Rotyal Mail Dispute

The 'Daily Mail' and other right wing press, are going full out in attacking the striking postmen. This is no surprise. For many years government, both parties, have wanted rid of the Royal Mail. On top of this an EU directive forced 'competition' on to them and allowed 'TNT' and 'Deutche Post' to operate parcel delivery in the UK. They were also allowed to take mail, at cheaper rates than RM, and dump it on Royal Mail to deliver. That's right, they collect mail from the big companies, and a few small ones, charge them less than Royal Mail do, and then give it to RM to deliver for them. When I was a postman, three years ago, it cost RM 13 pence to deliver mail. Privatised companies paid RM only 12,5 pence per letter, a profit of 0.5 pence per letter! It is no wonder RM loses money!

While complaining they are losing mail the postman is actually delivering much more than before. Not only the normal mail, but the increase coming from those using the private companies means the postman's bag is bigger than ever. The pressure from above is such that while the mailman has three and a half hours to actually deliver his sorted mail, he spends half his day sorting the stuff by hand first of course, he actually needs four to five hours to deliver it. Royal Mail will NOT pay overtime for this! Add to this the increase in packages carried by the postman, 'E-Bay' and others causing this, the number of bags he has to deal with has doubled, and this means running around collecting the things, all adding to his time frame. Many complain the postman does not wait while knocking at the door, although this is often more to their slowness at answering! I have watched a woman wander about the house, knowing I am standing there, fixing her hair before she answered! "I ONLY HAVE FIVE HUNDRED OTHERS TO THINK OF BITCH GET A MOVE ON!" Yet the postie is the one in the wrong? Far too many display the normal human failure of thinking the postman is a servant, their servant, who should wait on them. They forget he may be a servant, but he is not servile! So give what you wish to receive.

Even when the management at a sorting office know their job the men at the top are working to an agenda designed to paint the postmen as the 'bad guys.' This is clearly seen in the message given through the press. The vast amounts of 'delayed mail' that lies undelivered in sorting offices (well the main offices actually) is blamed on industrial action. What is not said is that much of this is deliberately put aside in an effort to cast blame. Other areas will not allow this mail to be delivered as they refuse to pay for the men to do overtime. The increased pressure to remove all the full time, trained, postmen, and replace them with part time casuals, untrained and unfamiliar with the 'walks' they are given, saves RM cash but ensures mail delivery is harmed. This style of delivery is that used by TNT and others in Belgium, Germany and Holland. Their the mail is a mess in many areas, industrial conflict abounds, and posting a letter is vastly more expensive than in the UK.

Clearly the government wishes to save the 'taxpayer' money by selling off Royal Mail. This means that in the long term prices will increase, Lands End to John O' Groats next day delivery, all for 32 pence, will disappear, and the normal postman who is aware of your comings and goings (and who has signed the official secrets act by the way) will no longer exist. By saving the 'taxpayer,' or should I say 'Daily Mail' reader, a few pence in tax a year this policy will increase the cost of his mail, and business costs which will rebound on him, exorbitantly! They did this with Electric, Water, British Rail, the buses and of course Gas! All utilities that once served the nation, and while they were badly run and needed modernised they did not rip folks off and make billions in profits for the few! While some posties were not keen on work, I can think of three in particular, the majority just get on with the job. Today they are being badly treated by a management that cares nothing for them, the service, or anything but money! They should care about that, Crosier is taking millions each year for his three day week! The service has degraded badly in the past couple of years through this mismanagement. Time to renationalise the utilities, and support the postmen's efforts to keep the service element of Royal Mail. Bring back Joseph Chamberlain!

3 Para

3Para

While flying home for my mothers funeral I got chatting to a man from 3 Para about Afghanistan. This was an interesting conversation with a chap who had seen action there and was in every respect the type of man you wished to have on your side. The Para's have a reputation for being somewhat 'rough' but this did not come across with this man. He was an excellent representative for his regiment and I confess I was impressed. This image was given further evidence when reading the book he had recommended, '3 Para,' the story of their adventure in Afghanistan. He is pictured here,

"Loud and lovable,
Sergeant Dan Jarvie was
one of the most popular men in 3 Para."

That I can believe!

The Para's intention was to support the 'reconstruction' of damaged Afghanistan in the Helmand Province. Once there however political games from high above led to there aim being distorted and they became becalmed in several locations 'holding the fort' instead of moving through the land in the manner they were trained for. This was because once in position the Taliban then chose to attack, at great cost, these establishments. The constructive side of the operation soon became secondary and disappeared altogether by the time of their return to Colchester. This it must be said was not the fault of 3 Para!

In Sangin and Musa Qaleh, in Now Zad and at the Kajaki Dam they met stiff resistance with determination and skill. They suffered much. The weather was hot and they were wearing full kit. Mines planted during the Russian occupation caused much damage, RPG's and sniper fire, attacks on compounds and vehicles bringing supplies were costly. 3 Para endured them all and fought on, not quite exhausted, until relieved.

This well illustrated book tells the story of the tour of duty, the clashes with the Taliban, the attempt to make friends with the locals, who were caught between the Taliban and an army that may well be gone tomorrow, and the power struggles above. The Afghan president and his governor, the American wish to blast the Taliban out, and the British attempt at 'hearts and minds' which the 'John Wayne' educated U.S. forces never appear to understand. The impression is given of a country with far to many divisions, too much corruption, a Taliban imposing from without their religious view, the western force doing likewise and a government more interested in position and making a fast buck. While the Taliban can never again reconquer the nation they can never be removed either. The people are of no importance in all this!
There is no easy answer, and too few wish any answer at all!

The battle group of which 3 Para were the leading edge, consisted of a company from the Royal Gurkha Rifles, a detachment from the Royal Irish Regiment, plus Scimitar and Spartans vehicles from the household Cavalry to add an armoured section with the 7th Royal Horse Artillery adding their 105m guns. Engineers, medical, and air transport combined to make a significant and powerful force. By the end of the tour this force had suffered fifteen deaths, including an interpreter, and almost fifty serious wounds. The war situation moves on, the wounds remain for life. On top of this there are the 'post traumatic stress' problems that few speak about but manage to send hundreds, or is it thousands, of ex-servicemen to jail!

There were of course medals, some posthumous. Corporal Bryan James Budd of 3 Para, noticed his men had been injured during a fight in a field of tall maize. To protect them while medical aid arrived and tended these serious injuries, he took off in the direction of the enemy fire, firing in their direction to draw the enemy to himself. He disappeared! When found later he was lying dead alongside two Taliban. He was awarded the Victoria Cross!
Corporal Mark William Wright, also of 3 Para, was also killed in action. He was awarded the George Cross. Many more received awards or were mentioned in dispatches.

Patrick Bishops book gave a very good understanding of the complexity of the Afghan problem, far better than any news report could do. In spite of the changes in the situation, and there have been many, the danger for the Para's does not go away. Insufficient equipment, a lack of support, the confused ideals behind the action and the nagging question, "What are we doing here?" Let's face it, nobody really knows what the purpose is. This war was another of 'Dubyah' Bush's adventures, and it is doubtful if he ever found out where Afghanistan is! Obama wants to get out but has no idea how to do this, and Gordon Brown is reluctant to send the troops asked for by the army. The 'Vietnam' thought lurks in the background. Nobody has ever conquered this troublesome people. The fear of Islamic terrorism, real enough in itself, may not be faced in this area, especially if the real foe is in Pakistan! What will happen to this sad land? There is no answer to that at this time.

3 Para have been back once already, in 2008, and will return again next year. While they will do their job well I hope there are clear objectives marked out for them, achievable objectives at that! I do not wish to see Dan Jarvie, and his tremendously powerful handshake, lost for no good reason. These men deserve better for the determined, effective, service they provide for this nation.

H.V.Morton

At the beginning of the book, 'In Search of H.V.Morton' the author, Michael Bartholomew, tells the story of Morton's disappointment at meeting an author with whom he had become besotted. He was still a child and was reluctantly pushed forward by his mother after he had discovered the great man was not what he had imagined. The disappointment never left him and he made it a point never to reveal anything of himself deliberately, relying only on the written word and nothing else. The story is related because those of us who have built up a picture of Morton in our minds will quickly become similarly disappointed when we meet the real man!

I confess I have as yet not read the whole book, just a review a while ago which indicated just what exactly the 'real man' contained. That was disappointing enough but a glance at certain chapters of the book, concerning the works I had written, indicated I would indeed not find the man I imagined. The discovery that his books were something other than what they appeared to be also fails to please but I suppose reading with eyes open more often would have shown this already. One day I will finish the book, if I spend long enough in the library keeping warm, but I am unsure if I actually wish to at this moment.

It rings true however that the person we read is not the person who lives. Therefore the idea of the writer keeping his counsel and ensuring his life is not lived in the public eye is one I agree with. The written word ought to speak for itself, and this is why I disagree with photographs of journalists in the press. It looks good presentation wise for the paper but it makes the person more important than the word. many journalists may of course see nothing wrong with that, and the nearer they are to the tabloid end the more they will see themselves as important it appears at first sight. The words ought to be honest, preferably knowledgeable, and worth reading. The person behind them should be irrelevant. There again we do pick up a picture of the person writing the words, hopefully we have seen the real one and therefore will not be disappointed if we run into them.

1950's planning

One good thing about 1950's planning was the idea of open spaces. I came past one such estate today. These houses were planned in the late thirties, or during the war and eventually someone got around to the design and building of them in the early fifties. Houses for people, council houses originally and foolishly sold of by Thatcher. One of the stupidest policies she came out with. Owning your own home was an ideal, and one so many could not keep up with yet she encouraged the sale of the very houses that were meant to provide for those that could not afford to buy! Naturally the socialist voters who bought their home cheap flogged it for a fortune leaving thousand in the lat 1980's in debt up to their eyes. A short step to the recession we now endure worldwide! Today we are building 'social housing' the very thing she killed off! Today the houses are cramped, with small areas of green for gardens and probably built on land that ought to be left for the 'green belt,' or even worse, land that has had hundreds of years of industrial use
and contains all sorts of bad stuff. Superb! Those house built in the fifties at least had open spaces, in truth larger than required, but gave the occupants a better life than the overcrowded tenements and houses they had suffered for many years. Such long sighted policies ought to be commended. There is no doubt the people sometimes responded badly and many areas of good housing were reduced to slums by the people who inhabited them, so much for the socialist idea that people would change if the housing improved! However for those who did make the most of it the houses are a blessing indeed, so much so many did not move even if they bought their house and like my mother lived in them for over fifty years. Quite right too!

This estate has large green areas, possibly caused by the slopes making it unsuitable for housing, and what was once farmers fields are now areas of green with the occasional small wood, like the one pictured above. A small benefit to those who live here, because we need trees and bushes around us. We need the sight of green grass and a wide variety of wildlife nearby. This opens our minds and takes us away from the daily struggle, unless of course it rains, then it's just mud and only the dog is happy!

Intellectual Stimulation

I often listen into Radio 4's 'In Our Time' with Melvyn Bragg for intellectual stimulation. The idea is simple. Several clever folks gather around the table with Melvyn and discuss their specialist subject. It could be the Battle of Thermopylae, Geoffrey Chaucer, Virtue, the Whale, or Heritage. Almost any subject under the sun will be discussed here.

I like it as I get a better understanding of lots of different subjects, if I am interested in them that is, and enjoy the experts pointing out one another's faults in that polite academic manner they love so much. I do get irritated, not a habit I suffer from as you know, when Melvyn attempts to speed up the speaker in an effort to fit the programme into the 45 minutes allotted to it. Naturally his summing up of their chat takes longer than the one speaking, and he of course has no idea what he is talking about when he does this! Quite funny in one way but just shut it Melvyn and let them speak! The added benefit of such programmes, and the subjects range far and wide it must be said, just trawl through their archives all of which can be listened to there and then, the added benefit is that if you know something about the topic you can then shout at the screen and disagree. This is something I, but not my neighbours, enjoy!

Of course some speak disdainfully of this programme, usually other Radio 4 people at that. I suspect their university education has revealed to them the uselessness in any practical manner of the information gleamed from such experts. This is of course true. An understanding of the 'Dreyfus Affair' means very little to those waiting on the bus on a rain soaked Monday morning. Understanding Aristotle's Politics means little to a mother attempting to persuade her brat that school is not Stalagluft VI, quite what relevance Aristotle has at all is a question in itself I suppose. However surely we all need to know about Babylon don't we? I would say we do myself. After all the word is used quite often these days.

Ah well, at least my mind is stimulated and awake after listening to...er, what was I listening to just now? Anyway, I enjoyed it, whatever they were talking about......

Nothing to Say, Again!

Once again a Saturday night arrives and I find myself with nothing to say and no energy not to say it. The day appears to have passed me by again, too many do these days, and when I look for something intellectually stimulating, humorous, or worth reading I discover that searching for the web cam that was pointed to paint peeling from the wall is more worthwhile. Actually the picture, if found, will be much more interesting than anything discovered on here!
Having not got out much today, folk often comment that I appear not to get out much, I never looked for that enthralling photograph that would enliven your life. The fact is I only popped out for cheap veg and hobbled back home again. I say hobbled as I exercised the other day and walked a fair distance. The walking gave me a blister and the exercise has strained my hamstring just to remind me to do things in a more organised and thoughtful manner. What's that I hear, sympathy perhaps? No thought not!


I did manage to find the Japan v Scotland game this morning. What some consider a needless friendly, I suspect had Walter Smith organised this game everyone would be agreeing how wonderful it was and a good opportunity to blood young players, the game turned out to be better than I thought, once I realised it was being shown! Why do people not tell me things, not counting that policeman the other night of course, I missed the first 13 minutes but got there as they need my support at all times. Lee Wallace, not requested at the beginning, was the best player on the park, I ignored the Japanese ones I only paid half price to watch one team, and Berra and Gordon were also excellent. Interestingly we were doing OK until the two Hibs players entered the field, we then lost two goals! Typical! Still, at least the fringe players got a run out, the young lads got a taste of international football and that is what friendlies ought to be about. The Japanese are of course very different in their outlook, and their repetitive chant throughout became annoying by the second half.


Well as I have failed to find anything of interest I will go and howl at the moon, it is quite large just now I believe, I cannot see the thing because of the cloud cover, but I know it is quite large as hair is growing all over my face, I howl at the thing when my concentration lapses, and I find myself being nice to people in the street. All the usual effects of the moons influence. I suspect the tides will be high at the moment also. Hoooooooowwwwwwwwlllllllllll. Oh I needed that. Oops, the neighbour s banging on the wall again, maybe the moon is influencing him also?

Christmas Already!

As I passed through the supermarket today, I was not buying just annoying the security man, I noticed they had the Christmas chocolate boxes on display. Then as I passed the big shop on the corner a window was dressed up with a variety of maroon coloured Santas! I wanted to stand there shouting "HE DOESN'T EXIST AND IT'S STILL OCTOBER!!!" but didn't. No doubt the card shop opposite has begun displaying Christmas cards, but I didn't bother to look, and as I wandered through Tesco for cheap bread I saw they also were well ahead with the Christmas goodies lark. Now I am all in favour of planning ahead, but why can we not be like Denmark. If I am right they are not allowed to display Christmas goodies until late November or early December! Good for them if true!

This annoys me on many levels. Not only is it commercialising Christmas, which is at the wrong date anyway, but I was reminded by this display of the meaningless of life for so many. When the Beatles were producing music to change the world I was wondering why on earth do we live like we do? We leave school, get jobs, then get married and have kids who leave school. get jobs, and on and on and on. There was no point to this life! Life surely meant more than this. Now today I know for a fact that life is found in the person of Jesus Christ himself, and this does not go round in meaningless circles (although it could be clearer in many ways if you don't mind me saying so!). However the idea that each year we start with a New Year piss up, move on through Valentines Day (another rip off), a commercialised Easter (and what have eggs to do with it I ask you?), take part in the holiday season in the foreign sun or British rain, then prepare for Christmas! Worse still until recently Christmas day was full of adverts for summer holidays! Now they have to wait a day or two before they start this. What is this life if we are constantly looking to the next, all too often, non-event? It is one thing to go through the year looking forward to something, but in my sixties mind set something is amiss and this is nothing but a rat race. Who wins? The companies, and their employees, who set all this early commercial gain up lose out as they are stressed out for a handful of silver, the buyer is stressed out looking for the right gift, and worse if it turns out to be wrong! The nation is left suffering a hangover, not just of alcohol and the problems it brings, but the emptiness as the enticing season fails to live up to expectations. The season of 'goodwill?' No, just the season of stress.

Wednesday Evening

How to Boil Water

There is nothing worse than setting aside several hours to make soup than forgetting to eat the stuff! I slaved over the cooker (always called a 'stove' in some parts for no good reason) cutting up onions, pouring red, green and black lentils into the pot, boiling water, adding two, yes two, chicken OXO cubes, cayenne pepper, tomato AND brown sauce, and using up the electricity to ensure this bubbles long enough to kill all the germs. Then, when all this is done, cooled and stuffed into the freezer I forgot to eat the stuff! I did eat, that tin of pink salmon has been in the fridge for several days now so I suppose I had better use it up as it was open. The bread was also a little stale, but I got it cheap so cannot complain, (Not that I am one for that anyway) and all that remains is the open tin of green beans. Funny that as they were not green when I put them in there. I did however obtain a load of salad stuff for £1 at the market. This will reduce my cholesterol and keep me on the run!



It is quite staggering to think of all the folk who have passed through, and by, this church. It has stood there since around 1200 and one wonders at the tales it could tell. Wars have passed by, reformation and counter reformation has seen the church altered and re-altered. In days of yore people stood, the important at the front and the social hierarchy lowering as you neared the back, hence climbing the social scale, (very biblical!) and when tired folk 'went to the wall' to rest.
The fact that people wore the same clothes constantly, and even the rich did not bother to bath, meant that an odour was palpable in the crowded church, and it would be crowded as attendance was usually compulsory. Flowers were strewn on the floor to combat this, feet crushed them as they passed and the flowers on the stone floor gave of a pleasing scent. Attendance at the morning service, often the evening was reserved for the top brass or those who really wished to be there, attendance was not always popular and the vergers were often forced to take action, waking some folks, stopping others writing graffiti or scraping pictures on the walls, on occasion stopping others calling out their objections or attacking the celebrants. The local churches are not like this today!

Yesterday

Yesterday started in the usual manner. I found myself sitting here stuffing stale bread toast down my throat and swallowing a gallon of cheap coffee to stimulating the left over brain cells. This did not work! I know this as I looked at the clock, noticed the time as almost a quarter to eight, and when I looked at it much, much later I didn't notice the time was still quarter to eight. About ten past nine it dawned on me something was amiss! Several minutes hunting eventually procured a cheap battery for the clock. Cheap batteries are ideal for clocks and the like, and totally worthless for cameras, radios and anything that requires enough effort to blow a feather!
Nothing daunted I opened the curtains and was confronted with a dull, dreich, day! Gray clouds hung over all. Indeed not so much over as across all for the far side of the park was dulled by a gray mist.

Hours later, when the rain had come, fallen, drenched the world, stopped, started, stopped again, started again, got heavier, and then got heavier again, and then stopped for a good while, I went out.
It rained!
However before this I found myself in a churchyard opposite, attempting to 'see' the photographs contained therein. Graveyards are very photogenic, especially if they contain interesting stones. This one however failed to satisfy my photographer impersonation. The graves, while ancient, were not outstanding.

I suppose such a comment would upset many of those buried there. After all only the rich upper and middle classes could obtain burials such as these in the days of yore. For many 'place' was important and while many knew their God and lived accordingly there is always a sense of self importance within humans. A walk through Kensal Green Cemetery reveals this. There the rich and famous are buried, probably with great pomp at the time, and vie with one another in the magnificence of their monuments. It is as if they are attempting to outdo their neighbours even in death, or possibly, just maybe, attempting to hold on to life even when dead. "Look at me," such monuments shout, "I'm not dead, I'm here!" But sadly it is too late, no matter how great you were. The ivy covered tombs, often great concrete boxes, an attempt to prevent grave robbers, ghouls, stealing the body for medical experimentation in the days gone by, lie crowded in this small area, leaning at angles as the earth subsides beneath them. The trees planted in memorial soak up the moisture and in places the ground dips leaving some tombs slightly ajar, as if someone is attempting to escape. "Not yet dear boy," I informed one chap," Not judgement day yet, don't be in a rush for that!"


If the stones are readable, and so many have faded badly, it is possible to guess the reason for the departure of these people. While many lived to a good age others died young. Illness that today has been controlled by the National health Service, took away many in the past. Childbirth, still dangerous today, took many young women. Cholera, Diphtheria, TB, and a mass of other illness are not found among the west today yet were common dangers to the folk who lie here. There again, flush toilets, cars, telephones and washing machines were items many of them could never have foreseen. Some lived into the 20th century and died in wonderment at the material benefits around them. Advancements that also produced the Great War among other things! The good we discover we soon make use of in war, we are good that way!

The thing about graveyards is the way they cheer me up! On the one hand I can look at the past and conjecture on the lives of the fallen, and on the other I can look at the sun and be glad I am alive, and Jesus wants me to see better sunshine than this for ever with him! Great stuff, although I wonder why. I also wonder how many of these will be there on that day?

Sunday

Such is the intense excitement of my day summed up, by a small bridge over the gaping three foot ravine below. This fifty yard walk through the 'Dingley Dell' that leads to a supermarket carpark! The sun shone through the trees dappling the leaves and brightening the day. Even the bulk of the police station overlooking the pathway could not dampen the joy of the trail.

Nothing else happened!

The phone didn't ring, the e-mail did not bleep, even spam did not bother to arrive, the papers were dead, the TV was a waste, and lunch was ... well let's not bring that up again! All in all a rubbish day. Of course the news from Saturday did not help. Travelling to Paisley to play St Mirren at their new ground, a new ground in which they have as yet failed to win a game! Naturally the Heart of Midlothian have never played there as yet and it appeared to some experienced readers of the games that a Heart of Midlothian defeat was on the cards.
We lost!
I am aware of Mike S. now lying under one of the tables in 'The Diggers.' I wish I was with him!

Yet Another Saturday Evening Post!

Rhythm and Blues

Earlier tonight I came across a programme on a video concerning the early years of the great sixties groups. This hour long programme specialised in those Rhythm and Blues influenced folk from that time, Eric Clapton, Jeff Beck, Rolling Stones, Manfred Mann and so on, all great stuff to me. This was my music, the music of my youth. Not that I ever heard enough of this of course, it was not given nearly enough air time on the bubblegum dominated Radio 1, the BBC radio station that began in 1967 and was 'pop' orientated.

As an adolescent, and all through the following years, the screaming guitars and the steady rhythm of the blues was indeed the music that got to the heart! The main groups that made music to listen to, and rarely made money on sales generated by Radio 1, were blues and R & B based. At school, yes I did go to one but would rather have missed that experience thank you, we had a 'hop' at the end of the year.Always a local Rhythm & Blues band was brought in, although when the ginger lass pulled the singer of the stage we nearly lost that little pleasure! This music does speak in a way no other does today, it captures all sorts of moods yet the generation around us prefers bland inconsequential ballads, usually from all girls bands who look the same, on black lassies with high pitch voices who all sound the same! What does our music taste say about the generations?

Our music was more basic certainly, although the bands usually had a middle class background. As the decades since the sixties have passed the music tastes reflect the growing prosperity and becomes more sophisticated. (I discount Lieutenant Pigeon's 1971 offering here by the way) Are we just to wrapped up in ourselves to want to listen to anything other than bland pop? Girlies always did this, and it was mostly the male of the species who wanted Jimi Hendrix and the like, and this led radio stations to give them what they wanted as that was the core listener. Only John Peel in the sixties gave us what we wanted, progressive music to go with our Hippy ideals! 'Make love not war!' It usually became 'Make tea not war,' but we won't go into that. Oh those Hippy ideals, so good and caring, making a better world, and we would have done so if human nature had not got into the way! If it wasn't for sin we would have done OK!

Funny how so much was spoken about the caring, loving life, while the groups that gave us the music that we 'loved' to were arguing with one another while high on drink, drugs and conceit! How many preached the 'love' gospel while ripping others off? However the music was, and still is, good! A proper Rhythm and Blues band can really liven my little brain up. Possibly because we hear it so rarely these days. Even in Chicago and such places the 'Blues' is a dying art, the young find 'rap' more to their taste, though I use the word 'taste' lightly here.

Oh Eric Clapton why could I not play the guitar like you? How come you had the talent and I had the need? I saw him in Westbourne Grove on night. I had just bought a cassette, remember those, of one of his albums, and as I walked along playing air guitar to 'Pretending' in my head, I saw him! He stared at me, knowing I was dreaming I was he, and he realised I was staring at him, our eyes met, and in one sublimely fast movement he was off into the '7/11 shop. I wonder if he often thinks of me? That area, part of the Notting Hill of fame, contains many famous and now rich superstars. The house prices do not allow folk like me to live there. One bedroom flat for half a million? Not me! In fact I recall seeing the 'Third Ear Band' live in a church hall on Lancaster Road there around 1971/2 time. Fantastic evening! Light show and drugged up poetry readings also! wonder if they remember me?

I have always liked music that was a bit innovative. Nowadays I like classics, jazz and the old stuff. Anything that is not meaningless, bland 'pop' usually can be listened to for a while, unless there is a screeching soprano spoiling it of course. There are limits! Oh if only I had Hendrix talents, or Clapton's, or Jeff Becks or Keith Richards or Jimmy Page or .....

Some thoughts

... I'm not a complete idiot -- Some parts are missing.
.. Ever stop to think, and forget to start again?
.. Procrastinate Now!

... God must love stupid people; He made so many.
.. A journey of a thousand miles begins with a cash advance.
.. He who dies with the most toys is nonetheless DEAD.
.. A picture is worth a thousand words, but it uses up three thousand times the memory.

.. You're just jealous because the voices only talk to me.

Mike S Impression

>

Did you hear about the new line of Elvis Presley-themed steakhouses? They'll be for people who love meat tender.

I always wondered why the ball was getting bigger as it came at me..... then it hit me

Individuality: Always remember that you are unique. Just like everybody else...

Mistakes: It could be that the purpose of your life is only to serve as a warning to others.

Tradition: Just because you've always done it that way doesn't mean it's not incredibly stupid.

One day while walking down the beach with some friends someone shouted....'Hey, look at that dead bird!' The blonde looked up at the sky and said...'where???'

I read a book on addiction, Iliked it so much I bought several more.

Sunday

Photos can be deceiving sometimes. This idyllic setting is just behind the railway, and not far from a water sluice with a small building rumbling away. The picture manages to miss the plastic bottles floating among the green algae that covers most of the stream (which they refer to as a 'river.') and the occasional beer cans left behind by wee neds as they struggle through adolescence. Still, early on a Sunday, when the sun is shining and the sky is blue, a wander through the vegetation is quite relaxing as the only passers-by are the occasional dog walker as desperate as I, and the dogs, to avoid the crowds. Where the water is clear Mallards can be found and incredibly, on occasion, small fish are noticed, usually wearing oxygen cylinders, and crash helmets - in case they meet the beer cans!


Again the camera lies, the 'river' is to the left and a housing estate just across the top of the hill. In spite of the sun, the greenery and the peace this is not a beauty spot. It is however a few minutes of nature that we all need. Isn't it funny how we need to walk among green stuff? Since around 1850 most folk in the UK have lived in towns or cities. Before then the majority were country bumpkins. We really did live off the land. In many parts of the world this is still the case, although some claim the majority actually are now urban, and I suspect, in between the aches and pains of the toil, these folks have a satisfaction in their work we do not have in towns. I am not convinced that we are made to live in office blocks or concrete jungles. 'Building sickness' is often relieved by large windows and ordinary daylight, surely this tells us something? Many find relaxation in gardening, miners often do, alongside pigeon fancying, and having your own green space, shaded and hidden from neighbours, is a strong selling point in many house sales. When Adam and Eve were thrown out of the garden of Eden they, at least he, was forced to toil on the land. Some part of us still wants this connection to the earth.

Thursday

Very warm today, and the blue sky was full of interesting cloud patterns. Nothing makes the heart feel better than a blue sky and a sunny day, unless you have toothache of course! I was out there attempting fitness once again. I say again as I am quickly unfit after sitting around for say, three minutes! Yesterday and today walking fast and taking a longer walk than required has left me aching and stiff. However I am not one to complain so I may try similar tomorrow, maybe....



Now here's a thing, I made up a small site containing a few pics of my dad in China. I sent it to 'Yahoo' for their search engine, and now it appears there when I search for it. I added it to the Google sit, however while it appears when I search using the link at the top of the 'Google Chrome' browser it is not found when using the 'Google search engine' on Firefox! Why? It is not found on IE either! Why???? 2 KOSB in China & India

Lovely isn't it?

Autumn

This pitiful picture of a pitiful tree was intended to reflect the wonders of Autumn colours that I saw this morning when wandering about searching the litter bins for breakfast. I was struck by this tree, I should have watched that branch, and was intrigued by the colours glowing in the sunshine. All around the leaves on the trees are beginning to change from various shades of green to yellow and brown. There is something attractive in all this, except when you are the one who has to pick up all the fallen leaves of course. Autumn can be a delightful season, although I prefer Spring myself. Spring brings long days, and the promise, but never the fact, of warmer weather, Autumn heralds cold winter around the corner! I am not one for winter myself, I have seen enough of that and look forward to global warming I can tell you! In fact whenever I can I break into parked cars and turn the engines on and let them run for a while. I give cigarettes to kids and have spent a lot of time demanding the return of steam engines on all our railways - so far without success I might add! They could at least drop me off a bit of Welsh coal to keep me warm during the next few months!


One of the irksome things that er, irk me, is the driving licence in my pocket. I had rather hoped that when I achieved this level of competence, in spite of the examiners hesitation in actually giving it too me, I would be able to slip into a job driving around the countryside in a wee van dropping off some goodies now and again! It has not happened. Nothing has happened, again! In fact nothing happens quite often around here. There are times when nothing happens so often around here it becomes extremely tiring nothing happening. Anyway I am still waiting for that job, indeed any job, falling from the sky! I could do with one of these little Skoda cars to practice my driving. They would be helpful as I am forgetting how to do it already! However to be honest my forgetfulness is er, ...I forget.

Army Cuts

I must say the cuts in the British Army do go quite deep. While we are dragged into Afghanistan to fight Americas wars for them I suggest they ought to be paying for the equipment used there. Look closely and see just what 'our boys' are being forced to 'make do' with against a force armed with rocket propelled grenades and Kalashnikovs! It's a disgrace!



I came across Radio Set the other day. It plays Gregorian Chant 24 hours a day, daily.
Gregorian Chant is, and I quote their blurb :-

"Plainsong with melodic contours which are closely tied to the spoken rhythms and inflections of the text. Introduced in the liturgy by pope Gregory I (540-604), this strictly calm and soothing music spread throughout Europe having today hundreds of melodies known."

Calming, enjoyable, emotive and well worth a listen, if those around you will hold their wheesht!
Click this link RADIO SET and enjoy!

(One point, it is VERY slow to load, and there are long Radio 3 type pauses in between tracks.)



Have I posted this before? Taken from south of the Thames some years ago, heading out east through what once were bustling dockyards full of poorly paid dockers nicking everything they could get their hands on! My first job at the whisky bond in Leith brought me in contact with lorry drivers who often took our whisky to these docks for expert. Men used to the rough side of the docks yet few of them enjoyed a trip here. Glasgow, and worse Liverpool were bad, but they disliked London docks greatly. Today however the ex dockers speak of it as if this place was somewhat romantic! Indeed the pay and conditions were poor, but the people were no saints!

This pic was taken in a refurbished area and the sculpted cat caught my eye. This is art I thought, but this will win few prizes! Mind you, some lout has probably broken it and chucked it in the water by now!

THESE ARE ENTRIES TO A WASHINGTON POST COMPETITION

ASKING FOR A TWO-LINE RHYME
WITH THE MOST ROMANTIC FIRST LINE,
AND THE LEAST ROMANTIC SECOND LINE:

1. My darling, my lover, my beautiful wife:
Marrying you has screwed up my life.

2. I see your face when I am dreaming.
That's why I always wake up screaming.

3. Kind, intelligent, loving and hot;
This describes everything you are not.

4. Love may be beautiful, love may be bliss,
But I only slept with you 'cause I was pissed.

5. I thought that I could love no other
-- that is until I met your brother.

6. Roses are red, violets are blue, sugar is sweet, and so are you.
But the roses are wilting, the violets are dead, the sugar bowl's
empty and so is your head.

7. I want to feel your sweet embrace;
But don't take that paper bag off your face.

8. I love your smile, your face, and your eyes
Damn, I'm good at telling lies!

9. My love, you take my breath away.
What have you stepped in to smell this way?

10. My feelings for you no words can tell,
Except for maybe 'Go to hell.'

11. What inspired this amorous rhyme?
Two parts vodka, one part lime.

Sculpture on Buildings

I took this pic of a small sculpture above a doorway near the Thames, not far from Waterloo station. The building stands amidst the wreckage of appalling buildings erected in the aftermath of the second world war. Bring back the Luftwaffe to finish the job I found myself thinking! However this one stands on the corner of Lambeth High Street. Old people (Yes I mean you!) will remember the famous song 'Doing the Lambeth Walk' which was popular in the late thirties. You could try it today, but not at night as you may well be knifed! I have a pic of the building itself, which while useful, does not help me understand what the sculpture (would you call this a frieze I wonder) actually represents. Enlarged there appears to be a great many earthenware urns and vases around. Several men are discussing them and one woman is seen painting one. Only one man is working, at least he is moving away from the work, and he is the only male with no beard, just whiskers and a moustache! A pottery empire perhaps? Or an empire that has gone to pot?


Fantastic Victorian over the top architecture, totally at odds with today's architects, most of whom have been brought up on Lego bricks it seems to me! The colours of the bricks don't show obviously but they stand out just as well in black & white. Whether the inside is workable is another thing, and I suspect in the late Victorian day the inside was dark brown or even darker green! Just imagine the poor facilities, the male dominated (as it should be) workforce dressed in waistcoats and jackets, with high collars and always wearing a hat and beard when they wandered around outside, pipe in mouth. When you think of it, if it were pottery then many would be cheap labour females! The men (naturally) being in charge!

How times change. Today the materials are better, stronger, long lasting, but tatty. Any of the blocks of flats nearby will be functional and efficient, although dated 1940/50's in design, but better than the buildings destroyed by the Germans however. The old blocks would have looked solid enough, and probably attractive brick like the kind shown here, even if not so elaborate. However they would have been slums by 1939 and the people benefited greatly after the war from the new buildings. Shame so many are awful now! Partly the design but mostly the inhabitants to blame for that!



While we are on, here is one from the south east, just of Tooley Street. A slim, somewhat run down building, once the home of 'Harding and Sons, Hardware Merchants,' Japanners. I did come across their history somewhere, but lost it! Efficiency is my middle name. I am not sure if the building was built at a slant, is falling over, or whether I was standing on someone at the time, but it looks squeegee to me. One thing for sure, when I lived in London there was a greater incentive to go out with the camera. In this small town most pictures are found quickly. However in the area I once lived I note a one bedroom flat, two doors from my old slum, was recently sold. The asking price £499,000. I think this a bit much for me......

Heart of Midlothian v Kilmarnock

The first win of the season and the first of many I can tell you! To be honest we have lot's to do as yet. We still require a proper centre forward, Gary Glen who played tonight is a finisher, as they said on Radio Scotland, not a leader of the line. Nade is, well Nade, a leader who makes no effort, a great big ball of lard, but with talent, which he does not use! The centre of defence shows weakness also. Gonzalves is a left back, and we miss Zaliukas. or any domineering defender. Kevin Kyle showed up that weakness. He was playing for the wrong side tonight, he ought to have got himself a hat trick wearing a maroon shirt! Ah well, the first win is important and as we climb the league life improves.

Now as you know I am not one to complain however once again...

So I got up this morning at th usual six thirty, glanced at the blue sky outside, switched of the alarm, rose slowley and looked in the mirror to check I was still alive. A strange gray face stared back at me and for a moment I wondered who this was, then realised I was looking at a black and white photo of my late aunt. I am not at my best early on.....

After a cup of rotten 'Fairtrade' coffee I looked at the gear shift on the bike. A few moments maniplutation and it fell apart completly in my hands. Engineering was never my thing, I'm more of a 'buy a new one' type of fella. Remember if you will the time I made my intention of fixing the electric socket and was confronted by two neighbours making fire engine noises and understand my levels of ham fistedness can reach proportions Michael Crawford would fail to equal! However the effort was made so I cursed it in love and retired to attend to breakfast. That was rotten also!

So later, with a smile and joy in my heart, I headed for the shops to spend more cash I don't have on a black cartridge for the printer. This was acquired at high cost from Argos, and leaving me peeved at the price, and soon I was struggling, amid foul oaths, to push it into the appropriate slot. Once done the blessed machine insisted the colour ink was 'incompatible!' "Incompatible," I asked? "Yes," It replied. "HOW COME IT IS 'INCOMPATIBLE' WHEN IT IS ONE OF HP'S OWN CARTRIDGES THAT WAS WORKING FINE THE OTHER DAY?" I requested. "Incompatible," it said like a call centre employee reading the script. I screwed up the various packing material and stopped myself stuffing it in the printer by sheer will power. I wanted to speak to one of the HP employees and inform him of my thoughts but do not have a number. I searched online for an answer THAT DOES NOT EXIST and the blessed thing will not print even the black words unless the colour is also working.

Excuse me once again...

Sunday

This was the sky yesterday, today we have not seen it once! There has been a cloud a thousand miles long covering the land today, or at least the eastern half! How annoying is that? The sun makes the worst days appear worthwhile, and gray clouds or darkness deepens our gloom. A gloom made worse as I climbed aboard the bike this morning to discover the gear lever mechanism has bust! I think my neighbour moved it yesterday when shifting furniture, and has damaged it by mistake. Now it only works in top gear! So no cycling for me. This adds to the money I am spending just now, money I do not possess! The new monitor, the gear mechanism,. and a new cartridge for the printer are just three items added to the pile. Two birthdays that cannot be avoided arrived this week, and the credit card bill, and some folk thinks those on the dole spend all their time sitting in pubs!



However as you know I am not one to complain. I just put on my cheeriest smile and face the world with joy in my heart. Sometimes this is encouraged by circumstances outside of my ken. Today one of these moments arrived. Hibernian (Edinburgh's 'Wee Team') fans have been boasting on 'Hibs Mad' (an appropriate name) that their manager is bringing in many new players and that third place in the Scottish Premier League is theirs for the taking. (Third place ensures European competition) Today this world beating combination travelled to Hamilton Academicals to play the team bottom of the league. They lost by two goals to nil! A Hibs man at the game denounced them as 'Non-triers!' He was downhearted by their feeble performance, which included their new buy stars. Excuse me for a moment.....

Oh dear, I did enjoy that! Life feels so much better now.

Now I am Not One to Complain but...

So I got up this morning, put on my happy smile face, and went out to meet the world. A glance at the 'To Do' list was greeted with joy as I had forgot to put anything down. Using this as an excuse to do nothing I ate breakfast and browsed the papers online. As I noted the Glasgow Mafias desperate attempts to attack George Burley I also noted a birthday on the calendar! Yet another nephew needing a card and demanding cash within it! That is the second birthday this month, and it's only the tenth! Jings there's another on the twentieth! So with my breakfast spoiled I went out to deal with this situation. However unknown to me trouble was brewing!


Yes a supermarket! This one has just taken over the 'Woolies' that closed recently. Today it opened, without answering my offer of employment with them, and foolishly I entered. I admit I was still half awake from my late breakfast, and I rather stupidly walked in looking for 'Mince Pies.' As the store had just opened it was full, how full, and how badly organised I soon found out. The idea of carrying a basket/pushing a trolley without hitting every single person in the vicinity did not appear to strike most of the females and many of the men in the shop as important. I have stood in a football crowd of more than 137,500 and felt safer! I am reading about 3 Para serving in Afghanistan in 2006 and believe this would have been a better option than 'Iceland!' Eventually I gathered a few items and headed for the queue to find I was already in it! Those folk browsing the shelves were doing so in a line, a long line, and I was at the far end of it! Around a decade and a half later I reached the checkout! Several billion people, ten thousand trolleys, four buses and a herd of Buffalo had barged us aside as we waited, and then at last we saw the girl at the desk. We might have been quicker but the attempt to place her goods on the counter by the blonde was taking a while, discussing what Mary had been doing at the club meant she could only place one item, with one hand, at a time in place. GET A MOVE ON BITCH!!! Before she packed her bag she had to spend several eons looking through her purse before deciding to pay. It may surprise you to know I was frothing at the mouth by now, and not because we were in line with the special offers on booze! Surely 'Magners' is cheaper than that in Tesco? On top of this the main reason for the staff sloth was the Iceland 'Bonus Card.' Every single person was asked to fill in a form and collect a card! WHAT!!! How slow is this? Half of them cannot write joined up and the rest take for ever! Three women had collapsed and died of old age by the time I collected my goods, 'No! You can shove the Bonus Card dearie!' I then carried on for the birthday card, one that was by now at least a year out of date!



It was when I got home things took a turn for the worse. The monitor has been giving problems recently in that it would not switch off. Today it suddenly decided to not switch on, or at least it came on but went bye bye after ten seconds. Much cursing and pushing buttons convinced me the PC was OK, but the monitor was dead! I stared at the bills lying beside me, and the kind note from the bank about being over drawn, I keep that with the two letters from folks asking why the direct debit has not been paid, and somewhere in my head a light went out. There was nothing for it but to visit Tesco, they being the only place to buy such devices quickly. They had one, I took it. As I passed I thought I would acquire a new indoor TV aerial as mine is poor and needs replacing. Money, who cares now? Back home I first thought about the TV. I had not used the telly all day, I was avoiding the arrogant English 'We will win the World Cup' cobblers that was on every channel. After careful placement, and some tinkering I know have a new TV aerial that doesn't work on Freeview at all! I realised how Napoleon felt when an aide whispered, 'Blutcher's here.' Getting up from a prone position on the floor I set to with the monitor. After a comparatively short time, about half a lifetime, it now works and the PC is up and running again.
I would smile about this but I have yet to work out how to tone down the brightness which is burning though my retina! Still, wearing dark glasses, I continue.



Oh and as I sauntered out to Tesco's I decided to fly spray the abode to remove the sudden influx of flies. Whether this was caused by the milder weather or the slackness in clearing the rubbish this week i dare not say, but I suspect the latter. So I sprayed each room, closed the door and windows and left. Since returning I have been attempting to fix the aerial and monitor all the while breathing the stinking stuff! The windows are open, and I am freezing as the north east wind is now bringing air that should be at home in the Faroe Islands comforting cormorants to my desk! Of all the times to have a north east wind? Have these weather people no thought or consideration? It's a disgrace!


Quite how I manage to keep such a smiling appearance during such days is a wonder to me. Especially after another glorious Scotland defeat last night. For a while I actually thought we were about to achieve our goal, but naturally with old fashioned Scots ineptness in front of goal, we failed. However I still think Burley did well to fight the Glasgow Mafia, the SFA stabbing him in the back, Several Rangers players doing likewise, yes Chris Boyd, I mean YOU! Most players gave their all for him but the press will make sure he is removed. I may be a little bit cynical sometimes, but I reckon the new man is already in place, and he, gasps of astonishment, will be one of the Glasgow crowd! To top it all the day started with an early postal delivery. The postman, obviously one of my old friends, was keen to chat for a moment and I realised why as he made his way back to the vehicle. 'Up the Dutch' he cried, smug grin on his face, and drove of satisfied. I bet there was a fight to see who could deliver that packet this morning! Bah! I'm off to bed!