Sunny Sunday Afternoon

I decided to walk the two miles up to the village today, then realised how far uphill that was and took the bike instead. Dressed for October I discovered the sun thought it was August. Quite why it thought August was October it did not bother to explain, I find the weather is like that around here!

The 'Sunday drivers' were out today. I discovered how thick the paint on several cars happened to be as I zigzagged my way west. The jacket I wore was excellent at keeping the chill of the wind, noticeable when going down the hill at 12 miles an hour, and even better at keeping the heat in when struggling up the other side and just over snails pace per hour. All part of my weight loss programme I lied to myself. Naturally, the one set of traffic lights in the vicinity decide to change to red just when my old velocipede and I arrive there. It must be said I had by this time no reason to apply brakes! As my foot hit the ground, and I looked all around me to see no vehicles in sight, the lights change and off I start, bouncing over the holes that are never filled in and just avoiding a car that appeared from nowhere!

I noted the one Indian restaurant in the place and wondered if there was any part of the UK, or the British isles at that, which do not contain at least one of these places? The British these days live on Indian or Chinese takeaways. Curry, in it's many forms has become the number one dish among the populace. So much so that some restaurateurs make fools out of us. One enterprising chap, in Sheffield I believe, decided to start selling 'Balti Curry,' and it became a national dish. years later I discovered that 'Balti' simply means 'Bucket!' Most of the folks here remain in peaceful ignorance of this, not that they would care if told of course.

Further up I passed the typical English village pub, into which I have never ventured, and noticed folks sitting at the tables outside, something never done in Scotland. I found this strange when I ventured south in days of yore, as Scots pubs had frosted glass windows and severely closed doors. As kids we would attempt to peer through the cracks and work out what was happening until some gent informed us of our need for a belting! Down south people regularly stood around outside drinking, I was amazed! Of course, a form of Calvinism and the ten degrees of colder, much colder, weather were the reasons behind this. Keep the drinking hidden and keep the drinkers warm being the order of the day. The drunks seen on the streets in all towns and cities were of course seen there in the past. However it had not become a media story, and most of the media were in the middle of it then anyway. I suspect they still are. One pretty lady lounging at the table did glance in my direction. Failing to interpret my look as 'Give us a drink luv,' she instead gave me a look mixed with ridicule and contempt, mostly contempt. This, along with her large half filled cider glass, her blond hair and scowl, reminded me of two others of my acquaintance, both up north and probably indulging in similar activities as I went on my merry (?) way.

In the course of time I reached my objective and headed for the old railway line. I hesitated as I approached as I noticed it was very busy with cyclists pedalling past and Essex girls pushing prams. (Are you sure you are 16 dear?) However I joined them and began the lovely slow (If the brakes work) descent homewards. I say slow but was fascinated by the number of men, often in their forties, who were pedalling furiously downhill! These nutters have a need to wear shorts when on a bike, the English have this abnormal desire for wearing shorts, if the sun shines get out the shorts even if it is freezing, they reckon if the sun is out it is warm! Something not right with such folk I say. However, while they exercise at speed I meander along, enjoying the birdies singing, the sun dappling the trees, "Praise God for dappled things", the dogs ignoring everything bar the smells found around them, and the pretty girls doing their best to ignore me as I pass. Lovely all round I say as I talk to myself on the journey.

Naturally I now sit here with aching muscles slowly stiffening while I wonder how a short time ago I had little problem cycling up and down these slopes, especially the down ones. Soon I will have to choose between walking outside to ease the knees or stuffing my fat face with whatever I can find in my neighbours dustbins and call it 'curry.' I think I know what will win, and it will not have any cider to go with it.

Ach Well

Another international, another excuse to despair. What is it about Scotland that we can beat France and shake Italy yet fail against Macedonia and Norway? Scotland v Norway was another story of effort with no cutting edge, desire with no ability, and tactics that failed. Now Norway are no pushovers, they posses many top quality, experienced players. However we did not really have the cutting edge we needed. The man from Coatbridge may have missed the easiest chance, and not the worst miss ever in spite of what the media are saying, but the strikers were not given the chances to miss were they? Wrong to play one up front, wrong to give to much respect to Norway and wrong to have defenders who find it difficult to pass the ball forwards or indeed to one of their own!

We could revel in our despair, and Scots do enjoy that after a defeat, but we are faced with the nigels lucky win against a vibrant Kazakhstan. This youthful side came to Wembley and chose to ignore ITVs commentators description of their pride in playing there. Instead they took the game to England knowing that an early goal would lead their hosts to implode. Sadly they failed in this endeavour. The visitors gave their all and in the course of time showed the English defence for what it was, as shaky as a jelly on a skateboard. However it held firm enough until the visiting goalie, their poorest player, floundered at a cross. A second fluke goal followed and while Kazakhstan obtained a deserved goal England ran out winners by five goals to one. The tired visitors neither overawed and a credit to their nation - wherever it is!

So it is the worst of all worlds, they win, we fail. Beating a small side will bring eulogies from the English media and talk of Walcott as a second George Best - except he was Irish, and a class above the wee lad. Scots press louts will concentrate on attacking George Burley until he is named the next Rangers manager. Then of course he will be admired widely. As I watched today I wondered how many times have I seen this type of result? Hundreds of times I thought, both for the Scotland national side and the Heart of Midlothian. I suppose there are millions worldwide like me. Huddled over radio or burning TV set, crying out, advising the numpty on the ball as to what he ought to do with it, blaming the ref, the grass, the ball, everybody, and desperate beyond belief to be the one on the field who can put things right. The sad truth is that while only eleven men can run around kicking the enemy, we can only dream of being there. And sadly it is true that all too often we wonder if my granny could do better than a player who is earning untold thousands each week, and she died in 1945, sad because we would play for nothing, indeed we would pay for the privilege!

Ach well, it could be worse - I could be English, and I wouldn't wish that on my worst enemy!

Group 9 (Group Nine) Table

Group 9 Table - October 11 2008

Pos	Team	P	Pts
1	Scotland	3	4
2	Netherlands	1	3
3	Macedonia	2	3
4	Norway	2	2
5	Iceland	2	1

The Fifties

Recently some fellow bloggers have been sickening me. I will not mention who they are, Kris and dani know their own names anyway, but it suffices to mention that they are both female! And you know what that usually means. One of these girls posted about growing up in the seventies as if it was a long time ago! I can assure you it is not. The seventies, in my humble view (and I mean humble) were the worst decade of the twentieth century, and I take into account the years 14-18 and 39-45 when I say that. Those war torn days did not produce either 'Abba' or the 'Bay City rollers!' This Kris female thinking this amusing, added to this by asking if they had cars when I grew up! Add to this dani has proceeded to make things worse. She has written about growing up in the eighties! Man alive that's only yesterday! What is the matter with these people! It is hardly history is it? It's a disgrace and I think I will go off into a huff!.

However this caused to me to linger on a gentler era, an era in which I grew up, the fifties. This was a real time of growth for the nation and benevolent wealth for everyone - well except us, we were still poor! Having seen a fantasy world of progress collapse with the Great War, the resultant social change followed by a deep and very real depression, where folks indeed needed soup kitchens to keep them alive, the UK ended up standing alone against Nazi Germany. Fifty years of such suffering meant drastic change was desired after the war, and we obtained this. The National Health Service, the great glory of the Labour Party of 1945, the welfare state, an example to the world and vast housing estates were built, some good some awful. There was a new optimism that, this time, a better, fairer, world would emerge. By the late fifties full employment had arrived, in spite of poor management and obtuse unions. This was something those who lived through the thirties could hardly believe.

Of course, while the west benefited from improvements the rest of the world suffered from the Cold War. Europe may have filled itself with a wide variety of atom and nuclear weapons bent of mutual destruction, but the actual fighting was done elsewhere. Korea saw the first major conflict, won by MacArthur after his arrogant stupidity almost threw it away. Africa and Central America began to find themselves proxy killers for the US or USSR, and both suffer still because for those years of horror. How nice to avoid war at home any fighting in the lands of those we consider of no account. Were we building 'Democracy' I ask? Britain itself, under Anthony Eden made a catastrophic error with the Suez invasion. This brought home to some that the old empire had died and soon afterwards the actual empire began to be dismantled, and about time too!

I was lucky! Around me lay the fear of nuclear war, behind the memories of a conflict that cost fifty million or so lives, but in front of me lay a small wooden fort and a number of 'Dinky Cars.' What was more important than that? While I dressed up as a soldier and marched around the house, with my 'Lone Star' rifle and cowboy outfit (with trousers that didn't fit) on my back, I would stop and listen to 'Listen with mother' or hope for a bottle of orange drink, delivered by the milkman. Playing in the small road outside, there was a major road divided from this by a long green strip planted with a long line of trees, we broke stones against the pavement singing 'Champion the Wonder Horse,' even though I personally, had no idea what that was! We played 'Peevers,' hide and seek, Japs and Commandos, in which we were constantly killed and re-killed, yet without developing into the mass murderers those politically correct types imagine today. We reflected the times, and it did us no harm. I do not think young boys play, or are allowed to play, such games today. This is wrong! Naturally we left the skipping ropes, and bouncing a ball against a wall to the girls. We also suffered divide playgrounds, the boys separate from the lassies and both happier with it. The need to develop separately taken from children to day by those who lack understanding, and , let's be honest, were only ever concerned with the girls and not the boys. The anti male attitude dominates today and has done us no good whatsoever.

While Churchill attempted to prevent a nuclear war, breaking off to inform de Gaulle just what he actually thought of him, I would dance to the 78" records my elder sister brought home. Elvis, Little Richard and Bill Haley were just the stuff to really annoy my folks and make dad wonder why he had fought the war after all. He trained up in the Caingorms to invade Norway, the Germans got there first so he ended up in Hyderabad! He also took part in the Rhine crossing, although as he stated "We waited two days while the armour went over, then we crossed." A hero! The 'Elizabethan Age' we now lived in was all very well but he often wondered, did we have to listen to Johnny Ray, 'Crying?' I listened as I read the 'Beano,' still a favourite, I mean, who else would show a stagnant pond and include ducks wearing gas masks? The other comics never came up to the 'Beano's' heights. Or played on the varnished floorboards at the edge of the living room. While folks are brought up on wall to wall carpet, we could not afford wall to wall lino. Like so many others we varnished the edge of the boards and over the lino placed a small carpet in front of the coal fire. We were informed that if you see green flames in the flames it means there will be snow! Of course it was going to snow, we were in Edinburgh! There was no fridge, no phone then, eventually the gramophone and in 1958 the TV set appeared and changed our life. 'Double you Money' and 'Hancock' the 'Tonight' programme and dim black and white football film from 'Scotsport' became life itself.

Life of course also meant travelling by two buses to school, later, aged nine or ten, walking home along a busy road in a way that would terrify the politically correct saps that insist we need 'hi-vis' jackets just to wander about. I was more afraid of meeting the 'Teddy Boys' from Pennywell Road than from 'ERF' lorries trundling from Leith and heading west. Later my sister married one of those 'Teddy Boy' youths seen lounging in drape jackets, 'slim Jim' ties and 'DA' haircuts in Princes Street. A haircut is something he does not need these days I can tell you!

Playing without a neurotic mother, living on potato soup and sticks of rhubarb instead of MacDonald's, TV sets you had to cross the room to change channel, cars which left oil patches on the road whenever they stopped for more than five minutes, the 'Co-op' dividend that was so important to my mother to make ends meet, and a football team that broke records and won things. Yes indeed folks, this decade saw a Heart of Midlothian side that, not only could score goals and win trophies, but they could actually pass the ball to one another! Ah me, how times change. Edinburgh may have been a soot blackened, rain swept, cold place in the fifties,with trams that trundled noisily through the city, but it was better then, life was slower, and having little folks were more generous. Wealth does not increase happiness and makes you too sophisticated to use a 'hula hoop!'

National Poetry Day

As it is Poetry Day I will share one of the poems that appeared in Edinburgh in the 60's. Those days were full of innovation and experiment and this poem often appeared in publications at that time. I feel that it has left a mark on my psyche.

This wifey,
Carrying her shopping bag in Leith Walk.
I goes up to her and says,
"See wifey, there's the wild Pentlands ahind ye."
She drapped it

Anon

One of the Great Wars forgotten poets is Joe Lee. He served with the 4th/5th Black Watch throughout the war, and while at the time rated alongside the major literary figures of the day was soon forgotten, possibly because a disagreement with the 'Poet Laureate' of the day.

German Prisoners
By Joseph Lee

WHEN first I saw you in the curious street
Like some platoon of soldier ghosts in grey,
My mad impulse was all to smite and slay,
To spit upon you—tread you ’neath my feet.
But when I saw how each sad soul did greet
My gaze with no sign of defiant frown,
How from tired eyes looked spirits broken down,
How each face showed the pale flag of defeat,
And doubt, despair, and disillusionment,
And how were grievous wounds on many a head,
And on your garb red-faced was other red;
And how you stooped as men whose strength was spent,
I knew that we had suffered each as other,
And could have grasped your hand and cried, “My brother!”

However I feel it would be unjust not treat you with one of my own compositions, one which I have sweated over for the last twenty minutes. I have no idea where the topic came from.

Where would we be
Without tea?
How could I cope with the rush of my life if I could not sit down and drink tea?
I can stay awake with coffee,
But fragment when I have too much.
I can go to sleep with cocoa,
But that's not good after lunch.
It's tea that that keeps me going, on and on and on.
It's what makes the nation what it is, tough and wise and strong!
Give me tea then every morning, and more tea every night.
Make it strong and dark and scrumptious and let your eyes be bright.
Use a tea bag hourly and strengthen weakening knees.
Add milk to cool it down folks or drink it up real hot,
Cause if you miss your tea break you will go all to pot.
So stand up for our teabags, salute the stuff God made,
And celebrate our heritage let the teacup be displayed!

Me.

Humour

I was cogitating this morning on how some folks don't understand my humour. In fact friends gave me a 'Dictionary of Cynical Quotations' one time because they felt it fitted. I was surprised as I saw myself as light and cheery, brightening up the world around. I understood then the reason why folks disliked me at work so much, especially the women!

I have to say I like humour. I always have. Before we managed to scrape enough to obtain a 'Ferranti' TV in 1958 the folks would occasionally take my sister and I to the 'Empire' theatre, or maybe Edinburgh's 'Palladium' to see a variety show, those being popular at that time. I can remember laughing all the way through, and folks commentated (kindly) on it round about, though I didn't notice. Until TV arrived we had the gramophone and I would sit and listen to the 'Goon Show' and 'Hancock's Half Hour' on this with my ear up against the speaker. The sound images of the time still remain in my twisted mind. TVs arrival however brought the Marx Bros and their films. Again I found myself in hysterics, although not everyone around me did, at the crazy humour of these men. This kind of comedy stuck in my mind and unfortunately I find it still does. This explains why fellow employees often misunderstand my comments. They live in a 'normal world' where certain standards of behaviour must be obeyed, I am still talking to Neddy Seagoon or Groucho, and this can lead to problems.

Add a further twist in allowing Jesus to get involved and my concerns differ from theirs. Where I tend to be more honest I find great difficulty dealing with the cheats among us, especially when they are the managers. Disagreeing with them and attempting to mime the tale re this like Harpo does not gain me much respect. Ho hum. We are often affected by influences going way back into the days of yore, and do not perceive it all to often. I find it easy to misunderstand the influences on those younger than I because they arose in wealthier times, with different music and humour as they grew. This produces an adverse mind set, and in my humble opinion, my influences were kinder, funnier and better for the world.

So there!

Now, what's on today? Driving lesson and job applications eh. Well, I better get the red nose and funny boots on for the applications ......

Brigadier Mark Carleton-Smith

In an interview the commander of the 16th Air Assault Brigade has said the British public should not expect a “decisive military victory” in Afghanistan. I have news for him, the British public have never expected a 'decisive' or any other kind of victory there. We have been telling him and his political overlords that there was no requirement for 'our boys' to be getting killed there in the first place. Why are we there? To find bin Laden, to defeat the Taliban, to bring 'democracy?' What rot! We are wasting our men for American hegemony and a proposed oil pipeline. We will not find bin Laden, who has less influence than ever. There is no chance of ever defeating anyone in that land. Alexander the Great was the last man to achieve this and he did not hang about, which was just as well as those who did got bumped off. The British attempted this in the late 18th century and were roundly defeated, the Soviets foolishly thought modern weapons could defeat men on the ground. They were wrong!

Now for no good reason we are losing our men instead of rebuilding a broken land, a pipe dream if ever there was one. The 'democratic' government shows all the usual corruption, the idea that women will ever have equality there is another dream, as is the idea of negotiating with the Taliban. There can be negotiations, some progress will be made but in the end hundreds, if not thousands, of years of history show the folks there will return to fighting amongst themselves.

Instead of dropping bombs made from depleted uranium on innocent men women and children, and then calling them Taliban or terrorists, far better to pull out now and let them sort it for themselves. But of course we cannot do this. There is the proposed oil pipeline that is to run the length of Afghanistan, and this needs protection. The excuse of bin Laden, the Taliban, and even more absurdly, 'democracy,' does not hide their first importance, Bush and Cheney are oilmen and it shows! If he wanted democracy he would support Hamas in the Gaza strip, after all they were democratically elected, and in a fair election at that! He would insist on democracy in Saudia Arabia, and other 'friendly' states that have no such thing. It cannot be forgotten that a democratic election would never had allowed Bush to become president in the first place! Does he care about the Talibans interpretation of Islam? Of course not. It is strict but in accordance with the lives led by Pashtans and others in those mountainous regions. Islam follows the lifestyles of its followers rather than leads them it seems to me.

As for bin Laden, discounting the story that Britain's SAS cornered bin Laden in his hideaway, allowed the Yank forces to move in to grab him, and laughed as they lost him somewhere in the mountains, as that may just be a wonderful rumour, there is no need to get him these days. Of course those who lost friends and shared the shock of 9/11 will desperately hope to catch him and bring him to justice for that attack. I see no chance of that ever happening. He has too many friends, too much money and influence, and too clever. Only oil keeps the forces there. Only Tony Blair's absurd grovelling at the feet of George Bush has led to the death of hundreds of good British soldiers. Only political necessity has allowed them to remain, at great cost, in Helmund province. The Brigadier may well be the beginning of the spin that sees 'our boys' come home for good.

I hope it is.

Amazon

ADVERT (to pay my way)

I had a surprise the other day, a letter from Google Adsense offering me money! This came by letter as I had ignored their e-mails considering them spam, as most of what comes to me happens to be! However the ads shown on the page turned out to have earned me around $11 dollars, which is about £6 in real money. I now await its arrival with joy! Another six portions of 'Flanders Stew' awaits. Glory!

This reminded me of the time I joined Amazon Assoc to earn money from the webpage and discovered that the 'Yahoo Geocities' did not work with the Amazon link. However greed, I mean desire to earn my keep has encouraged me to look this up and add an Amazon link to this page. Now some folks object to these as they feel some use blogs just to make money, as if? However I have decided that with Christmas coming I need the cash and my world wide readership need a way to find those books required for presents. And at this point can I point out that while other gifts may appear precious at the time a book lasts forever! Books change the world, books make people better, books are the most powerful instrument in the world! It is important to add that larger and more expensive goods can be obtained through Amazon also. I can get a bigger cut from these by the way....

In short - make me rich - use the link to spend, spend, spend!

Thank you.

Woeful!

Woeful! That is all that can be said. Luckily I missed the first half of this as I had Flanders Stew to burn, and was content to let Jeff Spelling and his crew keep me in touch. I wish I had not tuned into BBC Scotland to hear the second half. Stupidly I did and was reminded of many, many, far too many boring games, usually played under gray skies darkening and emptying rain on one and all. How many times have I watched the Heart of Midlothian struggle against sides we should beat. This means no disrespect to Kilmarnock, who were the better side today, but the Hearts ought to be able to beat them and all others at home!

The description from the BBC commentator that no one was "...driving them on," brings back memories of last season despair. None of the senior players takes responsibility and plays a captains part. None care that they take the money and don't do the work. No 'heart' for the Hearts it seems. The manager started well but it seems there is little change. There is a danger that if this slide is not halted we will once again be 'bottom six' struggler's alongside Aberdeen!

The picture of Kingston's goal looks good, as do the rest, shame the game sounded poor on the wireless. Excuse me while I go and weep once more.......

Sol Campbell

Portsmouth Football Club have announced that they will be contacting the English Football Association regarding the verbal abuse aimed at Sol Campbell during the recent match versus Tottenham Hotspur. I find this quite surprising. During the game it appears the Spurs fans berated him with 'Racist and homophobic abuse,' or so it is claimed. The police have been asked to investigate and now the English F.A. will insult every one's intelligence with their comments.

Why did this happen? Abuse is normal at football matches, why should this be any worse than that normally associated with football crowds, which after all are often quite unruly. The truth not given in most reports is that Sol Campbell is responsible for all the abuse by his actions. In days of yore Sol was an inspiring centre half for Tottenham Hotspur. He was a crowd favourite and an international class defender. However fans turned against their club captain when he failed to accept a large new contract as his present one neared its end. Rumour spread that he was destined to move to Spurs biggest rivals Arsenal, and indeed he played out his time at Spurs, some claiming he stated he wished to remain there, but moved to Arsenal, a team playing in the Champions League unlike Spurs, earning himself a large signing on fee and , so they say, £100,000 a week! Could you be surprised at the actions of the Tottenham fans? is it not understandable that they should pass on their wrath towards one whom they see as not only traitorous to the club, but one who moved with no fee reaching Spurs at all. The money all went into Sols pocket.

Since then he has been the object of much verbal abuse at each appearance versus Tottenham. This I say is only natural as those who treat the fans badly are rarely forgiven. A love for a football club is not 'love' in the normal sense. True fans do not support the club because it is powerful or even good at what it does. They support it at all times through thick and thin. There can be no doubt that whether attending or watching from a distance a football club takes hold of a mans emotions as little else can. It is not really 'love,' it is a sickness! When the club does well he is happy, when it does badly he is depressed. I once had to spend half an hour of my Monday morning listening to a chap who managed a team in the Edmonton Sunday League. I had to listen because until he had unburdened himself of the previous days game he could not get on with his work - and he was the foreman! Tough, clever man though he was he could not get the game out of his mind. They were top of the league at the time, I am just glad they were not relegation fodder. I would have needed the entire day!

Stories re Sol Campbell's private life began to circulate while at Arsenal. These did not appear in print, so I will leave you to guess, but this affected his time at Arsenal and soon he was on the move, this time to Portsmouth, a move some saw as the end of his career. However he has proved them wrong and he has helped Portsmouth to an excellent position in English football. However he has began to object to the comments made by Spurs fans concerning racism and homophobia. Usually this is understandable, but to my mind he appears unwilling to accept that these things are irrelevant! What is relevant is his behaviour towards Tottenham Hotspur and their fans. Another black player, Jermaine Defoe, also played for Spurs but left the club in good grace, in fact the fans wished him to stay but the club shoved him out. Defoe actually scored on Saturday but came under no abuse for his colour whatsoever. Surely Sol must understand why this is? Was there anti Gay abuse? Is he Gay? Not that I care as his life is his own, but anything in his life will be used against him. I am however not sure our Sol really has a grip on his personal life. From a great distance I wonder what help and advice folks give him.

There is a simple end to this. Sol Campbell now needs to stand up and accept his mistake in treating Spurs and the fans the way he did. By holding his hand up and accepting he treated them badly he begins to right a wrong. Then I suggest, he could take some of the thousands of pound he earns each week and put it back into football. In my view he may well be on anything between £40-90,000 weekly. By putting one weeks wages into youth development at Spurs, or in that area, he would be showing some willingness to make amends for what Spurs fans see as bad behaviour in the past. Others have moved between clubs and donated the signing on fees to such a cause, why should one paid greater sums than most not do the same, then he will have little in the way of problems.

I could be wrong here, I often am, and the abuse, which did not show up on the BBC highlights, may well have been excessive. Fans, like players, have to decide that enough is enough, and as they say today, 'Move on.' What is done is done and I suggest a small act as suggested by Campbell could end such abuse. However he must ask why Defoe and other ex Spurs players do not receive such treatment. He is a great player, and can continue to be for another few years I suggest, and as a man few appear to complain about him in the game itself. However sometimes our faults need us to amend them before we whine to the authorities for help.

Men and thinking go together.

(Stolen from elsewhere, but I have lost the link!)

The Gardens

I wandered around the gardens the other day, an excellent way to commune with nature, except when mothers bring their brats their for exercise of course, and passed the fishpond. Not that long ago the gardener mentioned the committee had plans to clean up the pond and install new fish even although he himself felt this was a waste of cash. I found the pond clean, with most of the Lillie's, plastic bottles, and probably a supermarket trolley or two, removed, and four large and many smaller fish wandering around. Today, on my morning constitutional, I passed by, before the Mums were up, and found the pond empty of fish. Have they died already? Of course it is possible that a heron or some such has passed by and swallowed the lot! But it seems rather strange. I am perplexed.

Now, as you know, I am not one to complain

In fact this has always been one of the most noticeable things about me, my easy going nature. In fact, when I consider this, I can tell you folk are always saying, "You're not one to complain, oh no, not you!" This is something that happens to me all the time. As I write I recall a place where we had a small printer that produced long thin strips on which we printed relevant identification for the produce. One day one young chap was so impressed with me he used this machine to print 'I'm not one to complain' and stuck this on my white coat. This goes to prove how long suffering I have always been.

However, today I was once more in 'Somerfields' and was able to remind myself of the incompetence that marks this store out from all the others. The store has several checkouts, all running in the usual long line. Naturally only two are open at busy times, and today only one was being used. I took my two items to the cigarette (cough, choke, ugh) kiosk in the usual way to avoid a queue. Of course there were two people ahead of me, both carrying baskets stuffed full of goods. They were also female!

The first was slowly putting her goods into the bag she brought with her. Such folks always bring their own reusable bag in a vain attempt to save the planet. This bag is then placed in the boot of their 4x4 gas guzzler and proceed to drive the half mile to their driveway polluting all and sundry in between. However, this rich hippy finally managed to pack up and proceeded to put her payment card back into her handbag. As we waited for her to move aside to let the next woman in I almost informed her that "HURRY ALONG. IT'S MY BIRTHDAY IN JULY!!!!!!' but managed not to. Female two placed her basket on the small counter along with her handbag (why oh why do women NEED two bags?) and the dork behind the desk began the slow process again. While this was happening a second lass arrived and opened the other till! This one is clever, clearly a girl going places. This I can tell as she appears to be alive, unlike so many of her associates. I placed the two (TWO) items on the little space woman two allowed me, under her hand bag lay the plastic bags I needed. A subtle hint (grabbing the bag and shoving it in her direction) enabled her to make room with a whimpering "Sorry." But I still could not get the plastic bag. When I did the thing ripped as I opened it. I threw it in the direction of the checkout girl muttering something Jesus would never have imagined. By this time the clever lass was holding out my change and expecting me to take it. I ignored her. As I grabbed a bag she did too saying "Take the change and I'll pack it." So I let her.

Now imagine the scene. A small counter, two tills and the bags left on the counter for customers to use. But surely numskulls, if you just put the goods into the bags yourselves then you would have more room on the counter? The customer would leave quicker. We could get home before dark and folks would be happier! Why is it that something so obvious is beyond this company? The larger checkout are smaller than Tescos or Sainsburys and the situation with the bags there is totally inadequate. How come a company with so many employees cannot run itself on common sense grounds?

All that is needed is better use of space, employees with half a brain (an improvement on what is there now) and a common sense approach to moving the people along. This is the lower orders store around here. You know, neds, chavs and those who left school at fourteen like I did inhabit this place. (Hold on, something not right there!) Two of the girls are quite bright and the rest were clearly dropped on their heads at birth. Why do companies allow themselves to be run in such a consistently poor manner?

To make matters worse they would not give me a part time job when I asked!

Spelling Nazis

Can I just point out that while we all can make use of the spellchecker found on Blogger, and indeed on most browsers, the correct spelling of some words remains in dispute. This applies also to names and none more so than from names from antiquity. By antiquity I do not mean your granny and her doing in the junk shop, I mean the ancient 'classical' world of long ago.

(At this point I must point out for our younger readers that the term 'Classical' has nothing to do with the music you so detest and which intellectuals like I and the entire Radio 3 audience happen to appreciate - barring those screeching women singers of course.)

We must take into account that ancient words had a habit of being written in Greek or Latin or Aramaic or Akkadian. Thus when translated the correct spelling is less to do with the actualpronunciation of the word in its setting but relates to the one doing the translating. The wide variety of accents available today indicate a similar situation existing in the ancient world. So for instance 'You say potato and I say potato, you say tomato and I say tomato,' does not reveal that the one gives the word correctly and the other does not. And we all know who is right! I happen to know that the ancient people of Cyprus spoke in a Scots like accent, they were hardy, highly intelligent, and I must add humbly, nice, which proves this to be the case. Therefore I must point out to the spelling Nazis who are among us that the name 'Barnabus' is correctly spelt, and the use of 'Barnabas,' is mere middle class Tory, 'Daily Mail' reading snobbery.

I rest my case.


p.s., I have discovered I spelt spellchecker wrong!

Car

Fancy a car? This one has been parked here for at least twelve years that I know off, it is possible it has been there for considerably longer than that. The large house appears somewhat run down, and gives the impression of a once rich occupant living out their old age. The room on the first floor has a single bare light bulb hanging forlornly. It is always on, night and day. The garden is somewhat unkempt, the conservatory to the side in need of tender loving care. Nobody ever appears to move in or out.

That someone lives there still is sure, I remember delivering post there some time ago, and up close the somewhat melancholic air is clear. Now I am not the nosey type, hiding behind the plant in their window watching neighbours come and go - usually. However I want to know the story of people who allow such a building to decay slowly. If this is an old person, where are the relatives? If there is a death there will be a desperate bid to sell this place, for a minimum of £350-400,000 even in this condition. The credit crunch will not stop some paying more for the house in good condition. Considering the car was old twenty years ago, and the care not being taken on the house I just feel sad for the people involved. They may well be content and happy, but the baleful outlook reflects on the person, or persons, inside.

What Time is it?

I ask because it says on my clock, well one of them, that it is eight o'clock.The rest give various readings as the batteries are dying or I set them wrong. Yet on BBC 2 the 8 pm programme has not started as the previous one is just finishing. On Channel 5 however their 8 pm programme is under way! I notice that more and more on the TV and the wireless, time is moveable. How come?

In days of yore we always had the time spread throughout the nation accurately. This was done by broadcasting the chimes from Big Ben in London, and this gave an accurate gauge of the time. Those of us brought up with the resounding chimes of the big bell high up in the clock tower cannot forget the sound. Some of us have got our hearing back again! Until the seventies this country was limited to the BBC output on radio. Since then a wide variety of stations have appeared, often broadcasting hours of music, banal, raucous or just not what I desire. Some are worth listening to, but only some. I should point out the bell that chimes is called Big Ben, not the tower in which it is housed. It is thought to have been named after a fat (what the politically correct call 'obese') member of parliament called Sir Benjamin Hall the first commissioner of works. However while he was known as 'Big Ben' in the house there was a famous boxer of the day who fought his last fight at the time the debate on naming the bell was under way. Boxing was a massively popular, and violent, sport at that time. Radio 4 still uses the chimes,certainly at six o' clock and midnight, but no other station bothers. This means one mans midday is another's one minute past, and why is it I ask, that 5Live never give the news on the half hour? They appear to insist on leaving it till several minutes past. Crazy nonsense.

The reason I am annoyed is that we need an accurate time signal, and the one on the telephone, (Dial 123) and a voice says "At the third stroke the time sponsored by 'Accurist' will be...." but the media folk do not comply with Post office time, sorry it is 'Telecom' now, privatisation! This is important if I record a programme on the radio, yes I use cassette tape I live on the cheap and use technology I can work, and all to often I find a programme begins too soon and I find several minutes of turgid blether and worse it sometimes cuts of before the programme ends. In most things such accuracy is irrelevant for most of us but I would like to know that the hour on one TV channel is the same as on another. BBC 1 and BBC 2 appear to live in different time zones yet they arise in the same building! I can understand the BBC World service being an hour behind, they remain on GMT throughout the year, but how come the over paid members of the Beeb, paid for by my licence fee, cannot line up two channels at the same time!

I would say more but I am running out of time......

Now I am not one to complain, however,

I awoke this morning to the sound of cars splashing through the rain. Above us gray clouds hung overhead emptying the English Channel where it is not needed, just ask the farmers! The day has struggled through to this point with little to cheer, tidying this dump as the electrician is coming to test the electrics, phoning re job hunting, and considering murdering Moo-Dog! Now as you know I am normally a cheery, happy go lucky type, never one to complain and always happy to oblige. But really! He has dumped one of these 'meme's' things on me, and I have always only ever been kind to him! Of course, he is from Cavan so that tells you something!

This is it:-

What are your nicknames?
I have none. Although 'Miserable Scots git' was often heard in the sorting office when a postman, for reasons I do not comprehend.
What TV gameshow/reality show would you like to be on?
Me on a reality show? How dare you! I've never been so insulted!
What was the first movie you bought in VHS or DVD?
I don't buy them, all movies bore me. Rarely do I watch them unless they are totally realistic or something like the Marx Bros. (actually I did once buy a 'laurel & Hardy' video which ended up with the kids up north I think.)
What is your favourite scent?
When she was around she wore either 'Opium' or 'Poison.' Most suitable in all ways.
If you had one million dollars to spend only on yourself, what would you spend it on?
A wee house, a 'Honda 50' to get me around until the driving test is passed, the new car and a new pair of socks.
One place you've visited, can't forget and want to go back to?
Nowhere. I forget where I was this morning let alone elsewhere.
Do you trust easily?
Who is asking like?
Do you generally think before you act, or act before you think?
Think?
Is there anything that has made you unhappy these days?
For a change I am quite happy this week.
Do you have a good body image?
Do you think I am a woman? I'm a slob.
What is your favorite fruit?
Anything that is free!
What websites do you visit daily?
Ah a sensible question at last! Actually I often visit some more than once while awaiting their outpouring, or just by being bored. Others may not be daily but are visited often. These are some of the top blogs on the net.

Auld Reekie Rants
Sicarii
Scottish Diary
Moo-Dog
Mulled Vine
Out of Battle
Crotchety old man yells at cars

Some funny, some serious, some both and all worth a look. Good stuff I say!

What have you been seriously addicted to lately?
The Block Game! Must go and play again, 'scuse please.
What kind of person do you think the person who tagged you is?
I think he is a lovely kind person. One who feels able to call on me whenever he has a meme to dump on folk who have better things to do with their time but are not likely to complain about it! if you see what I mean....... Oh, and he is from Cavan!
What's the last song that got stuck in your head?
'It must be you' Van Morrison. Lovely (the song, not him)
Favourite clothing
Clothing? It's just stuff you wear! This fleece jacket I use as a cardigan I suppose. It has not been off me for two years. But it does get soggy in the bath.
Do you think Rice Krispies are yummy?
No.
What would you do if you saw $100 lying on the ground?
I would ask why a Yankee is wandering about here with dollar notes?
Then nick them!
Items you couldn't go without during the day?
The PC. Videos of worthwhile programmes, football results, the wireless, my dinner.
What should you be doing right now?
Job hunting.

Heart of Midlothian Memorial and the Trams

Edinburgh Council have decided to install trams once again in another of their acts of 'progress.' Now I don't know whether this will actually benefit Edinburgh or not, although a drunk on a tram late at night is very similar to a drunk on a bus in my view. It may speed the traffic, it may be a success, who can tell? One thing is sure it will not be paid for overnight! The construction of the tramway has meant a great many things, including statues and memorials, have to be moved to allow the trams to pass. One memorial that must move is the memorial to the players of the Heart of Midlothian who enlisted in 1914. As you know they formed the basis of the 16th Royal Scots, known as 'McCrae's Battalion,' along with many other Edinburgh volunteers, and players from Raith Rovers, Falkirk and Hibernian. Together they produced the most powerful battalion football team in the forces.

More than thirty Hearts men enlisted, and hundreds more joined from all Scots football teams. All endured much suffering, physical, and emotional, many failed to return to the game at wars end. Of the Hearts men many were disabled, and seven were dead, this memorial was erected by grateful citizens in 1922 to commemorate their sacrifice and effort. Each year the service of remembrance is held here and several hundred gather to commemorate the death of these men. In attendance are representatives from the clubs involved and many who feel these men, and those from all later conflicts, should never be forgotten.

There is a fear that the council are doing their best to 'dump' the memorial in an unsuitable place. This would be unfortunate. Haymarket, at the bottom of Dalry Road leads up to Tynecastle Park, the home of the Hearts. It is also the meeting place of roads from the west and thousands of people pass through each day on their daily routine. This is the spot this memorial needs to be found, nowhere else. This was the intention in the twenties and the introduction of trams into Edinburgh surely should not over ride the opinions of many, including the many descendants of the dead, who believe this memorial ought to be sighted in the Haymarket. It is to be hoped that a sight, possibly outside 'Ryries bar,' another listed building, may be chosen. The fear is council staff, uninterested in the memorial nor the feelings of those involved, may choose to store the memorial and possibly even allow it to be forgotten. This must be opposed.

Monday, The Bug, The Driving and the Sleeping

This is a computer image of a cold virus. A small thing of itself but one that affects us all and ought to be banned under the Geneva Convention. It is indeed a brute! I'm sure we all agree!

The common cold virus rhinovirus 16 contains 60 sites capable of connecting to a
receptor, called ICAM-1, on human cells. The virus uses several of these sites to gain
entry into the cell. This computer-simulated model, developed by Purdue researchers,
shows where the receptors attach to the outer protein shell of the virus.

This horror has been hanging around for weeks. No matter what I do it remains, like debts and gray clouds over the UK. It returned the other day leaving me languid and with the occasional aches. It dissipated enough today for me to drive around for two hours. It seems to return every few days and is beginning to annoy me. I am not alone in this as I have met other who find such bugs hard to lose nowadays. I am not happy, but then is that any sort of change I ask?

The driving was affected in that I was not fully alert. I got away with it today but can appreciate how folks make mistakes when complacency sets in. Naturally I was not told that we were going into the car park to practice reverse parking. It worked well - at the third attempt. I suppose that lamp post was not used much anyway. The rest of the day was not too bad. I did however manage to catch up with missing sleep in the afternoon, although as an ex-postman the 'postman's sleep' is not one easily given up. All over the world posties lie abed when normal folk still struggle through the day. However nowadays they do not get up as early as we used to. I mis those early mornings. The birds rising singing out their songs in Spring long before the world was up, the occasional fox leaving his footprints in the snow in winter, and the thrusting young police officers, glaring at me as I passed, desperate for a crime to fill their empty hours. It is not the same getting up late, around sevenish, and seeing gray clouds and the beginnings of the 'rush hour.'

The bug has limited the things I can be bothered to do. So there is a job or tow to attend to tomorrow, jobs to apply for, windows to open to let air in, and possibly a bath - it is nearly the end of the month - and no doubt other things will arise that need to be ignored.

Well that's wasted a lot of your time. So, to brighten things up here are some quotes for you.


“Winston, if you were my husband, I would poison your coffee!”
-Lady Astor to Winston Churchill at a dinner party
“Madam, if I were your husband, I would drink it!”
-Winston Churchill’s response.

"Thank you for sending me a copy of your book; I'll waste no time reading it."
-Moses Hadas

"He inherited some good instincts from his Quaker forebears, but by diligent hard work, he overcame them."
-James Reston (about Richard Nixon)

"He loves nature in spite of what it did to him."
-Forrest Tucker

"His mother should have thrown him away and kept the stork."
-Mae West

"He has Van Gogh's ear for music."
-Billy Wilder

Note to US Bloggers

We know you are having an election,
but there is no need to talk about it
all the time
we don't care!!!!!!!!!

Saturday Morning

Friday night's inability to sleep, caused by dozing too long after what passed for lunch, was followed by waking up at five thirtyish and being unable to sleep. Already the mornings are dark and it was at least half an hour before the grayness disappeared and blue began to tinge the sky. I had to deposit a note into the council office on the far side of the park so not long after seven I dragged my hulk out into what has become a wonderful bright chilly morning. As the sun rose it caused a mist to slowly rise from the field and some of that can be seen in the photo above.

When I lived in the Notting Hill area of London I was struck by the down at heel appearance of much of the northerly part of the district. However, when the sun shone even the most dowdy areas came alive and took on a welcoming aspect. It never fails to amaze me how such a thing as natural daylight gives folk a lift. Some in the UK suffer from a depression caused by too little sunshine, mostly the Scots naturally. P.G.Wodehouse's comment that it was "It is seldom difficult to distinguish between a Scotsman and a ray of sunshine," was not without reason. It is the incessant gray cloud that hangs over the nation that gives us that natural cynicism that has done so much to improve the world around us.

So the rising sun has brought life to the nation, the world turns on its way, another Saturday begins to get into gear, and I am back of to bed. Only postmen get up this early in the real world!

Shock

Liverpool play football!

Shock indeed Liverpool play against Marseilles and we see a game worth watching! By a penalty and an excellent Steve Gerrard goal Liverpool won. But the French side showed wonderful flair in getting beat while keeping the fans attention. I enjoyed this game! That is the first Liverpool game I have enjoyed for years!

Oops, must go, their fans may be about!

Wasted Day

It has been yet another one of those days when all I had planned failed to occur. It started well enough but failed to continue. I was side tracked by that silly 'Block Game' that wasted time I should have spent writing to folk. I also spent too much time raking through a box of photographs that was hidden in the cupboard, and scanning them in. They brought back memories and some of them were quite reasonable, but not all! Ah memories,how sweet - sometimes! There were a great many pictures of children found there. Some our family and some friends brats. The trouble was I could not remember who many of them were! Kids all look the same don't they? These were the pics not good enough for the albums so were not of the greatest quality, and so many now 'stick' in the old albums it is hard to get them out again. Life is hard when you are an idiot. The albums either fall apart and the pics land all over the place or they stick in there. It's British! Wot do you expect?

I was also sidetracked by 'Blogcatalog' again. I looked up my favourites as usual and then went looking for something new. Not much today, but I found myself looking back at the regulars several times a day. Am I the only one that does this? Or is it because I have too much time wasting on my hands? Yep, OK, that's it. That and avoiding doing the things I ought to be doing. It has to be said the folk I frequent are funny mind. Not only that but wise as well as witty. How nice to know them - even from a distance. Most folk prefer to know me at a distance mind.

I was intending to attempt to sell some things on E-Bay and have been following one or two books to see if there is a market for them out there. maybe I can offload one or two things this way. If not I may try Amazon for the books. Trouble is most of my books I want to keep. The ones I don't need I have already dumped into charity shops. If I could work out what sells I may buy books there and aim to profit. Profit? I think I remember that word.....

Must go, Liverpool are about to bore the pants of us with a miserable draw against Marseilles.

How to know you are a Scot.

Scattered showers with outbreaks of sunshine and a cold northerly wind, is your idea of good weather.

You were forced to do Scottish country dancing every year at primary school.

You have a wide knowledge of local words, and know: Numpty is an idiot, Aye is yes, Aye right is No, Auldjin is someone over 40, and Baltic is cold.

You used to love destroying your teeth with - Penny Dainties, Wham Bars, Cola Cubes, and Soor Plooms.(And still do!)

You always greet people by talking about the weather.

Even if you normally hate the Proclaimers, Runrig, Caledonia, Deacon Blue, Big Country, etc, you still love it when they are played in a club abroad. (in fact you’ll probably ask the DJ to play it)

You have an enormous feeling of dread, even when Scotland play a diddy team.

You are proud that Scotland has the highest number of alcohol and smoking deaths in Europe.

You used to watch Glen Michael’s Cartoon Cavalcade on a Sunday Afternoon with his lamp Paladdin.

You got Oor Wullie and The Broons books Every Christmas.

You only enjoy Weir’s Way on the telly, when you are pissed.

You are able to recognise the regional dialect, (Glasgow) ‘Awright pal, gonie gies a wee swatcha yir paper nat, Cheers, magic pal. (Aberdeen) Fitlike Loon? Furryboots ya bin up tae? fair few quines in the night, min. (Inverness) Ah-eee right enuffff! How’s you keeeepeeeen?

You have witnessed a ‘Square Go’

You know that when you are asked which School you attended they really mean, ‘Are you Catholic or Proddy?’

You have eaten the following: Mince and Tatties, Cullen Skink, Tunnock’s Teacakes, Snowballs and Caramel Wafers, Porridge, Macaroon Bar, Baxters Soup, Scotch Pie, Oatcakes. (Yum!)

A Jakey has ask you for 10p for a cuppa tea.

You wait at the shop counter for 1p change. You know that the right response to ‘you dancing?’ is ‘you askin?’ followed by ‘am askin’ and finally ‘then am dancin’.

You don’t do shopping, you ‘go for the messages.’

You’re on a bus and the drunk picks you to sit next to.

You are able to conduct a 20 minute phone call using three words only,-- Awright, aye, and naw.

When you refuse the offer of a drink, you hear, ‘ You no well?’

You have heard the following:

You canny fling pieces oot a 20 storey flat,
700 hungry weans’ll testify to that,
If its butter, cheese or jelly,
If the breed is plain or pan,
The chances o’ it reachin earth,
Are ninety nine tae wan.

You know that going to a party means bringin a Kerry oot.

Your holiday in Benidorm is ruined when you hear there is a heatwave back home.

Scotland go 2-0 up against the French, and you immediately think, getting beat 3-2 was ‘no a bad result’.

You can pronounce: McConnochie, Ecclefechan, Milngavie, and Kirkcaldy.

You are used to four seasons in one day. (winter, winter, autumn, winter)

You can fall when drunk and not spill your drink.

Joke

I was testing the children in my local Sunday school class to see if they understood the concept of getting to Heaven. I asked them, 'If I sold my house and my car, had a big garage sale and gave all my money to the church, would that get me into Heaven ?

' 'NO!' the children answered.

'If I cleaned the church every day, mowed the garden, and kept everything neat and tidy, would that get me into Heaven?'

Again, the answer was, 'NO!'

'Well, then, if I was kind to animals and gave sweets to all the children, and loved my wife would that get me into Heaven?' I asked them again.

Again, they all answered, 'NO!'

I was just bursting with pride for them. Well, I continued, 'then how can I get into Heaven?'

A six-year-old boy from Glasgow shouted out, 'YOU'VE GOT TAE BE DEID DAFTY!'

Pretentious Writing

I came across a job advert that stuck in my throat. Not the job itself but the pretentious writing that is used to offer the position. A style I think typical of Social Work type jobs.

'The Adults, Health and Community Wellbeing Directorate at The County Council
are expanding their Reablement and Domiciliary Support Service.'

The 'Directorate' name is pretentious enough but 'Reablement?' What on earth does that mean?

The folks at the council believe that:-

'This is an exciting initiative, and to drive this service forward
we require Domiciliary Support Assistants ...'

'....drive this service forward' Do they mean 'do the job?'

'The Domiciliary Support Assistants’ role is to provide personal and practical
support to service users. You will follow support plans and liaise
with Facilitators to ensure service users are supported in an enabling way.'

'Service users?' Supported in and 'enabling way?'

This pretentious claptrap, aimed at recruiting, among others, 'Domiciliary Support Assistants' is a pompous way of saying we want 'Home helps,' to look after folk who have returned home after long spells in hospital or some other debilitating problem, and need support, encouragement, and a few pieces of common sense advice. Instead we get this ostentatious indulgence that cares little for those who are the 'end users,' and is intent on self importance. Social work, personnel officers, (now referred to as 'Human Resources) are among the least interested in the folk they deal with, yet they use the most inflated language to sell themselves. Personally I think it sickening, as the people who need them may well get decent treatment from the 'front line staff,' but so much resource is wasted on this bureaucratic mince!

Today

Today I spent catching up on all the things ignored while Malware hunting. Little things like opening the windows to let in fresh air was good, I noticed the mice, fly's and bedbugs were all suffering in the stagnant air. I cleaned a dish or two, put out the rubbish and opened the curtains, suddenly I felt this was a new world!

The driving yesterday was still spinning my little mind. Imagine me driving down the dual carriageway? I walked for a while this morning to see if my legs still worked but I found myself attempting to drive lots of passing cars. Change gear, accelerate, clutch, and so on at every corner. I am not sure if I am beginning to adapt to the car or just stark staring bonkers. (No suggestions please!) Such exercise, the walking not the pseudo driving, was much needed. I have been eating less but not doing enough exercise and I must lose some of this girth. Later I wandered out for a while and in the afternoon I got on the bike and cycled around the industrial estate looking for job adverts (some companies still post them outside the door). They didn't today!

I contacted one or two jobs late this afternoon and await their refusal, and tidied up the mess that is my record of employment seeking. A huge pile of paper represents the companies that do not want me! it was somewhat depressing I must say. Sometimes I wish I had struggled on at Royal Mail, even if it was clearly too much for my knees. Ah well. I am confident that something good will arrive soon.A bit more research tomorrow, a few new directions, and maybe putting an advert in the newsagent window.

Ageing, Lazy, Malcontent
Seeks well paid easy, light, employment.
Must be local, and with free lunches.
Preferably with young brunette to assist.
Call 013 999