Felsted War Memorial

I decided that a trip up the old railway on the bike was in order, just to loosen the muscles from the previous effort on the bike. The short ride, against the wind as always,was enjoyable and I pottered on eventually reaching Felsted, a small village some six miles on. Here I stopped to take a few pics of the war memorial. I am intrigued by such memorials. They stand in almost every town and villages throughout the UK and for the most part are ignored. So much so that some are in a poor state of repair. Erected after the Great War, with names from the second war added later, the stories behind the names stand in opposition to the places these monoliths are often found. A trench oozing with mud, bodies, often incomplete, of the dead and the wounded lying on the bottom, shells exploding all around, bullets splattering the parapet, screams and groans of the injured or those engaged in killing, such images are far removed from memorials stationed in parks and churchyards or overlooking a green and pleasant place. Many have elaborate statues attached, angels with huge wings, soldiers with heads bowed over upturned rifles, big breasted women with arms reaching to the skies, (never fat old mothers you notice) but most a simple stone or cross with names of local lads who 'did their duty' and never returned. At Felsted I noticed some time back that they had built a 'Memorial Hall,' with this simple cross outside bearing the names of the fallen and I thought this a good practical idea. Whether this was an excuse to build a much needed hall or a true memorial I know not at this time, but the idea works for me!    

This village and surrounding hamlets were not large and almost half the population were employed on the many farms. Therefore to lose 45 men, often more than one from the same family, was a great loss. The shock of such events effected the home front as much as the fighting did the men in France. With 300,000 men still unaccounted for under the battlefields it is no surprise that the need for a place to mourn, individually and together, was great. This memorial reveals the differing attitudes to the war in 1939. The generals were not going to get bogged down again and only 12 names are recorded here. There is also one from the Kosovo campaign of more recent time. It is indeed right that men who fell in later wars are remembered also surely.

This made the aching muscles worthwhile. It is strange to be out on the bike again, not to strange to be pedalling along thinking I was doing well and be overtaken by a regular user of the trail racing past at high speed. "One day,"  I lied to the Lycra clad red helmet, already a shrinking dot half a mile ahead, "I will be back to that fitness level!" As I turned for home I made an effort to ignore such vows. Instead I concentrated on avoiding the children being taken out by mum and dad along the trail, the ageing, usually unsmiling, joggers, and more cyclists who would consider my 12 mile trip a daily routine. I would tell them that in the past it was mine also, but not only would I not be believed I was concentrating on just keeping alive. With the wind at my back and the majority of the trip downhill it was at least much more fun going home than coming out! Ah nature, I suppose it was the years I spent in Edinburgh, and then in London that make me enjoy it so much. The common folk here are so used to this they do not appreciate what is around them. I do, gladly. Now,  where is matron with my muscle rub......?    

Christ is Risen

Easter Sunrise

Good Friday

Pipex Customer Service

In the middle of searching yesterday the web went dead!

I thought I had gone over the MB allowance or some such, so I left it till today to check. Almost all day with no web! Had I not been watching the Arsenal game last night I may have started seeing spiders!

This morning it was still dead so I called the Pipex hotline, followed the instructions of the voice, chose the appropriate number, chose the next appropriate number and waited.

The cheery voice apologised and explained "... All our operators are busy and will be with you in a minute. Your call is important to us, please hold on" She forgot to add that at 5p a minute I knew how important 'holding on' actually was to Pipex. Music played, she came back, "We apologise for keeping you waiting, an operator will be with you shortly." She then added in a sickeningly cheery voice, "You are progressing in the queue. There are more than 9 people in front of you," as if this was encouraging!

Music (stolen from some bad 'new age' album) and she returned with her message, again and again - and again, "There are more than 9 people in front of you." I wonder if she heard me point out that I know! And I also know that if I am progressing HOW COME THERE ARE STILL MORE THAN 9 PEOPLE IN FRONT OF ME?" I hope she did not hear my comments when she returned for the fortieth time.....

I called at just after 8 am. I was answered, after she had informed me, eventually, that I was "7th in the queue" then "4th," then "2nd," as if I was meant to prepare myself to shout at the man awaiting me.

I did! He answered at 8:50!

Poor man must have started his day with caller after caller asking "WHY?" The reason "Why?" he claimedwas a flood in exchange which had halted all the servers. Then, somewhat sheepishly, and with his head under the desk, he added "They say it may take three or four days to fix."

"WHAT????????????"

I could die in that time without the web!

However the yelling down the phone from so many folk has worked and it has come on a short while ago. I am relieved. Have you any idea what it means to live without internet access? It is an impossibility today!

However it was indeed a problem with flooding. Most ISPs were affected by the flood and BT engineers worked very hard to restore the exchange as quickly as they did. A huge area must have been effected, and one mate has been without a phone for over a day and a half because of this. I was quite lucky. I was also lucky the nice doctor gave me pills to stop my heart fluttering and smelling salts for when the shock of losing the web returns.

Would You Say This Picture is My Style?

Just asking like......

Yellow

It struck me how appropriate yellow flowers are for Spring today. After the cold, gray,depth of winter the flowers appear warm and inviting in the sun, and yellow is clearly the best colour to reflect the sunshine. Those TV naturalists, nowadays frequently overexcited middle class women who bounce across the screen bathed in false smiles and bonhomie, such beings tell us that yellow is the colour insects recognise as a food source. As the year progresses flower colours change accordingly. Of course there are wonderful flowers of other colours around also, but there is a preponderance of yellow, and daffodils show this up most clearly. No wonder Wordsworth, a man enraptured with nature, and he had the cash so to be, wrote about daffodils, although the ones he came upon were of course wild daffs, and slightly different to these seen here. They would of course be seen clearer if the blustery wind had not kept moving the blighter's around! 

I wandered lonely as a Cloud
That floats on high o'er vales and Hills,
When all at once I saw a crowd,
A host, of golden Daffodils;
Beside the Lake, beneath the trees,
Fluttering and dancing in the breeze.

Continuous as the stars that shine
And twinkle on the milky way,
They stretched in never-ending line
Along the margin of a bay:
Ten thousand saw I at a glance,
Tossing their heads in sprightly dance.

The waves beside them danced; but they
Out-did the sparkling waves in glee:-
A Poet could not but be gay
In such a jocund company:
I gazed---and gazed---but little thought
What wealth the show to me had brought:

For oft when on my couch I lie
In vacant or in pensive mood,
They flash upon that inward eye
Which is the bliss of solitude,
And then my heart with pleasure fills,
And dances with the Daffodils.

Dove Cottage: The Wordsworth Museum

Saturday

Spring skies bring some opportunities for photographs. The fast flowing cloud cover changed constantly today giving sunshine and what the weather girls always regards as 'showers.' I tend to call it 'heavy rain.' After the 'shower' had passed and people emerged from shelter I wandered across the park and caught this ray of light piercing the cloud. I hesitated in taking the picture and missed it at its best! Isn't that always the way? However I am happy to take any picture these days, I take too few and find others,who shall not be named such as 'A,' and 'A's' picture blog, make me want to rush out and snap away. Mike in Thailand does not help either! Humph!  

Exercise

Bicycles give exercise in two different ways. On the one hand it is possible when cycling to stimulate muscles and brain, and this alters the blood pressure in a pleasurable manner. On the other there is mending the brute which increase blood pressure in a manner much less pleasant. Screws go missing, three hands are required when only two are provided, bits never noticed before drop off and are discovered to be vital, nothing fits,  new words are discovered or are they long forgotten curses refound I wonder,and when all is up and ready the rain pours down making you wish you had never bothered anyway!

However Baron von Drais would have been proud of me as I rode out, unsteadily this morning long before the rush hour had begun to pollute the atmosphere and drown out the singing birds. The Baron, as you know, made himself a 'Hobby Horse,' a kind of wooden bike made without pedals to you, back in the early eighteen hundreds to enable him to wander around. The roads in those days were no more than tracks and in the rain were impassable all to often. This made the device fun, but not much use and it faded from view. The bike I use, somewhat less efficient now than it was 13 years ago when purchased, is the result of many years of development of such things. Cycling became popular after the 'velocipede,' (no dear it isn't an insect) or 'bone shaker' as it became known, added a pedal to the front wheel. The rubbish roads, often cobbles, wooden ones in cities to dull the sound of cart wheels, made cycling dangerous but it remained so popular folk developed a wide variety of bikes. 'Penny Farthings,' 'tricycles,' and eventually the 'safety' bike was born. Wheels of equal size, equipped with pedals and, thanks to Mr Dunlop, rubber tyres!  The rise in wealth at the end of the 19th century saw a huge increase in the number of bikes on the road. Cheap, efficient transport for the masses, and fun in so many ways. Cycling became a great holiday entertainment and who can argue that trundling along quiet country lanes in warm sunshine remains one of the great cheap joys in life!

My little run was to ensure the gears worked, which they did, sort off, and to remind me that you can forget how to ride a bike! By the way always check the brakes work before you need to use them! Making it home before the crowds were able to laugh at me I happily placed the bike in its setting, dropped on the floor, entered the abode, and have sat here aching all over all day. Ten minutes on a bike is a very long time I'll have you know.

'Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness!'

Those of us in the free world look at the people of the United States with wonder during these days. Here we have the richest nation in the world with one of the most inefficient health systems known to man, yet when an attempt is made to remedy this, and a minor amendment at that, they complain hysterically! What is the matter with them? It seems to me the 'myth' that lies deep within the American psyche, 'Life, liberty and the pursuit of happiness' may be the cause. 

We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed by their Creator with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the pursuit of Happiness.

From the American Declaration of Independence

Americans like to believe in 'freedom.' Their politicians talk about it all the time, it is written there in their constitution, their people consider themselves 'free' and they freely push 'freedom' onto others whether it is asked for or not. However are they actually 'free?'  No of course not, nobody is ever 'free' in this world. Just try getting on a bus for nothing! Freedom is a wonderful concept but actually a satanic lie! Nobody is ever free, the whole concept is impossible. Americans freedom goes back to the early settlers from the 17th century. This varied bunch of zealots endured great trauma crossing the Atlantic so they could be free to worship and live as they wished. Naturally this freedom of theirs annoyed the resident Indians (oops, 'Native Americans') so the freedom seeking pilgrims shot them. This left the settlers free to worship, and grow tobacco! These early 'Christian' settlers appeared to misinterpret the bible to suit themselves. I am so glad this does not happen today! Those that did not die from disease, flying arrows, and bad winters soon settled down in their various townships freely throwing one another out for heresy, or burning them as witches. The good old days as they say!

You recognise the problem with living a free life, other people! These people are a nuisance! None of us can be free, nor have the liberty to do our own thing, as long as other people exist. Not only can you never escape them, family, work mates, folk in the shops,and you certainly cannot shoot them all, but at some time or another you will need them, in shops, in hospitals, or in defence. Even worse they will need you! Whether you respond is up to you of course, and if we walk away from another's trouble are we being 'free,' or are we a prisoner of our 'self?'

The idea of pursuing happiness also looks so good at first glance. We all wish to be happy, and all over the world folk look for happiness is a wide variety of ways. Some of those ways give temporary happiness, and often leave a terrible hangover, some however give a longer lasting joy, but in my mind the impression given by the US is that getting rich, and then richer, and then adding riches to the riches is the only way to be happy. There are an awful lot of people who have found out, usually the hard way, that this is not true. Look around the western world. Throughout the twentieth century the world became richer, in the west at least. Two world wars costing millions of lives and a worldwide depression so deep that thousands queued at soup kitchens everywhere did not stop the west become fabulously rich. The western world has seen in the years since 1945 riches unheard of at any time in the earth's existence, yet people are not happy! Suicides abound, strikers demand more even though the homes they dwell in are stuffed to the gunnel's with objects they neither need nor use. Obesity is a problem as the food they choose, often stuffed with substances that in abundance kills them, does not satisfy, so more of it is gorged to ease the pain. Smiling people can be found in India and Thailand, and many other parts of the third world, yet no street in the west contains smiles, unless they are using the smile to deceive! Our Member of Parliament will be smiling in the shopping centre each market day until the election. he will not be smiling if he loses and has to pay his £2000 a month rent on his own will he?  Happiness may be found in the west, but riches do not play the most prominent part in providing this.

The US has a health system in which the costs are met by insurance companies. While this does benefit many, as long as they pay so much up front themselves, it costs a huge sum just to visit a dentist or have a check up. Serious illness that leads to months in hospital costs thousands, and as some of us have seen, insurance companies will want you moved out even if the medical staff consider this may kill you! There are it is true similar stories in the UK NHS, but this is due not to money but 'targets.' The Tory papers will highlight every fault, but the dominating factor is the patients well being at all times. The insurance companies, and hospitals make huge profits. While drug companies need such profits for investment, how much is simply ripping off the sick?  In turn the patient are rushed through the hospital to increase the turnover and this cannot lead to efficient patient care. Blogs abound with nurses complaints about the misuse of the patient to clear the bed for another wage packet. Yet when reforms are introduced the Yanks squeal. Not only are many, usually the poorest left out of such cover those who need medical help are kept alive only by the ability to pay the debts, debts which may well last a lifetime. Surely this cannot be right in the 'land of the free?'  Redundancy, sickness, divorce can all combine to make it impossible to get cover, and while the poorest suffer the rich may end up poor also. 

During the nineteenth century civic pride in the UK was strong. Many towns and cities objected to central government imposing laws on their 'freedom' of operation. This meant that among the slum housing that rapidly grew during the century central government laws that required housing improvements and medical inspectors were ignored. Thousands, possibly millions died as a result of such attitudes. Today America, and the less stable part it appears, takes a similar approach to Obama. Not just upset that he is black (obviously there is no racism involved, I am just saying this for effect you understand. Racism is no longer found in US politics! Honest) the rednecks (sorry, Republicans) scream that he is imposing 'Socialism' (socialism, jings!) on them. By insisting that these folks pay tax for a health system he is being 'Communistic' and 'Unamerican!'  Incredible! Amongst those who cry in this fashion are many who consider themselves Christians! One wonders if they have actually read the good book?

Outside of the States most folk find themselves amused that several trillion dollars can be spent, alongside thousands of soldiers lives, in invading Iraq for oil, and Afghanistan for no good reason while a similar amount spent on an national health service would have cost less and served the people well! Those who complain about taxes actually pay much, much more to the insurance and drug companies than they would with an NHS! The UK spend 4% of its GDP on healthcare, the US spends 16% yet people are healthier and live longer in the UK! While the NHS has its problems, exaggerated for political reasons, no political party wishes to bring it to an end. Margaret Thatcher, the demented Mammon lover, did want to give us a US style insurance led NHS. This was not to improve healthcare but to avoid her kind paying taxes for it. This short sighted ludicrous idea would have meant fewer getting treatment and a return to the hospitals of the years before the war! The rich would be OK, her voters of course, and the rest would suffer! That discrepancy is something the British people wished to end in 1945 when they elected the Labour government of the day. Equality for all was the underlying intention, not 'socialism.' People were fed up with suffering injustice and this was amended during the five years the Labour Party were in power. The injustice in the US is similar, those who have the cash get treatment, those who do not do without. 

Christians, usually it appears Republicans, appear oblivious to the needs of their own citizens. They wish to keep guns in their houses (for protection?) ban abortion, (rightly) worship Jesus and lower taxes! Clearly they have not read the good book! Jesus commands us to 'Love our neighbour' not ask if he has insurance! If he does not have his needs met, and Paul was always conscious of the poor elsewhere, we are supposed to ensure he does have. Paul makes clear this does not mean living of others, unless it is inevitable. So many rush to 'Help Haiti' yet did nothing to 'Help Haiti' before the earthquake, why was this? The disaster required special help, but Haiti has required help for fifty years! In Washington DC there is a hospital offering free treatment to (mostly) black folk (sorry 'African Americans) a mile or two from the Capitol. How come? How can America not recognise the biblical command to help those in need, especially those next door?

The US has the money, the people need an NHS style health service, and for unbiblical false reasons such as the 'Life, Liberty and Happiness,' myth the majority have been made to oppose this. I suspect the major beneficiaries of the present healthcare money, Insurance and drug companies, hospitals and wealthy doctors, and encouraging the hysteria. No wonder the world stands back in amazement!

 

Car

I searched the pockets. In amongst the keys, my empty wallet and the fluff I found riches! A twenty pence piece and one penny! 21 pence! That's all I had in the world, save debts of course. There was only one thing to do, dream, and dream big, so I went shopping for a car. I started at the bottom, Fred's repair shop. He buys old cars, does them up and flogs them for low prices. he makes his money from people bringing them back to get them fixed. I sauntered round to his place as if I owned the world. He had gone! The place was deserted and I think they are going to build houses on his carefully weeded esplanade. Right then, move on to the man on the pavement. A walk of some minutes brought me to the corner opposite the motorbike shop. There is usually two or three cars going cheap there, and today I was lucky. An Audi A3 for around £800. I looked from a distance, wondering if it had an engine or not. The aged, once white, Vauxhall next to it indeed did have an engine, I could tell as the bonnet would not close. £475 for that? I moved on. People watching me may have thought me a thief, a loiterer or someone daft enough to purchase one of those heaps of metal lying there rusting.


The difficulty, apart from cash, in buying a used car is knowing what you want. Having no money this is made easier, I just want something for nothing, but if I had cash how would I know anything I bought would be worth the money. I suppose having an expert alongside would help, and car experts abound round here until you need one. Reading all the best books, websites and watching 'Top Gear' or 'Fifth gear would help. But I suspect buying from a half decent garage would be the safest bet, but that costs money. The cheapest in the garage pictured was £1850, and that is way beyond my dreams. While these cars may well work for several years and the servicing might well be trustworthy, and that garage has existed for a long time, the cars usually run at £2-5000 a go!


There was nothing for it but to dream on and wander to the main dealerships, after closing time, and wander round Mazda's and Fords when the salesmen had gone home to log into their online bank account just so they could be smug. How does anyone pay£12-25000 for a car these days? Trade in the old one, get a company car, or just allow yourself the glory of another huge debt to be repaid, if you keep your job! For a nation in recession, with many like myself on the dole and others living in what they call 'poverty,' it never ceases to amaze me just how many expensive vehicles are on the road! 'Top Gear' constantly informs the viewers that such and such a car is available for only £70,000! Some are a mere £175,000, cheap for a car that does 180 miles an hour, while the speed limit at best is 70, and the kids in your area, or maybe their fathers, with scratch it as they pass by. Still if having a small willy makes you think such a car is what you need go ahead! Personally I just wish I had the £2295 that the foreign boy wants for that Skoda Fabia. An ideal car in many ways, few complain about them, and anything to get me around would be welcomed. There again, I still have my 21 pence and I am 'excused shorts!'

Another Derby, Another Win!

BBC Scottish Premier

Another Derby Day, another win for the Heart of Midlothian. 'High flying flair team Hibs' (@ Scots media) once again showed what they were made of - nothing! The Hearts came into this game with some 15 players injured or returning from injury. Several of those had been out of the game for months. So with players playing out of position, half fit players struggling as the game wore on, and the power of the mighty Hibernian in front of us how would we fare? Well quite easily as it happens. The game was not the best, Hearts patched up team showed the had desire and attempted to work as a team. Hibs, with almost their full side available, looked rudderless, leaderless, and failed to make much impression. Nice passing moves in midfield with no end product summed them up. Even 'Deeks' failed to commit many fouls! When Andy Driver shook of his lack of fitness and moved into acres of space in the box he found himself opening the scoring midway through the half.Shortly afterwards Gary Glen pounced on a header in the box and glanced it past the despairing Graham Stack! 2-0 and more ought to have come! The Hearts dominated until half time when a relieved, but clueless, Hibs side left the field to jeers from all round!The second half started with the Hearts attempting to finish the job. Several near things, and a couple of good saves from the goalkeeper, kept the score at 2-0 until Jan Balogh was tested by Hibs when he palmed away their first shot of the game, in the 74th minute! With a few minutes to go 'Deeks' managed to score for Hibs. We all expected a real surge from the men in dingy green, and we were not disappointed as it failed to materialise! What a feeble effort this was from Hibs! What a disgrace to the derby! The Heart of Midlothian suffered from injury and half fit players yet gave it their best shot, why did Hibernian not have the same effort? Their fans have a reason to be angry, the Hearts fans have every reason however to rejoice! This was a grand win for the men in maroon! Well deserved and a fully fit side would have scored ten at least!  The maroon citizens of Edinburgh are rightly smiling tonight!

Mike S. is unavailable tonight. He is wandering through Leith public houses asking "Is everybody happy?" Then making his excuses and running for his life!

Exercise

 

So as I had gone through most of the exercise regime yesterday, first one eyelid then the other, I decided to follow the old fashioned way of exercising, housework! Today's lassies waste much time and money straining away her life at the gym when a cheaper and more useful way of getting fit is to do the housework! After all that is what they were made for, and they will feel the benefit in the satisfaction of a healthy house and a fit body. The woodwork in the East wing was first even though it was only cleaned the other year. A bowl of soapy water and an ageing cloth, (one I think I might wash and wear it again at the weekend mind,) and I was off. The windows, the doors, the skirting board, any odd bit and piece. Move the drawers, chase the mice, heave this over there, and that back over there, and eventually the job was done. I poured the water down the sink and endured two hours of horrendous stink as it curdled way down in the drain! The place looked strange as I am not used to the clean doors, those fingermarks made nice patterns too. This part done I planned the next move over elevenses, at eleven. Unfortunately by the time elevenses were over it was dinner time, so I burnt some soup instead. After this I searched the market for dropped oranges, and planned the rest of the day, over tea. By then it was getting on and a quick look at the tiles falling of the wall in the bathroom led me to decide that I  ought to return to fixing the bike

Now when the weather was bad, and today it was almost warm, I had little desire to get frostbite while cursing the gears as I fought with them, but today, with the door wide open to allow the Spring sunshine in, I got to work on those gears. Naturally with my engineering talent I failed! Even when cleaned and the cable put through the right places it still does not work! I checked the 'DK Bike Repair Manual,' and that didn't help and 'Richards New Bicycle Book' was far too complicated for my tired mind. It is also 25 years out of date I suppose. However all this was good exercise. I know this as all my muscles are aching, I am asleep on my feet, and when I suggested a rub down with a wet towel to the lass passing by as I cleaned the bike I ended up with a painful face to go with everything else. She was so unhelpful, I wonder who she was? 

Writing

Today, after completing my exercises, walking through the bright almost Spring like sunshine, and avoiding the seriously important jobs that I had to do, I sat down to write something. Inside my head there appeared that gray mist that often accompanies this desire, and desire it was at first. I had the fingers twitching over the keyboard and yet the gray matter remained misted over. No thoughts crashed into my head like a battleship cutting through the fog. Just mist and nothingness. Cynics may add at this point a comment that they can jolly well keep to themselves, yes Fishy I was thinking of you!  So I thought about this carefully and tried to come up with something original, practical, humorous, newsworthy or spelt correctly without the aid of the spell checker! Nothing came!  

There is of course the Edinburgh Derby at the weekend. The Heart of Midlothian will be taking on the Hibernian, a small Leith outfit of little importance, in a game which gives bragging rights to the victors and despair to the Hibs. Since the first meeting in1875 the Men in Maroon have won a vastly superior number of games than the Hibbys. That is why the Hibs wear green, it reflects their jealousy of the Heart of Midlothian, the Big Team! However our friend Mike has written perceptively about this game and the effects it can have on the individual on his excellent blog On the Terracing.

I could write about walking about in the sunshine, listening to the birds preparing nests and singing in the trees as I passed. This would mean noticing the way these English folks respond to the sun. You see I could tell that there was a chill in this bright sunshine simply by opening the window, yet these folks here rush outside in the sun in T-shirts and even shorts! Now I can understand this when youth is involved, it is not done to wear heavy clobber when there is a chance to show your strong or for the lassies to show off their bits.(Not that I'd notice) However a fat lass revealing her tummy as well as the reason she was chucked on the streets is unnecessary in my view! Most managed to get through the day happy in the sun brightening life and relishing the idea that winter may almost be over. I think we all hope so. This of course does not matter to those residing in warm climes with pretty girls and smug grins. They know who they are also! Bah!

How about the list of 'To Do' that sits beside me? There is a page full of things listed and requiring attention. It never fails to amuse me just how many have not been scored through signifying completion.

Clean the Loo 

Fix bike gears (still not done)

Visit Favourite Blogs (Yup!)

Make Oatcakes

Sleep (managed this one)

Exercise (Yup, that too!)

Found a job? (WAAAAAHHH!)

Despair (Yup, done that....)

Cook Mince

The excitement is never ending here.....

Lidl

Early (for me) this morning I decided to march to the edge of the known world and visit the new Lidl supermarket. Having turned into an old grannie I thought I must test all new shops when they open. Naturally when I got there the trouble started. This Germanic enterprise does not allow the use of baskets! Now this is a problem for me as I always shop using a basket rather than a trolley. The basket is easy to manage if you pack the goods correctly, enabled me to pass the women parking their trolleys all over the shop rather than in a sensible position, is quicker to manoeuvre and can be put down appropriately stopping said women from knocking me over. It also allows me to use the 'Basket only' checkout as I with said basket am quicker at packing than said women with said trolleys (usually!). However Lidl in their Teutonic wisdom have done away with such sensible options and forced me to use a trolley. The helpful staff member (this store turned down my job application by the way!) apologetically informed me that there were two sizes of trolley and indicated their whereabouts. However I discovered that the Krauts did not trust the people of this town and it cost £1 to remove the trolley from the chained link! Naturally I had no coins in my pocket! No baskets and costing £1 to use a trolley? I think these folk must be off theirs! I was off too, the long way off to Sainsburys who have a more sensible approach to shopping. I may never know if Lidl are in fact cheaper than others as they say!

Life was easier in English run Sainsburys. I stress 'English' as this store refused to cross the border until the late eighties when greed made them expand north. Maybe the three Scots banks issuing their own notes confused them?  So grabbing one of those plastic baskets, much better than Tesco's by the way, I worked my way through my list shopping only for the cheap 'Basic' range goods wherever possible.  Avoiding most of the female customers who appear to think that if you drive a trolley straight at someone they will do the gentlemanly thing and move (how wrong they were) and grabbing my wants, avoiding the retired men accompanying their wives and gossiping in the middle of the pathways oblivious to everyone else,  and attempting to keep a calculation in my head I made for the door. Naturally when I took my heavy basket (those '2 for £3' offers are good aren't they?) to the checkout I noticed only three were open and seven stood empty! A quick calculation showed the far away one had only two people there, one going through and an old couple,with three items next in line. The long queues at the others to be avoided I headed there. An eon later the old biddy had packed the twelve items, paid, slowly oh so slowly, her bill, took another month to shut her purse and move. As the old couple hobbled forward I glanced at the now deserted checkouts further down. A millennium later the three objects, those that had not melted, had been packed and paid for and I was allowed to go home and have the shave I did not require when I set out!

It is not yet eleven O'clock and the day lies ahead. I can tell it will be another full of joy and happiness. Oh good! The postman has just brought some white, official envelopes. I can't wait to open them...... 

Mums Day

Another Mum's Day, or 'Mothering Sunday' if you are middle class or American, and another chance for florists and chocolate sellers, as well as many vintners, to make a fat buck on the back of this commercial rip-off! Now the idea of a day in which mothers can be appreciated is a good one of course, however like most things the business mind sees an opportunity and grasps it with both sticky paws. For myself this is the first time in many a few years that I have not paid out for flowers or chocolates, but I am not sitting here full of emotional turmoil because my mother is no more. The turmoil is with me always as I remember the things I failed to do for her when alive, and the many ways I did not truly appreciate the woman who happened to be my mother. Mothers, and fathers who are just as important in spite of feminist lies, ought to be noticed every day, not just on one day a year when sentimental adverts remind us of their existence. Once they are gone it is too late to tell them how good they were, and that is not a good experience.

A WOMAN'S WEEK AT THE GYM

Dear Diary,
For my birthday this year, I  purchased a week of personal training at the local health club.  Although I am still in great shape since being a high school football cheerleader 43 years ago, I decided it would be a good idea to go ahead and give it a try.

I called the club and made my reservations with a personal trainer named Christo, who identified himself as a 26-year-old aerobics instructor and model for athletic clothing and swim wear.

Friends seemed pleased with my enthusiasm to get started! The club encouraged me to keep a diary to chart my progress.
________________________________
MONDAY:
Started my day at 6:00 am. Tough to get out of bed, but found it was well worth it when I arrived at the health club to find Christo waiting for me. He is something of a Greek god-- with blond hair, dancing eyes, and a dazzling white smile.  Woo Hoo!!

Christo gave me a tour and showed me the machines.. I enjoyed watching the skillful way in which he conducted his aerobics class after my workout today. Very inspiring!

Christo was encouraging as I did my sit-ups, although my gut was already aching from holding it in the whole time he was around.

This is going to be a FANTASTIC week!!
________________________________
TUESDAY:
I drank a whole pot of coffee, but I finally made it out the door. Christo made me lie on my back and push a heavy iron bar into the air then he put weights on it!  My legs were a little wobbly on the treadmill, but I made the full mile.  His rewarding smile made it all worthwhile. I feel GREAT!  It's a whole new life for me.
_______________________________
WEDNESDAY:
The only way I can brush my teeth is by laying the toothbrush on the counter and moving my mouth back and forth over it.  I believe I have a hernia in both pectorals.  Driving was OK as long as I didn't try to steer or stop. I parked on top of a GEO in the club parking lot.
Christo was impatient with me, insisting that my screams bothered other club members. His voice is a little too perky for that early in the morning and when he scolds, he gets this nasally whine that is VERY annoying.
My chest hurt when I got on the treadmill, so Christo put me on the stair monster.  Why the hell would anyone invent a machine to simulate an activity rendered obsolete by elevators?  Christo told me it would help me get in shape and enjoy life.  He said some other shit too.
_______________________________
THURSDAY:
Asshole was waiting for me with his vampire-like teeth exposed as his thin, cruel lips were pulled back in a full snarl.  I couldn't help being a half an hour late-- it took me that long to tie my shoes.
He took me to work out with dumbbells. When he was not looking, I ran and hid in the restroom.  He sent some skinny bitch to find me.
Then, as punishment, he put me on the rowing machine-- which I sank.
_________________________________
FRIDAY:
I hate that bastard Christo more than any human being has ever hated any other human being in the history of the world. Stupid, skinny, anaemic, anorexic, little aerobic instructor.  If there was a part of my body I could move without unbearable pain, I would beat him with it.
Christo wanted me to work on my triceps.  I don't have any triceps! And if you don't want dents in the floor, don't hand me the damn barbells or anything that weighs more than a sandwich.
The treadmill flung me off and I landed on a health and nutrition teacher.  Why couldn't it have been someone softer, like the drama coach or the choir director?
________________________________
SATURDAY:
Satan left a message on my answering machine in his grating, shrilly voice wondering why I did not show up today.  Just hearing his voice made me want to smash the machine with my planner; however, I lacked the strength to even use the TV remote and ended up catching eleven straight hours of the Weather Channel..
________________________________
SUNDAY:
I'm having the Church van pick me up for services today so I can go and thank GOD that this week is over.  I will also pray that next year my husband will choose a gift for me that is fun-- like a root canal or a hysterectomy.  I still say if God had wanted me to bend over, he would have sprinkled the floor with diamonds!!!

Gentle Thoughts for Today:

·         Birds of a feather flock together, and then crap on your car.

·         A penny saved is a government oversight.

·         The real art of conversation is not only to  say the right thing at the right time, but also to leave unsaid the wrong thing at the tempting moment.

·         The older you get, the tougher it is to lose  weight, because by then your body and your fat have gotten to be really good  friends.

·         The easiest way to find something lost  around the house is to buy a replacement.

·         He who hesitates is probably right.

·         Did you ever notice: The Roman Numerals for  forty (40) are  XL.

·         If you think there is good in everybody, you  haven't met everybody.  

·         If you can smile when things go wrong, you have someone in mind to blame.

·         Ageing: Eventually you will reach a point  when you stop lying about your age and start bragging about it.

·         You know you are getting old when everything  either dries up or leaks.

·         One of the many things no one tells you  about ageing is that it is such a nice change from being young.  Ah, being  young is beautiful, but being old is comfortable..

·         First you forget names, then you forget  faces. Then you forget to pull up your zip....  It's worse when you forget to pull it down..

·         Long ago when men cursed and beat the ground  with sticks, it was called witchcraft.  Today, it's called golf.

·         Lord, Keep your arm around my shoulder and  your hand over my mouth

A Day in the Life

6 am wake up unable to sleep.
6:56 Fall into deep sleep
7 am Alarm rings!
7:01 Alarm goes through window.
7:35 Get up after failing to return to sleep.
7;45 Drink coffee in effort to shake of sleep
8:15 Finish coffee as jar now empty.
8:16 Fall asleep.
9:30 Woken by doorbell ringing & ringing, door knocker being knockered loudly.
9:32 Open door, nobody there, DHL ticket on floor "We called but you were out" it lies.
9:33 Crave coffee.
9:35 Clean house.
9:37 House cleaned
9:38 Sainsburys for coffee.
9:42 Enter Sainsburys
9:42 1/2 find coffee make for checkout.
10:37 Pay for coffee after the woman with seven items finally PACKS HER BLOODY BAG AND LEAVES!!!!!!!!
10:40 Home
10:43 Drink Coffee
10:44 Fall asleep
12:03 Wake up hungry
12:04 Put chips in oven
12:05 Fall asleep
13:02 Wake up
13:03 Switch on electric oven
13:04 Fall asleep
14:57 Take burnt chips out of oven, eat two slice of dry stale bread.
15:03 Feel sick, go to bed and sleep it off.
18:27 Woken by hunger
18:28 Drink coffee
18:32 Look at remains of burnt chips and head for chip shop.
18:35 Arrive at chip shop and join queue.
19:11 Obtain chips.
19:13 Home and eat chips.
19:14 Throw wrapper out window to keep place clean. (well everyone else does it!)
19:15 Turn on TV. Emmerdale.
19:15 1/2 Switch off.
19:16 Make tea.
19:19 Doze while drinking tea, spill it over me.
19:22 Rant on blog about life's injustice's!
19:45 Watch football on TV
22:00 Wake up to find football finished and no idea of score.
22:01 Go to bed.
Midnight: Still awake. Can't sleep because of the coffee I drunk today.

Litter

Travelling to bigtown by luxury, high speed rail, I noticed as we trundled along the vast amounts of rubbish on the trackside. Most of this comes from the people living alongside chucking their rubbish over the fence rather than putting it out for the binmen. Quite why these folks feel the need to do this when there is an efficient rubbish collection available I do not understand. There again we are not just talking about normal waste, plastic bags and bottles and the like, but large items such as bedsprings or old tables, things that cost money to have the council collect. Near here they just dump them on the street corner often enough anyway, but huge amounts of junk are flung onto the railway embankment and lie there for months. The bridges over the railway are similarly strewn with litter, newspapers, take away cartons and chip wrappers and so on, jettisoned by those unable to consider taking their litter home with them. Now we have all done it in one form or another but there is a limit surely? Why, I ask, are the British such slobs?

It's a feature of life in this country that litter is true be thrown away rather than placed in litter bins or taken home and disposed off. Much better to fling it from car windows, throw it onto the street or railway line, or just drop it carelessly anywhere. The skatepark opposite me is cleaned every morning by a couple of council workmen because the brats who hang about there are too pig ignorant to use the bins provided, except when they are setting them on fire that is!

During the last 30 years the IRA took to placing small bombs in rubbish bins and many were removed because of this. However today bins have reappeared but the filth habit has not changed.This litter habit is not confined to the UK of course. While we hear or clean trains in Germany and no chewing gum found on the streets of Singapore it is clear the majority of the world cares nothing about removing litter, just recently a swathe of the Atlantic fifty miles wide was strewn with vast amounts of plastic litter chucked from boats and blown into the sea from the land. Imaging how much floats around amongst those bottles with telling messages? It's not just the UK that is a mess, the whole planet is.

Have you noticed the increase in spam regarding quick loans and money deals? While most probably come from similar sources there does appear to be an increase of these sharks on the lookout for desperate people to rip off once more. The media, in particular the tabloids, feature many adverts from financial companies willing to give loans to almost anyone. Digging a new hole to get out of the one you are in is not a good idea, or at least that is what I have found! Far too many vulnerable people, not just those who spend thoughtlessly, will be caught out by such sharks. Surely something should be done about such spam, difficult though this is as there are billions of spam daily. There again, as legitimate financial organisations can rip us off so easily, look at credit card APRs for instance, maybe these folks are no worse than the crooked, money grabbing bastards in the banks?

£20

£20, that's what these bastards are charging me for going over the overdraft limit! I have to go deeper into the credit card to clear this, and when you dig a hole to fill a hole the hole you dig gets deeper than the hole you fill! Or something. I was going to put the money in alongside a wee note, but managed not to until tonight. The idea of requesting a meeting with the bonus laden manager on the shop floor for a full, frank and fulfilling few minutes sounded good this morning, but the six months jail that would result has put a dampener on it. Still, there will be more opportunities to revile these money grabbing, verminous, government paid Fred Goodwin wannabes!I should point out that this is my fault for not keeping an eye on things, but last time I looked all was well. Typical!

Aberdeen 0 Heart of Midlothian 1

 

On this excuse for a pitch the Heart of Midlothian, in spite of losing two central defenders to injury, in spite of having one man sent of because he was wearing a Heart of Midlothian shirt (He would never have been dismissed by Wullie Collum had he worn an Old Firm jersey), in spite of having our left back suffer a head cut, in spite of having a blatant penalty turned down, in spite of being harassed by the least motivated Aberdeen side for years the Heart of Midlothian won the game with a marvellous overhead kick from Edgar Jonsson! Jonsson was an excellent example of a player motivated to win, something missing from McGhoo's Aberdeen side. (Can the manager survive the season? Will he experiment with young blood or just walk away? The club cannot afford to sack him can they?) Throughout the game he gave his all and when he scored the goal he had in fact been moved to central defence, so what was he doing in the Dandy Dons penalty area! Obua, so often abused by some, once again showed his ability, first as a stand in striker and secondly as a stand in defender! Greta show from him. Balogh in goal had almost nothing  to do. So much so the only moment was when he was booked for time wasting by the incompetent ref. Six players obtained a booking, few deserved one. Poor showing by the referee in many ways today.

Born Under a Bad Sign

		by Booker T. Jones and William Bell Born under a bad sign. I've been down since I began to crawl. If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all. Bad luck and trouble's my only friend. I've been down ever since I was ten. Chorus You know, wine and women is all I crave. A big bad woman's gonna carry me to my grave. Chorus First Verse Born under a bad sign. I've been down since I began to crawl. If it wasn't for bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck. If it wasn't for real bad luck, I wouldn't have no luck at all. Born under a bad sign. Born under a bad sign.

Consonum Ensemble

I enjoyed an hour of real music at lunchtime today at the Civic Theatre, Chelmsford. Here in this small, dark theatre, where just under one hundred, mostly elderly gathered, to listen to the Consonum Ensemble, one man at least wisely continuing to drink his coffee as the show starts. The ensemble, comprises one pianist, one clarinettist and one soprano, playing an assortment of short pieces. A large screen showing a pinkish, purple light dominated the darkened theatre.Over the speaker a gentle piano tinkles away as we enter and fight over our seats. This is not really necessary as the Civic holds about 250 I would guess, but some folks like to keep to 'their seat,' especially when it is at the end of a row. I gently kicked an aged crone aside and found an almost empty row where I could deposit myself far from the TCP aroma on my right. I did find it somewhat disappointing that there was no 'Grand Piano.' instead an upright, tuned and ready, awaits. Suitable I am sure but it does give the appearance of a pub night with 'Chas & Dave' rather than an hour of Schumann & Schubert. Maybe the remembrance of two many out of tune church pianos was flitting through my mind?

The trio enter somewhat embarrassedly to mild applause. It then crosses my mind that some may sink into slumber if the show is not to their liking, the place is warm and that heat increases as the hour passes, maybe that explained the coffee? The minute the Soprano lifted her voice however I realised that as the man said, 'Nessam dorma mate,' or 'None shall sleep' to you!

There then followed a delightful hour of music. This is what was played for you music lovers out there. (No dear, having danced the night away at that 'Abba Tribute' evening does not make you a 'Music lover,' believe me!)

'Firstlings' by Betty Roe

Three Folk Songs by John McCabe

Fragments from 'The Hollow Men' by Jacob Shirley

'Fantasie Italienne' by Marc Diemas

'Tonada y Cueca' by Carlos Guastavino

Two Songs from 'The Hermit Songs' by Samuel Barber

'Er, der Herrlichste von allen' by Robert Schumann

'Liebst du um Schonheit' by Carla Schumann

'Der Hirt auf Dem Felsen' by Franz Schubert.

Those of us among the audience who know how to find Radio 3 on the wireless thoroughly enjoyed our short time. The pianist was outstanding,and it shows just how much hard work is required to obtain an honours degree in music! I was much impressed, especially as the pretty young lass had to take part in each item, the soprano and the clarinet could take a break at times. The combination worked well, although I thought we could have had more clarinet as the soprano, excellent indeed, dominated the whole piece otherwise. However I must not appear to criticise. Some time back I made it clear that a music critic I heard could not 'enjoy' music because he spent his time criticising it. I do not wish that to happen to me, especially as I do not have the knowledge in my ears to appreciate the finer aspects of music performance. I should point out that the pretty young pianist has also indicated that criticism may result in loosened teeth and I believe her! I did respect the clarinet player, lumbered with two women two handle, he did less than they but I suspect this was to give him the strength to carry the bags afterwards. He was very good, especially for one who obtained a degree in architecture, a funny way to learn the clarinet I thought.

Afterwards to much applause the trio slip out. The lights alter, the pinkish screen returns and amid gossip the audience quickly departs. The elderly steward asks one if the show was 'enjoyable,' "Oh yes," she says, although whether from pleasure or politeness I was not too sure. Most appeared to enjoy it, as I did, thoroughly.In fact the last time I enjoyed a concert so much was back in the winter of 1971/2 when I heard the 'Third Ear Band,' light show and all, in the basement of the Methodist Church in Notting Hill. They produced one or two excellent albums and I see no reason for these three not to emulate their success in time. They are a trio well worth looking out for. 

Their following appearances:-

6th March. 7:30.    St Barnabus Church, Woodford Green. (Two girls only)

April 15th 1pm.      St Johns Church. Notting Hill, London

10th June 7:30      St Andrews Church, Surbiton.

24th August 3:15   Southwark Cathedral, London.

I'm not breaking up, I'm not!

At twenty minutes after one this lunchtime I decided I needed to move quickly to get the cheap, end of day, veg from the market stall before they disappear off home. Threfore I made off across the park, struggling against the bitter north east wind, rounded the comer at the top of the street and found myself wondering why there are no stalls out today.  Anyone else of course would realise that the market takes place on Wednesdays as it has done since the year 1200, and that today is in fact Tuesday!  Only I could forget that fact, well actually now I come to think of it  I did forget this not that long ago when one Wednesday I found myself wondering why the market was on that day, I had spent the day thinking it was Tuesday!


There again who can be surprised? Nothing goes right these days. This includes the soup I flung on the floor yesterday while attempting to close the lid on it, the oven I cleaned with that 'Mr Muscle' stuff that has left such a stink I still canny use the oven. Nor the other week when I placed my dinner on the cooker and watched it fall gracefully to the floor. Nor do I foget how it took three weeks to get the padlock of the bike because it had jammed and that I could not get the cutter from my neighbour. Not that I've fixed the bike, it's just too cold to care about just now.


 I read somewhere that after the age of fifty you will spend an hour a day 'just looking for things.' This is rubbish, you will spend so much more time than that! I make the tea and half an hour later realise I have not drunk it, why? because I have forgotten to bring it to where I am sitting! I find the milk in the cupboard and the sugar in the fridge, I decide to do something, get distracted, and forget what it was I was doing until next Thursday when it's to late!


There again, such behaviour does run in the family, so maybe it's not age after all. The more I think about it, the memories of going home from work happy after a long tiring day, and returning in the morning to find the door of my employment open because I had forgotten to shut it, comes to mind! Going on holiday and taking one of the most important keys with me was one episode that made me very popular with some! What happened to all those shiny, sharp instruments that we used on the ward when I worked  in the Royal Infirmary is a question I would rather not consider at the moment. That reminds me.........no, it's gone!  




edit. There was another item I meant to post, but, er....I forgot.......

Alan Hansen

Watching 'Match of the Day' I was suddenly struck (I often am) by the sight of Alan Hansen's hair. Now I normally don't pay much attention to a man's hair, or a woman's either when you think about it, but it struck me as strange that he had no gray hair to be seen. Next to him, lounging like a drunk on his fourth pint of cheap cider, sagged Mark Lawrenson gray hair bulging out at both sides of his head. Asking the banal, scripted questions opposite was greying haired Gary Linekar, once the great white hope of English football. How come Hansen, older than Linekar, slightly younger than Lawro, and the same age as myself has no gray hair showing?

Could it be that the nations (and probably his) favourite pundit, ex Liverpool captain, ex Scotland international (Who can forget his tackle on Willie Miller that put us out of the 82 World Cup? Miller was wearing the same shirt as you Hansen, that meant he was on your side ya numpty! It was the only tackle he had made all season also!) this ex footballer has fallen for the mid life crisis syndrome. Stupid man has been watching too many 'Just for Men' adverts and dyes his hair so he looks good on telly. Does he think this will prolong his appearances?  Surely his talent ought to do that anyway? Does he note the way Linekar can get the girls, and does this make him feel rejected? Does he fear the Beebs absurd idea of bringing in Gabby (appropriate name) Yorath or any other lass will mean proper football people (e.g. Men!) will be pushed aside? Or could it be the ageism that is rife within the Beeb makes him fear his job may go if he is seen as from 'too far in the past?' I wonder. There is no reason whatsoever for a man to use dye to cover his gray hair. It happens and only sad losers worry about this sort of happening. Get a life Alan, and let you hair be natural, and be yourself for without that then you are nothing!

 Yesterday bright sunshine and blue skies! Today the Arctic Circle has drawn a little closer. There was no need. If I had wanted snow, cold and misery I know where to find it! The sudden appearance of this horrid stuff has meant the Blue Tits and Green and Gold finches, that have once again began to feed on the bird feeders outside the window will be knocked down by such weather. Where can small birds hide from this? I have made a decision to hide from it also, I am off back to bed!