Now I'm not one to Complain but Daytime Television...

Being forced to iron shirts today I treated myself to a period of watching Daytime TV while doing so.  This was not good!  Having around 50 channels to choose from and finding nothing to watch is a somewhat sad experience.  Apart from several shopping channels offering important things like priceless jewllery at knock down prices, or beauty treatments that layer a womans face with enough paint to cover the Forth Bridge and those offering a variety of health giving machinery that once bought lies in the garage for ten years unused there was little to entice.  The inumerable unfunny American comedies that fill the screen, all with canned laughter that is added by someone who is not watchign the programme I suspect, all wth at least two hundred episodes to come offer little cheer, as do the 1970's cop thrillers filled with actors who died before most of the stay at home mums watching were born.  
How dreich is this I thought, even the news programmes, the word 'news' is not to be taken literally here, offer little of thought but much emotion.  Women's troubles, babies, film/record/other stars, personalities with no personality, deep caring moments that vanish the minute the object cared for is out of sight and all with too smart men and flighty women who apparently entice the viewers.  I am well aware of what they entice in me!  As for Victoria Derbyshire on two channels at once well, I had better keep my opinion to myself!  How did she get her job?  

The British drams, much more modern being only 20 years old also fails to excite.  'Monarch of the Glen?'  A pastiche that makes any other soap look like reality.  'The Sweeney?'  A rough, tough piece of nonsense that made a name in the 70's but did not deserve it then either.  It does make the real police on those 'cop patrol' programmes look realistic however.  And as for the constant hour after hour of programmes in which someone opens a garage or a locked storage unit or looks into a shed somewhere and finds riches beyond his wildest dreams please, please, go away!!!  These appear to be on three or four channels and never end!  Surely someone somewhere has become a millionaire and moved on by now? 

Now, 'Four in a Bed,' and 'Come Dine with Me' just what is all this tosh about?  I confess I can only stand a few minutes but why are people filmed having dinner?  I'm scared to ask what the other one is all about!  Then there are the house programmes all of which are designed to make you yearn for that million pound house in the country/by the sea/in the sun.  Like the antiques programmes the base is simple, appeal to peoples greed and they will come and watch.  It succeeds!  The houses look good but do you wish to live beside those people?   Movies, how many do we need?  I watch none yet on offer in the morning I note more US drivel or aged Black & White films that may have been made during the war, though which war is not always clear.  
And then there are the adverts!  Apart from BBC one and two these appear every few minutes and follow a simple pattern.  You ask about PFI, Insurance for the aged, Lawyers because you deserve it, charity for babies/animals/hungry/only £2/£3/£5 a month always followed by the same trailer for a crap programme you saw the last time the ads were on and will see again every few minutes throughout the day!  

 
There were only two programmes this morning that I could begin to watch.  One featured Tony Robinson walking through History he said, although I preferred to turn the sound down and avoid his inane chatter while watching and 'Coast' always worth a look but again with sound muted as all too often the voice gets in the way of the pictures.  I look to the 'Yesterday Channel' to offer history but all too often that also gives dross instead of history.  An excuse to show old cheap programmes rather than something worth watching.  It is worth a peep mind just in case.   
I only ironed three shirts, that was enough to cover me for the period ahead and force me back to doing something useful at the computer.  

'Scientists' and 'Experts'

This is indeed true!
It is a fact well known to the tabloids who present us with studies on health, eating, archaeology, losing weight, evolution, sex, dementia, age and everything else presented by 'scientists.'  The fact that these studies may be taken out of context, have slanted opinons, contain little useful to the reader and are in opposition to 99 other similar studies makes no difference, the press offer them as fact.  The fact is supported by the word 'scientist.'
One problem with these studies, apart from the lack of comparison to similar studies, is the nature of the 'scientist' behind them.  Gay 'scientists' have a tendency to produce 'evidence' that supports their lifestyle, evolutionists fond 'evidence' that supports theirs, female scientists are constantly discovering 'how women suffer' yet never notice if men suffer at any time.  How unusual this is.
'Science' is merely an organised investigation into a subject whatever that subject may be.  Such investigation has given the modern world wonderful drugs that cure disease, technological advancements that enable me to sit in this small corner of the world misspelling words for you to read, investigated the hidden past in archaeology digs, and uncovered crimes hidden from the man in the street, science can indeed produce wonderful results.
However there is one fault in all this, the scientist!  
The problem with scientists is that they are human.  Now science lovers tell me scientists always go for the results that appear before them and get upset when I disagree.  I indicate that scientists like the rest of us ignore facts that do not agree with them and continue to seek facts that support their argument.  Thus many results are pushed aside and ignored until someone less biased discovers them.  Not so I am told, all scientists are noble people, caring and concerned for humanity.  Hmmm, I suppose 'scientists' who gave us poison gas, incendiary bombs and nuclear warheads were caring for their country at the time?  
We need not seek those scientists who took the credit for things others actually discovered nor the scientists pushed aside because they did not fit with the establishment of the day.  
What me cynical?

'Expert' are another one!  How often do you read of an 'expert' offering his opinion in  tabloid?  TV loves them also.  Any war in the offing and up jumps an 'expert' on war, sometimes a retired general, sometimes a university lecturer, often just a reporter with a view, good or bad, on the situation. 
The question 'How expert are the experts?' does not get asked, it is left to us to accept that because someone is at Cambridge University or a General or has studied the field they must be experts in that field.  But are they?  Again these folks have the same bias we have (I of course have none) the same influences affecting them and the same desire for fame and fortune that drive many onto the screen and into the press. 
There is no doubt we need 'scientists' and 'experts' though we all know such in our own live.  The 14 year old computer expert is a must in this world, the local electrician or plumber who will not charge the earth, the woman who knows all that goes on around her and all who are responsible for it and the 8 year old who can open 'childproof' bottles and tubs!  We need them all.  I am just a little cynical about the choice of experts in the media, usually it appears they are chosen from a small group known to the media, often sharing their opinions.  Not that I am implying bias in the media, oh no, they are all objective, however during the 'Up all Night' programme on Radio 5 last night I heard Rob and the chap he was talking to both claim this objectivity was not possible, well it isn't in the BBC that's for sure.

Easter Monday

Being the Easter Monday holiday almost everything was shut.  Thankfully Tesco still opened to feed those who almost starved over the past few days.  I had to go there as I found a sink was blocked and while I managed to clear it last night found my bank holiday beginning with pouring smelly stuff down the plughole.  It seems to work but it does annoy when that happens, especially late in the day.  
For the rest of the day I sat at this laptop trying to finish updating the WW2 memorial that collapsed. The problem is that while I have basic info on all the men I have not got the links to hand for further information so I have to trawl through the sites to find that again.  That takes time and working at the speed to which I have become accustomed it took lots of time.  It is getting there but slowly and what slows me down is finding interesting bits of info which I must read and then forget what I was looking for in the first place.  Bah!      

On the other hand as there was nothing on the TV and I found less on the radio I suppose this kept  me out of mischief.  The question is why are TV programmes on holiday periods so poor?  Do they save up the rubbish to fill space or is it the programmes they have are all poor and they show them hour after hour?  For instance 'Who do you think you are,' the series where famous people I have never heard of seek their ancestors, has been running for four days now.  While the idea of this programme is good the outworking is poor.  The whole point is less about finding the empty headed starlets great granny it is about finding a story about great granny in a workhouse so they can add sentimental music and force tears from said starlet.  That is not seeking ancestors that is a reflection of the small minded TV we have dumped on us by the Islington set today.  Certainly finding granddad in a lunatic asylum might produce a reaction but why force tears about someone born a hundred years before you were born?  My granddad's first wife ended in such a place but ought I to be weeping?   He might have done, the children might but really this is just a reflection of the loss of the 'stiff upper lip.'  Whatever it is it is not history.

Possibly I misjudge the attitudes.  I am constantly finding poignant information when researching people.  For instance this lass here, a member of the ATS who died far from home in Coventry during the war.  Her little band were supporting heavy anti-aircraft guns, either firing the things or working searchlights alongside possibly, either way from action or disease she died aged 19 only.  That is  tear jerking especially if there were no more children in the family.  I can find no other information on this lassie, who knows the situation, but can we weep for people we never met?

While I sat in here in the gloom with only the starlings banging away at the feeders for company I know you lot were still stuffing chocolate eggs down your throat.  I am not jealous, just as I am not the one running to the dentist asking why there are no teeth left.  
No I enjoyed the gruel which was all I could afford, the bit of stale bread left in the wooden box, and washed this down with stale water to avoid using electricity and spending cash.  No don't feel sorry for me, you enjoy being overweight....

50 years No Change

The elite who dominate television today are much more careful of the effects programmes can have than they were in the past.  Or possibly it is that in the past TV producers were really trying to prove the power of TV and also wished to change society for the better, today TV people are the elite and wish to keep it that way.  Therefore the screen is dominated by pap!  Soap Operas dominate, drama is mere soap opera with guns and explosions and the day is filled with mind numbing emptiness.
Anything that shakes society is not allowed, any programme that investigates the powerful is hindered all the way, even the BBC news broadcasts are strictly limited by government influence these days, how bad is that?
During 1966, when I was a mere 15 years old and therefore open to radical thought, a programme appeared on screen during a series called 'The Wednesday Play.'  Today this would be middle class angst at best or soap opera pap at worst but in 1966 these plays tackled social issues in a manner never seen before.  Radical, outspoken and bringing the reality of life into the home for many thereby disturbing the nations settled existence.
One such programme was 'Cathy Come Home,' a play concerning the break up of the happy life of a young couple left to defend themselves against an uncaring state.
The story is simple enough, young and free they marry, get a house, get a job and begin a family.  All goes well until illness means he loses his job, bailiffs throw them out of their house, they end up squatting in ruined homes, he runs off and eventually the kids are taken away from her.
Watching this in my happy Edinburgh home I was seriously touched by the image in front of me in the way only a 15 year old can be.  The nation was touched also.  How could such things be in our state?  Questions were asked in parliament, debate raged in the media, and in the end nothing changed.
In the early 60's some were working to change the situation regarding housing in the UK one of them a Church of Scotland minister called Bruce Kenrick.  This man worked in Notting Hill now the paradise of £1 million pound one bed flats but then a hell on earth of bed sits and crooked landlords. On top of this there were racial tensions as the locals objected to black and Irish immigrants moving into the area, many flats for rent had signs, 'No Blacks & No Irish.'  Riots occurred in Notting Hill during 1958 in which local 'Teddy Boys' attacked those they disliked.  All lived in squalid poor accommodation and the lack of decent housing was one cause of the problems.
Bruce Kendrick began the Notting Hill Housing Trust with no money whatsoever and this has since grown to manage some 28,000 properties.  I spent a year working there moving people into new home back in the early 70's before you were born.
A few weeks after 'Cathy Come Home' was screened Bruce brought into being the housing charity 'Shelter' which has become established throughout the land campaigning for better housing for all.  It is noticeable that since Thatcher their work has been harder still!  
The quality of the production, using radical techniques unknown at the time to TV audiences heightened the power of 'Cathy Come Home.'  It hit hard and has often been seen as the best TV programme ever offered.  Maybe this is indeed the case, the effect has never left me and was one reason for my joining the charity work in Notting Hill in 1971.   However the programme made little difference, governments then, Conservative and Labour, were concerned with keeping their jobs rather than running after TV programmes and public outcries.  Fuss and bother has never moved an MP to radical action and it did nothing in 1966 and does nothing today under an ever more elite governing class than what existed in the 60's.
I just remembered how things were after the war, then there was an urgent need for housing and various governments wondered what to do.  The Conservatives led by Churchill (a Liberal by nature) instructed Harold MacMillan to build 3 million in three years.  This he did in less time!  These council homes were on the whole decent enough and if the people were good the area was good.  The people decide if it is decent  not politicians.  Until Thatcher all was well but the greedy money loving uncaring brute allowed these to be bought by the residents cheaply, these decent homes were soon sold for a fat profit (by Labour 'socialists' as well as Tories) and now we have a housing problem.  I wonder why?  New houses today will only be built by developers for fat profit not for the people. 
Only strong political leadership can change a nation, we appear to have had little in the past and certainly have none whatsoever today.   

Newsworthy, No!

I watched the headlines on the 6 o'clock TV news and lost interest in the full stories.  

This nation is obsessed with the EU Referendum, or at least the media is, the media is of course almost entirely controlled by Conservative types or self made billionaires on the make.  The slanted half truths and lies never end and real facts are hard to find however these two sites may help 'Reality Check' or 'Kings College.'

The rest of the news was typical of the times, worthless space filling.  How limited and controlled the media are, sometimes by governments, often by rich media bosses on the make and all influenced by the need to sell and all the while listening to each and every lobby group that appears.   "Facts, Facts, facts," said Mr Grandgrind!  No chance today unless you search the web.

Mostly these days I hear the news on the wireless via Radio 3 as this is short, well read and tells us we need to avoid listening to the drivel that longer news programmes offer. 

 

I dreampt about buying a new house again today.  It's not that I have bought a house, it's just that I dreampt about it once again.  There are two problems with bringing this dream into reality, one is the need to find £500,000 (that's half a million!) against my bank balance of £47: 23p.  The other problem is the man who lives there at the moment.  For entirely selfish reasons he refuses to move out and let me move in.  Indeed he was keen to strongly make the point he would move out only 'over my dead body.'  This I offered to help him with but he demurred.  Pity as it is a nice place with a nice garden.

Quite how anyone can buy under this grasping government beats me.  The lowest price here is £62,000 and that is for a pokey wee flat in an 'Over 50's only' block.  I would not want that!  The cheapest one bed flat is £84,000 and that is appalling!  Fine for one, not for two.  The first 'house' turns out to be a narrow one bed place costing £170,000 and for £185,000  you get a modern mid terrace proper house (in which I suspect you hear the neighbours easily).  How can a workingman afford this?  A mortgage may give four times your salary, around £15-25,000 for most, that gives a total of £60,000 to £100,000 as long as you don't become sick, over 50 or unemployed.  

The answer they say (or at least developers who bribe MP's say) is to build more houses on green belt land.  These people already have plans for Brown field sites use them first I say.     

Hard Work and People

The reason my back aches as much as the knees is this allotment.  Having an easy day they said, which meant working in the allotment.  The goods that grow organic like here are excellent and I wish I had a small garden in which to do the same.  However the bending, cutting, pulling and lifting are no longer aspects of my life and I have few thoughts of going back to them.  This did not make any difference to my friends!  In spite of their various health problems the work had to be done and therefore as I was the youngest and for unknown reasons considered the fittest I had to follow orders.  What was revealed was the level of fitness I possess, a near death experience I think it is called.  Having dragged me all over town, along the beach and up Mont Blanc, through Wareham and dumping rubbish at the council dump I can tell you I was ready for the Friday trip home.  The morning saw desperate prayer as I could not consider a long train trip tired as I was as a jolly.  Prayer of course worked and the trains, and the exchanges were as good as could be!  However by Friday morning I was worn out.  Monday sees me still recovering and my knees not keen on climbing stairs.

Again I embark on one of those exercise periods, this time I must continue this, otherwise I may well die.  

Dawn yesterday promised bad weather according to the proverb, remaining indoors I never really noticed how it went but it did not appear too bad to me.  Should we believe 'Farmers tales?'  There must be something in them as folks who work out of doors always watch the weather and little things attune them to the changes unseen by others.   

One thing about being back home is it means I do not have to watch others TV choices.  The missus relaxes after her hard work by making use of brain dead TV, 'Murder She Wrote,' 'Heartbeat' and 'NCIS' being the favourites.  These I watched with no remarks regarding the stilted acting, the bad scripts, the hairstyles (of the men!) or the endings, which were obvious, no I stayed quiet all through wondering if having my teeth pulled would make for more enjoyment.  

In 1978 I got rid of the TV.  I did without one until 1986 when the World Cup forced me to obtain a freebie when neighbours left for the richer suburbs.  Since then football, news, a documentary or two are about the only things I watch.  The so called drama these days is mere soap operas but soap opera with guns, explosions and near naked women, real original drama with new story lines, original events and proper acting appear rare.  Placed alongside a diet of house programmes and bloody cooks I find little of joy on telly these days.  There are good things available if you search hard enough but only rarely.  The demands of advertising force bread & circuses on commercial channels and the BBC appears intent o following them.  It's a disgrace I say!

However on the other hand sitting stuffing chocolates and other unhealthy foodstuffs down my throat as we gathered around the big screen was enjoyable.  Being with this my 'other family' is relaxing in other ways than forced marching.  I first came across them in 1971 when I entered a strange dark Baptist church in Notting Hill and spent a little time with them then as he ran his first attempt as church minister.  The place had almost closed a year before and he started with only a handful of people and left a thriving growing congregation behind when he moved to the coast.  There he took a thriving congregation and left them in a new building, a disused cinema costing a million pounds.  A great success at both places and all this leaving behind a sense of 'love' of the proper sort.  Of course they remain members of the church there but without the 24/7 stress, that belongs to others now. 

I would be nothing without them, they gave up so much time for me as they did and do for others, and I owe them much.  There are so many people I have met who have been good to me it is a wonder how so often I think only of the bad ones.  It is a truth that if ten things happen, nine of them being good ones, the one bad thing is what sticks in the mind.  We all have bad things happen to us and bad people abound, truth being we also do bad things to others but this we can justify to ourselves, these things happen and we just have to get on with it.  I am glad there are good people out there who read this and some who miss me when I am gone.  This surprised me somewhat as I thought you knew I was away but cheered me up a great deal to know you could not live without me.  What?....oh!  Anyway that made me happy.

Out and About

As early as the free bus pass would allow I limped down to the bus aiming for Colchester.  However as the Chelmsford bus was leaving seven minutes earlier I got on that and chatted to the driver about Edinburgh and the crowds attending the 'Fringe.'  I was unsure about going there as there are more charity shops elsewhere and I was shopping.  The jacket and the book voucher were in my mind.

Chelmsford is not a city in which smiling is proclaimed.  The few shop assistants to be noted were either ignoring the customer, careful of the inch of paint on the sour face or like the sole male on the phone.  I trawled my way through all the charity and big shops finding high prices on suitable things and low prices on things that did not fit or were unsuitable for anyone not living in London.  Eventaully I obtained, in M&S of all places and at huge price, something that will more or less fit and just have to do for the next thirty years.  An imitation Harris Tweed jacket, sixty pounds less than the real stuff.  Sometimes even I have to put on a degree of smartness.
How disappointed was I in Waterstones. I searched the entire floor of the shop and came away with nothing!  What's the matter with these bookshops that they don't stock something I wish to read?  That's never happened before.

 

In less than an hour and a half I was back on the bus, drifting past old expensive and occasionally somewhat shabby houses looking for a healthy lunch.  The cloud cover had not diminished the warmth and the day enabled me to rejoice in sitting starkers at the laptop something not usually done in this country.  I really should remember about the windows next time.

One other thing, Local news on TV, why do they always have a medical story on there?  Tonight someone was having some sort of cancer operation, why is he on TV?  Every night they are in a doctors, a hospital or telling us of a man who fell over and broke something, why?  I spent ten years in hospitals and occasionally made use of them for myself also yet never did I phone up the local news and talk about it.  Never in the working days in the NHS did anyone rush to the press because they were ill, why do it now? 
This TV region covers three counties, if the cannot find a decent story with all the history, industry, people past and present what are they doing employed?  Either cut out the health stories or reduce the programme to fifteen minutes which is all they really require.  How much time can be taken up with fire, rape, murder, doctor each night?  
Go out to the farms and watch them gather the harvest, find a happy farmer, that will be difficult, and tell his story.  Talk to the bus drivers about what they endure each day, have a contest to find a smile in Chelmsford, do anything but stop going to the doctors to fill space. 

 Daily Mail

I read about this the other day, a 53 year old unfit granddad goes to Iraq to fight IS.  Some see him as daft others see him as a hero.  I just wondered about why he gets so excited about IS?  Sure his brother died in Iraq in 2006, sure IS are not nice but neither are the Taliban and many died there in Afghanistan.  His contribution may please him and those around him but will do little to stop IS and their doings.  Could it be the propaganda has got to him?  Could it be he believes the bull in the press?  Or is he just wishing to be a soldier?  I'm sure there are a thousand things in his local area that require change, just ask the police, and I'm sure he could do more working amongst the locals if he really wishes to change things.  The lure of shooting people can be er, deadly sometimes.

Cabbage

A man during the second world war was given the responsibility for ensuring children received sufficient nourishment from the limited foodstuffs now available.  Oranges and bananas, often beyond the price of many at the time, were amongst other luxuries no longer considered vital to keep the nation afloat.  This gentleman, who's name escapes me, decided that the answer was cabbage!  This combined with the 'Dig For Victory' campaign enabled the British population to be healthier during the war and the restrictions thereof that they have ever been since!    
However as I mused on this I cogitated also on how to cook this beast.  I looked closely at the fat, dense, wrinkled green creation in front of me and considered how like the rest of my family it was.
Dense, sums so many of them up, wrinkled takes care of others who will not be mentioned, and green, well, less said about that I suggest.

The wrinkles reminded me of the TV that the women watch.  While some refuse to lower themselves to the banal offerings (my sister insists on wasting her senility on X-box or whatever games) most will sit for hours watching programmes made in the seventies which are repeated several times a day (always with the same ending) and these women will get involved once again with a tour de force of bad acting!  The cabbage sums this up well.  Quite why there are so few couch potato size women around the family I know not, possibly the shopping sprees help there.  How can anyone with half a brain, and that sums up the family all to often, watch such badly made tripe beats me.

 
Worse still some would say, not me, is the way the cabbage reminds me of the men in the family.  Note how easily it stands alongside a, now empty, but full a short while ago, bottle of wine and half a bottle of beer.  Reminds me of the nieces husband and his fridge full of beer bottles for the cup final.  It turns out that was that fridges natural state!  He and his son probably have a fridge each these days.  The cabbage itself may be wholesome but the people around it require some improvement.

My delightful and best looking, indeed most talented and clever niece arrived one day last year and enabled my mobile to work!  So good was she that she managed to send a text to my phone and indeed from my phone.  I was glad as I had not managed to do so myself.  I indeed do not require the text facility as I do not have the friends to send meaningless texts to however it has some uses I suppose.  As she made her way homewards on the high speed rail network I sent her a text, well I tried to, as I typed all that would come up was CABBAGE.  So I gave up.  She understood, her dad had the same problem.  I blame her.

The weather is dreich, I sit listening to Radio 3 via the TV as the somewhat depressing fiddle violin quartet music is better than anything available elsewhere.  The boring tennis final is about to start and I suspect women everywhere are getting ready to waste hours watching.  I might drop in on the 'Tour de France,' a much more interesting activity, especially as by touring the country you see places you will never visit.  I read the 'Tour of Italy' might take a day out and pass by my window in a year or two's time, that will be good.  No cabbages there, unless I get on my bike to join them of course. 
Ah well, soon be time for bed....   

I Forgot

I forgot to bother about posting something.
Having endured a half day of the museum, until the schoolkids came into the shop at one o'clock when I ran for home and left the girls with them, I stumbled through the rest of the day not sure what I was doing.  So many things lie around in heaps requiring action that I cannot decide where to start or what to do.  Eventually I made a move - I went to bed!  This has proved to be the best idea.

I have no thoughts, nothing to say, nothing worth saying as usual, and caring little about all the other oppressive or seemingly important things others are saying, so I will not say anything about what they are saying.  
Between 1978 and 1986 I did without a television.  People around me kept informing me of the 'really good,' 'can't miss' television that I was missing. However when I saw those programmes I wondered if I really missed anything. I read the bible and books instead.  I listened to the radio and got better pictures then when the BBC World Service was good.  This radio service has been badly mauled now but the news still remains excellent even if many other programmes are best avoided. To few people decide what goes into radio these days.  All come from similar backgrounds, all possess the same outlook, none wish to be courageous and offer an alternative view as this will bring their peers to oppose them, and that takes a strength they do not possess.  
Books open up worlds unknown.  They enlighten, offer insights, educate and it is easier to find opposing views from any opinions offered within.  Thoughts can be allowed to wander into various ideas, not forced into what sells or what suits the director.  Books can also be read anywhere, but not, I can tell you, while riding a motorbike!  

What was I saying?
Anyway I forgot to think so I will go rest the few remaining brain cells and see if I can think tomorrow.   

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Cats

Today, as promised, I gave myself over to exercise.  The weight must go and I ate healthily and exercised moderately.  I am now hungry, feel weak and ache all over.  My weight stays the same.  I suppose five minutes is not enough but it is the first time for a couple of months my knees have allowed me to do this.  I could not have done this last week.  Cue cries of pain...

I also wandered out a couple of times to look for happy smiling faces like the ones you see on adverts. None could be found.   Just where do all those sparking teeth go I wonder?  Billions of people strode manfully about pretending they knew what they were doing.  Most will be disappointed as this little town has few shops worth Christmas buying in.  My smug comment last night referring to having 'done Christmas ages ago' to a lovely lady allowed her to remind me of all she still had to do!  I did not mention the fun she gets for children, grandchildren and seeing happy faces, she might have bitten me. You know what women are like.

Cats are like women, their logic no man can understand.  This half Persian, half factory cat arrived as a kitten when my brother in law brought it home from the BMC factory.  It proved at that time to much for the kids, they were too young to appreciate it so it landed on us.  My fingers still have scratch marks from the brute!  It grew with its own personality, demanding tea when we all had one and wishing to run outside to check the land at one in the morning.  When the kid stayed with us she drank weak milky tea and one day we saw the cat drinking from it.  Eventually that cup became the cats and when we had tea a milky half cup was placed at the emperors feet so he could join in. A withering glance resulted if this was forgotten.

In those far off days the street lights were not that bright, adequate for the time as the traffic was much less.  Today zebra crossings, lights, flashing colours and bright beans illuminate that street while the traffic hurtles past non stop.  So much quieter here in the backwater.  However the cat wished to examine his patch.  I would find him sitting on top of me punching my face at half past one. This meant I had to get up, unlock the door, wander down to the back door of the building, open that and allow the brute to step outside.  This he did reluctantly while he perused the darkness.  Eventually, after a short eternity, he would race of round the corner of the building, I would close back door, open the front one and find him half inside the door staring into the dim light. Satisfied his kingdom was still there we returned to bed and sleep.

Today I would shoot him!

I noticed the film 'The Great Escape' was on one of the channels the other day. It has become so important to have this drivel shown every Christmas.  I much prefer the real story than one with Steve McQueen overacting.  All the channels have lined up vast amounts of mediocre dross for the season. Hopefully the radio will not disappoint.    

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Nothing!

Another Sunday comes near its end and my mind is empty.  I wore it out emoting today and there is little left once darkness falls and my plate of badly cooked leftovers rots inside.  It started the usual way, I spent several minutes wondering if I was awake or still dreaming.  The voices in my head turned out to be some plonker of 'Talksport' discussing fishing with a man on a mobile phone. As is normal with such calls he was either talking from inside a cardboard box or speaking Chittagonian, I know not which. Either way this did not interest and I scrambled wearily for the remote on the pillow, it being to far to reach out from under the blankets to the wireless, and changed to the early Radio 4, here the weather forecast threatened me. This ended and offered me uninteresting news so I moved to Radio 5's childish news service and quickly amended that to Radio 3.  At last something that did not prattle or irritate the early morning mind.  

'Choice' is one of those buzzwords politicians use when lying through their teeth, choice in hospitals, choice in schools, choice here there and everywhere, however the choice is limited and often unavailable. Radio and TV offer choice, you can tale what they offer or lump it!

Early morning radio is poor and I spend more time on Radio 3 with the music filling the space between my ears than the wool mill like noise that emanates from the morning news hubs.  One lying MP is up against another misinforming the nation or perhaps a supporter of Black faces a White fan and the debate gets nowhere much to some smug BBC voice's satisfaction (and £2-300,000 a year is satisfying!).  

The mind was awake during the wee talk by the minister in the Kirk at ten, or half past when he got around to speaking.  The week I had was not good, much was going wrong and this bugged me all week. The reminder of what we live for, or indeed who we live for was important.  How we respond to his call, opening ourselves to him personally and living it out all  rang bells in me.  I made a list of things to amend, it's about eight feet long, and have already added to it.  Tsk!  If I believed him whom I believe strangely enough difficulties might increase but I would cope better with them.  Life will always have problems.  He has never failed me yet, so I had better up my game I say. 

I spent some time around noon searching the fifty or so TV channels on offer for something to fill half an hour.  The set works fine, good picture, acceptable sound, colour OK.  The programmes consisted of mind blowing pap and little else!  Soaps, forty year old episodes of 'Columbo,' or comedies unwatched in the 70's. Did you watch 'On the Buses' more than once?  How come this is a favourite of so many?  Why is it repeated I ask?  PC stops some being repeated, usually those that had wit and humour, why is 'pap' allowed?  The shopping channels had more talent than that exposed elsewhere, and I do not mean the films so old their colour was fading.  Now there are millions of decent old documentaries hidden away somewhere in this world, some occasionally coming into view, but far too few for me.  Modern documentaries are too concerned to constantly keep moving, 'Locomotion' was so bad at this that to show speed Dan Snow chose to run frequently, why?  The cartoons were not allowed to be themselves, they were animated so that they too were constantly on the move! What sort of 13 year old mind produces this tripe?  Why not stand still and tell the story?
I was so glad when the football arrived!

However the Edinburgh Derby, when the Heart of Midlothian defeat Hibernian is an exciting gripping affair and this dilutes the feeble English efforts at this type of contest.  Watching Manchester City defeating weakened Manchester United was so boring I fell asleep for ten minutes in the second half.  My snoring woke me up and must have annoyed the rest of the house!  Later it was a much more interesting contest, Villa v Spurs, and while not as enjoyable as Spartans versus Clyde it kept my attention from sleep.  
However these games take away all my emotion.  The mind is worn out with stress and rest is required. You will guess that Bach is playing in the background.  Yes indeed Bach is my favourite Welsh composer. Typically the music ends as I write that, innit a game eh?  We now have Handel to use care on.  (Geddit? handle with care? oh forget it.)  
See, I told you I had nothing to say and nothing has been said.  Tomorrows list of things to do lies awaiting being ignored by my side, rain clouds gather above waiting for my early morn dash to Tesco to unleash their contents while others suffer sunburn and have the audacity to complain about the heat!  I had better go and prepare myself by having some beauty sleep, not that I require that of course....  


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Man Flu

While you's were enjoying life and all it's fullness I was allying dying here.  On Monday the bug arrived unwelcome into my head and has ruined another week. Only now do I appear to be near normal, whatever that is?  The pain, the agony, the suffering continued night and day and yet I never once complained. Not that this made any difference.  I was however not happy!  Use of the laptop was limited as I just couldn't stand the glare so close up.  There was nothing there to entertain me either. Bah!  

The inability to breathe kept me up late and this revealed to me the wonders off late night TV.  I have to say 'wonders' can be taken in different ways!  Who, I kept asking myself, sits up late into the night watching this stuff?  Now some folks are sick, some insomniacs, some at work, but nor working hard, and a variety of reasons can make people stay up all night.  However who actually chooses to watch what is on offer?  I can comprehend those who sat up watching Alec Salmond and traitor Darling discussing independence, but almost everything else is tripe!  Just who spends all night watching 'Jackpot' interactive TV just to win a prize?  Is it the same person who joins 'Super Casino' in the vain hope of  becoming rich?  There are of course movies of dubious content and many channels showing 'Teleshopping!'  Who, I ask, wants to know about non stick frying pans at two o'clock in the morning, who?  Do you need to discover how to clean the floor at one thirty am?  how much enthusiasm can be raised to exercise sufficiently to lose four stones by following some American (these things are almost all American) advert?  Do people actually pay money for such things? 

What sort of person watches 'Road Wars,' during the day let alone in the darkness?   Are they the type who watch 'Cheaters' or 'Cleverdicks,' I wonder? It is sure they would not be among the few watching recordings of the Scottish parliament on the 'Democracy' channel.   Had I chosen to watch it I suspect I would be irked by 'Don't tell the bride,' and if I then turned over to 'Challenge Tommy Walsh,' it could have been taken out of context and got nasty!  

I started at Channel One as you do, The BBC channel of the usual routine drivel.  I wandered through the dozens of channels looking for something to enlighten my suffering mind, which it must be admitted was not as clear as it should be.  The usual American 'comedies' that fail to raise a glimmer of a smile, the 'Big fat Gypsy,' programmes that should be called 'Jail this git now,' the News channels at night with the split screen BBC offering, a nice looking painted lady one side and a fat rich man in Singapore talking money the other, then the 'Adult channels.' Now I have never seen these before, falling asleep long before they open up these came as a bit of a surprise to me.  For a start some of them worked!  I thought these were pay channels but no, some work.  I was confronted with bored, hard faced, almost naked women playing with their bits.  Now in the right place, my kitchen, this sounded good to me, however I found it a wee bit off putting.  There was little to attract, only one was actually good looking, and I sauntered back to the 'Yet another how we beat Hitler' programme on the 'Yesterday' channel.  

I eventually slept, but not well.  Why is it when you need something to divert the mind nothing suitable is available?  The next night was just as bad, but with a lot less TV that's for sure.  As I eventually coughed my way through in the morning, just after five, I noticed there was even more 'Teleshopping' and still 'Deal or No Deal,' and 'Cash Cab US' were running.  

I'm so glad I can use this beast again, while it still works that is.

  

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Fussing about Haze

The daffodils boobed their heads slowly in the early morning breeze, a blackbird took fright as I passed but not before tugging a three inch worth of worm from the earth, and the sun fought hard to break through the haze brought by the chilly east current.  Few ventured out bar those opening up their businesses or reporting for duty with little in the way of mirth revealed in their faces. Dog walkers passed unsmilingly, the dogs expectant of adventure in the fields as if this was a new adventure rather than a repeat of many previous days, from the main road the rush of traffic spoiled the atmosphere both romantic and physical, the hum of tyres racing past in the distance.  
I stopped to picture the haze in the only wide open spot available, the sun shone weakly high above brightening the land in spite of the pollution attempting to block its progress.  To my left a blue car packed a small tough looking wee dog into the back and motored away, the engine quiet as if afraid to wake the sleeping houses across the fields.  Suddenly I noticed a pouting adolescent heading for school stop to produce a bright yellow phone from his pocket and linger, still pouting, as he caught up on important news.  I resisted asking what sort of lad carries a yellow phone in case I broke some law and was more than uninterested in whatever his news may be.  As I forced the bike into gear amidst much clanking and scraping I noticed a large Vauxhall containing a woman and two smaller children parked in an out of the way place.  Quite what she was doing there I know not, it crossed my mind she awaited the school opening as it was yet long before eight, maybe she just liked rugby fields?  
Dodging one dogwalker and awaiting another as she persuaded her 'Scottie' to avoid walking through glass left by the kiddies the night before I headed slowly homewards.  The haze remained, broken occasionally during the day by brighter patches of sunlight which never quite gathered the strength to overcome it, yet much less than what occurred yesterday.  

News people require something sensational otherwise they feel let down. Yesterday the main story was the deep haze hanging over the south of England. The thick haze covering London was shown repeatedly by the news media, pictures filled the papers and the radio news talked of little else.  How these 'journalists' enjoyed this.  The pictures of London, and it is always London the picture, did indeed show the haze however it was not so thick here and TV pictures can be manipulated, and much talk and hot air was heard debating the causes.  There appeared to be three, everyday pollution from vehicles and daily life, clouds arriving from the east and would you believe sand blown all the way up from the Sahara desert.  Pictures of such sand were shown as it lay on cars and windows, murky shots of buildings in the distance suffering this outrage appeared, and indeed there is no doubt something was in the air yesterday, something above the usual defilement.  There again maybe that was just me doing the washing and the aroma of 'Daz' was filling my throat. 
The Sahara does indeed send sand to the UK on occasion, SKY news informed us it regularly sends its contents over to the Brazilian Rain Forests helping to ensure the continuation of such forests.  "This," said the man,"Shows nature taking care of itself." I thought it pedantic to ask why 'nature' had not taken care of the forests and jungle that once stood where the Sahara sand now lies, but thought that may upset him.    

The debate has continued at a lesser pace as western winds arrive tomorrow to clear the air.  It has caused the usual talk, this 'natural' event, but as far as I can see there is no movement in actually doing anything about the worst element of the haze, car fumes!  No politician will suggest 'Electric only cars in cities,' nobody will suggest developing and investing in bus and train travel to limit pollution, certainly not while an election is being held in 2015.  Yet those dying from chest complaints, asthma and other problems exacerbated by the haze might vote for those that do suggest it, and then actually do something about it.  What's that?  You heard no such suggestion from those able to do something?  I am surprised about that.

So the media has had its fill of pollution news, interspersed by the Clegg v Farage debate. However as Clegg will be removed from leadership of his party after the election, if indeed he retains his seat, and Farage at best will gain only handfuls of seats from the Tories the debate was at best irrelevant.  Since Cameron took power four years ago they say the Conservative Party has lost half its membership.  His same sex marriage ideas, the ignoring party wishes and dumping unwanted dolly bird candidates on local parties was never going to win friends with that lot.  So UKIP, Farages anti Europe party, will now gain some of their support.  This has already happened at the last local elections as a warning to Cameron that went unheeded, such as voted then may not vote UKIP, they certainly will not vote Cameron!  His job also is on the line.  Two real debates remain, Cameron and Milliband the leader of the failing Labour Party, and Cameron, as Prime Minister debating with Alec Salmond the Scottish First Minister. Cameron knows he would be thrashed by Salmond, a proper politician, this then will never be allowed to happen.  By 2015 of course Scotland may have lost interest in an English election (Westminster cares little for Wales and Northern Ireland also) and be preparing to go her own way.

 

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Fresh Air

Today I decided to return to a lifestyle from the past.  I had begun to wonder what difference it made whether I listened to the world or not.  That is my reading of the press, all covering the same story mostly in the same small minded manner, the radio with the questioners ignoring the answers and the interviewee lying in his or her teeth, and the TV talking about some happening on a soap opera or a Saturday night 'spectacular.'  I remember that in 1978 I got rid of the TV and went without until 1986, and then mostly for the football and news only.  During the time I read a lot, certainly the bible was the main source but other things also, and of course I sauntered of eagerly and daily to work.  To me that is fresh air from the pap that claims us daily.  So I thought let us improve my life by using only the BBC website, or short bulletins for news and spend some time working out what we are here for.  We are certainly not here just to linger over the 'fear' on offer from the 'Daily Mail,' nor the dross on offer elsewhere.  Listening to George Osborne the other morning was not doing my head any favours, the steam also covering the windows in condensation, and I can do without he or missing out on real life. Switching his nonsense off produced an opportunity to experience 'fresh air!' 
The only way we can change parliamentarians is by contacting them and expressing our views, and not expecting any change there, or by voting in an appropriate manner.  Recently I contacted our Tory MP and threw in the thought that he was 'very brave voting for the 'bedroom tax' with UKIP being so strong in this area,'  and letting the thought sink in.  Be nice but catty I say.  Will anything change?  No.  It lets him know how some feel however.  The only other changes we can make are within the areas around us and within our competences.  We cannot change 'The' world, but we can change 'the world around us.'  
The best way to change the world is by inner change within our selves.  For me this means allowing Jesus to change me, for while I assume myself to be perfect the strong desire to strangle the woman in front of me at the supermarket this morning indicates a shortfall in the patience department, though I was right!  A quick bible check indicates placing her in a trolley and sending her down the slope was the incorrect response.  I believe she was recovered just outside of Chelmsford.  Having proved I may require adjustment I feel the constant negativity of the media does not help.  Often I see the troubles of the world and look up at the sky above, the clouds continue whatever the situation, seasons roll on, time passes and our troubles are smaller than they appear, mostly. While serious situations arise contemplating eternity, and the creator thereof appears to me to be a better option than allowing the world to crush us.  He has seen it all before and knows where it is heading. He has a plan, using  a shopping trolley in an inappropriate manner apparently is not part of this plan.      

The view is from Cramond, looking over the Forth to the distant Ochil Hills.
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Routine Ruined

Since Monday life has been busy!  My routine was disturbed immediately by the laptop having hiccups and forcing me to spend time sorting that out.  Thereafter I began to enjoy the day, filling out the day with things left undone, and sorting the TV.  Tuesday, as I began the joyful day attending to one of my war websites, was interrupted by a call to fill in at the museum.  This I gladly did, as I am really nice.  Having failed to complete that task and breaking the tools involved I came home again.  Before I left I was sweet talked into returning for an hour on Wednesday afternoon.  This I did as I am still nice.  However the websites still awaited, and nought was done.  I managed some stuff but by now my routine was gone, I am due three afternoon naps by now, and today, when I ought to be asleep or finishing the outstanding works I find I just canny be bothered.  So I watched 'Time Team' on telly and made a tasteless mince instead.

Much time has been spent watching the BBC Parliament Channel these past couple of days, which has also interrupted the routine.  Not just the showpiece 'Prime Ministers Question Time,' which is indeed all show and nonsense, but the other debates, often in a quiet chamber, which show our elected representatives discussing sensibly the point at issue.  While it is often ignored by the government in the end we can see thoughtful opinions expressed on a range of issues, freely and sometimes to good effect.  On occasion this has been boring as technical points are discussed which only 'experts' can understand, on occasion extremely funny as serious points are made amid much banter across the floor.  Some are experts at rhetoric, some dull, some worldly wise.  I forgot how interesting it can be, and the long established routine of the House of ages past still followed.  The doors are locked when the result of a division is announced, and opened only when that is put through.  The four tellers bowing their heads, and possibly feeling self important, and the doors unlocked and life continues.  The committees can also be seen as well as the more sedate but no less wise House of Lords.  In spite of the ages there are some canny folk sitting there.

You will have noted, and read HERE that Scotland's referendum re remaining tied down by England has been announced.  In late 1914, the anniversary of Bannockburn, the Scots will vote for independence and stop carrying the imperialist English for the first time since 1707.  You will have rejoiced at this news I know.

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Maudlin Monday

With the football season ending last night I am now able to concentrate on blog writing.  Isn't that good?  What?... oh.  


Anyway as the season has now ended this means there is no football until the new season begins again.  Luckily for you and me training began this morning at Tynecastle Park and the Scottish Cup Winners (5-1 over Hibernian you remember) will soon be up and running and ready for the new season.  Rejoice!


However this does leave a gap in the TV schedules.  Filling it with pap may suit some folks but not me.  The wireless offers more hope, especially a careful use of the BBC iplayer, which sadly is not available outside the UK I think.  In spite of the absurd renovation of the website, huge empty pages, large ugly picture of some unknown, and little content, rather like the person who designed it I fancy, the programmes do sometimes offer thirty minutes worth listening to.  Today I found a little to listen to as I busily scribbled down names from a  film made by a one time local cinema in 1919.  Two films in fact, each containing still pictures of men who were serving in the armed services at the time.  I found them fascinating!  Many names were new to me, indicating they survived the war, and several were the men I have been searching for!  Fantastic and indeed stunning to be honest, to see an actual photo of a man who's grave I have stood beside.  Suddenly the names on the memorial are that bit deeper and more relevant!  Sadly only a handful can be positively identified as yet, however others are likely our men, and hopefully we can bring this together before long.
if you are interested in two short silent films, six minutes long, they are found here and here.

After scrutinising the films, adding the names, and contemplating life the universe and everything I spent some time cogitating on my life so far.  Today I reached 61 years.  Again, as I think this the sky darkens, rain falls, a heavy weight comes upon me.  I took that heavy weight down to the pond in the gardens this morning and holding it tightly leapt in!

Two rather needlessly gruff gardeners pulled me out again, muttering about by-laws and the pond only being two feet six inches deep. How disappointing! They through me out and flung the weight after me.

Add to this the arrival of the 'Winter Fuel Payment' forms cheered me no end as this also tells me I am officially old. 

Rejoice, rejoice.....