What is England?

During Euro 96 the English nation discovered they had a flag! After many years of regarding the Union Flag as 'English' the St George's Cross was rediscovered as their own. Devolution, far too long in coming, had at last woken the English up to the idea that Britain was not 'England' but a 'United Kingdom.' Since then of course the cry has been for separation of The Scots from the English, not by the Scots, but by resentful Englishmen who dislike the idea of paying for devolution. The fact of abusing Scotland for three hundred years can be ignored of course, the abuse of Scots oil to feed an English governments policy problems is never mentioned!
However, while the occasional 'English National Party' springs up full of umbrage, the English nation begins to recapture what it is to be English. The only problem they have is knowing what 'being English' actually is! What is England?
Scots have their own idea of Scotland. A mythical land of mist covered hills and bagpipes, with drunk, drug abusers in the cities and a football team that should be at the highest level in the game, but isn't. Well, maybe. The Welsh are standing at this moment on hillsides singing their hearts out, well the men are anyway, the women are in bingo halls or shopping centres.

But what is 'England?'
The English do not know. Vast numbers of flags have flown from cars and vans, buses and bicycles for weeks. Shops and houses are bedecked with a multitude of the things, but is this 'England?' Or just a herd to enlist in?

The nation is split into two halves. North and South, with the bit in between neither one nor the other. The South East cares nothing for the rest, is overcrowded and affluent. The North West is overcrowded, full of violent drugs gangs and surrounded by wonderful countryside. The South West speaks a language all of it's own, and has a greater rainfall than Yorkshire, the Anglian region, while wealthy, is flat and ignored. What is England? Can it be found in poetry, either of the past or present? Shakespeare maybe, though he wrote only what was acceptable to the king or queen of the day. Historic buildings? War hero's? Sporting achievement? Irony? Attitude? What is England?

Do the English know, or do they even care enough to find out? What if they search for 'England' and find there is nothing there? Then what? Nationalism is only skin deep after all.

History Societies

Spent an hour or two at the local History Fair. Excellent idea I say.
History is of course the most important of subjects after 'reading, 'riting and 'rithmatic!
With no understanding of where we come from, and the previous history of the world around us, with only a vague idea of the society in which we live, we are left with a distorted view of our nation. This indeed is something which troubles many Englishmen these days. Devolution has broken the false image of 'Britain' and brought the reality of the unions sham to the fore.
But that is a debate for another time.

This fair included stands from many local history societies, showing the interest folks do have in their local past, museums and re-enactments from Roman gladiators! That was something that got the crowd going. A very well acted show indeed.
Yet among the WW2 stands, the Record Office Bibliophile preservers, and the Police museum the stand that I enjoyed most was the metal detectors. These folks who wander through the fields gathering metal items that have lain untouched for, sometimes, thousands of years do a great job in bringing the past to life for us! In fact I held in my hand a gold coin, not very large but quite heavy, that was minted by the last Celtic King of the are before the Romans took over.
I was informed that I was only the twentieth person to hold it for over two thousand years!
That is bringing history to life! Mind you, I wonder if twenty people ever held this rich mans coin before it was lost.
This is the history to give folks! Now, if only I could work out some way to make a living out of history.......

Arguments

How is it that when a point of discussion comes up, it soon becomes an argument?
Now, when does a debate become a fight? Well I suggest this happens when you are tired, annoyed by self centred attitudes, or just wrong and refuse to admit it!
Obviously, this does not include me. I am open minded, nice, polite, and right! Right!
Good. I am glad you agree.

But once an argument becomes heated how do you stop it? Humour can help, confessing your wrong might do it, if your wrong of course. Or just realising that dealing with the closed mind of a woman will never lead to a happy debate. Logic is removed when her emotions are involved. Ever heard yourself say 'What is it about the word 'No' that you don't understand woman!' Often I hear you say.

Ah well. Life is a bitch and then you meet one.........

Women Tennis Players and Money

The girls at Wimbledon claim they are being paid less than the men, why? They play less sets, three at most instead of five, and feel that being given less money for doing less work is 'unequal!' The truth is these selfish greedy women take MORE money out of Wimbledon than the men! How? By playing in more tournaments! by having to play longer matches the men are less inclined to join in the doubles or mixed doubles games. This however does not matter to the 'two sets at most' girlies. Not only do they make money by entering these matches they have more time to sit around feeling sorry for themselves. Poor dears. If only equality was what it ought to be! Men being men, and women being women. Each being the best they could be and free to be themselves and develop themselves into the best possible. To accept the physical, mental, emotional differences that exist, and to LIVE WITH IT rather than force an unreal world on themselves and others. Then we could have equality. Then pay would matter less, but be rewards for ACTUAL work, and not just earned by going into a huff! And let's face it, tennis is boring!

Where Has the Time Gone?

This World Cup is good stuff, but it does leave no time for having a life! The gap in between games, the need to work for a living, leaves no time at all for those somewhat important things. Things like shopping, fixing the bike, or cleaning the mess left after the last game! Having to rise at three thirty in the morning means I can finish in time to watch the games but I am asleep during some of them! The second half of the last game is usually a mystery to me!
However, I sit here on a Saturday, the sun shining, the sky blue, and I have no time to enjoy it.
After finishing work I have reasonable time to snatch a quick snooze, have a bath, make dinner and prepare for the first game of the day. Nothing else gets done!
There are papers on the desk asking to be dealt with, dust, thick enough to write your name in, on everything that surrounds me, many important topics to be discussed on this blog, yet all are ignored. All, just lying in a queue, all being ignored because of this feast of football. Feast that is, when the game is good! Some could be better.

Oops, must go. The next game comes up soon and I have lots of things to forget before then.........

World Cup Wednesday

Wednesday, and still going!
I have seen millions of hours of football and we are not yet through the first games!
It is difficult trying to fit life in between the games, two hour gaps are not enough!
That's three exclamation marks! Four! Fiv...
Anyway, I am enjoying the games, and hopefully when Englandshire get beat tomorrow I will be able to spend a day at work surrounded by Englishmen in despair.
Love it! Love it!

Hey ho, on we go.......Germany v Poland coming up.

Started Well

Yes a good start to the World Cup. Lots of goals, some good footy, and some strange parts also. But a good beginning. Germany 4 Costa Rica 2. Hope the standard keeps up!

World Cup

So the hype ends here. And just how much has there been? TOO much I say!
At last the game, eventually, gets under way. Once the never ending ceremonies come to an end.
So may the best team win! I hope this is a good world cup, there has been far too many poor games in the past, and that I enjoy the winners for a change.
Please Lord, don't let it be England!
Please Please!!!!!!

Behaviour patterns

There is a school called 'Somerville' if I have it correct, where children are 'left to find their own way.' That is avoiding lessons if they wish and developing at their own level. That at least is the educational theory employed. Now alas, the head has decided that after 40 years the school must insert certain rules of behaviour. Something not known there previously. The reason is the parents failure to teach their kids the basic rules of life!
In short, up till now the school with no rules has always had rules. Rules inculcated by the middle class parents into their kids, so that while at this 'open learning experience' everyone knew how to behave. Alas this is no longer the case!
This indicates how far the nation has fallen. The middle class liberals have allowed the loose living pendulum to swing so far that liberal schools need rules of behaviour.

The truth is that self has won! The self indulgence of recent years is producing fruit. That fruit is self indulgence, a lack of concern for others, seeking only for ones own needs and pleasures at the expense of whoever gets in the way, and the sad thing is no one wants it to change! How could they, it would mean sacrifice! Self sacrifice at that, and no one wants that nowadays do they!

After the deprivation of the nineteenth century folks looked to a good future. This was rudely destroyed by the Great War, however improvements all round continued, in spite of the depression and another conflagration. This led to a desire throughout the nation to have a better life for all. When the money began to roll in folks found that having enough was not enough, instead the consumer society bred upon itself and led us into the self centred world in which we now live.

This does not mean there is no good to be found today. There are many who give all the time, and a great many who give much of the time, but overall we are increasingly becoming a shallow inward looking state. Concern for others has not quite died, but is taking more and more of a back seat.

And who is responsible for this state of affairs?
You and me, no-one else.

Rainy Day Off

I can see numbers of round ripples I the puddles caused by the rain which teems down this morning. This fills me with a sense of joy. Why? Because it's my day off! While I am sitting here, drinking coffee, snoozing, reading or whatever, Big Rab is wandering the streets cursing the weather and pushing bundles of paper mache through peoples doors. A postmans life is not a happy one during inclement weather! Still, I'm all right Jock! When the posties begin to appear I will go to the window and wave as they pass.
They always wave back.............

Football less weekends

As I watch the game on Setanta on Sundays I miss football then more than on the Saturday. I am so tired after work that I usually doze my way through the Saturday games, enjoying it all the same. But on Sunday I can see Scots football, hidden behind the Old Firm bias, and not having that experience leaves me with lots of free time.
So what have I done with it?
Nothing.
There are things to do, but the adrenalin is down, the effort is too much, and ...well, er..... em...I just exist, not live these days.
I have dawdled on the messageboards, leaving an occasional comment, picking a world cup fantasy team, and clearing some junk from the p.c. I have made and eaten soup, had what passed for lunch, listened to Radio 3, Classic FM and Radio 7's listen again for old comedies. Not much else. And it is not even five o'clock yet!
I would wander the streets but the rain is falling quite hard. Mind you, this can leave a lovely aroma in the air at this time of year. Maybe I will wander anyway.
It is nice not to have to consider the football for a while. However, soon it will be missed and the world cup will take its place. Who do we support? Anyone playing England! That's who!

Women's Magazines

What is it with women and trauma?
The pages of their mags are full of terrible sagas of pain and despair, and trial and tribulation. Never anything sensible or worthwhile, just trauma! On the plane the girl next to me read one such magazine and each page gave more lurid headlines than the previous. 'Surgeon Healed my Melted Face,' or 'My Son Was Switched at Birth with His Schoolmate,' it gets worse, do you remember 'My Lover Was An Anorak?'
Interspersed between these tales of woe we find meaningless celebs telling us of their trauma in'relationships' or how many kids they want, though what they will do with them later is something to discuss. Children are not a toy!
Oh yes these mags have recipe's and what passes for fashion, and of course the nonsense of a horoscope, 'You will be lucky today, the time is right for a decision, be brave!' Bolox!
And these girls have the vote!

women's, mags, only a woman would read them!

Scottish Cup Win

As expected the Heart of Midlothian won the Scottish cup again, and as was also expected, they made hard work of it. The Hearts are notorious for beating all the big teams, and struggling against the small ones. This game was no different! Still, I am used to it, and was very glad for Stephen Pressley when he lifted the trophy on behalf of everyone. Great moment.

Of course it's good being home, but hard work. Being force fed soap operas is not my idea of life. Why are such things allowed? They live on false confrontation, encourage selfish behaviour, and are contrived rubbish! Ban them now!

Lovely to see folks, and enjoyed all of them. One day when rich, I will travel up there more often.
And this in spite of the cheerless folk I met on the way. Many good ones, but too many sour faces.

Weather

So I get sunburn last week, the Spring birds entertain me in the morning, and now, the rain drenches me during the day.
Spring rain. The sort that comes down in torrents when far from shelter.
My language was not nice.......

Dawn Chorus

The dawn chorus is one of the joys of Spring! This past few days it has become a cacophony of noise as I trot off to work. The trees down The Avenue appear to have become home to a dozen or more Blackbirds let a lone the others. Each morning at four thirty the Babel of voices as I pass makes sure I am awake!
This morning I awake as always at three forty, soon enough the blackbirds song was heard. One bird appears very close, I think he is under the roof of the building, and he was loudly proclaiming his dominance of this area. By four thirty many others joined the clamour and I wondered whether they were announcing their presence or just chatting? By five thirty our boy was still at it, though by now the rest had moved on. Maybe they have mates who insist on them getting the breakfast in? Now, after seven thirty, there are still blackbird voices to be heard all around.
The musical voice which adds all sorts of everyday sounds to the melody. Car alarms, phone rings, any passing note is included by these clever birds.
They say that birds in warmer climes have more colourful outfits, while the birds in the UK have better songs. Listening to them this morning I can believe this.

Graveyards in the Rain

Spring rain can be an attractive entity. While I normally object to being soaked through I find this type of rain to be atmospheric. Early in the morning, with the light dimmed only by gray clouds, the birds singing as they chased one another through the treetops, and the occasional dog walker shuffling along beside his happy tail wagging pet, is a good time to wander on wet bank holiday days like these. Listen to the quietness, there is little traffic, streets almost deserted, noise from water rushing down into the drains, or rain pattering of rooftops. Plant life is refreshed at such times, vegetation gives of an atmospheric aroma, plants, blossom in trees, and early flowers combining to freshen the air. Walking through the graveyard behind the Congregational Church at such times rejuvenates the whole man, while contemplating the memorials concentrates the mind.
Churches which have been established for several hundred years are bound to contain the resting places of the great and the good from years past. This one is no different.
What one notices first of all is the ages of the dead. Many are children, many others young women who clearly have died in childbirth. Still others reveal how being rich, as those who could afford a gravestone had to be, could not prevent the diseases of the day carrying them away.
We never realise how healthy we have become since the establishment of the NHS. But are we grateful? Teens and twenties abound as much as those in their seventies and eighties. In fact, they probably outnumber them! The fear of graverobbers, the ghouls as they were called, is apparent in those many stone blocks which lie over the vaults, sometimes these contain several bodies, even complete families. Occasionally metal bars are used to surround the grave. Most however, reflecting their wealth, consist of a tombstone, three or four feet high, engraved with the details of the deceased. The poor have no gravestone, and in many graveyards are buried together at the rear, unmarked, possibly unmissed!
Being believers, as most in non conformist churchyards would be, many are embellished with biblical terms. 'With Christ, which is far better,' 'His works have gone before him,' and the like.

The rain, the blossoming trees, uncut grass and the bird life making the most of the wildlife found here, combine to create an atmosphere that reinvigorates the soul. Something those 'couch potatoes' among us miss out on. We spend too much time wrapped up in our work, our problems, our 'self,' and need to wander through such places in gentle rain, alone, and with our own thoughts to get a better perspective on life.

Writing

Every so often I take to writing, but I never get far. Recently I had an idea for a short story. I began to scribble the main idea, some of the characters, and one or two relevant points. I got no further. Somewhere on a disk is the beginnings of my major work, 'The History of the First World War.' The war lasted from the fourth of August 1914 until 11th of November 1918. My book makes it to midday on the fourth of August 1914 and falls asleep! There are several more, history based, items I have found. Not one is going anywhere, a sad reflection of the author!
Others are more able to make use of their talents. The word 'talents' I use there of course depends whether you like what is written or not! There are those who write weighty volumes, with hundreds of pages, that I would not use to kindle a fire with.
Woman's fiction is a good example of wasted paper if ever there was one!
When I first came to this backwater I looked into the charity shops for cheap books. In London these shops were always full of a wide selection of books able to satisfy every taste. Out here the predominate taste was Joan Collins, or Barbara Cookson! Dozens of similar volumes filled the bookshelves awaiting another feeble minded, self centered lassie desperate to escape into an unreal fantasy world. Yet , something to consider, these folks can vote! Time for a rethink I say!
Is it possible to find a woman who can write properly? A female who understands the world and has experience of life? Do thinking women exist?
Well yes as it happens. I admit you have to look for them, sometimes it takes a bit of digging, but they can be found. I found one once, beautiful, intelligent, kind, thoughtful, full of charm, grace, and all things good. I was in love!
She ran off with a Frenchman!
But there are still others around. I know another, and she is an author in waiting.
Blackberry Juniper has attempted novels, short stories and the like. Possibly she has put her mind to non fiction also, she certainly has the ability! Maybe she ought to combine the two and write a historical novel, set in the Victorian era, and become world famous?
This would be the least she deserves after all her troubles.
One day one of her attempts, and maybe one of mine, will end in print.
The world waits.....

Great Saling

Went for a little jaunt this morning. First time in years I was in the mood to cycle. The sun was up, the wind a bit chilly, coming from the North and all, but not too bad I thought. I cut across to the old railway line, now called the Flitch Way, and trundled uphill into Rayne.
This is an excellent way of using old railway lines. Walking, cycling, or in some parts at least, horse riding along them makes a grand day out. With blossom on the bushes and trees, birds singing overhead, the remnants of what appear to be badgers setts, and of course rabbit holes aplenty, there is much going on all around. Middle age women jogging , younger ones jogging with a push chair, can also be seen. Hope the kid appreciates it!
Stopping on occasion and just listening is worthwhile. Not much sound, a bird or two, rustling leaves, something dashing through the undergrowth, not very exciting maybe, but after town life a welcome change, and just plain enjoyable!
being brave or stupid I decide to venture down the Shalford Road. I knew it went on for a bit, but I intended to cut off and make my way past the old Andrews Airfield, and once again wonder how B17s took of from there during the war! Those big lumbering airplanes, loaded with bombs, on that small field trundling uphill and rising into the sky one after the other must have been some sight. And, I imagine, some noise too! The thoughts and feelings of men in their teens and twenties heading over the channel and crossing well defended enemy territory known only unto themselves. The thoughts and feelings of those left behind, giving the orders, not much different.
However, I passed into Great Saling and decided it was a bit much to continue down the Stebbing way, not being sure how far it was and all that, and instead made my way back past Blake House farm and into Rayne once again.
Country roads, when not being used by white van man or baileys feed lorries, are refreshingly quiet. Sure some use them as a chance to pretend they are in a Ferrari at Monza, but I found few, and most were careful of the bike. The road allows time to stop and stare at the fields and the distant hamlets. To wonder what history has gone before over these quiet places. Who has passed this way in times gone, the famous, the infamous, the vassals working the fields as slaves, or the big house owners jealously guarding their lands.
Did any leave these fields and join the 'peasants revolt' all those years ago? This area certainly took part. How many had survived the plague? The fields, now worked by one man and his machine once had twenty or thirty at one time working all the hours God sent. What work that would have been at harvest time!
Airmen, drunkenly making their way here from Braintree or Rayne, winding up the hilly roads, not that hilly but try it after a few pints mate! Vassals and peasants. Lords and Ladies,Kings and Queens maybe passed along this small narrow, roadway in times past.
And here was I also!
Great Saling has little to show the world. The 'Orangery,' whatever that is, was clearly an important red brick complex from times past. What it is now I am unsure. A few old world style thatched houses and little else to see. The village shop has closed. How will the gossips get their news now?
Back down the rail track and home and into the bath was all that remained.
An enjoyable way to spend your leisure, if the sun shines!

History

History is, after reading, writing and arithmetic, the most important subject to learn. Not only does it teach us what went before, but tells us about ourselves. 'What will be has already been, and what was will come again!'
We learn where we come from and this gives us a place from where to view the world. We learn how folk handled situations, usually much worse than our own, and note that they are just like us. We see how people are just the same now as they were two thousand, five thousand, and even ten thousand years ago, people were just the same as us!
On top of that, it is just interesting!
Who doesn't find old buildings, be they castles, churches, or strange mounds in the earth, something to investigate. The success of such programmes as 'Time Team' show this to be true!
History also shows up the myths that most of us grow up with. Each nation has a mind set, often built on tales of activities in it's past history. But investigating these shows that the myths never fit the facts. While they may not be always wrong, they are all to often glibly misinterpreted to suit the wishes of the day. The population would prefer a myth to reality.
Many are happy to watch 'Braveheart' and reckon it tells us of Scots history, when in fact it does no such thing. The actual facts, while similar, are very different, but it suits us to have half a story rather than the truth. The truth of Scots abuse by the English invader is much worse, but not so straight forward as it seems.
Learning other subjects have their place, and such study ought to be encouraged, but knowing our history, and that of others, helps us understand the world, and our place in it.

The Self

The Self is the centre of the world. That place deep within us that only we know, and sometimes that is the place we do not wish to know. Deep within our heart is a centre in which I am god! I am what counts, and I alone matter.
Now many will say that people are good at heart, that many do wonderful acts of goodness and mercy around the world, and I agree wholeheartedly. But they too share the creation within of a heart, a self, that considers that self to be the first and only.
occasionally we let it escape. When we do, the best of us can be seen for what we are. What is revealed is not nice! A vicious, deceitful, hard, uncaring, self lies in the very centre of our being.
Getting it to change is impossible.
Jesus is the only one who can change us. He died to give us a new heart, as the old one is so bad.
But obtaining that new heart, the amended self,while simple, is not easy!
Why? Because the heart does not want to die! The Self wants to rule!
No Christian who attempts to seek the best has ever found it easy!
Simple to test this. Just stand in front of Jesus and say, all that I have, all that I am, belongs to you, and mean it. If you do there will be only seconds, maybe minutes, before you realise you have taken back what you said. The Self dies hard!
DOMINUS FLEVIT. And no wonder.

Tired

How come I am always tired?
I thought it was just work, it's too physical, and being on my feet or using a bike all day is wearing me out. But add to that the virus (or is it 'virii?) that seem never ending and I think I have the reason!
I hoped this week off would help but so far no good. The thing is the brain is more tired than the body. This makes me more irritable than normal, and that is normal, and I just have not got the energy to bother or care any more.
What is the answer? Change jobs, well, with the condition of my knee that may happen anyway, but to what? I am getting old, I know nothing, and am discovering just how dumb I have always been! This has not been good for me I can tell you!
Still, I had better go and eat some foul concoction and see if it gives any sign of revival, fish maybe, but I doubt it.
Gloomy? Me? No, this is me positive mate!

Fridays Highlight

The highlight on Friday was the six year old who came out to me from number 9 and gave me a Cadbury's Easter Egg. One of the famous little ones that nobody can resist. 'Thanks for delivering our post,' she said. Then ran back indoors. I often speak to those at that house, and she usually opens the door once the mail has gone in, and shouts 'Thank you,' as I move on. Made my day that. Lovely!

Explaining God

I can never get over the difficulty of explaining God to people. In times past it was accepted that some believed and others didn't really. Now, it is considered mad to actually believe in the God who created the world and then gave his Son in an attempt to save it! So, how do you get folk to listen? I am talking here about decent, thinking folk, not callous, off hand types.

I can tell them how Jesus drew me to himself, proved that he was who the bible said he was by answered prayer, and give account of the things he has done for me. But even those closest to me call me mad for believing this! I cannot deny what Jesus has done! I cannot change the facts! Yet my words cannot make others see what is real, and what has been done to make me what I am. Well, what I could be if I had not mucked it up so badly!

Only the Holy Siprit of God himself can open us up to him.
If only he would let it shine through me.
If only I would let him.......

Cycling Idiot

Royal Mail bikes as you know are old, but stout beasts. On the front they have that nice little basket to hold the huge bag of mail the postie will endevour to deliver that day. This is a fine idea.
However, at the end of the day the postman has several of these bedraggled red bags on his bike. 'So?' You might ask, but probably will not bother asking, as you are not reading this are you? Anyway, at the end of the day the postman has too many bags on the front of his bike. There is little in them, except packets folk are to pig ignorant to be in when they arrive, and 'signed for' letters, and the occasional missort, which we will not mention as they are not supposed to happen. So, the man has five bags on his bike. A handfull of light letters in the topmost bag, and heads for home.
Home is the sorting office, you know, the one at the bottom of the hill. All he has to do is drift down the hill and round the bend (something he knows all about going around I can tell you) and up into the bike shed. Simple. Only an idiot could fail to accomplish this simple, straightforward chore.
Ah yes, there is one thing. The wind.
See, as you go forward the air pressure around you meets you. On the bike this 'wind' is much more noticeable and can hold you back. Indeed, when going downhill, as our hero has to, means he meets a bit more of this air coming up to meet him. This means the topmost bag, you know, the light one with not much in it, tends to rise of the basket and fly up into the air.
Simple again. Put out a hand and push it back down. Easy.
Well, yes. But, if the bag begins to float to the postmans left side, and a taxi is right behind him at the time, and he is negotiating an obstacle, and he then loses control of the bike and the front wheel juts against the kerb, then what?
Then I can humbly tell you, he loses it altogether!
He stops pushing the floating bag, sticks a foot out towards the ground, lets go the bag, grabs the handlebars, far too late, feels the bike going from under him and heads for a meeting with the pavement. That's what!
Why is it he asks afterwards, that the taxi does not stop, GIT! But the next car does, enquiring after your health, and wondering if the taxi had hit you. Again I ask why is it that behind him are several other cars, each occupied by men sneering with straight faces and leaving you feeling embarrassed and with a bruise on the shin?
I don't know, but I am that man. Where's the germoline eh?

Spring Colours

The colours of Spring stood out today.
Daffodils aplenty have opened and their yellow heads brightened up many a garden. Alongside were deep blue and red flowers, the occasional snowdrop hanging it's head, blossom burgeoning on the trees, and the sunshine bringing out the various hues therein.
That is what has been missing in recent days, colours! The depressing darkness that winter brings, gray clouds overhead for days on end, rain, hail or snow, all wrapped up into a biting wind oppresses the spirit. Spring lightens that melancholy. Daylight is the best cure for depression. Bright sun and colourful gardens replaces glumness with cheerfulness.
Those who spend six months of the year in darkness in Scandinavia suffer much from despondency. Sometimes leading to suicidal tendencies. No wonder the Vikings wanted to come here! And we know how cheerful they were!
Maybe it's time to move to the sun. Anyone got some spare cash?

Early Morning

One of the joys of starting work at four thirty in the morning is the sounds of Spring. Dark it may be, with the stars, and occasional planet, shining brightly above. Chilly often, made worse by winds trying to keep the winter temperature going, yet the sounds are joyful. The trees resound to the early bird telling all and sundry that they are alive, and this is their home.
The sound of a Blackbird early in the morning is a wonderful tonic to one who has a long weary slog ahead of ageing tired bones. One by one the birds call out. The trees by the Police Compound harbour many, mostly Blackbirds, with a variety of other species hang around the houses and gardens opposite.
The noise lifts as I pass, not that they notice me, but as one starts further beaks are opened and an announcement of their presence is made. None can be seen of course. Too dark to make out the nest. Still bare trees ought to make them known, but the early hour, an unsteady bicycle, and a weary eye make finding them difficult.
However, seen or not, they make the morning. I am glad of them

Hearts 4 Hibernian 0

WoooooooooooHoooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo!
Nae bother at all eh?
I was never worried! Four goals to nil against the 'young flair' team.
Why two of them bothered to get sent off escapes me. I mean, it doesn't help your lost cause does it eh?
Ah well. Now for Gretna in the final. Another 'wee team' to destroy!

Semi Final

Just about an hour to go.
I have not got SKY so I will not see it, unless I cvan find it on the web.
The Hearts World option may be the only one.
But, if they score first it is sooo hard to listen and not see what is happening!

Maybe I will just go out.......

Heart of Midlothian v Hibernian Semi Final

The tension mounts.
Now we know that our opponents in the final will be Gretna, the up and coming team from the lower leagues. Surely we ought to beat them! However, the Heart of Midlothian often make hard work of small teams. So nothing is going to be easy!
Oh yes, we still have to play Hibernian, so that is why the tension is mounting. But really, we ought to beat them, we usually do! The overall scores since the eighteen seventies shows the Heart of Midlothian as well ahead on victories over the 'Wee Team!' So tomorrow it stands to reason that will not change.
Well, except that Stuart Dougal is to be the referee of course.
That is one thing in Hibs favour eh?

'Digging up Jerusalem'

Just finished this book by Kathleen M Kenyon, its a review of the dig in Jerusalem in the years 1961-67. This book was published in 1974, bought about ten years ago, and I have just got around to reading it! I am on top of things here I am!
I find some fascination about digging up such places, be they famous old cities or little houses and business areas such as those features in 'Time Team' on Channel 4. Standing on a piece of ground, however unkempt it may now be, which has some connection to an event from the past which has had a an impact on my life, or indeed is just famous for whatever reason, has always made a deep impression on me. Having wandered around Jerusalem some fifteen years ago,and therefore able to comprehend better the subject of this book I found the archeological evidence for the city of David and Solomon fascinating. Clearly, being written in the early seventies the information re dating etc has moved on, however, the details of the study are well worth a read for those interested in ancient Jerusalem.
What I liked most about this book was the steady, clear writing. Kathleen tells the story in a clear manner, detailing what is needed and missing out much that would be superfluous. detailing first the history of the attempts to investigate the ancient 'City of David' and in a chronological manner telling the history as revealed by the finds themselves.
The pre Israeli city inhabited by the Jebusites, until taken by David the king around the 7th century B.C. still has remnants of the walls remaining. Alterations by the Kings following, especially Solomon and his temple platform, are indicated by the masonry and pot sherds that still abound in the slopes of the old city. That is the old city of David, as opposed to the present 'old city.'
The story follows through the times of Judah, the Babylonian sacking of the city, the return from exile some seventy years later, the times of the Hellenistic influence, the Maccabees, and the rebuilding by Herod the Great. He of course had to do things in great style, so the temple platform as we now find it was his creation.
Herod, famous for killing the chidren, but less well known for his monumental works. This tells us something about how we perceive people I feel! Without the tale of the child killing, in a vain attempt to stop another king taking his place, we would no doubt acknowledge Herod the Great, as Herod the great builder. Jerusalem , Masada, and Ceaserea to name some of his accomplishments. As it is, he is just a murderer, and a power mad thug. Which, in truth, he was!
following the Jewish war of 66-70, the Romans destroyed the temple to fulfill Jesus words that, 'Not one stone would stand on another.' Today, some of those very stones can be seen under what is called 'Robinsons Arch.' In some places skulls were found, without bodies it seems, from the time of this destruction. Not one of Jerusalems better moments!
The Romans of course rebuilt Jerusalem after the rebellious Jews tried another upset in A.D.135. This time they called the new city Aelia Capitolina, a name which stuck for a while.
Finds reveal a little of the city after this time, and the story passes through the Moslem, Crusader times and after Saladin rebuilt the walls the outline of the city has remained almost unchanged.

In short, a dated book, well written and full of information based on the remnants of walls and pottery found after much strenuous digging. An excellent story which only encourages the seeker to search the web for more info on the finds, and be grateful to those who search so diligently.

Spring

You can tell it's Springtime. Folks everywhere are running around complaining that it's cold, that it's wet, there is snow falling, hail also, and dull gray clouds overhead!
'Why it is so?' they ask?
Because it is Spring and this is the UK! That is why! It is like this EVERY YEAR!
It never fails to be like this yet, they still complain and moan and ask daft questions!

No doubt they will soon be complaining about the heat, the water shortages and sun burn.
Why? They will ask, because it is SUMMER numpty! To be followed by winter and questions about blocked roads when the snows come in earnest.

The United Kingdom is overrun by folk who complain about the weather. The weather that has remained unchanged, in spite of global warming, for thousands of years. Will this questioning ever change? NO! Complaining about the obvious is hereditary in this land.

Bush & Afghan

At least Dubya has made an attempt to do something about a Christian man threatened with death in a country his, and our, troops and giving succour to! Time Blair followed suit!
If our troops go there, they have to listen to us, or lose out!
Come on Blair, speak up for justice.
I still await the outrage from the secular left, wonder why they are quiet?

Afghanistan

"41-year-old Abdul Rahman was arrested last month after his family accused him of becoming a Christian, Judge Ansarullah Mawlavezada told The Associated Press in an interview. Rahman was charged with rejecting Islam and his trial started Thursday.
During the one-day hearing, the defendant confessed that he converted from Islam to Christianity 16 years ago while working as a medical aid worker for an international Christian group helping Afghan refugees in the Pakistani city of Peshawar, Mawlavezada said." (AP)

Strict islam will kill those who reject it, especially if they become Christians.
We are sending 3000 men to stave off the Taliban, will it make any difference to Rahman?
Should we be there while this man is sentenced to death for his beliefs?

Funny how the secular liberals are not shouting about this eh?
Christianity has led to a tolerance of other beliefs in the UK. However much it is abused by the secular fascists. But such democracy and tolerance is unlikely in many Islamic nations.
Tony Blair and Bush must ensure this type of behaviour is stopped!

Women eh?

Things they say.

When watching the news on TV, the announcer speaks of war and rumours of war, of death and destruction, earthquakes and violence, storms and drought.
She says,'Look at your hair darling!' Or, 'What is she wearing now?'

Passing someone we know in the street she will comment,'She is depressed.'
'How do you know, she seemed fine to me?'
'Her fringe is over her eyes.' ????? Fringe over her eyes??? This means she is depressed???
Bald men cannot get depressed then?

Another is 'You ought to have known I was in a bad mood!'
'How?'
'I was wearing red!' ?????? Red???? Eh?

Trainilng through a department store we can go upstairs to the top floor via every department in the building to reach the chosen land. Grabbing a piece of cloth in between her fingers she will stoke it for a nanosecond and murmur, 'Hmmmm.' Then say 'Let's go.'
Hours spent wandering around a store to say, 'Hmmmm!'
Asked why, the reply is, 'Because.'
'Because!' ?????

We have spent the last thirty years being lied to by feminists. Each one saying different things about women's needs. Each one attempting to say women and men are the same. How glad I am that many women are realising they are not. They are meant to be different, that is how it works! Anyone who cannot see that has chosen to be blind, for reasons of her own.
Women's logic? There's no such thing!

Essex the driest county?

When I landed here ten years ago I was informed that this was the driest county in England. Note, that is England, and not the UK as a whole. It is not possible for there to be a dry county anywhere in Scotland, Wales or Northern Ireland! Being in the South East, and further East than any other part of the mainland, means that the winds, mostly from the West, bring the rain in from the Atlantic and deposit it cheerily on everyone else.
This I have to say, I don't mind in the least!

However, along with the other lie, the one that tells you how flat Essex is, I have discovered, especially since becoming a postman, that it rains quite a lot in Essex! Not only does this town have several hills far too steep for my liking, but there has been occasions when attempting to cycle up them with a heavy bag in a downpour has made me wonder at the aridity of the region.
I can go so far as to say that only a year or two ago they were talking of how wet it was, and how could this be? People blamed global warming! Somewhat earlier, in the first year or two since my arrival, the weather had been very hot and dry. People blamed global warming!
Since becoming a postman, the English around me have blamed me, because 'You are used to this sort of thing!' I am not actually! I have spent more time here than in Edinburgh! And even if I was, I still dislike coming home with boots squelching, and having my outfit drying all around the house. Worse is the morning after when nothing is completely dry.

Today another county has announced a hosepipe ban. The water folk have asked people to shower instead of bath, and to use water carefully. They themselves are going to be kind enough to attempt to stop the water leaks which account for a third of all lost water.
A THIRD! A third of water is lost throughout leaks!
May I suggest a lowering of profits while these anomalies are attended to!

Meanwhile Essex may have to have such a ban imposed, not that it will affect me, I have no garden, just a couple of dying plants here on the window. I suppose I could do my bit to save water by sharing a bath with someone, that would help. Wanted, female for back scrubbing, any takers?

How to be an Idiot

First, buy glasses. The old pair are of course broken by being dropped carelessly on a hard floor. Take a trip to the cheape...er best optician in town. Be open to the suggestion of having 'Varifocal' lenses. Pay large sums for what seems a good idea. At first sight it works! Hooray!
Within a week you realise, it doesn't! Booooo!

Buy a laptop! Super idea. Great for trips up north to Edinburgh, and using back there. Discover modem don't work. New modem sent, no instructions on how to fix it. Discover old modem works on Com 6, but new one uses com 5! Why? Don't know, but doesn't work either. E-mail tech. 'Use the disk to put it right.' OK. Disk says, 'use DOS.' DOS says, 'Insert diskette.'
THERE IS NO DISKETTE! So that don't work. Explain why to tech. 'Use disk,' they say.
%$"@!#* say I.
Like a weegie it still don't work......

So, the bath is separating from the tiles on the wall. Simple. Buy some of that white stuff in a tube, and apply. Well, first buy the gun to actually get the stuff out of the tube, then apply. When finished going around the bath, putting the loose tiles back, and breaking in...or two, leave it to slowly begin setting while I do the same in the kitchen. Return to the bath to smooth it all out and tidy the work. Find it has already dried hard! No-one mentioned it was quick drying! Oh, we will fix that....tomorrow......

Get Freeview TV. Buy box. Spend hours fixing the 'simple' cables. Discover it doesn't work!
Decide a new ariel is needed. Rush to Argos. The slowest moving company in the world. Watch headless chickens run around in the back shop, while NONE attend to the ever growing mass of people rushing to the collection point at the bodyless instructions behest. Hours later, receive new ariel. Spend afternoon building it, then rebuilding it properly. Doesn't work! It does not pick up the digital signal! Visit Tesco. Buy cheap indoor ariel, which works. Also buy connector box to bring Tv, Freeview box and VCR onto one control point. Video does not work! Wrong box.
Burst into tears.........

Support the Heart of Midlothian. Wait forty to fifty years for success. Be inspired when George Burley is brought in buy new Lithuanian multi millionaire, and success dawns! Burley sacked when top of the league and many points clear. New man, Rix, brought in amidst recriminations and crocodile tears. Rix lets slip the fact that Vlad insists on picking team. Outcry! Again world about to collapse. Remain in second spot even now, awaiting the defeat of Hibernian in the semi final of the cup, glory is just around the corner. We know what that means eh!

Just back from Tesco. No need to buy anything till Monday. Then I will do the main shop. Great, Saturday with the shops full makes for no pleasure whatsoever!
Discover I have forgotten the bread!
Burst into tears again........

How to be an idiot? Easy, very easy.....

Saturday night

All over the nation people are out there! Yes, out there! Not sitting at home wondering where the energy has gone, wondering why a social life is a thing of the past. Now many people in my position are wondering this. For me it started the day I became a postman. From that day, and very early in that day, my social life died. From the moment I get home my existence comprises eating, sleeping and trotting round Sainsburys or Tescos looking for cheap stuff to eat and drink! By the time I have eaten whatever I found it's time for bed!
Life? Not any more.
The desire to go anywhere has long gone. Now when younger I just could not stand being indoors at night. Every evening was for some form of socialising, I mean life was out there. It still is, but now I just don't care any more.
To tell the truth, I am happy enough. If I have the energy I have the desire to read the many books I am working through. I have the p.c. my door to the world. I have the radio and the CDs which fill the background. I must say, I could do with much more in the energy stakes. This would help greatly, but this lifestyle of early rising and working physically is too wearing for me.
The weekends are the worst. If I do have time and will to do something it leaves me hating the idea of returning to work. From joy to despair in one early rising! Wooppeedoo!
Do you feel the same? I can tell you do! You fell asleep long ago reading this. And I think I might have done also zzzzzzzzzzzzz

Women's pay gap

Since when did women have a pay gap? How come we are worrying about women earning less than men, but not about men earning less than those women complaining about women earning less than men? Who are these females who produce statistics (how reliable?) that tell them what they want to hear? Women earn less in jobs that pay less. Why do they do it? Because it suits them, because it is all there is, because they want to, the reasons are many. But like most men, they take what is available! The average wage is about £21000! Not around here it isn't! If it is £12 -15000 I would be shocked.
The women who have babies and return to work have lost confidence! Lost confidence? These browbeating selfish bitches that fill offices, shops and factories throughout this land have lost confidence? And if so what then? You want equality? Then get up like a man and get on with it! How come men never lose confidence unless they are a footballer missing open goals eh?

Enough of this nonsense! False equality, and the pursuit of mythological lifestyle agenda that is the product of the emptiness of the left in the UK does not bring satisfaction of happiness to women or anyone else! This nation is more than ever living a lie! It stresses the individual, not society, any daft idea is considered worthwhile but the long term consequences are never considered. Women, like men, ought to be treated fairly, but this type of report does not bring fairness, it merely gives Westminster women chance to be smug. And poor old Gordon Brown has to go along with it if he hopes to be the next prime minister!

We are headed for a fall, and when it comes this world will not be able to understand it, or deal with it.

Westboro Baptist Church in Topeka, Kansas & Iraq.

Now we all know Americans are daft! Nothing they say or do can convince us otherwise. The chances of them producing a nation of highly intelligent people is of course nil, and seeking such is a waste of time and energy. But there is a limit, even for them!
This small church from somewhere in Kansas (wherever that is in the States) has taken to protesting against the war in Iraq. The understanding is that God is punishing the US for allowing homosexuals to be regarded as normal. Homosexuality is of course regarded as a sin in Christian belief and this church is loud in condemning it.
However, the form of protest which they follow has nothing to do with any bible led conviction. These folks have taken to standing outside of funerals of US soldiers killed in Iraq, and protesting loudly that this is a result of the homosexual laws.

Two things must be said here. The first is that homosexuality is wrong! The bible makes that clear. It is one of the faults in our fallen nature that Jesus died on the cross to redeem! Think on it. God inhuman form dying for those doing wrong! That is love indeed!
The second point is seen in the first. God loves sinners like us, and wants them to change their ways. In Ezekiel God tells us how he 'Does not rejoice at the death of the wicked.' He hates to see people lost.
The conclusion must be that a God who loves, even those who ignore him, would not stand outside a grieving family and demonstrate about something the family probably do not comprehend.

People misread the book all to often, don't we all, but this church has forgotten that 'in wrath, remember mercy,' and that love would not protest so thoughtlessly!

A Day Off

Great! What can be better than having a day off? And what can be better than having a day off when the snow is falling and the wind is blowing! Great!
There again, when one has sorted the mess in the cupboard, hoovered up the mess, ironed the shirts, been round Sainsburys, completed a limited (very!) exercise routine, made a mess of fixing the laptop, and had an e-mail form someone not seen for twenty years, the idea of enjoying the time seems far fetched! For a start I have failed to sleep since five thirty this morning, I have done little reading of the dozen books I am attempting to complete, and when it came to time to relax I had to cook dinner!

On my next day off, I am doing NOTHING!

Hitler, Fascist or Inadequate?

Adolf Hitler, the man who led Germany to war with the world, the most renowned fascist in history, or was he? Most accept without question his political stance, but the more I read about him the less I am impressed with his fascism. Adolf Hitler cared little for the right wing in my view. His concern was always for his view! The rightist leanings in Germany fitted quite well into these views but not from an ideological point, instead it was merely personal hate!
Adolf decided the Slavs in Austria were bad, and Adolf decided a lot of things when bumming around Vienna in his teens, and once Adolf made a decision then in his mind it was the right one and all opposition was irrelevant. Opposition which had an intellectual basis was especially unwelcome, more so if he understood it was a correct basis, he then just shouted it down.

Hitler turned down the opportunity to lead the Nazi party, work was never his strongpoint, but in the course of time he accepted the views of his people that he was the leader, and once he accepted this, he ensured it was to stay that way, by fair means or foul. For our Adolf had no political dream except his pathological hatred of the Slavs, soon to be the Bolsheviks, and his intention to attack them, on the basis of freedom for the German people.
But it was all nothing more than his inadequacy as a man that lay behind all he did. His shyness, his inability to relate to women, his weakness, his laziness, all forced him deep into his 'self.' From there he viewed the world in weakness, and in defence of this showed himself strong.
An opportunist who was quick to grab the half chance, but with no real agenda, political or otherwise, but defend his empty weak 'self.'

It is the 'Self,' the core of our being in which we live. Hitler shows us the full extent of the 'self' when it is given over to it's own way. Christians in particular ought to read about this man and see just how awful selfishness can be! We excuse ourselves when we go wrong, but in doing so the depth of our own depravity is hidden.
Adolf Hitler shows us a glimpse of the sin within us, the damage done when 'self' rules. It relfects the size of the task facing God in Christ Jesus when he died on the cross. 'He took my sin' they cry. But have little understanding of how deep and hurtful this was for the Messiah.
Jesus dies for me, how then can I live indulging so many aspects of my 'self?'

Do I have something to be grateful for? Then I give thanks.
But I don't!
I don't want to 'give thanks.'
Why?
Because in doing so I admit that what I have does not belong to me, but comes from God.
This is hard to accept. I want to be in control of my life. I want to make the decisions because then I am safe! I will not allow anything to hurt me, or allow anything detrimental to enter my life to unsettle me. So I will not give thanks, because that means God is in control!

A brief reading of Jesus sermon on the mount indicates Gods care for his people.
Throughout the Old Testament (which means contract between God and his people) God shows his care, his love, to his rebellious Israel. Gods heart weeps at the behaviour of his own.
His judgments which must happen, come after long years of patience with them.
God suffers when he has to take action. His heart breaks when he judges his people.
Yet, in spite of knowing this, I find myself reluctant to trust him, reluctant to let him decide what is best for me, and unable or unwilling to give myself back to him.

I want to be god in my life!

It is not as though God wants to be a totalitarian overlord. I always make the decisions regarding my actions, but God the father wants me to love him, and be his friend.
Wow! That is something.
I have to make that decision. Take all he offers or live a miserable selfish life.
And I struggle with this.......
Hmmmm

British Troops Assault Young Iraqis

A video of British troops under fire from large groups of young Iraq teens has been shown today. After handing out aid to a suffering people, and beginning the reconstruction of a land torn apart by a Muslim leader, who killed thousands of his own people, these troops are attacked. Stones and even a home made grenade are thrown at them by a crowd of dozens. The troops react, they charge into the mob breaking it up and seizing one or two of the lads.
Taking them into their compound they then proceed to give the rock throwers a good hiding, which they deserve!
Cue crocodile tears and massive outrage!
TV stations and radio programmes are telling us how awful these terrible scenes are. Mock indignation is occasionally tempered with a grudging agreement that 'Maybe the troops were under fire and wanted a bit of revenge?' and how! Why should British soldiers endure such attacks without reply? How can anyone condemn them for their response? 'The News of the World' a paper notorious for its delight in sex scandals and digging the dirt on anybody and anyone, feigns mock horror and shouts 'shame' and pretends it is doing this, 'in the public interest.' Nothing to do with money making then?
Where did they get this video from? Was this whistle blower there at the time? Was he concerned about 'brutality' or just in it to make a few thousand pounds, and with that thirty pieces of silver put many troops lives at risk?

In spite of the mock outrage, maybe the police in this land would be advised to learn from this how to deal with yobs. If our constabulary were to spend a few hours taking the many yobs that destroy our housing estates, and keep folks trapped indoors in fear of their lives, then maybe this country would be improved. How, by taking aside the leading thugs and giving them the treatment meted out to these rock hurlers. Within a short time discipline would be restored, folks could walk free from fear, young folk would benefit with those who wish to cause trouble being taking out of the picture.

I can hear the mock outrage growing as I write.

Muslim Cartoons

We seem stuck in a Muslim wonderland these days. Lots of words and little thinking.
The cartoons which seem to upset so many Muslims were in my view of no real offence. By showing Mohammed with a bomb in his turban merely reflected the view given to the West by Muslims worldwide, that they are a violent people. If Islam dislikes the depiction of, what they call, the prophet, then that is up to them to change. It is not for them to riot worldwide and expect the West to accept their demand for an apology.
Having said that, it is strange how we accept the constant insulting of Christianity daily in the media, but worry about upsetting Islam. To me, the Messiah being ridiculed by those ignorant, or afraid, of his message is much more important than the imagined insult suffered by followers of Islam. It is important to remember that most of this outcry has been hijacked, indeed begun by extremists in the Islamic world who want confrontation, who desire a war with the West.
It is therefore important to stand up to these people, because reason and dialogue will never have an effect on them. Appeasement of Adolf Hitler was doomed from the beginning, it will not work here!
What to do?
It is best not to do that which will deliberately annoy another. So don't go out of your way to upset them. But satire of the other man is normal in this country, and in any free land. It must continue. This can be done while respecting his opinion, even if wrong.
The point here is that like it or not, Islam MUST accept the Wests view that freedom of expression, not license, is perfectly acceptable. In the end, if they do not like the cartoons they are free to say so, but this does not mean the cartoons should be banned, or that more ought not to be produced!
It is time for Islam and it's followers to change, not the West to comply with their wishes.

Superbowl

Yet another Superbowl has come and gone. Yet again I missed it, well, didn't actually.
Why the Yanks think this overlong, 'poor mans rugby,' is worth all the hype is anyone's guess.
Now I can understand the enjoyment of reaching a final in any sport, just as The Heart of Midlothian will be doing shortly with the Scottish Cup, but American football, in which the ball is rarely if ever near a foot, is nothing to shout about.
Large hulking brutes bashing into one another, one wee fella throwing the ball to another, who is usually crushed beneath mountains of defenders, that is not really satisfying is it?
If he is fortunate, the catcher can run past a few of the enemy, maybe even making it over the 'End Zone,' not that such an event should be hard as it runs from one side to the other. No need to score through the posts, or even to touch the ball down, just get there.
Just how simple and easy is this game eh? If a 'Touch Down' occurs, or even if the game halts for almost any reason, a dozen players leave the field and are replaced. Why? Are they tired already?

I know that in days of yore, the thugs who attended the major universities of the United States, took to playing rugby in a very violent fashion. I understand about nine dead in one season was it? No surprise that they changed the way the game is played. But what does it say about the folk who played in that manner? American, rich, white, bully boys! That's what! A reflection on the lack of concern for others that has a deep root within the US psyche. Their generals have never been concerned about their own casualties, in my opinion, and they are certainly not concerned about the casualties of anyone else.

The game reflects something about the depth of US culture. This sport is full of muscle, but has little intellect. It is hard, but quite simple, almost pointless. Yanks are full of such sports.
The hype that attends Basketball for instance. Here again there is little in this game to excite the brain. A ball is bounced from one end to the other, points are scored, and it occurs endlessly for ludicrous high score of 88-97, or some such. Basketball was invented by a Scotsman to help rehabilitate the sick, if I understand right. He did not encourage the hype surely. US motor racing is also high powered. Cars run at two hundred miles an hour, but in nothing more than an oval circuit. Little driving skill required, as in a contested Grand Prix for instance , and here again we see the 'thin depth' of American sport.

Is it wrong?
No!
Is it worth watching?
Sometimes.
Is it the greatest show on earth?
Don't be silly.

Islam

So they do not like insults to Mohammed?
Cynics would say that the violence that rampages through Muslim, and in particular Arab, society is far more offensive than a cartoon. Whether it portrays a graven image or not.
The anti religious attitude prevalent in the West may mean little to many Muslims, but they just have to accept it exists, like it or not!
Christians suffer much more from the attacks from, usually unfunny, cartoons and comments, yet manage to cope. They are unprotected from abuse. Little credence is given to their faith, and Jesus IS the Son of God, and the ONLY way to God.
Politics has an influence in these uprisings throughout the Islamic world, we need to know more of what is going on behind the scenes.
I wonder if we ever will?

Heart of Midlothian 4 Hibernian 1

Once again the mighty Heart of Midlothian have taken the wee team apart!
How delightful to know that even if we stumbled against Kilmarnock last week, when it matters the Hearts can turn it on.
Three goals in sixteen minutes, and the Hibbys were running for home.
Now, if the Celts will do us the favour of losing a couple more, and they can, it's a league where we all take points of each other, our chances will improve.
New players arriving, more on the way.

The futures bright!
The futures MAROON!

The Family, does it exist in the UK now?

The other day, the law courts decided that an underage girl could have an abortion behind her parents back. In short, the parents were of no account regarding their child. Yet, the same parents are told they must be responsible for the child when they do something wrong. And this country has a 'yob' culture others envy.
Homosexuality has been developed to such an extent that Muslims and Christians who call it a sin, are visited by the police looking for 'homophobia!' Same sex partners are granted the right to 'marry' and be regarded as such. Financial payments to married couples are not given to the couple, but to one or the other. Letters sent by schools regarding the child are addressed to 'The Guardian/Parent of...' Instead of to the individuals name!

So we have a government that has in nearly twenty years of work destroyed the family.

We are now individuals, not families. Is this wrong, yes!
Society is built on strong family ties. We worship individuality. This goes against the grain of life. We learn from this that others do not count, we alone are important. Our needs come first and selfishness triumphs.

We are left with many sad empty folk. We are made to be family. Parents are meant to build up their child, showing them the best way to live, this happens often even now, but what help does the government give? None.

Marriage guidance is underfunded. Benefits are not biased in favour of marriage and we, the nation, suffer because of this.

Early Morning

Habit brings awakening before four in the morning. Fumbling in the dark while getting dressed, at the same time struggling to dry the weeping eyes and curb the yawns. Through the curtains, drawn to keep what heat there is from escaping, shows winter remains frozen, bleak and waiting to welcome.
An occasional car drifts through the night, the noise in the silence harsh and unwelcome.
Silence.
The darkness seems to shroud noise,not even birds are awake yet. When they do waken the noise, before traffic arrives to drown them out, is deafening. Such small creatures yet so loud a voice. One that entertains sweetly. Blackbirds and robins join in the early morning chorus, bringing delight to human hearers, but most likely a warning to other feathered ones. Claiming their remit over this part of the earth.
Cats brave the cold to wander round their estate, like birds nestling above, guarding their homeland jealously against the interventions of prowling neighbours. Stopping occasionally to stare with large round attentive eyes into the blackness, at nothing at all. Nothing moves. No life whatsoever. Yet the cat sees it. Is it real, or just imaginary? Only a cat will ever know.
A police car slowly passes through the amber lit streets. Young men with dreams of legal glory desperately searching for crime in the quietest area of the land. How can promotion, and a purpose filled life, be achieved by helping old ladies over the road, and patrolling empty highways? A postman makes his way to work, idling through a red light on an ageing bike which, luckily for the law, has no lights of its own. The law guardians pull him over and discuss the highway code with a drowsy, recalcitrant figure. His opinions regarding the way they see their duty is best not input into any future 'circum vitae' they produce.
Slowly, oh so very slowly, the sky begins to turn a lighter gray. Gradually easing and chasing the darkness away to the west, altering the atmosphere, the feel, of the streets, as street lights switch off, the traffic increases, and early shift workers will walk somewhat unwillingly into another day, life, as we know it, begins anew.

The Old Railway Track

Converting old railways into country paths has been one of the better ideas in this nation. Of course we had lots of them, and few were of any other use, so make use of them I say.
Being Thursday morning few were around. It was gray and sort of drizzly at times, and the roads on the way there were a bit wet.
I have not been there for at least three years and in times past I went up this way almost daily. Not much has changed but improvements have been made. The track itself has been relaid, and at one or two notoriously muddy areas drainage and tarmac paths have been installed. This makes a huge difference from previous days. Not much fun attempting to ride the bike through several inches of mud. A new bridge has been installed avoiding the need to risk death crossing the bypass. That was fun, and with the new road installed this was a good use of cash!

I crossed the bridge but halted there. It was far enough for today.
Spent a while staring at the fields and wondering why God and I are so far apart. Well actually it is because of me, not him, so why do I ask? But it was good to talk.

It was good coming back, as there is an optical illusion on the way. It looks like you have a climb ahead of you, but instead the track gently slopes in the homeward direction. Great on the bike as you can pick up speed if late, and gently glide if not.

Enjoyable but brief time. Nothing like seeing grass and trees to relax the mind.
Funnily enough, when I came near the village I resented the intrusion of all those houses.
It just spoilt a good happening!

Heart of Midlothian

This club is busy bringing in more players, yet, as is the way of this great institution, nothing is as it seems. A player from Bosnia, playing in Belgium for Genk, is brought over, tried out, offered a deal, likes what he sees. Great stuff! Then the deal is off!
Is it because the 1.1million offered is Euros, but only £875000. But the Belgians expected £1.1 million! Or, could it be the agent in Edinburgh wants too big a cut, and Vlad says no! Or maybe we have found a cheaper option in McCann and the Bosnian has been dropped.

Nothing is clear here. The fans will never know, he may even come.

However, it makes no difference to me, if we win the league and get into the Champions League!
Glory!

Pickle

I am in a pickle!
I buy a large jar of 'Tesco' pickle instead of the normal size. This is my way to save pennies.
But I cannot get it opened!
I use all my strength, all my initiative, all the tricks, yet it will not move!
I am afraid the jar might break if I try harder.

So I get out the hand strengthening tools, work hard pumping to build up the finger power,
and now I cannot get the jar open.
Why?
The muscles in my hand hurt to much from all the extra exercise!

The jar is in the bin.

The Year So Far.

At the start of the year I said it was going to be a 'good year!'
It was to be better than 2005 and it would be onwards and upwards!

Wrong so far.
Today is the seventh of January and it is time to review all things.
What do we have?
Tiredness, overwork, frustration, annoyance, temper, anger, loosening of all control, the end of the line!

At least at work I find some who quite like me, even though they do not really know me. Thanks for that anyway. But this does not change the 'end of the line feeling!

The next 360 days are gonna be good, eh?

Children in blogs

Have you noticed how many people put up blogs just to tell us about their children?
So many blogs seem intent on thrusting their children on to us, the passerby as though this is some sort of important event in the world. Can I just say to such people that, no, it isn't! It is important to you, but not to me, or indeed anyone else. Please keep your kids to yourself like the majority of folks do!

The self indulgence shown by these blogs is amazing!
You and I are supposed to look and marvel that John and Suzy, or Dave and Alice have a child! Fantastic! Yippee! Superb! Now go away! People actually have children often. Lots of them appear all over the world, mostly in poverty ridden countries where mum and dad have to little time or money to indulge the world with pictures of little Johnny and his life. That is if they actually have a p.c, or indeed a home for the kids to live in happily.

Children are wonderful, I was one once, I have them in the family, far too many at Xmas I can say quite honestly. But we are not the type to run around saying I am middle class and well off, and I have a child! Look at me! Aint I wonderful?
Well, no, your not, so put it away, don't spoil it, or it will grow up like you.
And none of us want that to happen do we!

Aasmah Mir

Aasmah Mir sums up all that is wrong in women in the media, indeed women in general.
Here we find a lass who has made it into the BBC and finds herself constantly on radio, who has a column all to herself in the 'Sunday Herald' and is extremely well paid too boot!
Yet she writes only about her hang ups!
A glance at the Herald articles would indicate that whenever she steps outside the house all men for miles around want to have sex with her! They look upon her only as an object and she alone fills their minds. Other women don't seem to exist, just this girl. This is such a problem that she is unable to wear her 'favourite jeans' outside the house!

Terrible indeed that.

At work this poor lass suffers terrible discrimination! Not only does she get paid less than the men around her, however she does get vastly more than a postman, a Tesco shelf filler, a milkman or any man or woman, doing a job she considers beneath her, but on top of this she is Asian! And an Asian who is a Moslem, apparently! Goodness me, her colour means everyone is looking down on her, her religion indicates she is a terrorist, and in her eyes the entire nation looks on her with a mixture of fear and loathing.

Poor thing, how does she cope?

Well she copes by ignoring the fact that most men don't want her. They may notice she is attractive, if she indeed is, but have no intention of going near her, anyway her personality would take care of any ideas that lingered in their twisted selfish minds.
By spending less time shopping for more clothes than she needs she can forget the poverty her employment leads her to suffer. Poverty that is slighty better than the poverty 150 million Pakistanis suffer most days, but hey, they mostly hate women anyway so that's OK!
The religion she bears might help her cope, if she really believes in it. Most Moslems I meet are nominal if anything regarding their religion, unless you disagree with it of course. Then it is something to defend, or in extreme cases, a cause, in their eyes to, to cry ' racist!'

Come on Aasmah, come into the real world. Start thinking about others problems and ignore yours. Especially those that you know will find a willing readership. A willing readership who desperately want to believe what you write. Without this clear support from you they would have to face the real world all alone, and change themselves instead of whining about the hard luck stories that fill their minds.
It is always much better to 'tilt at windmills' than face the truth.

Stop hiding behind the myth of discrimination and do something about those that really suffer.
Several inches given over to the plight of people in real difficulty, for the hungry, or just a few words about a story outside of yourself would be welcome, and certainly a change! But that would lose you your 'Herald' audience would it not?
That would mean a loss of column, a loss of income, and gosh, a loss of face for you.
Shame that. But however it might lead you to becoming a journalist, but talking about something other than yourself, well, that is possibly to hard, isn't it?

This year...

is going to be different!
It has to be!
This year, 2006 will be a happy year. I have decided!
So, forgetting what is behind, moving on, and aiming for the best I go into (yet another) year with hope. Long time since that happened!

Watching the fireworks on telly last night, I was impressed by the display. But I found a great indifference to the event itself. A new year, so what? All we really have is a change of time calculation and an excuse for a party. The real reason for the party is of course that from now on we are heading towards shorter nights and warmer days, eventually.

Ah Spring! Can't wait for it to arrive. Warm days, bright sunshine, how I miss it!
The daylight brightens our lives while this darkness brings depression and low emotions.
Once Christmas and New Year are over we can get on with life, arguing, grasping, hating, selfishly making our way, hoping for good things and fearing bad, longing for love but failing to offer it, obtaining all we want, but never happy.

Crivvens, I'm depressed already!
Happy New Year!

Christmas Alone

Christmas day I spent alone. With the family being in the Edinburgh area, and having to work Christmas eve, it was not possible to get home. Not the first time this has been the case, but sad as I wanted to be there this time.
Thing is, whenever I mention this today at work people tell me how much they wish they had been with me! Not that suddenly I am popular in a fashion hid for so long, but more the memory of the crowded Christmas day they had endured.
It is great to be with the family young and old together, presents, laughter, crying, too much to eat and far too much noise, shredded wrapping paper and carboard boxes a plenty! But as age tells on the human frame, it is amazing how lovely the silence when they have gone!
So today, for a while, I was the object of jealousy among many!
Probably for the last time!

Leith

The Leith I remember is a place much in need of renovation.
The shops then, from the fifties up to the seventies, were always bustling places. We went there most Saturdays as Princes Street was half day closing on a Saturday. Half day closing, who gets that now, let alone on a Saturday? Not in big cities that is for sure.
It was full of folks scurrying about their business, women chatting in all the shops, men wearily wishing they were at the match, and kids being dragged unwillingly to and fro for things they did not see any reason to accumulate. The tenements were old and it showed, Victoria sat imperiously outside Woolworths, and in the dim distant past there was a cinema overlooking her.
Just up from the stone queen stood a large station building reflecting the once important, but long gone, railway. Pubs a plenty took the pence willingly from men willing to part with it. Buses followed the routes laid down long before up Leith Walk and into Edinburgh, the road trod by many over hundreds of years, hence the name.
Today, there is an abundance of dreary shops in Leith. Big stores have gone, or just faded, charity shops preponderate and a general 'down at heel' appearance is found.
The dockside is rapidly being renovated. Old whisky bonds are turned into trendy flats, statues to those men of the past remind us of their works, and pubs with dubious reputations are now wine bars, with camp waiters to match.
I was reminded of all this by a Christmas gift, the book ' Leith at Random' by David Stewart Valentine. An excellent production! Short pieces on Leiths' past and photographs to match.
The type of short book that carries so much weight, because it covers a lot of ground quickly and simply, revealing fascinating facts about things obvious but ignored.
A good read for me at any rate. I never lived there, but spent so much time there, and have memories from my early years in the shops and of finding my first job working in Arthur Bells Whisky Warehouse in Leith Walk! A death trap if ever there was one!
A book worth giving a glance at, and of a type I wish I had written.

SNOW!

Snow!
Big clumps of white stuff falling all over the place!
Why?
I don't want it!
I mean, it's all very nice and that, it makes the whole world a different place, it quietens the sounds and brings joy to the kids, but why? Why now?
it is just horrible stuff to walk through, it's horrible to work in and it's all over the place!
Add to that the simple fact that it is very, very cold, and that ends it for me.

This is the warmest, driest county of England, and while here I do not want to be remembering the snow that clogs Edinburgh at this time of year. Oh yes, Edinburgh in snow looks lovely.
Wonderful pictures can be made there, lovely photographs. But it is no fun watching the bus skittering down the cobbled hills towards Comely Bank is it?
There is no joy playing football on an open field with snow all around and more clambering past Burntisland with you in its sight. No sir. I have had enough of those days.
I want sunshine!

Oh Sunshine. Warmth, pleasure, T-shirts and cold drinks, scantily dressed women and long evenings with darkening deep blue skies. Oh joy!
And we have snow!

Excuse me while I rejoice...........

Niece picture

The best thing so far, for me, is the small picture of my great niece which arrived today.
Almost seven, yet with a look that holds nothing but trouble for her folks.
OK for me however as I am four hundred miles away! Hooray!

Lovely to get such a pic. Very nice indeed.

History

Recently there was a suggestion in the Scots parliament that Scots History would be dropped or at least downgraded in Scots schools. How foolhardy would this be?

after learning how to read and write, how to count and something of geography to know where you are, kids need to know the story of the area they live in. Local history and national history are the most important subjects to understand if an individual is to develop a true knowledge of themselves and their people.

Of course this needs to be true history, not the mythological propaganda that is all to often poured out as history. It is interesting that while children of diplomats in the European Union share lessons in many subjects, the history they are taught is always slanted towards their own particular nation. Myth and wishful thinking rules over facts.

Scots need to understand their own past. Not just since Wallace and Bruce, but before that, well into the distant ages. It must be 'warts and all' for the teaching of history does not tell us about happenings long ago, it tells us about ourselves.
No matter who the characters, no matter the place or the situation, in the end those we learn about are just like ourselves. They can be an inspiration or a drawback. They make us ashamed or proud, but really they tell us more about ourselves than any other subject.

And in these fascist politically correct days, the truth about our self is more important than ever.

Yobs

Every where you go these days people are talking about yobs!
The nation is surrounded by young folk taking over complete streets and enslaving the locals.
The police sem unable, or unwilling to stop them. The courts hand out slaps on the wrist, that are not even slaps! Robbery, muggings, stolen cars left burnt out, and a constant stream of abuse at passers bye continue with no end in site.
The government invents the ASBO, yet still the problems continue.

What to do?

No easy answers.

One effective answer is to change the heart of those involved, and only Jesus can do that.
The fact is that such behaviour in the young reflects the truth about the state of our hearts.
Our inner being.
As we get older we have a better attitude to others, at least, most of us do.
But when adolescent such understanding is often lacking, and the self rears its ugly head.
The desire to have our own way leads folk into the use and misuse of others.
Often an attitude that never leaves once begun.
Consideration for others is rejected for actions that are know to be wrong, but excused anyway.

The vileness that is seen in yob behaviour is within us all, not just the young however.
The heart is the root of all that is wrong in society. The self rules and cares naught for anything but, well, the self!

Only the realisation that we are guilty of wrong. Facing the fact of eternal judgement by a God who has no fault can cause a change of heart. Not just by the fear of judgement, a real and right fear, but also of the love this God shows by dealing with our wrong.

By taking human form and offering the sacrifice of himself for each one of us God shows his love.
Bad as we are, he dies for our wrong doing. Our wrong and twisted self!
That is love. Because we are clearly not worth it otherwise.

The yobs, of whatever age, can be changed by receiving a satisfied life.
Not an easy one, but a real one.
Found only in this Jesus who cares, and will one day judge, each one of us.
Whether we believe it now or not.

Roy Keane

So, Roy signs for his boyhood hero's.
Nice for him.
Hope he does not think it is a soft touch in the SPL, he will be in for a shock if he thinks so!
On top of this the Heart of Midlothian are in turmoil.
Hibernian have reached a height that will end when their players are sold in January, and Rangers may have found some form.... maybe.

The rise of the Scots league may have hit a buffer.
I hope not.

Day off

What a blessing a day off is!
There is nothing better than getting up an hour late and considering those workmates, who at this very moment, are struggling along with their heavy burdens. Time to stop and think of them for a moment....and when you have finished smiling smugly, go back to sleep!

However, I enjoy adding to the days pleasure by wandering round Sainsburys early in the morning. This has two great advantages, one is the freedom from those women who fill the store throughout the day, shoving you aside rudely, allowing their kids to get in the way, shout and scream. and be a general nuisance. With these dangerous folk not around it is possible;e to quick;y grab what you want and head for the check out. Their the second joy of the day can be found. For it is at this checkout you mentioned casually to the women sitting there that it is indeed your day off and you may go back to bed when you get home.
Her expression, as she awaits the mob of hysterical women about to descend on her, is a joy to behold. I am not always so sure her vocal expression is in agreement with Sainsburys customer relation policy however......

The pleasures of the day unfold as the day progresses. Reading, eating, sleeping, enjoying the things you like and ignoring those responsibilities that can wait! Joy indeed!
I always make a list of things to do, and sometimes do them! It is not uncommon to find dozens of things to do, and at the end of the day discover nearly none of them done! A good day as I see it!

Must go, as I have just glanced at the list, and I have one or two things to avoid!
Cheers.