William Frederick Stone

One of the three remaining servicemen from the Great War resident in the UK has died.
William Frederick Stone died aged 108! 'Young Bill' Stone served in the Royal Navy through two major wars including time of the great and tragic battleship HMS HOOD. He wrote of his time in the services on the HMS Hood association website. It is worth a read! How many of us will live so long and see such adventures?

Hibernian 0 Heart of Midlothian 2

Oh Dear, once again the Heart of Midlothian have put their near neighbours in their place. Their place? That of the 'Wee Team!' This Scottish Cup tie was played at the usual high speed with the Hearts playing all the football and Hibs only threatening when resorting to the long ball they deny using! In spite of ignoring the two footed challenge by Sol Bamba referee Craig Thomson decided he would not tolerate a similar assault by Hibs Steve Fletcher, a player Hibs claimed was being watched by Real Madrid among others! With the bal at least three feet ahead of the man Fletcher through himself at Berra and crashed into him, off he went and Hibs last hope fell. Quite how Chick Young could claim that a 'mere yellow' I cannot understand! I suppose his anti-Hearts stance took over. Andy Driver was soon to be found beating Mackalamby the Hibs goalie (what was he doing?) and cut the ball back from the by line to Christian Nade who slammed the ball home for the opening, and well deserved, goal! Naturally Hibernian could not control their emotions and threatened to turn rough, like the 'Works Team' they are, but the Heart of Midlothian kept their cool at such provocation. As we do!

The rest of the game was just dominance by the Heart of Midlothian and nothingness from the 'Wee Team.' There was a flutter of excitement when the changes were made, The great ineffectual Hibs hero Derek 'Deeks' Riordon was replaced late in the game. His fame as a 'ned' showed through as he greeted the Hearts fans acknowledgement of his departure by making rude gestures in their direction. The referee gave him a yellow card for this, and it was close to a red! It appears he went up the tunnel after possibly throwing down his shirt and allowing his discomfort to show through. (he he he!) I suspect we shall read of him thrashing some club he is barred from later tonight! Young Gary Glen came on for the last few minutes and in injury time he took advantage of the poor defence to latch on to a pass and round the goalie scoring the second goal, producing much merriment among the better half of Edinburgh. How nice!

The Heart of Midlothian first played, and defeated, Hibernian in 1875, since then dominating the matches between the clubs. With regard to the Scottish cup things remain the same.

Scottish Cup games.
Hearts won 13 Lost 7 plus 9 drawn games.
Goals Hearts 53 Hibs 39
Players Sent Off
(NB. Hibs Players Pre 1997 incomplete)
Total Heart of Midlothian = 10 red cards
Total Hibernian = 24 red cards
Total dominance and it leaves me with great sympathy for those Leith dwellers who have nothing but a future of inferiority ahead of them. Now that is something to think about eh?
The Heart of Midlothian have in fact won the Scottish cup twice in recent years, Hibernians last sight of an open topped bus occurred in 1902! Not even my 93 year old mother was born the last time Hibernian won the cup! Ho Ho Ho!

Next up Falkirk in the next round.

Cadburys Cream Eggs

I have just seen my first Cadburys Cream Egg advert! This is the first week in January! Some have claimed to have seen this ad earlier than me! Come on now, Christmas and New Year just over and here we are advertising Easter Eggs? Now I am partial to the odd egg at any time, and I understand why Cadburys sell them at every opportunity. In the early seventies when I worked (very hard I can tell you) in a Cash & Carry in Leith we sold tons of these eggs every year. The Scots palate is such that the shopkeepers would buy six or seven boxes of these eggs, with most chocolate bars one or two boxes were bought, if they had a school in the near neighbourhood they would soon be back for another six or seven! Guaranteed sellers at all times. In fact there was some idea of selling them all the year round a while back but that was an idea that did not come to pass. No doubt the major supermarkets will now be starting to add Easter eggs to their shelves and a three month sales push will begin.



DID YOU KNOW.....

In the 1400's a law was set forth that a man was not allowed to beat his wife with a stick no thicker than his thumb.
Hence we have "the rule of thumb".

The first couple to be shown in bed together on prime time TV was Fred and Wilma Flintstone

Men can read smaller print than women can; women can hear better.

It is impossible to lick your elbow.

Intelligent people have more zinc and copper in their hair.

The first novel ever written on a typewriter: Tom Sawyer

111,111,111 x 111,111,111 = 12,345,678,987,654,321

Q. If you were to spell out numbers, how far would you have to go until you would find the letter "A"?
A. One thousand

Q. What do bullet-proof vests, fire escapes, windshield wipers, and laser printers all have in common?
A. All invented by women.

Q. What is the only food that doesn't spoil?
A. Honey

In Shakespeare's time, mattresses were secured on bed frames by ropes. When you pulled on the ropes the mattress tightened, making the bed firmer to sleep on. Hence the phrase.........
"Goodnight, sleep tight."

In English pubs, ale is ordered by pints and quarts... So in old England, when customers got unruly, the bartender would yell at them 'Mind your pints and quarts, and settle down.' It's where we get the phrase "mind your P's and Q's"

Many years ago in England, pub frequenters had a whistle baked into the rim, or handle, of their ceramic cups. When they needed a refill, they used the whistle to get some service. "Wet your whistle" is the phrase inspired by this practice.


And finally……

At least 75% of people who read this will try to lick their elbow!

I wonder if all that is true?

Cold

This was the scene yesterday. Cold mist hanging around and in the afternoon freezing all and sundry, and my bony knees were part of that sundry. It was so cold last night that it woke me up just after midnight and forced me to dress like 'Nanook of the North' and switch on all the heating I could find (one candle and a packet of 'Victory V's.'). I went online and explored the webs showing how to build igloos and how to catch and skin penguins just in case. I had been watching the snow bound North American pictures the other day and wondered how people can live in such conditions year after year! A two inch layer of snow can bring us to a halt, imagine it being two feet! Yet some folks live in areas where such snowfall is considered an easy winter! I assure Canadians I will not emigrate there, your moose are safe. During the Second World War Stalin brought the Siberian troops across from the Chinese border where they had been watching the Japanese threat. These folk were used to temperatures of minus 40, and they would lie in the snow all day opposite the Germans, and attack at night in temperatures of minus 8. They considered this warm! Sorry, that is not a life for me, whether attacking Germans or not. I want a Greek island, lots of sun, an nice sea view, gentle waves lapping against the shore and nearby cliffs, a long cool drink and sunshine all the day long. Of course a woman to do the ironing and bring the long cool drink would also be welcome, if she can cook.



I am reading through this book about one of the three remaining Great War servicemen. Henry Allingham, 'Kitchener's Last Volunteer.' This is a very good read. Not a deep tale of enlistment and the happenings found in other books of this type but a series of reminiscences from a man born in 1896! The personality of the man comes across and I find it difficult not to like him. Enlisting in 1915 in the Royal Navy Air Service he serviced and sometimes flew as an observer over the North Sea, where he was a distant part of the Battle of Jutland, and over places like Ypres (Wipers to the troops) and saw Flanders great battles. He is the last remaining serviceman who served when the Royal Flying Corps merged with the RNAS to become the Royal Air Force. Active all his life he was playing golf until he was 93 and is shown cycling on his hundredth birthday! On Remembrance Sunday last year (November 11th) he attempted to leave his wheelchair to place a wreath at the Cenotaph. He was unable, but took many minutes making the attempt. Eventually he was persuaded to let others do this for him, but he held the parade up for a good while in the attempt. What a man! He must be 113 by my calculation this year and still going. He may go on a lot longer yet!

Gobbledygook!

I came across this today. This is not a job I want, but I was taken by the jargon found here. This is Gobbledygook and has no bearing whatsoever on the work itself.

Community Safety & Development Team
Part Time Community Development Officers x 2 Part Time 20 hours per week
Grade 3 £20,591 - £25,146 per annum pro rata *
To encourage, support and enable local people and organisations to collect information on the needs of the community.
To identify community leads and build capacity within their communities.
To work with the Community Service Unit Managers in delivering the strategic focus of community development across Braintree District Council.
To work with and facilitate other Council services, the Community Safety Partnership, partner agencies and the local community to address community issues and build cohesion.
Ability to improve existing projects and the creativity to develop new ground breaking initiatives.
One post will be responsible for setting up and delivering the ‘Creative Communities’ Project.
This will involve additional hours particularly during school holiday time. The additional hours are likely to be fulltime throughout the holiday periods. Community Development experience is essential. Understanding of Local Area Agreement 2 is desirable.


I like the use of phrases ' build capacity within their communities.' Now what does this mean? 'Build capacity?' The Cambridge Dictionary refers to capacity as 'amount' or even 'position.' But this is meaningless when refer to a small town and its problems!
How about 'delivering the strategic focus of community development.' What? That surely means doing what the council have decided should be done. Why not say so?
'..build cohesion' Well you start that by SPEAKING IN ENGLISH!

Philadelphia Eagles

I have been watching Sky Sports News and they had clips of one of
those American Throwball games. One of the teams shown actually
kicked the ball at a goal at one point and I was very impressed!
Clearly hope was not lost and it shows the possibility that
one man out there in the colonies understands something
about the name 'football!'
So from now on I will be following Americas
premier Throwball team - The Philadelphia Eagles!

So, Normal Life Returns!

Yes indeed! All around folks are complaining about returning to work. Few contemplating how lucky they are! The dreary round of work, rest and, well work again, has returned. The economic situation being what it is I wonder how many will be employed in a few months time? However the economy in this place took a turn for the worse when I finally decided that the cheap replacement cartridge for the printer just would not work, no matter how many times I fiddled with it. I bit the bullet (where did that bullet come from?) and bought a proper full price HP 57 from Tesco! The annoying thing is that the colour version of the cheapie did not work, but the black version I bought a while ago works fine! Now at last I can print out the application form for a job I will not get and waste time and money sending it off! Isn't it silly that a small thing like a useless printer can bring the world to a halt?



I came across this small but delightful story in the paper yesterday. This small shop sells crockery and a Robin, usually a rather shy bird with people and a bully among birds, began a habit of entering the shop and settling on a mug decorated with pictures of Robins! In spite of the customers it continues to come in and follow the owner into her office and uses her mug, with the robins, as a place to hang around. Isn't it lovely that in this wild and nasty world simple little things like this please us so much? Just before the attack on the Somme in 1916 one group of soldiers were worrying, not about the fight ahead, but whether a blackbirds brood would be able to fly off before they went 'over the top.' There was delight that all birds successfully left the nest before the attack went in! The 'Birdman of Alcatraz, Robert Stroud, was actually the 'birdman of Leavenworth' who did befriend a wounded canary and went on to study them over thirty years. He had time to study being in solitary confinement because of his violent manner and being sentenced to life with no parole! He did spend time in Alcatraz and I suppose that name made for a better film title, even though the acting did not resemble Stroud himself. I must confess I am partial to a bird myself.


The day started with snow! Just what I did not want with the driving lesson. However it was not to bad by the time we started, the biggest problem being the sun shining straight in my face. he took me that way deliberately to get me used to the situation - swine! It was nowhere near as bad as in the photo, but winding roads, black ice, slush and a dustcart right up behind me for miles urging me on as they wanted to finish early, kept me from wearying!

Church Window

I like this picture. Not just because I took it, but I also had a go at printing a bigger version of the thing and it worked! I was sitting in a church which had been destroyed by the Luftwaffe dropping incendiary bombs on it in 1940. Much of the City of London was damaged at that time and not all was rebuilt. For whatever reason this building was left in ruins, only the tower remaining standing, and it became, like many others, a park, ideal for the city workers to take a break in summer. It has been turned into a rose garden with plants filling in the spaces once occupied by pews and it looks very nice indeed. At least it did when I visited many years ago (not during the blitz!). This was the Franciscan Church of Greyfriars, established in 1225. Many of the rich and famous were buried in the old church which suffered during the 'Great Fire of London' in 1666. Christopher Wren designed a new church, opened in 1704, and no, I was not at that service.

When there one long ago summer day I took the photo with my rusty, sorry trusty Minolta, and was well pleased with it. Cynics point out all sorts of faults, but just because they know what they are talking about does not, in my humble opinion (and humble it is I have been informed) mean they know what they are talking about does it! The spire of St Paul's Cathedral stands tall in the background, a place I once clambered up to in the late seventies when entrance was cheap, and enjoyed the view. Once there the sightseer has a vista of the whole of London, and it is big! London actually lies in a bowl of sorts, and the ground rises slightly as it disappears into the distance. Looking to the far south on a rise in the far, far distance stands the BBC aerial reaching several hundred feet into the air. It is said that a female (isn't it always?) American tourist was heard to ask, "Is that the Eiffel Tower?"

How to be an Idiot No 78

So I rushed round the supermarket looking for the special offers. I read all the blogs first thing, although the time difference is a nuisance here,and took pics of myself to send to a friend. That will stop them sending me rude e-mails! Having done all I could I wandered around in the freezing sunshine in what I like to call,'Exercise mode.' Less kindly folks refer to this as 'Sloth.' Undeterred by such rudeness I came home in time for the big (football) game! Today the Heart of Midlothian were entertaining (why do they refer to it as that?) local rivals Hibernian. This is always a 'do or die' match. Life, for those living in the city, is unbearable for the losers. However, over the years since the first encounter, in 1875, the Heart of Midlothian have reigned supreme! By winning the vast majority of these confrontations the Hearts have obtained their rightful position as 'The big Team! Hibernian are known worldwide as 'The Wee Team' and with good reason!

However, I arrived home at two thirty to be greeted by the news that the result was Nil Nil! I was stunned! Nobody told me the game kicked of at twelve thirty! I read it was a three O' clock kick off!

I missed it! What an idiot!

Start the Year the Way You Mean to Go On!

So early(ish) yesterday morning I got on the bike and raced slowly up the old railway line. I had hoped it would be empty, new year revellers still sleeping it off and all that, but I forgot the dog walkers. No matter how your head feels they need to go, so they went! The place was teaming with them and the dogs, and occasional kid, was better behaved than the sourpussed folks I passed yesterday. Now the phrase 'Happy New Year' uttered in Scotland to strangers in such circumstances would be greeted with an appropriate response, not stares and bewildered expressions as found here. The occasional human appeared but most were unresponsive mannequins wrapped in layers of warm, expensive, clobber.

However I was not put off as I intended to make this year better than any in recent times. No matter what I was feeling good and after a nourishing lunch at the soup kitchen I read the blogs and fell into a relaxed sleep of the righteous (sort off). Later I was so keen on the exercise I jumped on the bike, carefully, and spent another cold half hour enjoying my trip around the quiet streets. Ahead of me lay the new year, a year in which things will be better, life will take a new direction and all will be well! What could possibly go wrong?

About five O'clock I found myself feeling very strange. I thought I was fainting and after a minute or two go up and stood somewhat unsure for a moment. I picked up the phone and my arm fell away,it had no strength. Ooooer I thought, this should not be (I'm quick on the uptake you see). At that time of night, on that day, there is no doctor unless it is a real emergency. I was not sure about that and ten minutes later I called the NHS Direct Line service. Here I could chat to a nurse who asked all the right questions, relieving me of the fear something serious was occurring and at the same time avoiding the phrase 'You silly old woman you!' Today, I sought the doctor, miraculously an opening this morning appeared and I met an attractive young Nigerian (?) doctor who put me at ease, realising nothing was wrong told me to come back if this strange event happened again. 'Don't worry about wasting my valuable time' she avoided saying. But for a moment my whole life changed! I truly thought it may be a heart attack or a stroke. Instead it was a passing moment, probably caused by the way I was sitting rather than anything else. How grateful I am for the NHS! Small events like this can lead to much worry, but a quick chat with a suitable person ends needless fears. Had it been of a serious nature advice and help was on hand! Grateful? You bet!

Now I am getting back into my new, new year! The improved health regime (I am looking for health) and a desperate search for legitimate income (any), a better time for my football side, and a better time with my God. So far the eating has been rubbish! I start such regimes and discover the cupboard is bare! The plans I had, the new recipes and ideas! And I had forgotten there was nothing available with which to start! Idiot!

Happy New Year

A Good New Year to one and all!

Hogmany 2008

So 2008 is ending at long last! I cannot say it has been the best of years, but there again it could have been very much worse! Compared to those who have endured war, starvation, sickness or deprivation of any kind I have nothing to worry about. How strange that while watching the refugees, dead bodies tanks firing and people being thrown out of their homes by natural disasters I find myself upset and peeved because I have spilt some milk! Just be grateful for being alive, almost healthy and having your daily bread I say! The daily bread is hard to acquire mind. Work has proved difficult, nobody appears interested in my shop window advert.

Useless individual seeks work
Will skive for cash!

I got few replies. Even less attention was paid to the many CVs I sent out. When attention was paid I got several replies containing words like,'Ugh!' and 'Reject!' and 'Don't ever call again.' I think they are trying to tell me something, however I have yet to understand what. The credit crunch does not help. Huge numbers of people will begin the year with redundancy! All this because the worlds economy was based on paper. I suggest we just call it quits and start again, who loses that way? I suggested this to our Prime Minister but he has failed to answer in an appropriate manner. However I did mention I used to drink in Edinburgh's 'Goblet' at the same time as he did when a student. I mentioned I had the photographs but he did not reply personally. However the two very large 'Special Branch' men he sent round to collect the pics were somewhat too personal for my liking! The year began with the Heart of Midlothian struggling with failure! The first game I ever saw was a 6-1 victory over Airdrieonians in 1962. I foolishly thought it would always be like that! When we lost 1-0 to a relegation bound Queen of the South a few weeks later I should have realised that cynicism was a Hearts fans life! However every fifty years or so glory will arrive. This season has seen some resurrection of our hopes under new (cheap) management and maybe the good times are just around the next visit from the bailiffs. I know we are on the right track as the usual bias against us has appeared in the press and from certain referees. (Yes Brines, I mean YOU!)

At long last, and in desperation I began driving lessons! This has been better than i had hoped in that on occasions I have been able to open my eyes and look in the direction I was speeding. The ever encouraging instructor (he encouraged me today by informing me the steering column was giving problems - we were doing sixty on the 'A' road at the time!) as I was saying the instructor claims I should be taking the test next month. Hmmmm That is one thing I am enjoying, as long as those lorries keep their distance and women (Yes women!) do not use the left turn lane to suddenly turn right and expect me to know that is what they are going to do! One did this today and appeared to think her actions were normal! (Fill in the next line yourself!)

Apart from the ever present bug that has been with me since 1987 health has deteriorated because I do not have enough exercise. Reading too many blogs and laughing is not exercise! The bad summer limited the time on the bike also, that needs improving next year. My knees do ache and the cold does not help either! I was reading of a chap who was cycling on his 100th birthday! That is what to aim for!

This year what can I truly say is good?
God is good. Jesus has never let me down and is still with me in spite of it all! That speaks volumes for his patience, and also for the fact he has to lead in saving us, I would go to rot otherwise! I am sometimes taken by surprise that he called one like me! My family is good, and Christmas has left me much impressed by them once again. I am grateful to have such a family! I doubt they say the same about their mad uncle! Bwwwaaaaaaaaahahahaha! My family have always been a good lot, and I stand back in amazement at how some folks live their lives. Imperfect they may be, but typical of so many found in Scotland today.

The Blogosphere is good also! I have come across so many pretty young women with high intelligence and good looks who put me to shame with their clever, witty writing. So many men who write in a fashion that leaves me jealous of their writing or their lives! The enjoyment of reading such blogs is immense! These folk do not just write witty humour, they speak of their everyday lives and the world around in a way that is not found in media journals often enough. Good writing is all around us, and how much more is out there? In short, so many good things out there in a world, which while sick with sin, still contains many diamonds. I assure you,the blogs I read and link to here are all diamonds in my eyes! Thank you for giving me so much during this year! Now burst into tears and
Have a Happy Hogmany!

The Kinks

The Day After the Day After Christmas

The day after the day after is full of relief for many, if it falls on a Saturday! No demand to indulge relatives, no need to exchange presents and pleasantries, and every reason to get back to normal. Stomachs can find themselves proper grub once again. No more rich foods and fattening sweets, back to fish and chips and yogurt. Women scream each morning on the weighing machine, then blame their men for allowing them to over eat, and then follow this up by demanding their men live on lettuce and fruit salad until several of their pounds have been removed! Men simply discover that the top button does not need to remain buttoned, so unbutton it in spite of her needless sarcasm, they do however find themselves wondering whether they should have believed Uncle Jimmy when he claimed 'Buffalo Grass Vodka' really was a 'vegetarian drink' because it was made of potato and grass!

The walk required after lunch becomes a walk to the shopping centre to stand in the freezing early morning cold while waiting for the shop to open and let your avarice be satisfied with the promise of glittering things at 50% off! Outside all the shops, on Boxing Day as well as today, gatherings of such folk stand, attempting to look disinterested but each with a pound sign glowing in their eyes. Parents pull their children away from the toys shelves informing them that they were given quite enough a day ago, while at the same time their eyes search eagerly for gold.

Bloggers fail to take time to write on days like this. The family, the time away from home, and having a life interfere with their real life - reading blogs and being filled with jealousy at others writing skills! Some will soon inform us of their broadening waistbands, others rejoice in the delight of a happy family gathering. There will be at least one who will claim they worshipped Jesus, but not many. Most will endure that strange experience that comes after the day is over, you know the one, a 'What now?' type question runs through the mind. An experience of emptiness which follows the big build up and there was nothing there after all. Kids tend not to experience this unless the gifts fail, but for adults if the family time has been a drag there is often a blankness hanging around. Sad really, but inevitable if one puts one faith in Christmas as such.

For myself I suffer from overeating and an inflated ego, something I usually keep well hidden I am sure you will agree! I said, I'm sure you will agree.....! Well I can comment on your blogs also remember!!! However for once I stuffed myself with Sainsburys Curries and 'Plum Duff Ale.' I ate so much I failed to start the pudding even yet. Chomping my way through an entire box of 'Cadbury's Signature' chocolate biscuits has not helped my teeth. This is worrying as I may soon have to meet my miserable dentist. I say miserable, and he is, at least to me he always looks 'down in the mouth!' I hope your indigestion has ended.

Merry Christmas

May your Christmas be
what you wish it to be!

Christmas

The bells of waiting Advent ring,
The Tortoise stove is lit again
And lamp-oil light across the night
Has caught the streaks of winter rain
In many a stained-glass window sheen
From Crimson Lake to Hookers Green.

The holly in the windy hedge
And round the Manor House the yew
Will soon be stripped to deck the ledge,
The altar, font and arch and pew,
So that the villagers can say
'The church looks nice' on Christmas Day.

Provincial Public Houses blaze,
Corporation tramcars clang,
On lighted tenements I gaze,
Where paper decorations hang,
And bunting in the red Town Hall
Says 'Merry Christmas to you all'.

And London shops on Christmas Eve
Are strung with silver bells and flowers
As hurrying clerks the City leave
To pigeon-haunted classic towers,
And marbled clouds go scudding by
The many-steepled London sky.

And girls in slacks remember Dad,
And oafish louts remember Mum,
And sleepless children's hearts are glad.
And Christmas-morning bells say 'Come!'
Even to shining ones who dwell
Safe in the Dorchester Hotel.

And is it true,
This most tremendous tale of all,
Seen in a stained-glass window's hue,
A Baby in an ox's stall ?
The Maker of the stars and sea
Become a Child on earth for me ?

And is it true ? For if it is,
No loving fingers tying strings
Around those tissued fripperies,
The sweet and silly Christmas things,
Bath salts and inexpensive scent
And hideous tie so kindly meant,

No love that in a family dwells,
No carolling in frosty air,
Nor all the steeple-shaking bells
Can with this single Truth compare -
That God was man in Palestine
And lives today in Bread and Wine.

By John Betjeman

Reading P.G.Wodehouse again

I dug this book out again as I was looking for some light humorous reading, and I had gone through all the appropriate blogs. It is a great read, especially the middle of the three books it contains. This contains letters Wodehouse wrote to his friend Townend the author of sea stories. Apart from comments on writing and criticism of one another's works, these letters reveal something of the humour always under the surface of the man. What better way to find it than through comments between two close friends. If you get the chance read this book!

I mention it because I saw a funeral today and felt this could easily be found in one of the 'Jeeves' book. At the far end of the street that lies just around the corner is found a Catholic church. Today there was a funeral, somewhat unfortunate at this time of year but there it is. This particular undertaker operates by walking in front of the hearse until they enter the main road. Then they remove the top hat, get back in the car and move off. Today there was a problem! The funeral procession got itself onto the main road and two cars lengths on it stopped. However behind the leading car came a small bus, full of mourners. Actually this was not full of mourners as the door opened and then there began the strife of ensuring the right people were on board and everyone was catered for. All the while the road was blocked and this Christmas eve!

There naturally grew a long line of traffic reaching back into the town centre, few realising why they were held up. Those at the front were aware of the problem, as were the motorists coming the other way, desperate to get those urgently needed Christmas goodies that will probably be unused by tomorrow night! The kerfuffle continued for some time and it was a wonder to behold the drivers of the cars, each and everyone fuming at the delay as first one then another got on, and then off, the bus! The drivers, and passengers, sat twiddling thumbs,none willing to blast the horn or shout 'GERRONWITHIT!!!' but each questioning why he chose this time to die! There is still a traffic queue outside, but whether this represents the slowness of the cortege or normal Christmas traffic I cannot say. I can however tell you that the undertaker in charge was a woman!

Gate

As I sauntered home from the massed ranks of happy smiling treasure hunters in the market place the other day I past this. Now I first noticed this gate a dozen years ago and ever since then I have been wondering if, what was then, the General Post Office asked permission to insert this telegraph pole in the middle of his gate, or whether they just did it one morning when the man was out? As this must have happened some years ago, and these dwellings house some of the rich and famous of the town I suspect he had prior knowledge. If not there is still therefore a slight chance that behind that bush which has arisen to fill the gap there may well be an ageing, and somewhat rusty, 'Humber' or some such.

The Shortest Day

And God called the light Day, and the darkness he called Night.
And the evening and the morning were the first day. Gen 1:5

This is the best day of the year, why? Because it is the shortest! From today the days get longer and the nights get shorter. From today we look forward to the arrival of Spring, warm weather and, being the UK, lots of rain! Still never mind eh? We are headed in the right direction and this makes me happy! Some folks may live in places where the nights never vary, in those regions where there is an almost constant warmth and allowance of daylight. How I wished I lived there! Of course it could be worse. In places like Finland there are six months of total darkness, then followed by six months of constant daylight. Now the latter part of that suits me! I suppose six months of daylight must affect an individual in some way? The darkness certainly does! The areas affected do see lots of suicides and depression as the months tick by I understand, and I can believe it. We work better in natural daylight and flounder with the dark. No wonder so many there take to drink!

However, now we can rise in the darkness knowing that soon we will rise with the the dawn chorus greeting the rising sun. Blackbirds and Thrushes, Robins and Tits greeting one another in the early morning before any bar the milkman and postman have risen remains a favourite time for me. Their song fits the sky above - unless the weather interferes! Ah yes, the British weather! Caught between the Atlantic and the Continent which leaves us with warmish rainy weather and lots of reason to grumble! Where would we be without that? However even Brits find it hard to grumble when their eyes meet a sight like this as they rise.

Teaching Yankees the Facts of Life - Again!

Now I am not one to complain! Folks for miles around will tell you that complaining is not my thing. However, on this one instance I must raise objections to some of the absurd, ridiculous and completely 'up the wall' comments that certain nameless folks (like Fishawk for instance) have come up with in recent days. That 'crackhead' is not alone in misunderstanding the meaning of certain words, words like 'Football' for instance. These badly educated people,(do they have schools in the colonies?) appear to be mistaking the word 'Football' for a different word, words like 'Throwball' for instance, or maybe ' Vapid' or 'Boring perhaps? let me throw some light in your direction.

'Football' According to the 'Cambridge Advanced Learner's Dictionary,'
(possibly not available in the USA)
noun
1 a game played between two teams of eleven people, where each team tries to win by kicking a ball into the other team's goal:
a football player/team
He's playing football.
Are you coming to the football match?
2 a large ball made of leather or plastic and filled with air, used in games of football

The 'CHAMBERS' dictionary says:-
football. noun.
1. Team game played with a large ball that players try to kick or head into the opposing team's goal.
2 the ball used in the game.
3 (the football) a football match, usually an official game between clubs in a league •

Oxford Un Press

foot•ball /'f{phon_capu}tb{phon_capo}:l/ noun
1 [U] (also formal As,sociation 'Football) (both BrE) (also BrE informal footy, footie) a game played by two teams of 11 players, using a round ball which players kick up and down the playing field (= the pitch).
Teams try to kick the ball into the other team’s goal: to play football
* a football match / team / stadium-

A quick glance at these 'world renowned' educational dictionaries shows clearly that 'Football' is a game played with the feet! Not, you will notice, the hands! Only the goalkeeper, because of his special position (the most important in the side) is allowed to use his hands. Now this is very important, the reason? Some, clearly mentally exhausted, individuals appear to consider a game in which a handful of 20 stone (That's nearly 300 pounds to you) primitives bash into one another for no apparent reason, while a slightly less well endowed, overpaid misfit catches said ball and throws it away can be referred to as 'Football!' At no time does he kick it, or attempt to kick the ball. He merely stands there until deciding to throw it of the (very narrow) field. The ball (oddly shaped) does not venture anywhere near his feet, unless of course he drops it while several nine foot tall delinquents attempt to crush him to powder. Skillful play indeed there! If the hero manages to toss the ball from his hands to another man dressed like a tank, that chap will endeavour to run over a very wide line carrying the ball, then he will cheer, even if nothing more than his broken toe comes near the line. He does not even have to put the ball on the ground! How easy is that? Yet somewhere in the vast continent of the United (unless they are fighting each other) States one individual thought hands were feet and feet, hands and called this murderous enterprise 'Football!'

And you wonder how George Dubyah got elected?


References to 'Football' go back a long way. There are mentions away back in the 15th century and in fact its popularity is reflected here as it was banned by Scottish statute in 1424! So many were playing football with Englishmen's heads that Archery practice was failing! Discipline was therefore restored from the top! Football games were played in towns up and down the nation at that time, and this variety of 'football' survives in several places where the 'Uppies' play the 'Doonies.' A quite violent game where bones sometimes break even today yet everybody joins in. In times past people died quite frequently! (By people died frequently I do not mean the same person died frequently, I mean different people died often, if you see...oh never mind.) Since the days of Adam folk have always kicked balls around, it is a natural thing to do. Balls are of course round and not oblong. Those are deformed balls. (Stop that tittering at the back!) It is a natural and enjoyable kids game that adults enjoy also. Why? I have no idea, but it is fun!

The more organised game appeared in the 19th century when the whole of the British Isles changed for the better (although most folk at the time wondered if a 90 hour week was a 'change for the better!). Organised football appeared early in the century and different rules applied. It was the posh English 'Public Schools' (Public in the sense that they were open to anybody who could pay the fees, so only the rich could apply. National schools were open to the public but were not 'public' schools. I hope that clears this up?) which formalised rules for the game in the middle of the century, and being both 'English' and 'Nobs' they took all the credit for a game developed by folks of all rank. (It was of course much advanced in Scotland but the English took the credit as they take everything else!) Harrow, Eton, Winchester etc decided they knew best, and indeed were in a position to impose their will, having all the money and power. The basic rules were gradually adopted nationally although many changes were made.

The introduction of a Saturday half day, along with increasing rail travel gave some impetus to the spread of the game! However many who played were not granted that privilege and had to be compensated for lost wages. So 'professional football' was born. Rugby football had departed before this when those (lacking talent or just boorish?) who felt the hands ought to be used invented their own version of the rules. This became, and remains, a predominately middle class game. This is because those in the north of England who chose this version required payment for lost wages as in football proper. The middle classes, upset in the later decades of the century at the loss of control of football proper, refused to accept the professional game as they were 'well to do' so 'Rugby League' came into existence. But that is another story! Rugby Union does have the advantage that you have the chance to watch your lawyer or bank manager get his head kicked in. Surely this is always gratifying in its own right?

By 1900 the majority of the Laws of the Game had become set, with only occasional changes. The game itself had been spread far and wide by Scots, Welsh, Irish and even Englishmen as they took over the world creating an Empire we didn't need, or travelling building railways worldwide which folk did need! The famous Milan teams were begun by an Englishman, which is why the English spelling of the name is used, Boca Juniors are said to have originated with an Irishman, and there are many South American players carrying names such as 'Pedro Manuel McCallister,' or 'Juan O'Higgins' and the like! Some folks did more than just build railways! The four home nations, as originators of the game, have equal representation on the FIFA board, something lesser nations object to, even though we gave them the game! How dare they!? Have they no respect for their betters? Some even suggest that only one 'British' side ought to compete! The ignorance of Johnny Foreigner knows no end! Tsk!

In the US, in between chasing the native inhabitants of their land, some did indeed attempt to pick up the rules of the game,like General Custer (reduced to Lieutenant Colonel for insubordination before his death) they failed! The skill and mental intensity required for 'Football' probably proving to be beyond American capacities. However a variation of the 'Rugby Code' (known as 'Rugger' by the poncy Public schoolboys. The word 'Soccer, never used by anyone who knows 'football', comes from 'Associated Football, SOC with the 'er' added on by the public schoolboys! These people ruled the world you know!) did catch, brains not being required to barge into your opponent and grind him into the mud! Brawn and a willingness to hurt and be hurt were more important! So much so that the 'Ivy League Universities,' known more for brawn than brain (how many top folk came from there?) happily took to 'Rugger' and by the early years of the 20th century had killed at least 20 of their fellows during the game! Changes were forced on them by law and the drab, dismal, armoured, grossly overlong, much over hyped activity that now owes its life to the television channels became the main game of the United States. What does that say about the populace I ask? Take away the marching bands, the hype, the half naked women...hold on, leave them, and what is left? Three boring hours of team, college, or town building, all wrapped in the flag! Is it not true that American Throwball is more about 'E pluribus unum' than sport?

So we all know and understand that 'FOOTBALL,' played with the feet, (not 'Soccer') is the game that rules the world. 'Throwball' is a local mentally stifling diversion, in which the townsfolk can enjoy watching their heirs get the kicking they feel they deserve, but political correctness no longer allows!Intellectually and physically demanding proper 'Football' may be, but it is a game that brings peoples of all kinds together, (except when playing Celtic or Rangers of course, all Scotland joins with whoever is playing them at that time!) Loved by thinking people of all ages everywhere, and while an emotional drag at times, you can change your wife but you cannot change your football team, it remains the most popular game in the world. Invented of course by Scots!

Several Things

Last evening, at the time folk call to sell you things, the phone rang. I put on my 'Disturb me if you dare' voice and answered. "Yes!"
"Is that Mr Adullamite"
"What do you want?" I grunted Neanderthal like.
They then asked me about someone in another flat. I growled that I knew nothing and that they left years ago. They caller rang off. Dialling 1471 I discovered they had 'withheld their number.'
It got me asking questions.
Who was this woman calling from some what I took to be a call centre of some sort? How did she know to ask me? My number is in the phone book, but how did she get my name? And what did she want the lass for? Questions as yet unanswered.
I was so upset by this that I fell asleep. I am sensitive remember.....


As we headed up the road the other day, to pass by the Ferrari's and Maserati's that gleam even in the dull, dreich, dismal day the instructor asked a simple, yet profound question. "Why is there 24/7 'Tanning Salons?' Do women wake up at two in the morning and find an urge to rush off and get a quick tan?" I had no answer. Apart from those that may offer, 'other services,' and considering those that just allow someone to sit under a row of glass tubes and turn needlessly brown, where do their customers come from? In the UK anyone suddenly turning into a Pakistani is usually regarded as a bit daft. Those that genuinely travel abroad in warmer climes can remain happily tanned but the type of lass, and some laddies, who find the need to darken their skin do make me wonder. There used to be an advert for a soft drink called 'Tango.' This featured a fat orange man who became a children's favourite. Those, like Jimmy Calderwood the Aberdeen manager, who appear to spend half their life under these things are quickly dubbed 'Tangoman!'Maybe he attends such paces in the dead of night?




Can I just point out to Andy Williams, and all those other happy go lucky Christmas songsters that this is NOT the 'happiest Tome of the Year!' Apart from statistics which show that more marriages break up at this time, and more family arguments are generated by the closeness of ones loved ones I need t point out one or two little faults in their songs. For one thing it is not a 'White Christmas,' and for most of us it never is. (May the good Lord be praised for that! Snow is cold, wet, slippery, causes accidents, this leaves pain and anguish, and snow also leaves lots of slush everywhere!) Also there are no 'sleigh bells a ringing' as there are NO reindeer are flying! Santa Claus (that's Father Christmas to the middle classes) does NOT exist! Now I agree Christmas pudding, a big dinner (cooked by a woman - that's what they were made for!) a nice bottle of wine, and a present or two are jolly, but this is NOT Christmas! As for a dirty big pine tree sitting in the living room! Well you can copy the fairy on top as far as that is concerned!

There is no doubt that human nature being what it is we need a mid winter festival. It ought to fall on December 21st, the shortest day of the year here, and indicate that from now on we can expect longer days and the promise of Spring! Woo hooooo! By adding Jesus to it someone lessened his arrival and with the gifts turned it into one big commercial trap! 'Peace on earth?' Not in the, nearly bare, Woolworth's shop this afternoon. 'Happiest Time of the Year?' Not judging by the British faces I saw today. Certainly friends were greeted warmly, and not everyone was as miserable as those that blog, er..let's move on.... However the songs do not reflect Christmas as it is, instead we have a meaningless fantasy land that leaves behind an emptiness. No wonder more suicides occur round this time! There is a life out there in the real Jesus, born in Spring when the weather was warm and the shops were empty, and he lasts longer than a few presents do.

I've had all the songs today. Listening to Gold Radio, which allows me some decent 'pop' music - from the 60's - and fills in the rest of the time with the 'bubblegum' stuff the wee girls ran out to buy! They have played all the usual, and some unusual Christmas songs, but there is no doubt which is the best of them all. The only Christmas song that we need! This one!

Tuesday

So I turned on the taps, as you do, and began to fill the bath. I put in cold water, then allowed the hot to fill slowly. Sitting at the desk I came perused the Scottish Premier League clips, including our victory over the green bigots - well, apart from their late equaliser that is! So I enjoyed our great display, wondered how Aberdeen could avoid a penalty for a foul similar to the one that obtained then a penalty, and laughed when even the TV cameras could not be bothered watching Hibernians dismal display.

I then realised the water was still running! Have you ever attempted to pull out a plug when water is lapping over the sides and burning through your skin at the same time? I do not recommend this! Why is it that normally the tap (That's faucet to foreign Johnnies!) switches itself off and instead of a bath of warm delicious soapy water (no I don't drink it, I mea...oh never mind) I have a dribble lying pathetically in the bottom and I have to wait for ever for it to fill. Good job this bath only happens once a week I can tell you! I would use the shower unit, if it didn't fall down all the time, the water didn't go from sulphurous, burning hot to icy freezing cold minute by minute, and I didn't keep standing on the soap and find myself face down at the door. I'm so glad I am me, it makes life easier for everyone else!

I do however find the most relaxing place is in the bath. In recent years it has become the place to read books, cogitate, and talk to myself. Even though I now find myself talking to myself much of the time I prefer it it in the dimly lit bathroom. I must put a bulb in that socket. I have a pile of books in there and the biggest fear is dropping a favourite and ruining it. How much better to understand the world, past and present, by lying back and steeping yourself in culture and hot water? In days of wealth a few bright smelly candles would ease the pain of work, as I read historical works, or comedy by Wodehouse or Jerome. (That's Jerome K Jerome, not Jerome the ancient Bishop. I doubt he wrote light comedy!) There is little to beat this method of relaxation, until the water freezes over of course.

Which for no good reason reminds me of the three car showrooms we passed during yesterdays lesson in the big town. I had just eased my way through several roundabouts when he indicated these three. One was Ferrari, the next Maserati and the third Porshe! Outside each stood around a dozen cars,gleaming as much as they can in dull overcast Britain. When you consider they start are around £150,000 and go upwards you get a glimpse of the money available in the UK - for some! This reminds me of the P.G.Wodehouse tale, true story, of a film mogul looking for a writer for his latest idea. The story he wished written up comprised a man getting fed up with his ungrateful son and deciding to make him pay his way. In the tale he wishes to cut his ner-do- well son of with only $500 a week! The year was 1930! This film was never made. Did those Hollywood folk never have a clue about real life I ask?

Making Money

In a vain attempt to pay the bills and clear some of the ever increasing debts, I decided to search E-Bay. I came across an advert for this stereoscope outfit and discovered it sold for £25! Woohoo I thought, I have one of these wasting away in a cupboard. It was given by the lovely lass and once looked at it became forgotten. However it was clear there are collectors out there willing to part with cash for such as this, so I placed an ad!

Naturally having the competence of George Dubyah Bush I placed it in the wrong category! So once again I have listed the thing and once again I read 'No Bids' each time I log on. How is it I ask, that 12 year olds can sit at a PC and become millionaires within months while whatever venture I engage it comes to nought? I had a Wodehouse book for sale but could get nothing for it, unfortunately even though it is a classic and in short supply there was a slight damage and therefore collectors were not interested. Another dream of £20 failed to come to fruition.

On 'YOUGOV' the research folk site I have received £50 in times past for filling in the surveys. Now when I am desperate for the cash I notice I stand on £49.70! That is 30p away from getting the cash! 30p!!!!! It could take to next month before I get the next 50p survey, and then another month before the cash arrives! I could be suffering malnutrition by then! I really do not get how some folks find money at every turn. You know the ones, leave a shoelace and a box of matches lying around and next thing you hear they have used these morsels to set themselves up in business and now have forty stores nationwide, a Greek island for the weekends, and several million spare in the bank. Now I don't live for money, I just want to pay my way by doing something useful and having enough to spare for other things. Looks like I need to go back to writing that book, 'How to be an Idiot.' Hold on, I've lost that file! Typical!

I am in two minds as to whether it is worth attempting to sell the aged 'Delta Airlines' toilet bag, possibly from the 60's. I cannot afford to keep E-Bay in business while I head for bankruptcy! The overdraft is near its end, and if I cross the line the bank will send me a letter stating, "You are overdrawn on your overdraft, so we will increase you poverty by fining you £25." Only a banker can see nothing wrong in asking for more money from someone who has no money! As the £25 takes me further over the line next month I get another letter charging me money I do not posses for paying the charge on money I do not possess and increasing my lack of money possession not only by the £25 for overdrawing the overdraft but also adds,"The cost of each letter we write to you is £25!" I might just wander in to the bank dressed as a slave, chains and all and surrender myself! It would be cheaper than paying bank charges! (which I note have increased by £2 again! This (free) letter informed me this was because of the benefit (we wanted?) of mobile insurance and car insurance. Neither of which I need. Now I am a peaceable man, except when violent, and I am close to visiting the chairman of said bank, unless he has been ousted by the recent changes, and inserting the said letters into his wallet! Free of charge!

Anyhow a quick check, how I need a quick cheque, shows that I have £29.39 in the AdSense account. This does not pay out under £100 at a time. When it does I should get around £60, but with the credit crunch changing things all the time I reckon I will have around 47 pence awaiting me when it arrives. The Amazon account is just as bad - totally unused so far! Now I am content in that the good Lord has never failed me and I know something is just around the corner. As I said I don't live for money, but I do wish I could find a way to create some! Another five jobs to apply for and this mean another five failures! None are any good, all have fifty already applying for them, and two at least are somewhat dodgy!

I think it's time I went with a beat up old guitar and stood outside the shops doing my Bob Dylan impersonation. I certainly have the voice for it, or so I have been told - many times! In fact when I think of it, my dads last big gift to me was a reel to reel tape recorder back in 1968. I still have it somewhere in a cupboard, along with several very bad tapes made around that time. The shock I received when hearing my voice for the first time was bad enough, the greater shock came when I heard this awful voice singing so very badly - it was me! The dreams of rock stardom were put in the bottom drawer and locked away for ever. I should have known mind, after all, when in primary school and the school choir came along, the singing voices went to the front and the non singing were placed at the back of the crowd and told to mime. I was placed at the back and told not to mime! I thought it was just the doddery old teacher up till I heard my voice!

Teddy Bears

The news that Woolworth's were dying on their feet, partly because of the credit crunch and partly because they are not very good, caused the administrator to slash prices in an effort to cash in on the Christmas rush. Tempted by avarice and greed I wandered along yesterday afternoon and joined a thousand wildebeests rampaging, with pushchairs, through the wreckage. What the man who built a huge skyscraper from his store would have thought I dare not imagine. The animals blocked the passageways with their pushchairs, stood in the remaining space and wondered why folks, like myself possibly, grunted GERROUTOFFIT!!!! at them. There were only short lines of folk at the checkouts as most of the decent stuff had been removed long before. Empty shelves reflected the grasping hands that had fallen for the '30% OFF' signs and seen goods that folk didn't really want leave the shop just because it was reduced. The sight of such multitudes greed, reflected in myself, made me sick to my stomach. I was like the rest attempting to grab what I could. I pushed through the swarming herd, stopping only to swap one or two children from one pushchair to another, just to see if the mum's actually noticed when they got home, and left empty handed. Of course as the stampeding hordes had taken all the best available, which is not saying much in 'Woolies' actually, there was nothing worth grasping with my sweaty paws, and headed for Tesco as I knew they had been afrighted by Woolies sales technique and reduced prices also! I really did need a couple of small things for the kids up North, a noose and a set of stocks would be useful, and so I had a flimsy excuse for being there. So late afternoon found me grasping two chea...inexpensive 'Teddy bears' as I queued for a small eternity while other wildebeests shoved through the orderly queue in an effort to obtain glittering prizes that would ensure happiness this Christmas. I wonder if they know the number for the Samaritans? At the counter I had to fight with the lass as she, totally wiped out by non stop customers, wanted to sit and hug the bears herself. I needed the nancy boy assistant and two customers to help me get her hands off them before I could get out of there! The joys of shopping! That is a woman's world indeed!The observant will have noticed I have added a few to my 'Friends' & 'Favourites' list. This is all Joe's fault! Every time I read his excellent blog I also have to read the comments left by his ever growing fan club. Joe is of course becoming one of the 'Must reads' of the blogging world, and if you have not done so before I insist you browse his pages and those comments left by a wide assortment of lunatics. You will feel at home there! This is it Crotchety Old Man! So I updated the list and added many from his world, each one a gem in their own mind! Twisted, perverse, demented and unstable, yet lucid, witty and just what you appreciate. I recommend each and every one to your care and adoration - before the men in the little yellow vans come and take them away - again!



I was wandering around attempting to keep warm the other day and found myself following two lassies from one of the 'Care in the Community' homes. This place shelters around a dozen mentally , sorry, we call them 'People with Learning Difficulties' now. We used to call them 'backward,' or 'Slow' but now we need a fancy phrase to describe them, such is life! However I used to deliver to this place and am well aware of the girls living there. While one or two are real sad cases who need 24 hour care 7 days a week others are allowed to walk the streets. When I delivered this street I inevitably met one called Jane if I remember right. here was a somewhat large girl, aged about 23 maybe, but with the mental age of around seven. She often walked to shops and centres by herself, and was capable of doing so safely. However she also followed this postman when she met him. "I might get a letter postman, is there one for me, it's my birthday, any for me?" This followed me down the road. It is surprisingly difficult to avoid someone in a straight, and very long, street! It did not aid delivery!
Anyway, these two lassies had been returning from wherever and the more capable one was carefully holding the hand of the other, a very sad wee lass. Around them roared the uncaring world, a world their primary school mentality could never possibly comprehend, yet together on they went, the lesser totally trusting the other. Such trust and care for each other.

When I saw this I could have cried.