Humour

I came across an old video featuring Spike Milligan before an 'invited audience.' This was shortly before he died and he was very funny, as he often was. He is of course one of those responsible for my twisted humour. As a lad I used to sit with my head against the gramophone while listening to 'The Goons,' 'The Glums' or 'The Billy Cotton Band Show' on a Sunday afternoon. What great times they were in those days of long ago! The whole country would be also listening to these matinees and laughing their heads off. Later we added the Ferranti television set that we acquired in 1958. By turning the large knob on the front we could receive two, yes two, channels! On Sunday afternoons films were shown, at least ten years old I believe and most well over that! But we watched the black and white action quite happily. I confess had I to watch such movies today I would be violently sick! It's amazing what a young mind will accept without thinking. The attitudes shown have coloured my life ever since, hopefully I have lost them now. However every so often there were films not only worth watching but that will live for ever! Foremost among them were Marx Brothers films and the 'Road' movies made by Hope and Crosby. Such films contained the fast moving repartee that I admire, and strangely have discovered this attitude appears in most places where I have been employed. Possibly this explains my constant moving from one job to another and my lack of references therefrom I don't know.

The anarchy of the Marx Bros and the fast one liners from Hope were new to UK audiences before the war. Our humour had a different slant to it but Tommy Handley made a meal of fast paced one liners during the war in his wireless programme 'It's That Man Again!' Today his scripts are totally unfunny but to a nation standing alone while the rest did their best to avoid the obvious it gave heart. While German radio spoke of 'England (racists!) faltering' those that dared to listen into the BBC heard nothing but laughter! The war left its mark on those who were to become the entertainers for the next thirty years. Most had served, some had suffered, like Milligan had from being mortared, and all wanted to get away from the military authoritarian society. A revolutionary attitude prevailed. 'The Goons' were probably more radical in their humour than most!

So many other things have influenced me that sometimes I wonder what I would have been like without them. However I expect my sick black half wit would out. This can of course upset some folks, especially when they have little sense of humour or are too full of themselves. Sometimes they need a laugh, other times a good slap is more desirable. While working in the Royal Infirmary in 1974 a very tall lass was admitted and the nurse muttered sympathy for her height. 'At least she will get a long lie in the morning' I ventured, but was not admired for it. Making a 'slap' gesture to the backside of one young lady meant I was loudly warned off by another. Simply mentioning that the first lassies was half the size of the one protesting enabled the first to take my side, and the second to turn needlessly violent. Well, she was Irish. Talking to some of her friends after my sister died I mentioned it was the first time I had seen her with her mouth closed and received only querulous stares. I suppose stepping out from the usual routine is wise only with folks who know you well.

The fact is humour is Gods gift to us all. It relaxes us after stress, releases pent up emotions and allows those in difficulties a way of escape from their troubles. Eastern Europe was awash with humour, an escape valve for those who could not overcome the dictatorship that ruled them. Front line soldiers used black humour to prevent themselves going mad with the strain of trench life, shaking hands with arms jutting out from the sides of the trenches. Wit enables pupils to absorb what is being taught, because if it is dull learning is difficult. We remember better that which we enjoy. Wit can prevent diplomatic incidents. During the Cold War Harold Macmillan,the UK Prime Minister, was speaking at the United Nations. Kruschev resorted to his latest tactic of removing his shoe and pounding the desk in front of him. A tense silence filled the hall, with the Cold War at its height any wrong reaction could lead to a diplomatic 'incident.' “Can we have a translation of that?” said Macmillan, and the whole place rocked with laughter! The tension ended, Kruschev was put down, but nicely, and he stopped the shoe thumping.

Humour can be used to be hurtful, and we all laugh at our enemies to make us feel better. Not always is it necessary. Cynical humour has been commonly seen in recent days in the UK, but often used to attack others rather than as wit to expose their faults and build something worthwhile. There is no point in satirising a politician if you have nothing positive to offer in his place. No point in joking about people unless you aim to like them or get the best out off or from them.

There again, laughter is the best medicine and whatever the problem finding humour in it can aid the body keep healthy. We are made to laugh and smile but we spend our time frowning. Surrounded by plenty we complain of what we lack. Half the folks in hospital suffer because of diseases caused by stress. The body responds to happiness and disintegrates under stress. Oh dear, I think I ought to have looked in the mirror before writing that. Oh dear oh dear.........

An American decided to write a book about famous churches around the world.
He bought a plane ticket and took a trip to Orlando, thinking that he would start by working his way across the USA from South to North.
On his first day he was inside a church taking photographs when he noticed a golden telephone mounted on the wall with a sign that read '$10,000 per call'.
The American, being intrigued, asked a priest who was strolling by what the telephone was used for.
The priest replied that it was a direct line to heaven and that for $10,000 you could talk to God.
The American thanked the priest and went along his way.

Next stop was in Atlanta. There, at a very large cathedral, he saw the same looking golden telephone with the same sign under it. He wondered if this was the same kind of telephone he saw in Orlando and he asked a nearby vicar what its purpose was.
She told him that it was a direct line to heaven and that for $10,000 he could talk to God. 'O.K., thank you,' said the American.

He then travelled all across America, Africa, England, Japan, New Zealand. In every church he saw the same looking golden telephone with the same '$US10,000 per call' sign under it..

The American decided to travel to Scotland to see if Scots had the same phone.
He arrived in Scotland and again, in the first church he entered, there was the same looking golden telephone, but this time the sign under it read '40 pence per call.'
The American was surprised so he asked the minister about the sign.
'I've travelled all over the world and I've seen this same golden telephone in many churches. I'm told that it is a direct line to Heaven, but in all of them price was $10,000 per call. Why is it so cheap here?'
The minister smiled and answered, 'You're in Scotland now, son - it's a local call'.

Old Jokes

Paddy is driving home after downing a few at the local pub. He turns a corner and much to his horror he sees a tree in the middle of the road.

He swerves to avoid it and almost too late realises that there is yet another tree directly in his path. He swerves again and discovers that his drive home has turned into a slalom course, causing him to veer from side to side to avoid all the trees.

Moments later he hears the sound of a police siren and brings his car to a stop. The officer approaches Paddy's car and asks him what on earth he was doing.

Paddy tells his story of the trees in the road when the officer stops him mid sentence and says, "Fer crying out loud, Paddy, that's yer air freshener!"

Tom, a loving husband, was in trouble. He had forgotten his wedding anniversary and his wife was really ticked off at him. She told him, "Tomorrow morning, I expect to find a gift in the driveway that goes from 0 to 200 in under six seconds, AND IT BETTER BE THERE."

The next morning, Tom got up really early. When his wife woke up a couple of hours later, she looked out the window, and there was a small gift-wrapped box sitting in the middle of the driveway.

Confused, the wife put on her robe, ran out to the driveway, and took the box into the house. She opened it, and found a brand new bathroom scale.

Tom is not yet well enough to have visitors.

Reverend Boudreaux was the part-time pastor of the local Baptist Church, and Pastor Thibodaux was the minister of the Congregational Church across the road. They were both standing by the road, pounding a sign into the ground, that read:

'The End is Near! Turn You self Around Now! Before It's Too Late!'

As a car sped past them, the driver leaned out his window and yelled, 'You religious nuts!'

From the curve they heard screeching tires and a big splash...

Boudreaux turns to Thibodaux and asks, 'Do you think maybe the sign should just say.....
'Bridge Out?''

There once was a religious young woman who went to Confession.
Upon entering the confessional, she said, "Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned."
The priest said, "Confess your sins and be forgiven."
The young woman said, "Last night my boyfriend made mad Passionate love to me seven times."
The priest thought long and then said, "Squeeze seven lemons into a glass and drink the juice."
The young woman asked, "Will this cleanse me of my sins?"
The priest said, "No, but it will wipe that smile off of your face."

There was a man from Aberdeen who had worked all his life, had saved all of his money, and was a real miser when it came to his money.

Just before he died, he said to his Aberdonian wife...'When I die, I want you to take all my money and put it in the casket with me. I want to take my money to the afterlife with me.'

And so he got his wife to promise him , with all of her heart, that when he died, she would put all of the money into the casket with him.

Well, he died. He was stretched out in the casket, his wife was sitting there - dressed in black, and her friend was sitting next to her. When they finished the ceremony, and just before the undertakers got ready to close the casket, the wife said,

'Wait just a moment!'

She had a small metal box with her; she came over with the box and put it in the casket. Then the undertakers locked the casket down and they rolled it away. So her friend said,

'Girl, I know you were not foolish enough to put all that money in there with your husband.'

The loyal wife replied, 'Listen, I'm a Christian; I cannot go back on my word. I promised him that I was going to put that money into the casket with him.'

You mean to tell me you put that money in the casket with him!?!?!?'

'I sure did,' said the wife. 'I got it all together, put it into my account, and wrote him a cheque.... If he can cash it, then he can spend it.'

A blonde woman was speeding down the road in her little red sports car and was pulled over by a woman police officer (also a blonde). The cop asked to see the blonde’s driver’s license. She dug through her purse and was getting progressively more agitated. “What does it look like?” she finally asked. The policewoman replied, “It’s square and it has your picture on it.” The driver finally found a square mirror, looked at it, and handed it to the policewoman. “Here it is,” she said. The blonde officer looked at the mirror, then handed it back saying, “Okay, you can go. I didn’t realize you were a cop.

I was depressed last night so I called the Samaritans.
Got a call center in Pakistan .
I told them I was suicidal.

They got all excited and asked if I could drive a truck.....

Maida Vale Hospital

It's funny how some things stick in the mind. For instance I spent almost twenty years in the same hovel in London and many a time the building has come into my dreams. It is not an accurate representation of the slum but it is clear where I am. While not appearing during my, much needed, beauty sleep, the above hospital is often in my mind. Dedicated to neurological and nuerosurgical medicine this was my workplace for several years. Looking back I can tell you I have not had a job I enjoyed as much.

Can I point out straight away, just to avoid any confusion, I was not a surgeon. No I failed in that regard, indeed I was not even a doctor if truth be told. The year I spent working as an orderly on the trauma ward at Edinburgh's Royal Infirmary proved that I had not the necessary for nursing. Just as well as I am sure I would have killed someone! However, while in London I took advantage of the offer of a porters job in this place. Then from 1975 until 1981 , with a few months out during the heatwave of 1976, I served my time in this place. An excellent job in a small hospital as I got close to all the patients without endangering them, and enabling me to see life as it is up close. I wish I was there now! Not that this can be as Maggie Thatcher closed the crumbling building down in the eighties, a habit she seemed to develop after that.

It is surprising how enjoyable a job can be when all around folk are suffering, and often dying, from some of the worlds worst diseases. MS or Parkinson's, brain tumours and a wide variety of accidents came through the door. Some patients became friends as they returned all to often to visit the outpatients as their disease progressed, if 'progressed' is the right word? Some of course came in as emergency admissions from other hospitals. Nothing more could be done there and this was their last hope. Many died but just as many lived, one walked out after being seven weeks unconscious! I saw her as she returned for her appointment, a bit of a vegetable we thought, but alive. Young married couple who now had this to contend with. I never found out what happened afterwards, but it would be tough for some years for them. Some couples were brought closer together by the suffering of one partner, and the care offered was good to see. Those with Multiple Sclerosis could look forward to a further twenty or so years of this. How did they cope?

I look back on this job happily because I liked the idea of doing something worthwhile and I worked with some excellent people. People of course make the job, and all to often break it. Any job can be enjoyable, however boring or difficult, if those around you make the most of it. 'Black humour,' much used in the UK, helps here. Some of you will be aware of that! There are always the lazy,the troublesome, and the difficult in every job, MVH was no different there. But I remember most of them with affection, especially the pretty girls who abounded there. The only question is how did they resist me, and so often also? Women often surprise me this way.

One night while on lone duty, which meant lounging quietly usually, I pondered on all those who had once passed through the place, doctors, nurses, other staff both important (in their own minds) and others. Who remembered them once they had gone? Some had spent twenty to thirty years working here, often during wars and economic downturns, but meant nothing to those who followed on. It struck me just how unimportant we are in the great scheme of things. We often see ourselves as important while in a job but when we leave we are soon forgotten and life goes on. Some folks do not understand this and cannot comprehend how the place will survive without them. In truth they need the work more than the work needs them. I miss this place. I miss the girls and the patients. I miss a job worth doing and seeing the poignant and the cheery pass by. I wonder if any of them miss me.......?

Funnies!

FROM BRITISH NEWSPAPERS


1) Commenting on a complaint from a Mr. Arthur Purdey about a large gas bill, a spokesman for North West Gas said, 'We agree it was rather high for the time of year. It's possible Mr. Purdey has been charged for the gas used up during the explosion that destroyed his house.' (The Daily Telegraph)

2) Police reveal that a woman arrested for shoplifting a whole salami. When asked why, she said it was because she was missing her Italian boyfriend. (The Manchester Evening News)

3) Irish police are being handicapped in a search for a stolen van, because they cannot issue a description. It's a Special Branch vehicle and they don't want the public to know what it looks like. (The Guardian)

4) A young girl who was blown out to sea on a set of inflatable teeth was rescued by a man on an inflatable lobster. A Coast Guard spokesman commented, 'This sort of thing is all too common'. (The Times)

5) At the height of the gale, the harbourmaster radioed a Coastguard and asked him to estimate the wind speed. He replied he was sorry, but he didn't have a gauge. However, if it was any help, the wind had just blown his Land Rover off the cliff. (Aberdeen Evening Express)

6) Mrs. Irene Graham of Thorpe Avenue , Boscombe, delighted the audience with her reminiscence of the German prisoner of war who was sent each week to do her garden. He was repatriated at the end of 1945, she recalled. 'He'd always seemed a nice friendly chap, but when the crocuses came up in the middle of our lawn in February 1946, they spelt out 'Heil ******.'' ( Bournemouth Evening Echo)


A list of actual announcements that London Tube train drivers have made to their passengers...

1) 'Ladies and Gentlemen, I do apologize for the delay to your service I know you're all dying to get home, unless, of course, you happen to be married to my ex-wife, in which case you'll want to cross over to the Westbound and go in the opposite direction.'

2) 'Your delay this evening is caused by the line controller suffering from E & B syndrome: not knowing his elbow from his backside. I'll let you know any further information as soon as I'm given any.'

3) 'Do you want the good news first or the bad news? The good news is that last Friday was my birthday and I hit the town and had a great time. The bad news is that there is a points failure somewhere between Stratford and East Ham, which means we probably won't reach our destination.'

4) 'Ladies and gentlemen, we apologize for the delay, but there is a security alert at Victoria station and we are therefore stuck here for the foreseeable future, so let's take our minds off it and pass some time together. All together now.... 'Ten green bottles, hanging on a wall.....'.'

5) 'We are now travelling through Baker Street ... As you can see, Baker Street is closed. It would have been nice if they had actually told me, so I could tell you earlier, but no, they don't think about things like that'.

6) 'Beggars are operating on this train. Please do NOT encourage these professional beggars. If you have any spare change, please give it to a registered charity. Failing that, give it to me.'

7) During an extremely hot rush hour on the Central Line, the driver announced in a West Indian drawl: 'Step right this way for the sauna, ladies and gentleman... unfortunately, towels are not provided.'

8) 'Let the passengers off the train FIRST!' (Pause .) 'Oh go on then, stuff yourselves in like sardines, see if I care - I'm going home.....'

9) 'Please allow the doors to close. Try not to confuse this with 'Please hold the doors open.' The two are distinct and separate instructions.'

10) 'Please note that the beeping noise coming from the doors means that the doors are about to close. It does not mean throw yourself or your bags into the doors.'

11) 'We can't move off because some idiot has their hand stuck in the door.'

12) 'To the gentleman wearing the long grey coat trying to get on the second carriage - what part of 'stand clear of the doors' don't you understand?'

13) 'Please move all baggage away from the doors.' (Pause..) 'Please move ALL belongings away from the doors.' (Pause...) 'This is a personal message to the man in the brown suit wearing glasses at the rear of the train: Put the pie down, Four-eyes, and move your bl**dy golf clubs away from the door before I come down there and (the rest is censored!)'

14) 'May I remind all passengers that there is strictly no smoking allowed on any part of the Underground. However, if you are smoking a joint, it's only fair that you pass it round the rest of the carriage.'

Paper Lampshades

How long does it take to hang a lampshade? I reckoned this would take a few minutes. All I had to do was remove the previous dust encrusted creatures, dead beasties and all, and shove the new ones in place. Wrong! Taking the old yellowing (were these yellow to begin with?) shades down was easy enough. Except from falling of the bed in one instance and almost of the couch with the other. What? Ladder? Tsk! Real men don't need to go to all that bother. Once I had removed the old ones I dumped them aside where they can be cleaned and either donated to the charity shops or the dustman, depending on what is left of them. I then began the endurance test that is assembling a paper lampshade and fixing it in place.

The helpful instructions warn you to be careful not to rip the paper, as if we need be told. They do not indicate that inserting the metal (Convex 'B') expander inside the lantern is almost impossible without tearing something somewhere, including muscles in the fingers. Once the (Convex 'B') is embedded in (eyelets 'A') and all is secure it merely requires attachment to light fitting. Simply reach up and ensure the flex is threaded through the 'C' shaped clip. This was easy peasy. I knew this would be a quick job. Then I realised I could not get the (energy saving) light bulb inside it! I pushed it from the bottom, after struggling to get the thing through the gap without tearing the paper or any more finger muscles. However I could not reach the fitting, so with the other hand I forced the shade further up the flex to bring the thing closer. After a lot of cursing it came closer but would not fit in! My long slender fingers, ideal for a pianist or a pickpocket I suppose, struggled and sweated and burnt until the two parts came together. They would not actually enjoin, but the touched and that was a victory I thought. By now I was wishing I had kept up the fitness regime as I was stretching beyond endurance. In the course of time the fitting fitted and locked itself into place. I stood, drenched in sweat thinking "I thought it would be cooler in the shade," and considered my need for lunch.

However armed with experience I continued onto the second shade and with better posture, and a lower ceiling, I swiftly, sort off, finished the struggle and sat back and cleared the mess. As I was doing this I chanced upon the instructions. "Insert light bulbs pre fitted before (Fig 4) adding shade." So help me......

He Men!

You may remember the adverts that once adorned so many magazines and newspapers. The slogans, “Are you a seven stone weakling?” and “Do you get sand kicked in your face?” and the like. Charles Atlas offered the chance to develop your physique by use of ‘Dynamic Tension’ and 'Be a man' and this was irresistible to many. As a stick like youth I believed in Charles Atlas and his promise of muscular dynamism, I bought the course! I expected, as promised, that it would arrive in weekly instalments however it came in a large, damaged, brown envelope that must have had the boys at the sorting office laughing. Believe me I know how they laugh at the things that fall out of your envelopes! I of course mentioned nothing about this to my parents and when the package was delivered the smirk on my dad’s face indicated that he had been peeking in through the gaps in the brown envelope. The fact that he said nothing made my embarrassment worse! I stole away into the bedroom and began to practice ‘Dynamic Tension.’

The whole things was a well developed exercise course, if that is the right way to put it, and mostly consisted, in the pages I actually followed, of tensing the muscles in a variety of poses, against one another. It did not last long. I suppose it did not last long for any of the kids who answered the ads, and there must have been many as the ‘Charles Atlas course’ was famed world wide. Many years later I also fell for the, then popular. ‘Bullworker’ which would also develop muscles and for a mere ‘five minutes a day’ at that! Had I put in the effort with this I would now be a muscle bound oaf instead of just an overweight one. The ‘Bullworker’ sits near me as I right and every so often I have a go. It is amazing that after so many years I find I can do less and less on the thing! I suppose the ingrained dust does not help.

Charles Atlas was born Angelo Siciliano in Italy in 1892. Moving to the States among the 'huddled masses' that crowded the steam ships in the early part of the twentieth century. He later developed a passion, or was it obsession, with body building. He claims he attempted many types of exercise systems until he saw an animal in the zoo stretching and he came up with 'Dynamic Tension!' Or so the story goes. His advertisements for his body building system made him famous and the company still exists today enabling skinny young men to dream of punching the lights out of bullies world wide. He wore out in 1972.

This came to mind today for no good reason, although the number of young men with bulging biceps attempting to entice young lassies throughout the nation shows that my reasoning in the past was not mine alone. Which reminds me of the last time I went to Cramond beach where I had sand kicked in my face by a seven stone weakling!

Blue Sky and Sunshine

Yes indeed another day of hot sun and blue sky. At 7:30 this evening the temperature here in the East Wing was 83 degrees. (That's close to 30% for foreign folks.) I have spent much of the day sleeping, eating, reading and everything else in the buff. This freedom is wonderful, especially as the police released me after that incident with the window. I told her it was a mistake. Anyway two hours later and the temp has gone down to 81%. I love this sort of weather! Life is so good when it is warm. Folks are so much happier and much more relaxed. Mind you they complain it is too hot and spend time wishing it was cooler. Naturally tempers flare, families argue and people drink more than is wise, fights break out, arrests are made and all's right with the world. Someone will soon turn it into a soap opera script, unless they already have. What does all this hot weather indicate? Global warming? End of the world maybe? Neither, it just means it is going to rain!

Saturday

So another Saturday turns up unexpectedly. Quite how these days arrive when I still think tomorrows Tuesday I fail to comprehend. But here we are and once again I am struggling with a PC problem. Since reinstalling XP I have had trouble with the sound, that is there was none, now there is some and it is of a very low volume. Once again i am downloading drivers, the same as before, and playing around with cables and what have you. Once again it made a difference, the sound disappeared! Once again we await the drivers downloading, once again I sit in eager anticipation of hearing proper sound. Soon I will know the answer.

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In the meantime let us note the annoyance caused by the constabulary. There was a large marquee tent erected in the park opposite the other day, and in the evening these two cars arrived, disgorging their large stern faced occupants. Clearly some yobs were causing bother at the tent, as yet unused. But would the police inform me of their escapade? No! Not a word passed their gritted teeth. Surely if the police wish help and support from the general public it is imperative that nos..interested parties ought to be kept up to date with their adventures. I informed the shaven headed driver that I could indicate to folks worldwide just how efficient the British (well English) 'bobby' actually is to be informed I could go...well anyway, 'Dixon of Dock Green' would not have said that!

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I noticed that Max Moseley won his case against the 'News of the World.' He had been pictured being whipped by prostitutes dressed as 'Nazi's' apparently and sued the paper that printed the story for invading his privacy. Now whatever you think of folk who undergo such treatment, not for me thanks very much, I always support those who sue the media who invade privacy and make money out of it. Folks private lives, and the sexual problems they have, ought to remain their business and no-one else's, unless a criminal act is involved. Far too many papers fill their pages with the broken lives of the rich and famous, and sometimes talented folks also. If they want to be in the press they can always find a way, but their indulgences they should keep to themselves. So a man in an immoral act, it can be no other, sues a paper that lives on immoral stories, and wins a moral victory. Strange world.

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I mentioned the photographer who took pictures of Ethiopians starving to death recently. It was later I found myself ordering books I cannot afford just because they caught my eye and as I did so I realised I was spending enough to keep some of those folks alive for months. The books arrived yesterday and my guilt deepened with it. 'Conscience doth make cowards of us all,' did someone not say..........

Sunshine

I was going to fill up a few minutes of your empty lives with a few thousand words of bile. But then I realised how good God has been to me, how lovely the world around us actually is! The good Lord has created a wonderful place for us and I thought it better to muse on the good things around us in stead of the bad.

"Consider the lilies of the field" said Jesus, and I have no idea which 'lilies' he meant, "They neither sow nor spin yet even Solomon in all his glory was not dressed like them." And this is true! Flowers come in all sizes, a wide variety of colours and shapes, give off a wonderful fragrance and yet while almost flimsy to the touch they endure all sorts of weather conditions. Plants of various kinds can be found hidden under desert sands, appearing as if by magic when rain falls, some live high in the snows of the mountains and others even survive in Scotland! On top of this they lay an important part in our ecology, if that is the right word, without those little flowers the planet would not survive, and they say we 'just evolved?'

I cogitated on the wildlife around us, partly because passing through the gardens I was disturbed from my daydream by a 'roebuck' which lives there and occasionally races past the unsuspecting. There is a huge assortment of animals around us, from the family cat to the rhino in the local zoo! Such beasts come in all shapes and sizes and have a great many uses for us, and if not we eat them! So at least they have some use. Those animals forbidden to Jews and Muslims appear to be the scavengers of this world, on land and sea. They were banned because what they ate cleaned up the environment around them but did little for your insides, so there was a purpose for them. Try eating a local pigeon today and find out how it would feel.

While it is clear the world can only get worse, overpopulation, shortage of water, routine political instability, famine and natural disasters will lead us in this nuclear age to melt down in a few years, this does not mean there is nothing to enjoy on a day by day basis. Sometimes enjoyment comes with guilt. I felt this today while watching a news broadcast that actually said something! A photographer back from Ethiopia brought pictures of folks starving to death, and in the UK we complained when Gordon Brown said we throw away too much food! We throw away a third of what we buy and millions starve, can this be right? Luckily I have been careful in this regard for some time now, wasting food is awful in such circumstances, but while they starve I am overweight! While we complain about our 'obesity' problem this photographer spoke of sitting before a woman his age dying of starvation, this is 2008 isn't it? 'Tear Fund,' some years ago had a slogan, 'Enough for everyman's need, not for everyman's greed!' I believe it was dropped, maybe someone thought it to 'communistic!'

However, while we do what we ought to help those suffering we enable them to enjoy the world around us. I think it's great, especially in the sunshine. Kids playing happily in the park, fussy mum's scolding them for no good reason, blue skies, flowers and fauna, glares from half naked ladies who do not think old men are the ones who should be looking (close your curtains then hen!), swifts tearing through the sky, screaming as the pass by the window, and an altogether better atmosphere from all around.

Isn't life good?

No Change

No change where my huge weight is concerned. I am eating less, and better, sometimes at least, yet I remain 'overweight. At least the last time I had to go to the doctor, for what I thought was possible skin cancer and turned out to be nothing at all (no wonder men do not run to their GPs! Why do we waste their time for nothing?), he went through the usual routine of blood pressure and weight. He was not keen on stones and pounds, he being one of those men brought up on kilograms, whatever they are. However he agreed I was not the 'fat slob' previous medical men have indicated, merely 'overweight.' This is the nice way of saying 'fat' but not as fat the next man.....who is a 'fat slob' by the way!

I waste precious minutes of your busy time, and as you get older time passes much quicker, I say I waste minutes of your time mentioning this because when I got back from a short walk this morning I weighed myself on the old scales. I discovered that if you put most of your weight on to the left side you only weigh 15 stone 4 pounds. (translate that yourself) so I spent a while at an awkward angle before falling off.

I was tempted out by the warm weather today. In spite of gray cloud cover it was remarkably warm, in fact I had the window open all night, not something folks in Edinburgh would understand I imagine. Not only would they freeze to death some wee ned would attempt to break in and steal life saving equipment, 'I-pod,' 'Mobile phone,' 'digital camera,' 'laptop,' and the like. Those things that life would be impossible without these days. I mean how did we live in the distant past of ancient history, say 1980, when such things were unheard of bar among those who read Sci-Fi? Anyway I walked up hill and down dale, well they were before someone built all those houses on them, passing the ladies returning from dumping the kids in school for the last day before the holidays. How lovely to think that for the next six weeks the streets will be filled with selfish brats blocking every pavement and shoplifting in every other shop in the town.
I would vote for any party that kept them indoors 24 hours a day seven days a week. Except ours of course, but they have had their visit to the vet and our family keep them all on a lead. The rottweiler and pit bulls we let roam free as they are less dangerous.

Ah well, I can't sit here adding weight, I must be off out to the market looking for veg that has fallen of the stalls and opportunities for cheap stuff they are desperate to get rid off. It is also encouraging as most of the stall holders have huge beer bellies. This encourages me as I feel slim beside them and on top of that I notice their men are even worse!

Old Joke

George was admitted to a mental hospital and fell in love with another inmate. George loved the woman so much that when she fell into the pool he jumped in to save her.

Later that day the nurse came into George's padded cell and said, "I have some good news and bad news for you. I spoke to the head psychiatrist and he thinks that your act to save the woman you love from drowning showed that you had good judgement and that you were of sound mind and you will be released from the hospital and can go home. The bad news is that the woman you love has just hung herself in her cell and is now dead."

Upon hearing this George replied, "Oh no she didn't hang herself, I hung her up to dry because she was all wet. When can I leave?"

Now, as you know I never complain, but...

I was watching an old video yesterday, showing Falkirk playing Dundee when both were striving for promotion from the old 1st division. It was a very good game and this surprised me somewhat, especially as the final score was nil - nil. Very enjoyable but as I watched it I was conscious of how mush more irritable I am these days. It seemed to me I was a lot less contentious then and more at ease with the awful world around me. Now I am always grumbling, and usually with good reason. I may be wrong but sometimes it appears there is nothing worthwhile around me, all is sham and emptiness.

Obviously age is one reason for this, as my young friend Mike S. mentioned on his excellent blog, "Auld Reekie Rants,' only yesterday, and his blog is a 'must read' by the way.The music of today is totally mindless, as opposed to the 'world changing' stuff we heard in the sixties. It was 'Make love not war' and 'Peace brother!,' along with 'Get out of Vietnam!' I have to say there was more tea making than love but hey, that's the story of my life! The 'baby boomers' wanted to change the world and we followed the 'spirit of the air' at that time. It was of course a lie, human nature does not change and the 'Hippy' way would not change that' That spirit lies to each generation, and we were fooled just like the rest! But there was a movement away from commercialism and big business, until it became big business and the commercial side took over. The bands tasted fame and fortune and ended up either rich and famous or drugged out of their eyeballs and or working as bus drivers in out of the way places. Today's generation does not feel so gregarious towards others. The world changing is via 'green issues' and that out of fear of no future or trendiness and concern for sex issues, women's rights, gays and Aids. Again often for selfish motives. But are they not just more honest than we, did we not kid ourselves? What changed in the sixties? A more liberal lifestyle, and a more cynical approach, fine in many ways but while there is more 'freedom' how come there is even more in the way of damaged lives? Common sense replaced by political correctness is another aspect of today's world that irks me. For example one council now bans the word 'brainstorming' as this could upset the mentally defective. Such as the one who came up with the proposal I suppose?

The vile seventies removed the best life changing music and allowed 'pap' to reign. West coast music, so full of life and depth was pushed aside instead 'Abba' with their multi coloured lights dancing around them and their fancy costumes brought empty headed meaningless music back to the fore, not that it had really gone away. The development of music in the sixties had changed everything but in the end the public want 'Bread & Circuses' not quality and something meaningful. Trash sells! Thatchers eighties, which brought mass unemployment for many and riches for some, her friends at least, produced a creature with a very different outlook from those brought up in the austerity and 'Build a new Nation' attitude of the fifties. While we 'Never had it so good' (although we never had it at all!), the present generation have always had it and can see no reason not to have more. The music of the eighties, and then the ghastly nineties, reflected nothing innovative but an awful lot of emptiness. Now we have innocuous music, a nation reared on Soap operas and tabloid headlines, who think poverty is not having everything you want!

I just searched the radio channels for some music to hear in the background, and all is 'pap!' However being Saturday I have found some relief in Radio 3 with its Jazz hour or two. That, I really must say is usually good but tonight is a bit dreary, all big band and talk! My luck of course. There is no point in putting the telly on when it is Saturday, not worth while at all. Hold everything, I was wrong! (Copy that for future reference) there is a friendly featuring Liverpool and some foreign Johnny lot in a minute! Phew! Ah a Polish side, this should be OK then.

As Mike pointed out language has changed. Now we all have our 'in speak' in every job or group of people this is normal. However when this involves 'text speak' I am with Mike. What is this all about? My ten year old bra...great niece, forced me onto 'Bebo' because it was her way of communication. Her mother also joins in (whether to watch over her or the other way about I am not sure) and both use text speak! I have to read things three times to work out what they are saying! Well, except when I am rude about 'Jared Leto' their latest hero. (Who is he anyway?) I have become convinced that soon we will return to a use of hieroglyphics as this will be all the brats of the future can understand - pictures and not words! Blogging will be a nightmare then!

But there is hope! 'Stand Free' the Aberdeen Mad football messageboard has a policy of banning text speak. This is to be commended, even if their teams abysmal showing against lower division Peterhead is to be warmly gloated over. Imagine losing four nil - yes 4-0 - to a wee team like that! Ho Ho! Anyway they ban text speak which, while a very good idea, is somewhat diluted by their insistence of speaking the 'Doric!' You see, in the North East of Scotland their version of 'Scots' has grown up with its own influences. Norse words from all those nasty Vikings, Scandinavian influence from the fishing, and general trade with Northern Europe has allowed a different development of language there than say in Edinburgh, where we actually have no accent whatsoever. Friends of mine from Aberdeen talking on the phone to similar folk are totally unintelligible to me.

For instance :
'Fit' is used instead of 'what.'
'Fit's fit and far's the paper?' Means, believe it or not, 'What's what and where is the newspaper?'

'Ftf did that cum fae?' I wonder if you would be so kind as to inform of where that arrived from?

"Yer nae worth yer saat" - You, sir, are ill-deserving of the wages that you command

“Wheeesht min skitterspoot” 'Keep quiet you!'

'Haud yer wheest and stop spikkin keech!' 'Be quite and stop talking rubbish.' I hear this often..

We will not attempt to translate 'dookers!' until I am better informed!

However maybe the 'culture' of the day may not be what makes me grumble. Age may play its part, especially when confronting the emptiness of fashionable life, maybe in the end I am just an old git? Some things never change I suppose.......

Summertime Means Rain!

I am glad I live in the 'driest county' of this country! Had I remained in Edinburgh I would be subject to almost two days rain out of three, but here we have the lowest rainfall in the whole of the UK, or so they say!

Farmers constantly appear on local TV News bemoaning the lack of rain yet the following item will feature miserable holiday makers complaining about the weather! Some folks are never happy!

However it has been very warm in recent days and a few days of normal weather will not do us much harm, unless we happen to be postmen or such like. Today I cycled the ageing bike up and down the old rail line. This was enjoyable as with a drizzle doing its best to spoil the day few were around. I managed to enjoy watching the ducks in the stagnant pond, I knew it was stagnant as they wore gas masks, and spend a few minutes listening to the wildlife singing, cawing or chasing each other up and down the trees around. Simple pleasures but I enjoyed them. By the time I reached home via the simpler type of driver (why do they drive vehicles spouting blue smoke?) and avoided those who park lorries at just the wrong spot, the drizzle was attempting to become rain. It has rained on and off, spoiling the golf, if a game so boring can be spoiled, and causing Colin Montgomery to use words only fit for footballer, soldiers and schoolchildren.

But there is a good side to all this bad weather, I am inside!

Another Day Driving

You will notice there is no instructor in this photo. I eventually got him back in the car with the help of two 'white van drivers' and a farmer. It was not easy I must say. Had we not gagged him his screams may have deafened me before I got past that village with the milk float in a shop window - well it was by the time I got through the village. Anyone can mistake the accelerator for the brake surely?

Anyhow I managed to make it back after two hours of country roads, small towns and some villages. The history buff may be one who is able to understand why roads bend in such a twisted way, but I was not able to work that out, especially at left hand turns of 90% on several occasions. However such bends, in spite of those who park just beyond them, are preferable to the small towns filled with heavy traffic and zebra crossings. I never appreciated just how many different directions needed to be observed when going downhill through a busy town centre. I did gleam that many of the country folks are into in breeding, either that or Halstead has been taken over by aliens. Why should so many folks look identical otherwise? It appears they all need to cross the road at the same time also!

Now I wonder just who decided we need to push down the clutch, change gear, brake, accelerate and turn right while avoiding a woman on the...bonnet, oops, she is off now, all at the one and the same time? Surely these people ought to be kept well away from the roads? Especially when I am passing! However I only stalled once today, after enduring a horrid one way system which he deliberately did not mention we would endure. Just as well!

However we survived, the man is now 'Comfortable' as the hospital nurse said, and I will do it all again next week, but I think we had better find a different route. The council up that way may not want any more of those bent road signs.......

Sat Staring at the Wall

Here I am sitting staring at the wall. Saturday afternoon has arrived and I have nothing to say and less to report. Where did the week go? Did anything happen? On Monday I noticed there was a long list written out awaiting my gentle touch, it is still there, waiting.

Actually some things have been done, attendance at the Dole to meet a bullying woman who attempted to give me a positive attitude. "Don't say 'Fail' when a job has turned you down, be positive!" she said. "OK," said I, "I am positive I failed there." She did not respond positively to this in my view. I also reported to the man who signs me on, and mentioned the bully. A somewhat vile grin crossed his face at this, he has known her for many years! His constant chuckling for the next twenty minutes were unnecessary in my view. Whether he accidentally mentioned 'Jackboots' I could not work out.

My main action was the second driving lesson that I undertook on Monday. In 1972 I almost took driving lessons as they were about to increase in price from £2 to £2:50. I did not have the cash, and then no cash and no time. In London I obtained a provisional licence and then discovered I could not afford lessons there although I did have a small Suzuki motorbike for a while. These Japanese things fall apart easily don't they? Anyway, as I could make Marble Arch in twenty mins walking at that time I decided against it. Learning to drive in London did not scare me much, it was just the other cars and those driving them that worried me. Now out here, where in some regards it is still 1964, I find cars are a necessary. Just to get away from the folks around me! It is also a requirement to drive in most jobs these days, merely to get to them. For reasons beyond my limited comprehension there are a vast number of small companies which have decided to base themselves miles from anybody else, either on disused airfields or farm buildings, or deliberately at a distance from human society. Possibly it is cheaper to rent the building but the cost of transport must equalise that!

So I drove along bendy country lanes, failing to work out how to change gear, push down the clutch and brake at the same time whenever a junction came upon us. Two hours of that and I was worn out for the day. The instructor muttered something about being tired out also from his position in the back seat. I should point out he did not intend to sit there but just outside of Thaxted I made a slight mistake and that's where he ended up. I hope that farmer and his tractor got out all right in the end. Do the 'AA' deal with farm machinery?

However, those small intrusions apart nowt else has occurred. I walked up to the far end of town and back down the old railway line passing occasional sweating joggers and lonely women with dogs and suspicious looks,the women not the dogs. I trailed through the shopping centre wondering why women find these places so entrancing. If there were shops selling worthwhile stuff it would be OK, but it is so mundane, and there are at least six charity shops. Now that is fine as that is where I look for books, although the cretins in this backwater tend to read vast quantities of empty headed wimmens fiction and little else. Occasionally I come across a beauty, the last was John van der Kiste's 'Kaiser Wilhelm II' which was a worth while read although a bit too concise I thought. Did he really start the Great War because he was an imperialist bully, or was he just a weak man easily led by his officer corps who, like the French, wanted war? I go for the latter as with or without the Kaiser war was inevitable with the imperial and patriotic pride that coursed through everyone's veins at that time. There are few books available usually, maybe I should try a Rosalind Pincher or a Margaret Atwood and see how I react? I suspect I will be inspired to get a Kalashnikov and run riot through the streets removing those who read such stuff from the world.

I have looked at houses on the web as this is the time to buy one. It's not that I have any money but I foolishly bought a Lottery ticket and am now indulging in those dreams of what it would be like to possess things again. Now I am not claiming to worship Mammon or anything like that but think of the good you could do with all that money - from that island in the Mediterranean that I would buy with it - would be a blessing to many folks. It would of course also be nice not to live off the nation, and be able to pay back what I take out, and that is a guilt trip for some of us, it would of course be good to be rich rather than handsome for a change. What did you say at the back there?

Ah money, that reminds me I had better wander round to the market, it will be closing now and the left overs will be getting sold of cheap and other greedy folk will be picking up all the damaged veg and fruit before I get there. Selfish I calls them! Then I can come back and stare at the wall and try and think of something worth writing.

Christian Registrar Wins Equality

A registrar of many years standing was abused and mistreated by those around her because she refused to participate in 'Gay Marriage' ceremonies. "An employment tribunal found that the council showed no respect for Ms Ladele’s rights “by virtue of her orthodox Christian beliefs”.
She was 'treated like a pariah by those around her' and all because she refused to bow to the pressure from the 'Homosexual Mafia.'

This must be the first time in years that the 'gay lobby' has been unable to force its prejudice onto an employment tribunal. A victory for common sense and justice but one which has brought the homosexual groups, and there are lots of them it seems, out complaining about 'discrimination!' It appears they can discriminate against others but that's OK. You will remember that a while back a vicar in Wiltshire (?) pointed out that homosexuals could be healed and the chief constable no less wanted to charge him with 'homophobia!' What a strange world we now live in.

In the late sixties homosexual behaviour was no longer criminalised. What folks got up to in their own home was their affair. Today it has been turned on its head. Now we are forced to accept homosexual behaviour as 'normal' and to disagree makes an individual a criminal! Yet the public as a whole do not see the absurdity in this. Folks private life ought to be their own affair, but so are their religious beliefs. If one is allowed why not the other? The reason for objection is the Christian (and other religions) indicating that lesbian and gay acts are unnatural and abnormal. The response is one of hate from gay rights organisations. No democratic right to a differing opinion, just loud condemnation of those who dare to disagree. It is noticeable that this story appears in the 'Times,' but does not appear to have reached the BBC as yet, I wonder why?

Are homosexuals born this way or does life change them as time passes? Yes and no is the answer. I am convinced that many are indeed born with this unfortunate slant, but most are drawn into it by something in their upbringing. Abuse, strident mother, incidents when young, who can tell how folk react to difficult situations as a child. Nonetheless the Christian view is that this is wrong as it destroys the individual and Jesus wants this changed. he came to bring life and why should someone lose out because of their individual perversion, and lets face it, we all have or are tempted to one or two are we not? There is no difference between the adulterer or the homosexual, the thief or the liar, all are sinners just like you and me. Jesus, whether you like it or not wants to bring us life, and will insist we walk his way to get it! He condemns none, neither should we, but neither should we accept that which destroys as normal!

BBC Breakfast TV

Maybe it's just me, but I have this daft notion that BBC Breakfast TV in the morning should be bringing us 'news!' I am happy when the ITV breakfast programme shoves tales of rape and hospital blunders, soap opera stars failed marriages and mediocre celebs lifestyles down our throat as I expect this from them and don't tune in. However I expect the best journalists in the world to be trailing the news that is happening world wide, not bringing us tales of rape, and hospitals, celebs and other puerile garbage! Yet it seems this is all we are capable of watching in the morning, or is it just that the 'public service broadcaster,' paid for by my licence fee, is concerned only with ratings and not 'news!'

For a long time now I have listened to the BBC World Service, not officially available in the UK, for proper news. Here we can be informed, properly, about what is going on in the world. I accept that even here they have dumbed down with far too many 'light' stories and the blight of the BBC, 'trailers!' However at least we can understand the world and have some clear idea of what is happening out there. Today the BBC business man is pretending he is an Air Traffic Controller, which is interesting in itself but has little to do with the business news. A wee girl, again, complaining about 'road rage,' and yet more stories about someones health problems! I'm sorry, I realise these are important at one level but I DON'T WANT TO KNOW! Sure they have a place, but the main news must be Iran and Israel playing at sabre rattling. I would have thought that the possibility of Israel attacking Iran slightly more important on the world stage than a lass being shouted at by a 'white van driver?' There is the possibility that one day Sian Williams (who I am happy to have do my ironing for me if she wishes) will announce a hold up in some maternity ward, a film star abusing staff at an airport, and a one line note on World War Three beginning, and unthinkingly add " and now the weather....."

I realise that the majority of the nation want dumb stuff, that is what ITV and Sky are for, but some of us want a bit more, as long as the like of Sian are on show anyway. Even there most women watching are just complaining (out of jealousy) about her outfit, not what she is saying.

Hooray! VCR Works!

My technical ability has come to the fore once more. Yes indeed, these paws which can break any device known to man has for once got a technical object into working order.
This is indeed an event! It has taken so long to get this thing working again, just, that folks no longer know what it is! Kids think video belongs in the Victorian age and only folk born before colour television remember what a VCR is.

However tonight I got out an old video of Hearts v Rangers (bad referee, bad pitch and jammy goal) which followed this up with a couple of old Open University programmes and a documentary on the real 'Dambusters.' How delightful and very relaxing to watch programmes with some interest instead of the constant diet of 'pap' which fills the screen these days. If this old boy keeps going (the VCR not me) then I will be able to fill up the time with some of the programmes from the past that lie there staring me in the face. (I really should move them) Mostly old football videos Scotsport and Sportscene (or Rangers and Celtic as they are better named) from the eighties and nineties. Lots of documentaries on interesting things like war and history. You now there is nothing more relaxing while stuffing your dinner down your throat than to watch a few thousand daft lugs blown each other apart in the cause of peace. Great viewing. The alternative is to watch some soap opera in which one woman is dumped by nasty man, another uses someones husband, the bad boy steals from the hero, and several other slag one another off for no good reason!
And they wonder why the nations youth behave as they do?

Anyway, tomorrow I look at the other broken things, the washing machine, the...hold on, lets not be daft. I think I will hold where I am at the moment and let the rest wait until I am ready. The vision of gallons of soapy water soaking through the floorboards is not one I wish to endure.

Tennis!

Quite what folks get out of watching tennis for hour after hour I do not really know. The sight of two big black Yankee women slugging it out yesterday was so irksome to me I went looking for a woman who wanted to talk about her baby! What a waste of grass tennis is.

Today I actually found myself watching the Men's Final. The last time I did this I think Rod Laver won and that was before I was born! However, in between writing begging letters today, and in between the stoppages for rain, I actually got hooked for a while on these two 'stars' of the game.

The women in the crowd, and this is a women's game, not that they play it well but they certainly like watching the men play it well, the women were getting very excited and taking sides as their man first looked a dead cert winner, then found himself on the ropes. Some of them have not been that excited since their man bought that new car - which they have commandeered! It was actually a very good match. It had folks on the edge of their seats, unsure who would win to the very last ball - if that makes sense - and for many the best game they will ever see. I actually enjoyed what I saw of it, and felt the best man lost. Not that he was the better player, just that the Spaniard looked a right miserable git, and I hate folk like that.........

The Nights are Drawing in!

I just realised that it got quite dark in here last night. I thought this was because of the cloud cover but tonight the sky is clear and it has become dim indeed indoors. There is no doubt about it, the nights are drawing in already!

June the 21st is in my book the best day of the year as the light lasts longer than at any other time. However it also means that from then on the daylight lasts that little bit less, and tonight I see a murkiness that will gradually deepen until late December.

How depressing this is.

Two nights ago the sun shone through the trees brighter than the street lamp and it's awful orange glow. Tonight the sun has gone and the light stands alone, apart from the beasties that flutter around all night. The sky itself remains a deep blue but indoors a gloom covers everything, and no, I don't mean me. A light needs to be switched on, this costs money, the atmosphere changes, sometimes for the better, and it's harder to see the keyboard in the dark! Never mind, I suppose it will soon be Spring again!

Fifty Seven Today

Despair, despondency, gloom, melancholy, hopelessness, dejection. All these burden me this morning. I awake to skies covered in gray clouds, a slow dismal rain edging down painfully from above. A listlessness that once I thought fit only for Grandpa Broon in the Sunday Post grips me. Sluggishly I wander through from the west wing and ponder the day ahead.

Today I will note how not only are the policemen younger than they once were, so are grandmothers, although round here that may not mean too much of course. The traffic will be faster than yesterday, the pop music will be totally unintelligible and the stuff the kids talk about will be less so. However, once again that may not mean too much. Rude cards may arrive later, you know, the ones with a picture of a hill covered in little animals and the question, 'Which one are you?' on the front. Inside it reads, 'Your the one that's over the hill!' As she pushes the cards through the letterbox I will hear the postgirl muttering, 'Next time its one from the queen!' Although of course she has never liked me since she rejected my advances and I remarked 'Well your mother liked it!' Had there been a cake I suspect someone would organise the local firemen to turn out 'just in case.' And they are much younger than me also!

I look at the list of things to do, job hunt, exercise, lumbago ointment, and begin to despair again. I would say, 'I am not old, just mature.' But far too many folk have disagreed with me too often on that point to bother trying it. So I will sit here and wonder where all those years have gone. When was 1978 and that good thing happened? The things I wanted to do, the places to visit, the hope. The energy I had in my thirties, he future I planned, where did it all go and how did I end up here in the back of beyond......?

Who said 'Rejoice in all situations, I say again, rejoice?' Well you can get stuffed! If you want me I will be howling at the moon.

1st July 1916

On the first day of July at seven thirty precisely thousands of British soldiers got up out of their trenches to begin the 'big push' that they hoped would soon end the war. Nine out of ten of these battalions were 'Kitchener's New Army' battalions. There were fears they would not be good enough for the 'Territorials' so Kitchener had to call them the 'New Army.' Most had volunteered in the heady emotional days of 1914 desperate not to miss the excitement of a short European war. By now they realised just how 'real' war differed from the imaginary.

For over a week the guns had been shelling the enemy trenches. More than a million and a half shells had headed towards the Germans and hopes among many were high, success in some minds appeared inevitable. The long blister educing marches, the combat training, learning how to dig trenches, understanding the army and its many peculiar ways, and most of all quickly understanding that the British soldier is better than any other at moaning about his lot, yet just gets on and does it well! All this had been suffered over the past year or so, and now it was going to be put into practice. Few had any experience of trench life let alone war. Most were enthusiastic about the adventure but apprehensive about how they would behave in action. All feared the bullet with 'their name on it.'

As the shelling stopped they stood in the trenches crowded together as they had been all night, many sleeping standing up. With the taste of strong army rum in their mouths, expect for the chap lying on the ground being kicked by the Sergeant Major for drinking too much and having passed out, the watched the sun rise in the blue sky and listened for the sudden silence. At seven twenty eight the mines dug under the German front line exploded. There was a sudden trembling under the feet, the earth began to shake quite violently in some places and then, erupting like a volcano and spewing earth, and sometimes men, hundreds of feet into the air the result of sixty thousand pounds of amonal explosive appeared. The noise was deafening and high above spotter aircraft were thrown about as the air swept past them. Two minutes later the men attacked.

Now a great deal of planning had gone into this operation. The French being 'bled dry' by Von Falkheneins army at Verdun were desperate for a united Anglo-French attack to relieve pressure on them. Haig had insisted on attacking at Ypres over well known ground, but Joffre the French commander wanted an attack in the Somme region. Haig had no choice but to agree, reluctantly, to attack over what he saw as difficult ground. The plans were laid and much effort was put into training the men involved. They listened eagerly as this was the reason for their enrolment and they were not intending to fail. Morale was high.

In 1914 many had derided the 'sportsmen' of the land for not rushing to the colours when war was declared. Many wrote indignant letters to the press demanding 'sport' should be stopped and all players enlisted. Women, with no idea about war other than a romantic one, gave out white feathers in the street in an attempt to embarrass men into enlisting. Football players in particular were subjected to abuse with many demanding the League was stopped until wars end. In November 1914 the Heart of Midlothian first team squad enlisted. This brought to an end the debate about football and sport in general being played during the war. The announcement of their joining the colours brought others from Raith Rovers, Falkirk and Hibernian to join them, along with over a thousand other citizens. The Mossend 'Cowpunchers' as Mosend Burnvale F.C. were known enlisted en masse. Many of them destined never to return. They took their place with the rest on this fateful day.

The problem, as any general will tell you, with plans is a simple one, they always fall apart the minute the battle begins. The end of the shelling followed by the mines erupting indicated to the surviving Germans, hidden deep underground in well constructed shelters, that the attack was on. The two minutes between the mines going off was sufficient for them to place the machine guns at the ready and prepare for defence. As the men clambered out of their trenches and made their way through their own wire the defenders sent up coloured rockets asking for artillery aid. The attackers then found themselves subject to intense machine gun, rifle and artillery barrage. From all sides the seemingly destroyed enemy were firing at them. Those that made it to the enemy wire found that most of it had remained intact, the shells that had fallen were either dud or incapable of cutting wire. The tac-tac of machine guns, the crack of falling shells mixed with the screams of the wounded and shouting men. Confusion reigned everywhere.

In the southern attack some distance was achieved and enemy trenches captured and held, however further north little advance was made. The footballers of George McCrae's battalion,* the 16th Royal Scots, did manage to find a place in the enemy line they held on to. This small group comprising the four regiments in the brigade and stragglers from elsewhere, fought a lonely hard battle yet managed to keep the ground taken. Others continued the advance and reached the target of Contalmaison only to be taken prisoner. One of the few successful advance in that part of the line. Possibly the furthest advance of any brigade that day. Their division, the 34th, suffered over eighty percent casualties on the first of July. The Tyneside Irish being wiped out! Making the footballers effort all the more remarkable.

Just under sixty thousand casualties fell that day, almost twenty thousand dead. Three Hearts players died, and several were severely injured. The nation suffered it greatest ever defeat at that time. The Heart of Midlothian never recovered from the effects of the war on their playing staff and the potential Championship side were regarded by the whole of Scotland as winners in a differing sense after the war. Those who demanded others 'go,' rarely went themselves, few made much effort to aid the returning wounded, and some would say in that respect life for those who served has not changed all that much, has it?



Jack Alexander's excellent book 'McCrae's Battalion' tells the story of these men. It covers the Edinburgh story leading up to and through the war, and what happens to the survivors. For those interested in the Great War, Edinburgh or the Heart of Midlothian this book is a 'must read!'

The N.H.S. is 60 Years Old Today

Celebrate! The National Health Service is sixty years old today. The much maligned service, without which thousands among us would be either crippled or dead, was the greatest innovation of the Labour government of 1945. Opposed by those who could afford to pay and coasting much more at the time than expected, surely this fantastic service has been the greatest boon to the nation since the war?

Over the years we have come to take it for granted. We expect to be healed, no matter what is wrong with us. We cannot understand when the NHS fails. We have come to expect too much and we carelessly abuse it too often. However, the health of the nation changed after the war. Free powdered milk for mothers, free prescriptions and the ability of many to obtain glasses and dentists that once were beyond them is a joy we cannot now relate to. However it was not unknown in the twenties and thirties for newly weds to be given a gift, of a trip to the dentist to have all their teeth out and false ones fitted. This was so they could avoid painful and expensive dentist trips in the future! Unthinkable today - even allowing for the lack of NHS dentists in some places. While prescription costs have risen, and attitudes change overall the free inoculations for kids and inexpensive ones for adults, have kept us healthy, apart of course from our disgustingly bad eating, smoking and drinking habits. Drug abuse comes under another category - stupidity!

In spite of the rising costs, in spite of what the Tory press call the 'Postcode Lottery,' in spite of Thatchers disgusting attempt to introduce an American style system that only the lower middle class could support, and in spite of many failures the National Health Service remains the envy of the world. Only the greed of the insurance companies and the medical world stop it being introduced into the USA, and in the early fifties there was an attempt to do just that. Somehow it could not progress although I cannot remember the president who attempted this. We should spend less time complaining about the NHS and more time being grateful to live at a time that such medical care is available for us today!

Sunshine

Today, after I had spent a while on what is laughably called my 'Get Fit' routine, I wandered across to the public gardens to sit in the sunshine and read my book. Some selfish, thoughtless pair of individuals had taken my usual bench, as if it was there for anybody to use, and were wasting their time instead of doing something useful for society. I do not understand how some folks get away with it, I really don't!

Anyway as I was lounging here in the sun I decided to sneak a pic of a wonderful scene. Behind me in the bright green conifer some small bird was chirping, and little ants were meandering across the bench, and me, searching for fodder. For once the squirrels kept their distance and only a pair of blackbirds came near. The benches to my right each contained one person intent on pretending no-one else lived in this overcrowded world. Indeed each and every person you meet in the gardens works on the basis that greeting a passerby , especially a male, could lead to leprosy or the plague being passed on.naturally with such nervous folks around I always say 'hello,' and leer kindly.

The quietness of the great green slab in front was broken only by the two distant dim (well they appear to be students) figures soaking up the sun and recovering from a needless hangover. And quiet it was today. usually there are a crowd of neds lying around noisily, and even the kiddies were further away in the shade of the trees behind the empty tennis courts. Only the occasional few minutes girning was heard when the brats ran off in my direction and whined when brought back by the brutal mother in charge. The rest of the place stayed quiet.

In the far distance, not visible in the picture stands the war memorial. Thirty or so feet high it contains the names of over two hundred souls lost in the great war and those who died in the second. In such situation as today's I often compare the tall structure and it's imposing silence with the sights and sounds that greeted those who's lives are commemorated there. Clerks and shopkeepers, factory hands, skilled and unskilled, volunteers and conscripted, how they would have liked to be sitting here in the gardens instead of lying under some strange foreign soil. Most with little real idea of where they actually were when they met their end! The sun drenched grass with the distant sound of a child's laughter contrasts with the muddy brown shell holes of Picardy. In summer they too would have been bothered by bees and other beasties crawling all over them as they stood on sentry duty and stared into a bleak empty nothingness. Rats of course would have bothered them less than the lice that never seemed to leave them and which took up so much of their free time burning off with cigarettes and pipes. Their lives, ended by loud callous shell fire or rattling machine gun, amid noise and confusion is forgotten by most who sit there in the sun.

Of course, whatever the rights and wrongs of the wars and how they came about, without those men we could not sit here in the silence. Political mistakes and selfish ambition, Empire building and jealousy of another's possession, madness and folly all combined over the years to leave us with a twentieth century of pain and woe. Was it all necessary? No. Could it have been avoided? Yes. But if so another war would have taken its place. Human nature is like that. The men looking down from those great slabs full of names can be happy that this gardens pleasure is one folk can enjoy because of their sacrifice. Had they not fallen the jackboot would sooner or later remove such pleasures from most of us. They did not die in vain.

Euro 2008

Well it's nearly over! Soon I will be able to get to my bed without worrying about extra time and penalty kicks keeping me awake. Last night Spain reached the final of this tournament by beating the Russians by three goals to nil, and well deserved it in the end. Hopefully the somewhat boring, but effective, Germans will be trounced by the fast moving Spanish. Most folks appear to agree that Spain produces the best league in the world, the best players in the world and the best failures in the world! For far too long this country has failed to succeed in such tournaments, at times making Scotland's achievement look great! Now however they have an excellent opportunity to bring home a trophy that such a footballing nation deserves. Few will begrudge them their success.

Euro 2008 has so far been a rousing success. The attitudes have on the whole been very good. Most sides have attempted to play football and not just win at all costs. The refs have been far better than in previous tournaments, and there has been some exciting and dramatic results. Turkey winning by three goals to two after being two down must be one of those! Altogether there can be few complaints about the tournament as a whole.

It is a shame that the same cannot be said for the commentary inflicted on the UK populace. In any contest between ITV and BBC it is inevitable that the Beeb will come out on top. So much so that this Sunday ITV have decided not to show the game live! An admission that the vast majority of football fans will be watching BBC. The question here is will ITV therefore improve their football offerings? I doubt it. The same bland muppets in the studio, the same advert dominated coverage, the same appalling Clive Tyldesley. It would not take much to improve this but they seem happy with tabloid coverage and small audience following. After the last World Cup it was clear they were well behind the BBC and Tyldesley was one of the major reasons for this. He is still here, are they mad or on a suicide mission? Only John Diamond and David Pleat showed any understanding of either the game being watched or the folks tuning in. Well done to them.

The BBC are indeed much more professional. Fair to say they do not have the constant breaks for bad adverts, but they have now inserted trailers for their own 'upcoming' coverage of sporting events which are just as irritating and needless. However the stuffed dummies in the studio are far better than those provided, at great expense, by ITV. Hansen, in spite of being a 'Tomb Tabard' has covered the games reasonably well. Even Alan Shearer, a man with all the personality drained out of him, has almost made a joke on occasion, and the much derided Linekar has never seemed to fail in my eyes. 'The boy done good' as they say.

However there is one real cause for complaint throughout the tournament. England! From the first John Motson has attempted to bring 'England' into everything. The Turkish winger, brought u in Leytonstone, was mentioned so often because he had an English connection. Any excuse, the club an individual played for, any link to a Premiership club in the tabloids, the place he bought his shirts, anything was used constantly to bring England into the tournament the failed dismally to reach. The fact that Russia and Croatia had made it through to the next round showed that 'England had lost to quality sides.' No England were crap and got stuffed by quality sides John! And as for Clive and his hero worship of Ronaldo, well how many times were Man U mentioned during Portugal's games? More than Portugal were I imagine. Tyldseley only knows two sides, Man U and Engerland, no-one else counts. Now had this been broadcast in England it could be ignored, however this stuff was sent throughout the United Kingdom, so Scots, Welsh and Northern Irish were forced to suffer the insufferable English self praise.

I suppose I could write to the self obsessed 'Equalities' minister Harriet Harman and demand action and ask that in future Scotland, Wales, and Northern Irish connections should be shoved down folks throats also but she will probably be doing her hair or counting the number of women in her department. I wonder, if she finds there are more women than men, more whites than blacks or browns, will she replace them with men, black or otherwise? I suspect not.