me to let the world pass by but keeping at a distance from the woman just in case she urged speed upon him. 
So the world awake early today.  At last I had two whole days to myself, this was guaranteed yesterday when I covered for someone who was off, but turned up anyway.  This was my time, time to relax, sleep, consider the Great War only if I felt like it and iron those shirts the au pair ignored.

Having shopped even earlier I returned home to healthy thick brown bread full of bits and filled it with unhealthy bacon!  I read the grubby online papers full of wonder at how they failed to ask why that editor women got off 'scot free!'  Did David Cameron's brother defend her at a cost of £20,000 a day? Was the prime minister's intervention that came so close to scrapping the trial, at enormous cost, a deliberate device I ask?  Yet the papers appear to play this down.  The law works different for important people.  I mused for a while, looked at the ironing board, and sat in the bath even though it was not a Sunday.  This was a day for enjoyment.
Then I returned to my e-mail.  I like e-mail, it is a great way to stay in touch, it avoids needless chatter, gets to the point and brings folks together so well.  Not counting Mary who abused me for not liking tennis, something she has been glued to since this nonsense began!  Boring I say, get it off the screen.  I'd rather talk to a woman about her baby!
Then it happened.  I had finished one of the items I was writing, my delightful boss has now read it and sent it back using this 'word' system that allows corrections.  I had a long list of corrections, adjustments, recommendations to attend to.  This I did once I worked out what to do.  Helpfully I returned this and also finished the second piece this time readjusting it to make more sense.  However not long afterwards she enquired as to where the thing was, it had not arrived and the reason was simple, me!  Not only had I not linked it to her I had not saved the blasted thing after finishing it!  The only action was to redo the whole lot!  'Na Poo' to this I thought!  So back it went, no doubt the second one will have just as many red lines on it.  My teachers at school were not this bad!
Then the other e-mail arrived.  Tomorrow I must go in again, as well as Saturday, as a girls sick dad has died.  This was expected as he is aged and very sick.  A second lass is off tomorrow as her dad is close to following on also.  I'm going to ask for a wage soon!
The advantage of being in is taking the laptop and working at the desk.  Hopefully it will be quiet and I can get on but if busy I will just write a story, 'Living death in the museum!' Oh yes and now I must iron a shirt....
Time for football and sleep.  Who will join the USA in the next round, I know not as I have no idea who is playing yet.  Oh sleep, wherefore art thou mush?

  
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Blue Skies & Sunshine.

The Bee's are busy, the sky is blue, white clouds float past, and a hot sun burns the skin if you sit in it for too long.  Tonight such weather will bring rain, probably with thunder and lightning, but by the time I head for work the sun will have his hat on and have come out for the day!  

Most of the day I was trapped indoors doing women's work.  There were NO shirts ironed!  Not one and I need one for tomorrow.  It's a disgrace.  I had to rush out to the shops before the crowds gathered as the fridge was empty also, it's a disgrace the way I am treated here.  

This is what I need, a woman who does!  here we see Mrs Blackbird getting in the shopping, and rightly so.  He of course can be heard in the distance singing happily while chasing away other interlopers from his patch.  Then he will sit down to watch the football while awaiting lunch.  It's a jolly good life for him!

Today's Highlight

Today's highlight has been the cheery chirping of the starlings as they gather together on the rooftops.  How these birds like to chatter!  You may have come across a tree, or indeed trees full of these boys talking loudly at or to each other, very nice when passing but dreadful if they choose a tree outside your window!  A thousand starlings do not a restful night make.  These birds often flock together high up on the Police radio mast.  They cover it with around a thousand at times, all chattering, and no doubt leaving a message for those below while they are at it!  It appears to me that there are fewer these days, maybe it's the climate or the food supply, the bad weather of the last couple of years caused by the moving jet stream, or possibly they have moved town.  I read somewhere that Dickens, once a famous writer, wrote about the millions of starlings that roosted in the centre of London.  It appears they gathered from miles around, flying in from places like Kingston to gather in Leicester Square.  Certainly years ago I saw them filling the trees there but the mess was such that Ken Livingstone the then London Mayor was forced to take action and the place may well have been renovated by now.  The spread of London may well keep many further out as they sought to roost in the warm centre, plenty heat elsewhere nowadays.  

It is quiet tonight.  Rarely does a car roll past the window, although a rolling car is something I would not wish outside my window, a dog barks occasionally in between sniffing trees over in the park, footsteps hurry past rushing to get away from the icy cold.  An unidentified beastie flits between the trees lit only by the dark amber street lights, the branches wave listlessly in the slow, cold wind.  The loudest sound is the cheap clock bought from the pound shop, its only competition the occasional whining of the laptop which, like me, wishes to sleep.  Abed people contemplate the morn.  The rush to work, if there is any, the joy of school for some, the word 'joy' being used in the satirical manner here, plans rush through peoples heads while providence may be planning other happenings for them, oh the joys of a Sunday night as the new week beckons.  
Shall I plan my day, make a 'to do' list, or will I just rise, eat breakfast, and return to my pit for a few hours?  Yes that sound s best, I hope you can do so also. 

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The View From My Desk....

The view from here is somewhat limited even yet.  The Lurgi hangs around leaving a fog on the mind as well as a cloud in the chest.  The result leaves me sitting indoors as the idea of trudging around in the late sunshine does not appeal, the camera is somewhat disappointed with this. Three times I have found the camera looking mournfully out the window desperate to eye up the world.  I know how it feels.  Instead my dim mind suffers the papers lack of intellect, the older radio programmes that I have searched out, and finishing off the books that litter the place. Quite how several can be sitting half read and forgotten always amazes me, especially as I cannot remember beginning the things in the first place.  Too often I put the book down and take months to get back to it, even if it is a good one.

So like the camera I sit here moping, my eyes scanning the scudding clouds crossing the late September blue sky, only to discover today is October!  Who stole the time?  Only the other day I watched the trees budding and small green leaves appearing.  Has someone fiddled time somewhere?  Anyway the trees opposite have already began the shedding of rusted leaves, one while offering a dazzling display of bright red berries for the birds delight.  The season of 'Mists and mellow fruitfulness,' sounds romantic but ignores the chill blended in the wind, a hearkening of approaching winter.  Those who venture out reflect the dubious nature of the seasons.  Young men wander abroad in tee shirts emblazoned with 'witty' phrases, multi-coloured shorts, reaching beyond the knees, all the while carrying water bottle to make them look 'cool.'  More 'mature' people wear a jacket as they have been caught out by British weather far too often for their liking.  Surely the brown edged leaves lying across the pavements indicate to some that summer is over?  A bright sun does not indicate warmth, just ask any passing Eskimo.  The dark misty mornings keep the Blackbirds asleep till well after five these days.  A silence broods over the land early in the dark morning, enhanced by the council switching the street lights off to save money. (They have not cut the leading men's salaries however.  The silence is broken only by a raucous coughing, from me, which I think gave the birds their wake up call.  Soon they were all off, barking out (Can birds bark?) their warning to other birds and claiming their patch, a claim that will be heartily defended as the cold weather leaves feathers ruffled in the search for nourishment.
As I write the light begins to fade, indoors darkens sufficiently to demand a light is used, the sky loses its brightness while trying to decide whether it will end with a pink glow or a damp squib. Once more we enter the long nights which herald the commercial escapades of Halloween and Christmas after that.  Once again catalogues begin to fall through the door, their bargains thumping onto the floor and lying their unwanted.  The world is once again forgetting why they exist and follows the crowds into Argos, Tesco and local shopping malls.  Our reason to exist is lost among the urgency to obtain, to satisfy others or ourselves, to forget real life.  Unless of course the reader is a 'benefits scrounger,' (@'Daily Mail') and has nothing to spend on fripperies yet again, not that the 'Daily Mail' reader will accept that.

The reader may by this time have noticed I ramble, I blame the cough mixture, the whisky, the tired mind, the Lurgi!  In truth, it is just me, nothing else, ho hum.......    

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A Better Bus....

A better bus took me to Chelmsford, one of the dullest towns known to man.  The main street has been pedestrianised and today contained several stall offering the usual fruit and veg, bread, cakes and stuff.  None offered coffee funnily enough but 'Costa' cafes appeared every few minutes.  Another wasted search for that jacket, although I did find a chap with a similar search to me.  Neither of us have been satisfied by the major stores.   

Coffee was provided, for £1, at the excellent stall in the Market however.  Not as good as the Colchester chap but better than overpriced 'Costa!'  I prefer such places as this.  

The old entrance to the Essex County Buildings reflects the Edwardian elegance and pretentiousness considered so important at that time.  Around the corner the new portion of the building reflects the modern pretentious style.  I much prefer this door!  Clearly this building did not satisfy the needs of the populace, or their councillors at least as an addition was added in 1929

It is of course the panel on the right indicates Chelmsford Council however I canny find any information on the building and at the moment have too little time to search.  Quite why a rams head, if indeed it is that, sits above the letters I know not, there again there is no reason for another ram or what might be a vulture above the date 1929.  That was of course the year of the Wall Street crash so I hope the builders were paid before people started to throw themselves from 67th floor windows.  I checked the pavements round about but they were no worse than normal.

Along the old canal I wandered, strengthened by the coffee and discovered 'Boris the Spider' hard at work under the road bridge.  My knowledge of such beasties is somewhat limited, usually limited to crying "AAAARGGGH!" and running away, so I am not clear as to the real name of this one.  I have seen lots of these around here and usually have a couple on the windows living of other beasties.  You can keep this one if you like....  

I am much happier disappointing the ducks by not feeding them.  This lot were ganging up to threaten a toddler for his lunch just before I arrived.  Once he had been deprived they looked for other mugs.  I never expected to find a large pond in this area.  An excellent feature and much more interesting, when the sun shines, than the High Street and its crowded shops.  In Primark, a place I never entered before, I discovered an imitation Harris Tweed like jacket for £28.  Not far away a similar jacket, made with slightly better 'Tweed,' cost more than twice as much at a 'reduced ' price.  It crossed my mind that the same sweatshop slave earned fourpence for making both.

Running across the top of the park lies the Liverpool Street Railway.  High above on this excellent viuduct the trains run several minutes late regularly, especially at rush hour when people jump in front of them or lorry drives crash into the weaker bridges!  It was not possible to get the whole thing into a photo, it continues behind and into the distance, but the number of bricks is very impressive and a credit to the men who erected in during Victoria's reign.

As I said goodbye to the ducks that followed in a forlorn manner I headed back towards the bus station grasping my Free Bus Pass tightly in my hand.  However I was distracted by a statue in the distance that at first I thought referred to the Theatre that stands nearby.

With the light right behind the poor souls head it merely leaves him a dark silhouette but this man holding the 'lightning flash' in one hand and what looks like an old fashioned phone in the other is Guglielmo Marconi, the inventor of 'wireless.'  He in fact was not the actual inventor but he did play a serious development role and created a successful factory in the town that survived until recently.  It may still be found as part of GEC, if that has not died also.  You may recall him as the chap who sent a wireless signal across the Atlantic to Newfoundland, in spite of opposition from the men running the Telegraph system!  

Naturally I missed the bus!  As I approached I noticed the bus maneuvering about in a tight space.  Quick thinking, and a fast walk against my will, took me around the corner to the next stop which I reached, puggled, by the time the driver had made it past the traffic lights.  I was quite proud of my quick thinking.  I could tell by his snigger the driver had watched my attempt at speed and did not mistake me for that Bolt fellow.

I snatched this picture of the 'St Annes Castle' as we sped along because I noticed the sign on the other wall claiming that this was 'The Oldest Inn in England,' with a date that I think may have been possibly 1171.  I began to wonder how many other 'Oldest' Inns there may be, there is always a pub claiming to be the 'Smallest,' and how many can claim 'Elizabeth Ist Stayed Here!' Claims such as these have limited evidence but one of the must be right.  Inns such as this, on a road probably going back long before Roman times, must have carried many travellers requiring sustenance, so it is possible it was around a thousand years ago.  Here is the pubs own information regarding its age.   The place is mentioned in the Domesday Book, which you will recall, though not from personal experience, was written in 1086.  I may go down there to check it out one day myself....          

                                       

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Sodden Saturday

Wandering about in the drizzle I noticed this bike chained up against a lamppost.  As it has been there for two weeks I am now wondering about the quality of local thieves.  A bike chained up for any length of time would disappear in many parts of this land yet here not even the gypos have gone off with it!  When you consider the number of people passing by, kids interested in bikes, stragglers, van drivers, it is a surprise to see this one remaining here.
On the other hand who owns it?  What happened to them?  Have they forgotten the thing? Did they arrive on the bike before popping in to the registry office behind the wall, get married and lose interest?  Were they arrested for a discretion in the park and find themselves detained at her majesties pleasure, or are they in the council offices waiting even yet for an answer to their query?  They could be some time yet I fear!  Is it of course possible they parked it to speak to a passing alien and now reside on Alpha Centura?  Maybe I could sell the 'Daily Star' a story to that end, they might go for it.  Short story writers could have a field day with this situation.  

The crow claimed to know nothing.  He and his mates gather here daily, encouraged by the brats in the park leaving their lunch strewn across the grounds, but while seeing everything say nothing. Instead they just eat, wander about snootily, scare of the passing seagulls and go about their business in the manner of their forefathers.  
Of course, he could be a Rook you know....

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Pigeon in Mist

Misty morning indicating September is around.  Hot, close, sunny afternoon and evening. Darkness closing in by eight, tiredness closing in by seven!  The pigeons often sit on the roof or anywhere high up after breakfast.  Usually they are just warming up or keeping an eye out for where others are roosting.  In the mist I suspect matey here was just attempting to find his way about.  Mist does enhance a photo, even though it may chill the fingers while taking the picture.

The bug has worn me out in recent days once again, not helped by the disruption to my routine by being at the museum.  By the time I get home and sort myself out I am way out of sorts. Today is spent putting things right, finishing the item I was writing (didn't) and cleaning the windows (didn't), cooking ratatouille (did), and any other thing needed if I can be bothered...  

Life here is no more exciting than that of the pigeon outside.....

A Blackbird Sang

BBC

I'm sitting here on my bed, the light is better here at this time of night, and I was listening to the 'Mark Steel's in Town' programme on the BBC iPlayer when I switched it off to listen to the Blackbird outside.  As part of the Thrush family Blackbirds, Robins and Thrush's all have wonderful songs, I don't know why, but there it is.  This guy was sitting somewhere in the tree opposite, hidden from view, loudly proclaiming his territory.  There are a few of them around here, most early mornings I notice two of them attempting to eat the same worm, and while chasing one another away the worm hops it and lives on.  Possibly they are brothers as there appears to be no love lost between them. When I left early in the mornings for work, at 4:30 a.m to be precise, I would turn the corner with not a sound in the air yet a Blackbird, always the first to waken, would let the world know I was about.   A second would respond from the far end of the street and as I reached the turning place the world was filled with Blackbirds, Finches and Blue Tits singing their hearts out claiming their place in the world.  They say birds elsewhere are more colourful than those in the UK yet ours have better songs.  I know not if this is true but I do know that all birds have accents!  Different members of the same species have regional accents to their song.  'Cor blimey guv.'  No wonder we canny understand them.

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Dawn Sunshine

A night of peaceful slumber, broken only by the town drunk yelling at his personal windmills, saw me wake twenty minutes before six. The bright sunshine brought out the deep green in the grass all across the park.  Birds chirruped as they danced through the branches, nibbling the buds on the trees, high overhead an airliner sped east, leaving an ever so slight trail across the bright blue of the morning sky.  I decided to rise, threw aside the newspapers that I had kept to keep me warm all night, and left the damp park bench in search of breakfast.  

Having fought two crows and one raven over the leavings from a polystyrene food container I reached for the bike and decided this might be a good day for exercise.  Before leaving I checked the e-mail and slung a cup of cheap tea down my throat.  Actually slung was the correct word as I dropped it and spilt tea all over the laptop! "Dearie, dearie me," I said.  That explains the tea stains on the page you are reading.  

While the rising sun blinded those heading towards its rising this did not prevent the north wind from chilling my hands as I raced slowly along the old railway line.  I was so early only two dogs were walking their owners at that time.  This fine brown horse awaited me as I neared the village, although to be fair, he neither awaited me nor was interested in me, and he refused to show me his best side.  His mate, not shown, is not shown because he made a point of showing me his worst side, and emphasising this in what I would call a needless manner!                                                

 The farmhouse in the distance is typical of many houses around here.  From what I can gather some go back many, many years although inside they are sometimes much adapted as they are not always that large.  The mud caked floor tends to be expensively tiled, sometimes old flagstones still exist.  I notice that the rooms were usually small and wonder how many would live in such a place?  The occupants would most likely be the 'better sort,' so imagine what the farm labourers possessed!   Some look very good indeed but the half million required to buy one is quite steep, and these houses are usually right on the roadside, this was fine in 1750 with an occasional highwayman, herd of cattle or stage coach passing, not so fine with boy racer and his mates today I warrant.

Later I took my stiffening muscles to 'Chris & Jim's' to take a weight of my mind by having my hair cut.  I was surprised they remembered me as it has been so long since I entered the place.  By far the best barbers around, and it is no wonder they are popular!  It does however appear to me that  one of the few shops that open and survive are hairdressers or barbers!  There must be nearly two dozen around here, mostly aimed at women of course, but today men appear so fussy over their hair.  Footballers show their increased wages loosens their fashion sense by appearing on the field in wilder and wilder hairstyles.  The more absurd they appear the more likely some twat will copy them.  Of course young players not only copy fashion the hair identifies them on the field, and a good game will be noticed by those that matter.  An old trick which still works.  Proper men of course just let their hair grow Hippy style, although we did worry about 'split ends' a lot......

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Now look....!

Enough is enough!  Being weaned in Edinburgh I am used to rain.  Gray skies are my birthright!  However I do think this constant gray sky and rain is a bit much.  Now as you know I amnot one to complain, and I am grateful this rain makes up for what we have missed, and this will benefit us all when Farmer Jones gathers the crops, however I could do with sunshine again.  We had some yesterday while travelling to Chelmsford, and more on Monday so I am grateful for that, but it seems to never end, a bit like a normal Edinburgh summer really.  Having endured the '76 drought in smoggy London, and having been evicted chosen to move to the country I expected that sunshine, green views, peace and quiet and all day long blue skies would be mine out here in the wilderness.  However the 'driest county in England' proved, during my time as a postman, to be a lie.  As indeed was the idea that Essex was flat, I can tell you it aint mate!  However this constant gray skies, rain, and smiling weather forecasters warning that more, much more is to come, and from the freezing north at that, then I begin to think it is time to be peeved.  Now the advantages of rain is to be seen everywhere.  The park is covered in Daisy and Buttercup (the flowers not Farmer Jone's milk cows) as you can see.  This is wonderful to me, and attracts lots of wildlife, at least those that have not been drowned or frozen already!  Only people who have to cut the grass object to such rain!  I watched some Starlings bounce off the tree in the park and flounce around like House Martins.  Lovely I thought, but when the rain, and it will be torrential, comes tonight where will they nest?  Mrs Blackbird passed me earlier, her beak stuffed with hay like items, heading for her nest, I wonder how she will fare tonight?  I cannot understand how birds survive in such times?  Some will however.

As you bring out the galoshes cogitate on these:-

Jesus loves you. Nice to hear in church, terryfying to hear in a Mexican prison

How many Spanish guys does it take to change a light bulb? Just Juan.

Two negatives make a positive but only in Scotland do two positives

make a negative - "Aye right."

After announcing he was getting married, a boy tells his pal he will be

wearing the kilt. "And what's the tartan?" asks his mate.

"Oh, she'll be wearing a white dress," he replies.

 

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The Early (ish) Bird....

Spotted this pigeon earlier today as the sun was attempting to push through the dank Spring cloud cover.  It shoved its way past the cumulus now and then to the delight of those walking the dogs. Actually this chap was walking the dog, the other two broke away full of high spirits from a chap who daily passes by with seven dogs.  Usually the tails are wagging and the smiles are evident as the beasts thoroughly enjoy their trail, noses twitching, through the park.  He was somewhat loud in his rebuke as these two unwillingly returned, tails between their legs, after him yelling at them to "Stay," "Come here," and "Come back here," each time louder and more gruff than before.  I have never seen them do that before, possibly just high spirits and a female dog in sight.   

Recent days have been a bovver.  The PC smoking has ruined my life.  This laptop is slow, so veeeeerrrrrry slow, and it keeps doing things it ought not do!  Using this daft 'Touch Pad' causes trouble. The curser takes on a mind of its own, it races up and down unbidden, the pages change of their own accord, pictures disappear and the browser separates into differing browsers by itself!  I slammed it shut the other night as it was taking hours to change and I was most indignant with it.  I yelled at the world, got no reply, but yelled anyway.  The yelling began all over again when I went downstairs yesterday morning and discovered ANOTHER puncture in the rear tyre.  It had appeared OK when I got home yet here it was flat as my singing voice. It's a disgrace the way I am treated by technology!  And 'tyre' is spelled 'tyre,' not 'tire.'  Will someone tell this dumb American spellchecker! Don't they have schools in the US?

Sporting Life

Life did improve during lunch time however.  The Heart of Midlothian, Edinburgh's finest and Scotia's Darling's, once more walked, at half pace, all over the wee team from Leith, Hibernian.  This time we merely scored two goals to their nil, but we don't need to do much to prove our superiority over them again do we?  I wish them well in their fight against relegation to the lower division.  Maybe Rangers liquidation will secure their place for another season?   The marvelous Craig Beattie (pictured) scored the first goal from 'Man of the Match' Ian Black's wonderful pass.  Suso Santana rubbed salt into Hibernian's wound (snigger) with an even better goal in the last minute.  What fun!


A few hours later and more good news as the other half of the evil empire called the Old Firm (That's Rangers and Celtic to you) were defeated by Kilmarnock in the League Cup Final by one goal to nil.  A deserved victory for a team supposed to crumble in such an atmosphere.  Sadly the joy felt by Killie was ruined when the father of Laim kelly, a Kilmarnock player, suffered a heart attack at the end of the game. This follows on from the incident at the Tottenham Hotspurs v Bolton Wanderers game yesterday when a Bolton player, Fabrice Muamba, suffered a Heart attack on the pitch during the game.  The shock of his collapse causing  the match to be abandoned.  Both men appear to be in a critical condition. 
 Football knows its place at such times.

The afternoon saw the clearing of the skies later in the day, an end to the rain that had washed the pigeon off the lamppost, and left behind the first decent sunset for some time.  How nice to watch the sun descend slowly and brightly, causing alarms to go off all over the antipodes shortly afterwards, and leave us one of those wonderful skies.  Good morning Australia!

I hope this week brings good things, and no cardiac arrests, to one and all.

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The Morning Crow

This is the morning crow, I rarely see him later in the day.  He and his mates gather to feed on the brats leftovers lying around, and rarely in, the abundant bins provided.  These crows are powerful birds and very confident in their strength at that.  Passing seagulls often land to help themselves and one crow will descend and chase the lot away.  They do not like it and circle screeching but rarely attempt to take on these boys.  
Not long ago I was up the road and noticed a dozen or so pigeons flocking together somewhat nervously.  Thy raced this way and that, keeping a tight formation and over my head passed a large hunting bird, a Kestrel or Hawk of some kind.  He ignored them and flew on at a steady pace to another area, probably because  a few feet behind him, and slightly to his right, followed  a crow, gently escorting him, like a Spitfire chasing a Heinkel, out off the area. A few years back, in London, the church opposite had a pecking order on the roof.  The pigeons lined up along the main part of the building, wood pigeons took to the tree, and the crows, lots of them, dominated the square tower overlooking everyone. On occasions a crow would sweep down and chase everyone away, just to show who was boss, but otherwise folks just got along well. That is until a Kestrel, which belonged to a nearby church tower, decided to land on this one and have seat in the afternoon sun. Boy was he unpopular!  The pigeons decided to move elsewhere and all the crows gathered to yell at the stranger.  The noise was terrific but he just sat there on the corner shouting back.  After a while he flew off and was escorted out by a crowd of screaming banshees and never returned.  I'm not surprised!

I feel the need to do something physical.  So I said to the landlord's manager, "I will paint the hall for you," as they worked on the flat next door. So Friday, late on, I done a few 'edges' and on Saturday I spent a while (2hours in the morning and three in the afternoon) painting.  Yesterday I had to run into Colchester because the dole have put me on a 'work' programme.  This meant getting up at the crack of dawn to get the ten o'clock train. A huge queue was grumbling there as the 'chip and pin' 'Visa' card system was not issuing tickets and they were having much trouble getting through the folk.  The train was due and normally all would have been well. not today! As I eventually got to the hole in the wall I decided not to use the card as the train was about to leave  and offered money (where did I get that?) and the train doors closed.  He threw the tickets at me and shouted to the rest "Pay on the train!" We charged the doors and got on just!  I then had almost an hour in the boring part of Colchester to wait for my appointment which took 20 minutes and got nowhere.  While waiting to be paid my fares (the best bit off the day) meant a long queue behind one man who was chancing his arm enquiring as to how he could make more out of it, I mean get paid also.  I then had another hour wandering around before my train was due.  I arrived home knackered, it was almost as if I had worked! This morning I finished the painting and stood back and understood why I never became a decorator.  There was more on the carpet and on me than on the wall, and the dust sheet was sticking a bit also. Still I might get a bit of work helping out as there is too much for the two bodgers to do themselves. Oh me back!  Now I have to do my bedroom with left over paint also. is there no end to this? I had forgotten working was so tiring,  I'm off to bed... 




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House

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This is one of several houses around here designed in the William Morris,  'Arts & Crafts' style and built around 1900, give or take ten years either way. Morris was one of those well to do middle class socialists that arose during the nineteenth century.  Adrift from the really poor he did aspire to create a more egalitarian, liberal, society while also developing his own art which showed up in textiles, writing and poetry. 'Arts & Crafts' basic idea was the promotion of the individual craftsman as opposed to the increasing use of machinery. This of course led to the finished high quality product being very expensive, and well out of the reach of the lower classes, and the middle classes also preferred the cheaper mass produced textiles, wallpaper and fabrics. Buildings such as this also show much in the way of craftsmanship, although as there are several like this about I am not sure how much the builders merely followed a mass produced plan!  Surprisingly I have noticed this building is not on the 'listed buildings' site either. Maybe they are not worth that much to the listing people?  Mind you one sold for around £400,000 recently, but not to me!

Somewhat typically the last day of Summer was overcast by white clouds accompanied by low temperatures. The first day of Autumn yesterday saw the clouds lift and the sun reappear. Today I strolled out wearing my disgusting old fleece jacket and found the air very warm indeed. High above the half naked young males attempting to impress the half naked young females soared the seagulls as they whirled about vulture like, slowly making their way the the estuary around fifteen miles away.  There they spend the night, on the water I suppose, before returning with the dawn to live off the land. I wonder if they do this the right way? I realise that my little camera could not get any closer to them, and they may be found as little dots near the bottom of the picture, but it is difficult to focus when some sixteen year old nymph is sunbathing nearby.


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Long Lie?

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As the gray ex-army blankets fell to the ground at seven this morning, and my mind followed a long way behind the rest of me as I fumbled along to the coffee, I noticed this chap through the filth on the window. The poor lad was enduring the early morning in similar fashion to myself. He of course was not looking for coffee to waken him he was looking for sunshine to warm him up after his early morning breakfast search. Normally these guys wake early, around half five just now, sing or 'coo' for a while, and then eat whatever is available at the 'Greasy Spoon Cafe.'  Afterwards they will play with the wife and sit in the sun warming themselves. Maybe she was not playing this morning, females are not known for obedience, and the sun, rising behind him, has failed to penetrate the thick layer of cloud. They often sit on that rooftop, usually with one eye on the world around them, but this morning he was too busy puffing himself up for warmth to care I reckon. He will be more miserable tomorrow as it will be colder, with rain. No chance with her indoors, or should that be, her outdoors, then!

My antipathy towards the selfishness of our parliamentary leaders knows few boundaries, and those who oppose the heartless cutting of jobs require to be opposed, no matter how bad the nations finances happen to be. Changes and cuts are inevitable, however they manner in which they are made is important, and the Con-Dem hypocrites show no regard for people in their public announcements. However this means the Unions will start to talk about taking action, and this leaves me in a dilemma. For to be honest I have less admiration for the leaders, and many of the representatives of trade unions than I have for politicians and tabloid journalists. Bob Crow of the RMT Union is one who really is a disgrace to the working class! So today General Secretary Brendan Barber, at the TUC Conference, led calls for opposition to the government approach.

What a dilemma. We now know that during the 'Beer and Sandwiches' discussions of the Harold Wilson era the union leaders who earnestly talked of 'A fair days work for a fair days wage,' were in fact fighting for position amongst themselves as they looked for percentage increases. The workers and the nation were the last thing on their mind, and it has always been like this! During the Genera Strike of 1926 all the unions decided to back the miners until the end! Within seven days the miners were on their own! They remained on their own for six long months! During the late seventies Rodney Bickerstaff asked the TUC to support the workers in the NHS (and we were very badly paid in those days) by putting aside their private health policies. Not one union agreed! Now we notice these leaders talking tough and playing to the crowds. How many jobs will be saved by these men? Few, and the situation will not be helped by their play acting. We must rely on the hope that the government are exaggerating the cuts so that when they arrive amendments will mean they are less harmful than they now claim. However this is a Conservative led government we speak off, and consideration for others is low on their agenda.

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Summertime

You can tell it's summertime by the rain!

This picture was published in the 'Daily Mail' this morning. In between the many (far too many) articles demanding benefit claimants are hanged, drawn and quartered, and that all MP's are grasping thieves, they occasionally offer something interesting or, as in this case, 'sweet!'  Here we find eleven young Long Tailed Tits sitting on a branch being fed by mum. For some reason she looks a bit worn, I wonder why? I did read somewhere that Blue Tits catch around 18,000 caterpillar beasties for their young. I wonder how hard this mum and dad have been working in recent days? The harsh winter has badly affected small birds this year, so many less around here in comparison to last summer, but at least these residing in the RSPB reserve in Yorkshire will be supported in their new life.

You may remember the story of 'Half Hangit Maggie' from a while back. The lass who was hanged and considered dead, yet revived on the way to her burial. An e-book, "The Hanging of Margaret Dickson" by Alison. J Butler, is now available on Amazon.com, price 99 cents. .