Weather & Biscuits

Something wrong here.  

This map, showing today's weather, appears to infer that we are covered in cloud down here in England while Scotland is bathed in sunshine.  Surely that canny be right?  It has certainly been a day of lightish cloud today, cloud not wishing to move on, but Scotland without cloud?  That's abnormal!

Across the very north it is cloud covered, as you would expect way up there  further north than Moscow.  Rain, hail, snow and storm you would take for granted, but almost clear everywhere?  This is a sign of global warming if nothing else is!

   

I decided to do the Spring Clean, you remember I began this about five years ago, before Covid!  This means moving things, hoovering, dusting etc, and dumping whatever lies beneath the layers of grime.

This began because of the workman fixing the floorboards that creaked a bit too much for the neighbours.  Moving things meant revealing smut that had grown over time, and once removed, the floorboards fixed, I was left with a desire for more.  

Last week I began with the record cabinet.  

The records, some good ones, most ex-library, Rolling Stones, Miles Davis, and various classical types, have not been used for at least a dozen years.  While I have an aged player it canny be connected to anything, not that I wish to play any, I don't want any good ones scratched now.  Things were moved, unused muscles put to use, and much satisfaction gained form the enterprise.  Next up I thought, will be under this desk.  Under there I may find dead cats, ancient coin horde or possibly a tenant or two who had disappeared, you never know.   However, though feeling the effects of actual work, something I have avoided religiously, I observed through my clammy window the front required weeding, and that bush had to be cut down to allow light into the ground floor apartment.  Hmmm, thought I, I'm in the mood, let's do it.  

A couple of hours later, having swung the axe, well those clipper things, vegetation was spread across the front.  I had chopped the bush, picked many weeds, cleared one third of the front and much of the middle when I realised I was dying.  My knees would not take any more, so I dumped one very full bag of greenery where it should not be dumped and retired to make coffee and stuff my face.

Since then I realised my mistake.

One job a week was the aim, not two.  One job and then allow the ageing bones to relax, but not me!  By Saturday I was not useful for anything, though I had to visit Sainsburys early.  Sunday came and I was all for sleeping, however, I was detailed to read 1 Samuel 3:1-10.  The call of Samuel.  So I went.  Sloth like I raced along the road, the sun shone, the weather was pleasant, the joggers and the cars all passed me by.  In church, all the young women asked for me as always.  

Yes they did!  

Tired and not thinking clearly, my mind floating throughout, at the close of the service while leaving I attempted to remove a Bumble Bee that had become trapped in the doorway.  A cloth was used to direct it towards the open door where I tried to shake it off.  The brute would not leave me!  So I stepped outside to place him on the uncut grass with wee flowers suitable for such beasties - and fell flat on my face.  My knees did not like this and as I struggled to rise one of the Nigerian young men lifted me up.  Good job he was there.  Two other men stood and watched, neither able to lift in their own aged poor physical condition, though Ian removed my wallet to 'make my task lighter' he said.  

I may get it back next week.  

How embarrassing!  Good job I got a lift home after that.  

Tee Hee, at least this puts me off cleaning this week, that will wait until next at the earliest.   So it is eat and sleep and watch the cricket I have been led into.  

In spite of it all, once I had eaten and slept that off, I realised there was no bread.  This means either a trip to the shop in the morning or bake biscuits.  I chose the latter.  Here are two, untasted, imitation oat biscuits.  These you will never see in the shops!  To the side are two 'Wartime Shortbread' biscuits, also not available in the shops, now or later.  However, in 45 minutes I have provided something to fill a gap and give me reasons to grumble again.  I ache all over again...back to watch Sri Lanka lose at cricket.

Awaiting

Yesterday was that sort of a day.  

The wind chilled the bones and the sky remained cloudy. 

Today is totally different, it rained all day long!

I spent time yesterday clicking buttons to amend my Plusnet account to 'Full Fibre.'

This, as you know, gives a much better service - they say.

The thing is, we are all losing our landlines soon, this to make the entire country 'digital' and open to interference from China when war is declared.  So landlines are removed, leaving those, especially old or disabled folks, in trouble, and the rest of us grabbing these 'special prices' to renew now.

These 'special prices' indicate government pushing and benefits accruing to Plusnet and other ISPs, though how I fail to understand.

One important point is informing the landlord.  This I almost took for granted but the reply today reminded me this house is listed 'Grade II.'  This will not affect the people in the flats round the back, but as I am on the front of the house care must be taken.  Tsk!

So, next week work should begin, but as we are now awaiting a response from the council people we may have to postpone this for as while.  

At least they have restored my speeds in the meantime as we wait....

Atkinson Grimshaw - Shipping on the Clyde

A Boris Storm

It comes as no surprise to note that the Covid Inquiry has been informed that the Prime Minister, one Boris Johnson, was inept, incompetent, and willing to let old people die if it saved money.  It also comes as no surprise to note the right-wing press are not mentioning this today, instead attacking Cummings, the one time aid to Johnson, who revealed what we already had discovered from the civil servants who spoke in the days previous.

The message is Boris and Sunak had no idea what to do, money was more important, wise medical information ignored or despised, and Hancock, the Health Secretary, was considered by all around as worse than they.  

None of this is a surprise, we knew this at the time, yet the media who also knew this kept quiet then and act surprised now.  I look forward to someone brining a 'manslaughter charge' on them all.

Another stupidly named storm is approaching the land.  Panic is being announced in the media, local councils are preparing for the worst, warnings abound re possible occurrences of wind, rain, flood, and mass destruction.

It's almost as if we have never had a storm before.

Before storms had to be named, and who's idea was that?  Before then the radio or TV man would tell us a storm was approaching, possibly 'Storm force 8 or worse,' and life went on.  Now we must panic in case a storm arrives and the 'Daily Mail' and other tabloids have a chance to attack the weatherman for not warning us that storms arrive during the year as they have done for thousands of years!

I may respond by staying in bed.

Sabbath, what...?

I could have done with on of these today, the walk down the road in the sun appeared to go on for ever.  Being still deaf in one ear was a problem, but during the service it helped!  I am never sure of what P is going on about and not hearing half of what said helped.  

When J spoke the same happened, however, I can hear him again on the video tonight.  I wonder what he said...?

Warm and muggy now, thunder in the far distance, and people preparing to complain about the cold weather now.  A thunderstorm here might clear the air and water the dry ground.  The rain might help clean my windows again. 

So, there is nothing to do now but watch football, read books and retire to sleep.

This is not a  waste of a day, on the contrary it has been very positive in many ways, and as hearing is slowly returning I am quite happy.

Of course, being by the seaside would help...

Edward William Cooke - Vesuvius, Catalan and Paranzella 1847

'Indian Summer' & 'The Great North Road,' Steve Silk.

 

The 'Indian Summer' as we used to call it, continues.  This leaves me wondering why we no longer call it 'Indian Summer?'  Has someone complained?  You know what to say to them!  Yesterday and today we have seen a haze caused by Saharan sand blowing high into the atmosphere, and sometime landing upon us.  You can just see a bit of haze in the photo.  With the temperatures reaching over 30 C outside you can understand how nothing is happening.  Not that much happens here anyway.  A trip to Tesco before 9 am was a warm walk there and back.  Their air conditioning was cold, I was too warm outside, and the talk was of spiders, one ran across the checkout as I gathered the goods.  She can keep that one as a pet, but appeared unwilling.  I think she has got down off her stool by now.  

This is a good book.  It is of a type I like.  Here the writer gets on his bike and cycles 400 miles from London to Edinburgh following the 'Great North Road.'  Today, this road is called the 'A 1' but as you may expect the road has varied from the original, whatever that was, over the years.  Take into account the changes, the double carriageways, the 'Motorway' aspects where this becomes the 'A1(M)' and the ever present danger of vehicles attempting to eat the lone cyclist, you will understand that it is not possible to ride the actual, possibly unknown, original, 'Great North Road.' (GNR).  

This sort of book features the author trundling through the country, explaining the history, the lie of the land, the places to eat, sleep, and the people met along the way.  Some have great humour, this one only in passing.  Nonetheless, it is well worth a read.

Of course, as I may have mentioned around 500 times already, I cycled in the other direction in 1974, when I was considerably younger, and even more stupid than I am now.  Then I had an idea for a cheap holiday, buy a bike, ride off and enjoy.  This I did, but only after riding the bike up the hills to the Royal Infirmary where I worked and coasting back down again at night.  I did not realise that six months of hard riding was required preparation!   

Steve Silk, a man in his 50s was less stupid than I.  He spent time riding over 100 miles gaining strength and planning his route.  He also made notes for a book, clever man.  This is the result.

Steve begins his ride from Aldersgate in London's centre.  Then he works his way north via Smithfield and Islington, though whether this is the exact GNR I am not convinced.  Struggling on a bike through London' snarling traffic is no joke, I have done it and would never consider doing it today, he makes his way north.  London, as anyone with a map can see, is big, very big, and cycling north takes time.  On the way a cyclist is able to see the world in a manner car drivers will never understand.  He describes London's variety, the rough has always lived close to the smooth, and all the time he picks out historical pubs and events as he rides.

As the author describes London's variety he also notices the world changing as he goes north.  Attitudes north of Watford, as well as accents, change constantly.  The further north, the friendlier and more chatty the people.  Chatty friendly people in London?  Your having a laff mate.  

The people change, as does the names of cakes and bread rolls, the land and the people produced reflect the history he passes, and he passes much history.  Battles have been fought for thousands of years on these lands, some famous, others forgotten, no matter how bloody.  Many a battlefield has gone into history but no-one actually knows where it was fought!  This author finds many a battlefield on his ride up the GNR.

Eventually he reaches Edinburgh, his ride from Berwick via Dunbar revealing the state of English knowledge of Scots and English history.  He appears surprised that English thugs savaged Scotland with countless raids, implying only Scots did this!  All to often the scant English knowledge of Scotland creeps out.  Crossing the border he likens it to a county crossing, wondering why the Northumberland 'England' sign is accompanied by a Northumberland flag, an English flag and a Union Jack, yet the 'Scotland' sign has only three St Andrews saltires flying.  He has no grasp of his own history or understanding of Scotland bar eating porridge for breakfast!  

In Edinburgh he again ignores the city determined to get back on the train south.  His mate, he has been accompanied for the last three days, forces him to look at the old town, where once again he fails to understand the city.  Two hours after arriving he heads south.

The authors failures as a historian of Scotland and England are to be expected.  His ride does contain much worth reading, in England, and gave me the same senses I felt in my ride of long ago.  While at that time I did not take into account the history in the same way, I certainly saw the changes of the land and the people.  This book brings back memories for me, and will do the same for any who cycle out into the country.  Riding a bike is hard work, but the back lanes offer views most miss.  The ability to stop and look anywhere is a joy for a cyclist, and today many cafe's and eating places abound in a way they did not in the past.  

This book reflects the changes to the 'Great North Road' over the past 50 years as well as the people living on and near the great highway.  The millions who have trod this way, or close by, from people individually, drovers with cattle, merchants walking or on horse or stagecoach, to the drivers in the years after the war, lorry drivers pounding hundreds of miles a day, to today's comfortable car enthusiast or mad cyclist, all have memories of this Great North Road.

I recommend this book.

Slovenly Sabbath

This was the threat today, along with thunder and lightning and heavy rain.

Feeling a bit peaky over the past couple of days I was intending to remain indoors anyway, so I spent some time watching the weather on 'Microsoft Edge' bringing the rain across at the time I normally leave on a Sunday morn.

They said it would arrive at 10 minutes to 10, but it failed to come.

They said it would be 'light rain,' and it did arrive at 10 minutes past 10, and failed to drop any rain.

'Moderate rain,' was to follow shortly after, the clouds darkened, but no rain fell.

Innit just marvellous!

On any other Sunday I would have proceeded out, as the weather looked OK, and got drenched half way down the road.  Today nothing.  I will trust the BBC from now on.

So, instead of trekking out I remained indoors intent of reading one of these.

I have one I bought back in the 80s when the NIV first arrived.   It is showing signs of wear, not always because of constant reading I should emphasise, and requires to be put aside on the 'retired book shelf.'  It was as I glanced at the scribbles inside the front pages I found a little thing from the late 70s.  I was in the hospital, and short of cash.  One Sunday evening I found myself full of 'faith,' that the money I needed for the week would arrive.  At that time I required £1 a day.  Being paid on Thursdays meant I needed £3 for the week.  I knew this would arrive.

Monday morning I arrived at work as my usual happy self, "Here's old misery," said John the cook as I entered.  I ignored him, and the collection off lesser staff gathered around the front door at 7:30 in the morning.  

I remained full of faith, and on my clock card, remember them?  I found a cheque for £3.

This was a payment owned me by the NHS which had not been paid via my wages as it ought to be.

God moves in a mysterious way his wonders to perform.

So many times, when down on my 'uppers' the Good Lord has provided in interesting ways.

He never leaves us.

(Mind you, he does not make us rich either!)

An answer to my query has arrived.

One of my favourite, beautiful, and highly talented nieces had sent this beer to me.

She has also sent a card which has, so far, not appeared.  This may be because of the incompetence of the Royal Mail management, or some 'dick' pinching it thing money was included.  How wrong he would be.  It may appear one day, as may others that have not arrived.  

I have spent some time in these days looking in to the 'Tour.'

Not that I am really all that interested in who wins these days but I do like watching the background scenery.  

Today and yesterday there was an abundance of small, tight knit villages.  Usually a church and a castle or some once proud, but now broken down building from the days of long ago is glanced as we pass.  These villages today were astonishing.  Crammed together cheek by jowl, as they say, it indicated something of the history of the region, though all I could think was how everyone must have known everything about everyone!  No secrets here.  

I am also impressed at men cycling 100 miles and climbing hills at 15 mph, sometimes faster.  Now, for myself I often had to climb off and push the bike, and that was going downhill!  How do these men do this?  Over 4 hours of cycling today, finishing up a steep, and very high hill, with a wonderful view, but a killer for the man who led so long and got beat at the last.

I think I will make sure I still have my Bus Pass.

Quiet Saturday

Not a great start to a day that has not started greatly.  Overcast, with patches of blue peeking through, wind blowing tepid air in my face as I staggered drunkenly up the road.  My intention was to head for 'B&M' and obtain one or two things for the kids, and something for myself before the crowds arrived.  

There were no crowds, and there were no items I wanted either.  All those toys and not one suitable for either of them.  What I wanted, a new small clock, was not to be seen either.  At one time thousands of these wee clocks were to be seen in such stores, not one can be found today.  Have they all run out? Did the ship sink on its way from China?  Who knows. 

I wandered back across the park as the weather began to spitefully rain on me.  Even the dogs there this morning ignored me.  

This exciting life continues...

 

 

Isn't it always the way that when you buy cards for birthdays and the like there is not a suitable one in the drawer!  I have just looked through a pile of cards and not one is suitable for the purpose I have in mind.  Why is this?

If I trawl round the appropriate shops, at least three here, I will not find one that fits today.  There will be billions that will fit next week, but will have gone by then, but today there is nothing.

It is because of such major traumas I am now insane.

 

Is it just me or is nothing happening just now?

The media appears empty of real news, Sunak made a statement yesterday which has disappeared quickly, and even Boris spouting in the Mail' has drawn little response.  Have we all given up?

The only excitement concerned Farage.  

Making an appearance on TV bemoaning being locked out of UK ,was intended to gather support from his Blackshirt followers.  Instead, it has sponsored rumours about his Russian money, with Twitter offering many photos of him with Russian ambassadors and the usual crew of Brexit ner-do-wells.  Little sympathy has been on view, this, in spite of a spirited defence by all the usual rich right-wing faces filling the right-wing media.  

Poor little rich lying nazi.

 

Terms and Conditions Read?

Us dreich, miserable, types arose on the last day of a dreich, miserable year, to venture out into the dreich, miserable damp day to collect the several items forgotten yesterday when we visited Sainsburys.  An early start in the mirk was required as the rain lessened and the met office live map indicated very heavy rain to follow shortly.  They were correct.  As I huffed my way upstairs the rain had already began the days offering.  This the result, they say, of cold weather pushing down into north America thereby shifting the jet stream to the south.  This brings mild, but wet weather, or the Atlantic Ocean as we call it, upon our heads.  Climate change ensures this has made things worse than usual.  Rivers are higher, some places flood more, but at least the Water Companies sewage floating therein is swept away more quickly.  Touching innit?

At least the post is catching up.  The cards have been arriving, a parcel or two also, and a delayed box from up north has arrived full of excellent goodies.  I do not deserve women like these girls.  Of course the 'Private Eye' mag from three weeks ago has not yet appeared, and I am unsure if one ought to have arrived this week.  No doubt there are other items lingering in those large sorting offices placed at the edge of towns which will arrive in due course.  I understand how this happens, a 'York,' a large stand upright basket if you will, full of mails in bags arrives, it is pushed to the side with all the others.  Day after day, strike after strike, more mail arrives and the 'York' is pushed to the back.  Therefore later mail gets through first, until someone realises what is happening and changes things around.  This kind of thing, believe me, is easily done.  The dreich, drookit and miserable postman delivered my box today but without a smile.  Mind you, in all the years I have known him smiling was not seen as his normal habit.  Anyway, that's more chocolate for my few remaining teeth, a pullover that fits and another book to read.  This is a good one.  She has always chosen very good books for me, though I suspect her son helps, and this is another good one, which you will hear about in good time I suspect.  

So, we leave this year of joy and happiness, several Prime Ministers, umpteen Chancellors, and goodness knows how many cabinet ministers have come and gone.  The stability under the teeth now residing in No. 10 is based on making more money for the rich, not upsetting the 'wide-eyed loons,' and selling off whatever is left on the Tory ideology list.

More strikes then?

The year makes no difference.  Life goes on whatever the year.  We decide what happens, and the Good Lord rules over all the feeble upstarts leading the nations, both good and bad, mostly it is true, bad.    

No need to despair, Jesus continues to rule, our lives will have their ups and downs, there will be good times and bad, tragedy and laughter, and hopefully you will enjoy much laughter in spite of the many tragedies that we will face.  

Joy Filled Freezing Wednesday

Joy at last yesterday late afternoon, Parcelforce collected my box a week late and took it in the right direction.  I expect it to arrive at the destination, a mere 400 miles away, sometime around March!  Joy also when the postman arrived today with a weeks supply of post.  One for someone who does not live here, one a charity, one money coming to me, one a Christmas card, the first so far, and a week late copy of 'Private Eye.'  Of course the parcel from Southampton, sent ages ago, has not arrived, nor has anyone else sent things to me.  I sit here, wearing those fingerless gloves to keep warm while surrounded by candles for the same purpose, looking for the parcel van to stop.  I await in vain.  

The temperature has indeed dropped this afternoon.  The cold from the north was not here last night, it will be here tonight however, and it has already begun to lower the temperature.  Up north snow may fall, here the freeze will be a pain, however, we will cope, as long as pipes do not burst, heaters fall over, and whisky coffee does not run out.  The simplest way to cut costs is to drink hot coffee/tea, place hot water bottle behind back, wrap something around rusting knees, and be happy.  This cuts running costs considerably, as long as you do not have to move about.  Also, as all women know, this is the time to do the ironing!    

Yes ironing, the woman's job not done by women here.  I keep asking for help but get rude answers.  Women I find are very susceptible to taking chocolate, receiving gifts and compliments but hesitate to actually do anything in return.  Tsk!

Last year British Gas sent me a form insuring my gas boiler for a year at no charge.  I found this unusual as I did not request this, nor do I require their insurance.  I ignored the letter, dumped it and moved on.  Today, I received an update asking for £92.76 for another years cover.  Now, I will dump this easily, but how many will be caught out thinking they always covered their boiler this way?  This is a British Gas scam and I wonder why this is allowed?  A free years cover you did not request, followed a year later with a chance to pay through the nose for another years cover?  With the vast profits these crooks are making I suggest they offer another free year to all those who already pay for such cover!

I certainly will not.

Rain!

The expected rain eventually arrived, thunder bellowing and lightning flashing somewhere further over.  Jolly nice for those of us indoors suffering only occasional splashes of water, not so much fun for those hiding under the trees across the way.  Situating yourself under a tree during such a storm is not the wisest move, although there is no chance of cover elsewhere around here.  

The power appears to have diminished now and constant steady rain washes the months of mire from the streets, a very welcome event.  However, the cloud now makes the world a darker place.  We have ben used to bright days, brighter, sometimes colourful evenings, and now a dim grayness steals across everything indoors.  We are no longer used to this.  

I could easily survive six long months in the far north during the summer, permanent light would benefit me greatly.  The six months darkness of winter might wells see me dangling on the end of a rope!   How can people, especially young folk, cope with that.  Many years ago I worked in a commercial darkroom loading lots of Black & White film onto a bar which then went through the developing process.  No skill required.  However, at that time of year I went to work in the dark, worked indoors all day, and went home in the darkness.  This did not last for very long which is just as well.  Six months regular darkness does not enable happy people, no wonder Scandinavians drink so much!

Maybe I should try that now while the monsoon rain drumbeats on the kitchen window?

Paris Street – Rainy weather (1877) by Caillebotte

Twiddling Tuesday

So far it has been a nothing week.  At least, I have done nothing.  However, with rain approaching, and smearing the earth last night, I decided to clean up the front yesterday before the rain.  That finished I have reached the decision that enough was done for the rest of the week.  OK, I had to visit Tesco, the staff might miss me if I don't pop in, and sit here playing solitaire for a few hours, but my back aches after yesterdays work, honest.  

As I sit here cogitating, listening to the rare sound of traffic passing by on wet smeared roads, I wonder how many accidents this will cause? I find myself enjoying the aroma of lightly wet leaves mixed with the cooler air.  The temp indoors is still around 80% it claims, but it feels more like a cold 70%.  Imagine, a cold 70%!

Those fussing about the heat did have a point.  If this is the result of the grasses in the park imagine what the food crops have gone through?  One farmer loudly gave away his onions, they were not possible to pick and make a profit so he called on people to help themselves or they got ploughed back in.  Many farmers, those not yet put out of work by Brexit of Liz Trusses failed ANZAC deals, will be in the same situation.  One reason I cleared up the front yesterday was because when the rain falls, no matter how poor, our front soon is awash with weeds!  Tsk!

It is rumoured the outgoing PM will be staying at Chequers until he is heaved out.  Difficult to know as he is hiding in Greece at the moment.  His furniture (and wallpaper) is being removed as we speak.  His replacement, most likely the inept Liz Truss, will be soon winning the never ending election, and then she will move here junk into No 10 at our expense, so I imagine she will spend the cash liberally.  The future looks bleak.  I wonder if she will last until Christmas?  

John Macvicar Anderson - Westminster

Mumping Monday

The sky offered the usual Spring deceit today.  As I stumbled up towards Sainsburys the chill in the air was hidden behind the blue of the sky.  By lunchtime I was sitting indoors with my jacket on wondering if I ought to make use of the heater!  Instead I did the laundry, at least drying the ageing T-shirts over that heater warms part of the house. 

Sainsburys, the checkout lass informed me last week, are planning to change things around.  Out will go several checkouts, replaced by larger, trolley sized, self-service checkouts.  Hooray!  Instead of people like me struggling to get a dozen items through a self-service machine soon people with trolleys will be struggling to get over a hundred items through the checkout!  

They will soon be off their trolley.  

Since John James Sainsbury established his grocery shop in 1869, somewhere in London, the company has been one of the leading supermarkets in the land.  Tesco long ago overtook them as 'top dog' but this company is still in their fighting and increasing the prices on their 'own brand labels goods.'  Anything to help the poor Qatar's who own 15% of the shares.

Having hobbled back I noticed changes downstairs.  Later, when I had finished my reduced (but not by much) Chicken Kyiv lunch I heard strange noises again.  These emanated from a man holding a heavy item half way through the downstairs window.  Naturally, as a keen helpful type I wished to offer assistance, my back however, wisely warned me not to interfere when a man is having fun.  So, I ignored the foul language quietly escaping him and settled back down to read the online press. 

This was not encouraging, it rarely is.  Much of the media is dominated by the queens Jubilee.  Now having been monarch for 70 years is clearly an achievement to admire, especially when you have no official power, and many will admire her for this, though not her son obviously.  Parties are planned, two days off have been granted (Thursday & Friday), pubs have longer opening hours and the police more overtime to clean up the mess.  

The church is having a 'special' service for her, including a lunch and a fun time afterwards.  Some cruel cynical types asked me If I would be helping out!  I have made clear I am unable to attend as I will be with the Young Communists, burning 'Butchers Aprons,' on Sunday.  This, as you may imagine, has not been believed by the Brexiteers amongst us.  I fail to see why.

I spent the day sending one or two begging emails, none of which have provoked a response as yet.  And also 30 minutes listening to my sister chatting.  While informative, this leaves more tinnitus in my ear than AD/DC ever did!  I gave her a second hand laptop, quite good enough for her needs, so I could email her rather than use long phone calls.  This she cannot work, her fingers are too aged to cope, and the email has not been set up properly, even though her grandson works for the phone people!  Kids huh?

Now, with no football to watch, I am left wondering what to fill my empty head with.  In the evenings tiredness leads to watching things that require no energy or thought.  Football often fits perfectly here.  Tonight's TV offers 'Britain's Got Talent,' a misnomer if ever there was one, 'Jurassic Park,' and 'Bargain Loving Brits in the Sun.'  I am not convinced this is my kind of TV.

OK then, it is time to read books...

   

Spring at Last?

April comes to an end with bright sunshine and chilly wind.  Less chilly than the other day, yet many Englishmen once again, as normal, reveal their intelligence by wearing tee-shirt and shorts early in the day because it is 'warm.'  Normal people do not do this.  Young males certainly, but they are stupid as you know, and merely trying vainly to impress the girls who are ignoring them.  I had normal Spring jumper on under my jacket, a warm Spring does not arrive in Edinburgh so I know how to dress, global warming has not yet made it real Tee-shirt weather in Essex yet either.

 

I meandered across the park, being studiously ignored by the old dear with the wee dog, and cheerily greeted by the probably, retired man as he passed.  People are funny.  In the past folks were happy to greet others, today many do not.  The many newcomers to town have lessened the homespun atmosphere and casual greetings are lessening.  Fear appears more common.  

Maybe of course it is just me...

 

I meandered through the town as the market was getting into gear, ensuring I avoided all the people I wished to avoid.  Naturally, one lay in wait for me.  A feeble excuse and I was off.  This is unusual, normally it is others who avoid me!  I was not in the mood for a man who talks like a woman.  

Some new stalls were to be glanced at, £20 for a bottle of liqueur,  several pounds for cider, and huge amounts for large slices of cake.  I almost hesitated at the stall with a old suitcase full of tat.  This is the type of box I used to love in the museum, you never knew what you might find.  I made use of common sense and left before I wasted a day searching and spending cash.

 

 

Spring may indeed have arrived.  This blackbird was happily singing as I passed, he left when the camera saw him.  Blackbirds singing are a good sign of warmer times.  I hope to hear more of him and his mates.

Rain, Football

I am not the suspicious, cynical type as you know, however, when I wake to bright skies and sunshine, the warm air penetrating even into this dim lair, I expect it all to go wrong.  I know not why, living in this nation possibly is the reason, cynicism grows when the weather changes from baking sun to storm downpour every half hour.  

Living at the edge of Europe, cast out into the Atlantic, we receive the joy of west winds bringing rain all the way from the Americas.  Just take note of the hurricane season in Florida and a few days or so later that same storm will be dying out somewhere over Edinburgh.

With the joy of an east wind in winter, beginning in the Arctic circle, wending its way through Siberia and Poland and ending coming up my trouser leg, it is not to be surprised we are the people we are.

Southern winds are the opposite of cold northern winds, from the south comes Saharan heat, usually bringing sand with it, though only the very southern reaches notice this.  They might notice the little red Ladybirds that often accompany such wind, and they certainly notice the warmish southern rain from the Bay of Biscay.  As if we needed that!

Today the sunshines and the BBC tell us that rain, from the south, will follow on later.  How nice of them.  The people who lived in Doggerland would have known such things long ago.   I bet a swift sniff of the air told them almost as accurately as the powerful computers at the weather man's house can tell us today what the weather would be.  I am convinced that amongst the Mammoth tusks, spears and cooking utensils discovered on Dogger Bank there are also many umbrellas to be found.  They were not daft then.

 

Dunfermline Press

 

We have not even finished last years Euro 2020 as yet but tonight next seasons Scottish Football begins!  Kelty Hearts play Dundee United in the first Scottish League Cup game, this while last season has just finished!

In times past, we ended the season with the Scottish Cup Final, followed by the Scotland v England game.  That would usually be the end of April or early May.  There would follow all of June and most of July with no football whatsoever.  As a kid I hated this time!  Euro Championships were not shown at all, nor the World Cup shown until 1966, and the long wait for the season was too long for me then.  Today, I am tired of too much football without a break.  Covid meant Euro 2020 had to be put back a year, this means the next World Cup will be in 2022, next year!  This also means disruption as it is being held in Novemmber in Qatar and to avoid the heat it will be held in the dark!   Covid has not died, Bumbling Boris has failed to control the Johnson Variant, and all our football will be disrupted by the World Cup at that time.  What a shambles it will be.  Maybe we will get two weeks off next Spring before it all begins, but then that will be under LockDown again!

 

Telt ye!

Here I was, sitting here recovering after walking up the road, when I noticed it was raining.

This rain is coming straight down, stair rod fashion.

As I looked Twitter informed of a weather warning.

'Danger! Heavy Rain from, well, from Now until Then!' 

They could have warned me earlier.

Already the streets are swimming and the 'rush hour' is splashing its way slowly through the puddles.

Hee hee, I will not be out again today.

Monday Mixture

Rubbish Day.

Early weather lousy when I am out.

Sun now shines when I am in.

Washing done, drying washing done, nothing else done.

War in Israel.

Everyone blaming the 'other side.' 

Boris planning to curtail votes for Labour by using ID cards when voting.

Boris planning to curtail Judicial reviews to stop people attacking him.

Boris tightening his grip Fascist like.

Boris to ban 'Conversion Therapy' thereby making criminals of Christians everywhere who will continue to pray for healing of gays.  This because 'Stonewall' advised the government.  'Stonewall' a lobby group with many friends in high places, each willing to follow similar fascist paths as Boris.

Good news!  St Johnstone to beat Hibernian in the Scottish Cup Final soon.

 

Banging and thumping indicates John the Handyman has come to fix something somewhere.  Soon fixed, he banged and thumped his way out again.

More banging, gentle this time, almost ignored, then I glimpse a van outside and realise it is an Amazon man.  

An Amazon man, from Eastern Europe, who knocks on a door because he is scared to ring the bell in case he catches a virus!  So many do this that I miss them!  

Of course this is not for me, it is for next door.  They work awkward hours and I take in their deliveries.  She gave me some Polish chocolates the other day for being nice, and very nice they are too!

More banging, this time downstairs as the neighbour has come home and wants me to know he is there.  He is on early shift with the Polis and leaves around 2:30 am.  

Recently I was watching football in the bedroom, as I usually do, and upset him as he tried to sleep down below.  He made banging noises, which I ignored thinking it his woman cleaning the room, and next day he played loud, bad music for a couple of hours.  However he never thought of knocking on the door to inform me that he was on earlies.  Some Polis?  How would I know his hours?  Should I change a ten year routine for him?   Usually I am considerate but that evening the Dunfermline PPV was loud I admit, but how do I know he is sleeping?

Anyway, the game was drawn and Raith Rovers won the second leg.

Right, now I'm off to upset someone else...