Duz tha speak Yowkshire?

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A Yorkshire man takes his cat to the vet. Yorkshireman: "Ayup, lad, I need to talk to thee about me cat." Vet: "Is it a tom?" Yorkshireman: "Nay, I've browt it with us." ................................................................................... A Yorkshireman's dog dies and as it was a favourite pet he decides to have a gold statue made by a jeweller to remember the dog by. Yorkshireman: "Can tha mek us a gold statue of yon dog?" Jeweller: "Do you want it 18 carat?" Yorkshireman: "No I want it chewin' a bone yer daft bug ger!" ................................................................................................ A Yorkshireman's wife dies and the widower decides that her headstone should have the words "She were thine" engraved on it.  He calls the stone mason, who assures him that the headstone will be ready a few days after the funeral.  True to his word the stone mason calls the widower to say that the headstone is ready and would he like to come and have a look. When the widower gets there he takes one look at the stone to see that it's been engraved "She were thin". He explodes: "'ells bells man, you've left the blood y "e" out, you've left the blood y "e" out!" The stone mason apologises profusely and assures the poor widower that it will be rectified the following morning. Next day comes and the widower returns to the stone mason: "There you go sir, I've put the "e" on the stone for you". The widower looks at the stone and then reads out aloud: "E, she were thin". ................................................................................ Bloke from Barnsley with piles asks chemist "Nah then lad, does tha sell ar se cream?" Chemist replies "Aye, Magnum or Cornetto?"     . ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Music, More or Less...

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This morning I awoke just before the alarm and mused at the blue sky outside the window. (Well it would be 'outside' the window, it is hardly likely to be 'inside' is it?) As I pondered the day ahead and asked the questions life throws at us, 'What is it all about?' 'Why me? and 'Why is there always a teaspoon at the bottom of the washing up bowl?' I realised 'Please Release Me' by Tom Jones* was running through my head. I was not pleased. My cogitation changed direction and I once more asked 'Why does a song come to mind soon after waking? and 'Why is it always one I don't want?' Yesterday I was greeted by military band music, the type of stuff played at army displays and ceremonials. In itself this is not bad, but where did it come from? I have not played such music, nor indeed heard it, for a long while, so why is it found in my head at 6:17 in the morning? On occasions I have been assaulted by 'Bucks Fizz,' and before seven O' clock at that! It is a disgrace I say.  It is rarely, if ever, music I wish to hear, so why does it happen like this?


If I could wake to a Beatles tune, Van Morrison or Elgar then it would not be so bad. However I find 'Love Affair' with 'Everlasting Love' a  song detested in 1967, bellowing in my mind unasked and unwanted. Why? How come such obscure and dreadful songs appear in my head when I wake, even if I leave Radio 3 on all night? Where do they come from, and why don't they stay there I ask?


Something in the brain responds to the pace you move at, and I find when wandering through the town music arrives in the cavernous space between my ears according to my pace.  This is how John Lee Hooker made his music, he tapped his feet and from the beat found a song!  This music is linked to the pace I walk at, and the urgency, or lack of it, in my plans, mostly non urgent I can tell you. Now that I can understand, but why when I wake am I confronted with 'Puppy Love' sung by Donny Osmand? Have I been sleeping too slowly perhaps?


Now the thing is my music taste is wide and open, I would happily accept something from the sixties that was worth listening to, classic music of many types could find a home in my head, so why do I get  Abba with 'Waterloo?' Was I dreaming of a railway? That is the song that signified the end of the sixties music movement. From then on all music ended and all that counted was glitz and sham. It has never ceased since. I realise there have been attempts at music, surely 'Punk' does not count, 'Rap' certainly doesn't! But in truth nothing matches the revolutionary aspect of the 'Baby Boomers' generation.  So, with all the music in all the world available to my brain, why is the bland junk thrown at me?


I'm off to find the headphones. Tonight I ensure I listen to a 'Gold' station playing my music, or something near to it. Wouldn't it be just my luck to find it is an 'Abba' anniversary tonight! Doh!!! 


*Yes I realised in time that it was in fact Engelbert Humperdink who sang 'Please Release Me,' and he can be assured that I would indeed have released him at 6:30 this morning if I could, tied to a large bunch of helium balloons!. 


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Rain

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My stiff and somewhat aching muscles carried me off to work this morning just as the rain was ending. Once again my thoughts were full of the 'fact' that I live in the 'driest county in England!' It is funny how often I consider this 'fact.' When I was a postman this was a 'fact' that would run through my minds quite often. Because of this I always checked the weather forecast on Anglia TV each night. The personable, pretty, young lassies, would smile as they indicated downpours here, there and everywhere. They still do this today. I recall the lass one evening informing us that there may be "A shower or two" the next day. How right she was. It began just on 6 am and continued, non stop, until just after 12 noon!  This 'shower,' came straight down in large drops without letting up at any time during the day. I wondered at one point if Anglia TV weather girls had invented the 'Driest county in England' phrase when on a 'girls night out' in Norwich one time. Now this was bad enough but as I, and my friend John, stood dripping in the entrance, the manager, coffee cup in hand, giggled like a schoolgirl while we two sodden creatures stood dishevelled before him he suddenly exclaimed "Look! It's stopping, I can go home now!" He was right!  Through the door we could see the end of the thick gray cloud, a following silver lining, and acres of blue sky behind! As we removed our rain garb, saturating everything around, the manager cheerily made his way home accompanied by our good wishes. Today thankfully the rain dispersed, until I had to go outside for another bin, thanks very much, and was kind enough to stay off while I made my weary way home. Two hours work and I am worn out! In days past I would do a 54 hour week regularly, and for poor money at that! Where does all that energy go I wonder? I need it now!

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Work

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So I have got into this work business now. I turn up, spend two hours clearing the mess left by the packers, dump it in the skips provided, and go home. Tomorrow I will do the same once again! Then take the rest of the week off and return for two more days next week. This appears to some like an easy option, but not to one who has been unemployed so long. The mere physical effort of clearing the boxes, flattening them, filling the bins, and walking around all combine to make my bones creak and my muscles ache. There is certainly that wee pain in the knee showing itself, as I suspected it might, but this is something that can be borne for a while yet. The rest of my body needs the routine and physical exertion, that knee can endure a while.

This however is actually good! I am enjoying this as it gives me the impression that I am back in the real world, and is making me fit once again, well up to a point that is. Two hours work on Monday followed by two more on Tuesday is not much, but my ageing unused body has become very slack and this is a good way to exercise the flab. Believe me there is a bit of 'flab' about these days. I also walk around without the guilt feeling that hangs about the unemployable. This is a great relief. I know the 'Daily Express' readers glare as I pass by, although I wonder what they did to get the rewards that they have obtained. Cynical fellow that I am I can imagine the many weird and wonderful ways they have gathered their rewards!  However I am glad of the work, a small step maybe, and now I need another part time, and much more leisurely, job to fill up the bank account and frighten the credit card.


 Funnily enough I feel knackered tonight.

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Leadership

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The Pakistani Premier wandering about Europe while his nation suffers severe flooding leaves a question about leadership in my mind. The word 'Without a vision the people perish' comes to mind, and leadership is about offering the people that vision. What the Pakistani's thought of their premier is likely to contain no words concerning 'vision,' although it's fair to say most will not know, nor care, who he is most likely. Anyway, their thoughts are on the floods not him, nor his son's future prospects. 


The UK needs leadership at the moment. Economic disaster has left three million unemployed, business's fearful of the future, and mountains of debt many cannot repay. What leadership do we find from the compromise coalition? So far they have paraded their heartlessness in the 'Daily Mail,' the readership of this paper being the 'Middle England' that votes for the Conservative Party, and have claimed Social welfare must be cut. Already the disabled have been suffering, the intention is to make those on 'invalidity benefit' find jobs, and while this ignore the three million already looking for the half million jobs available, and takes no account of employers not wishing to employ such folk, the real reason is to cut the cash given out on benefit. In short a scam to save money! The Tory rag has been telling us that 100,000 are taking benefits worth more than people earn, around £30,000 a year they claim. This information comes from Chris Grayling's department, so the reliability of the numbers is to be doubted. Today the Sunday version claims 250,000 homes where no-one has ever had a job! Quite how these figures add up I fail to understand, but that is typical 'Daily Mail' half truths for you. In short, the Tory leadership in fixing the economy is to attack the welfare state, while offering platitudes, and avoiding any policy that hurts their friends, such as catching tax dodgers for instance. In fact hundreds of tax office folk are being cleared out, what a coincidence! That will save cash, but not in the JSA department!


Leadership must offer a vision for the nation, not just a few. Churchill had his moment in 1940 when his leadership stiffened the nation to 'stand alone' against the Nazi threat, and 'stand alone' it  did! Attlee, in 1945, offered a new world for Britain. Better housing, the NHS, schooling for the kids and a cleaner future for all, and the nation, barring the selfish afraid to lose their advantages, followed on. Most politicians, good and bad, offered some form of leadership, even the dreaded Maggie Thatcher offered leadership, although she killed of the manufacturing world without replacing the jobs! Some folks still suffer from that! Love her or loathe her she did offer leadership, and that is lacking today!


The compromise leadership took its place not to lead, but to get the front seats in the house of Commons. Since then a hotch potch of daft ideas have been thrown out, mostly to cut the economic problem, but all to often these policies are knee jerk party reactions. Not thought out, not considering the results for the nation, simply following Maggies idea that if you don't spend, you save cash. However we must spend to save also, and the only spending appears to be the wives of the politician leaders in the Bond Street shops! The MP's main concern is not their constituents problems, but their expense accounts! I fear for the future. Brown and Blair were not great and encouraged a politically correct approach. Cameron and Clegg appear to encourage a slapdash approach. It is possible that we could achieve ten million unemployed. It may not happen, but who knows what will occur tomorrow? Cameron, who considered 1940 a year when we were the 'junior partner' to the US, (even though the US did not enter the war until late 1941,) and has informed the Turks that the EU should speed up their application process, (thereby upsetting the Greeks, Germans and French), also upset the Pakistani's by demanding they stopped encouraging terrorism, in spite of the thousands who die there from terrorism annually! I fear for our future. Amateurs and imbeciles and self serving people on all sides of the House of Commons are lacking 'vision,' none have any idea of how to handle this crisis. I suggest there is more to come, and I fear there is no vision, and the major world leaders have no answer!


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Hospitals on TV

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Now, as you know, I am not one to complain, however this is the time of the year known as the 'silly season,' when the media, determined to fill every minute of their overlong news programmes, visit places normally left aside from the daily rush. Cats up trees are often found in such programmes, however at this time of the year such revelations are not considered to carry sufficient depth for the glorious people in TV Land. So one of the most useful time fillers is the NHS! Every local news programme the TV can provide appears to have a camera wandering about a hospital, doctors surgery or pharmacist, daily! Now local news is of course filled with rape, murder, fire and reports of UFOs over the post office, but at this time of the year, when government, local and national, has slowed down for the main part, (not counting when big changes are sneaked out when no-one is looking) when the schools are out, and the brats shoplifting, with the routine broken, crime slipping away as so many criminals are stealing from one another while getting drunk in Spanish seaside resorts (all equiped with the 'Daily Mirror,' 'fish & Chips,' and hordes of teenage thugs chasing scantily clad stupid girls (and where were they when I called?) ) so the TV people rush to the hospitals!
Tonight they spend overlong discussing the cutbacks and staff losses, (Not the 'front line staff' lies a well paid suit, she might well add 'Not me either,' but won't). Tomorrow the waiting list in the outpatients, yesterday, a new discovery blaming our 'genes' for the laziness that afflicts us, on Monday it will be the bugs that can kill (big headline, no story) and so on. Each story has a union man fearing staff loss, a suit lying in his teeth, a fervent doctor reassuring all and sundry that the disease that is ravishing the district is nothing to be concerned over, and an earnest reporter that does not care a bit about his story. He is just annoyed that he has been turned down again by SKY or ITV and misses the big money.
Why not just cut these local news broadcasts to five minutes? The murder, disappearance, factory closure, can be dealt with easily then, the sport, a muttering from a football manager about 'Giving 110%,' or a cricket captain explaining how his side lost 500 runs to a woman's team, can be as informative in one minute as it is in the several usually wasted on local TV. Must we visit hospitals? It is not news, rarely important, only brainless types who indulge themselves on daytime TV watch it and it goes in one ear ad out the other straight away. Do we need local news that much? Radio covers it better, rarely is there a major story, and while it has some interest explaining why the streets were closed off and police helicopters were hovering overhead, in the end it really doesn't matter, does it?


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TV and Cooks!

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What is it with the cooks? At this moment in time two of the five terrestrial channels are showing cooks! When they finish a third begins, this one features a group of nerds  people cooking a meal intending to impress the man who would be their boss. The one that cooks the best meal wins the job. I would like to try that, there would be no cooking programmes on television ever again I fail to win employment! What is this all about? These days the TV world is stuffed full of antique shows, house programmes and cooking shows. They top this with a multitude of soap operas, which avoid any requirement to smile or engage the intellect, and fill the day up with what they refer to as ‘Hard hitting drama.’ This of course is just another soap opera exactly the same as the one shown last week but with a different background and lots more explosions.TV cannot get enough of them. Fat ones, hairy ones, individuals with twisted personalities, groups sharing the kitchen, trainees ‘chefs’ and now cook for your job! Now cooking, that woman’s job which only men tend to do on TV, (we can forget Nigella as she is less concerned with cooking than with just being looked at and enjoying her self importance,) cooking appears to be the ‘in thing’ these days. What's more they all wish to be called 'chef,' rather than 'cook.' What is the difference? If your head is over a pan full of mince it makes no difference what you are called! Mince is mince, no matter what herbs you add.


TOO MUCH! I’ve just had an e-mail from DK Books offering me a wide variety of cook books! That's it! I cancel the e-mail and I switch off the telly and head off to bed - hungry!


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Men in Shorts

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Saturday morning dawned slowly. The sky above was deep in gray cloud and a thin drizzle, driven by a somewhat chilly west wind, fell at an angle slowly drenching those brave enough to venture out. Periodically the drizzle hardened into rain, puddles began to appear in the usual places, pigeons sheltered under the leaves of the trees opposite, anxious to continue their breakfast, and a summer dampness hung in the air. 

After a sparse breakfast I headed out when I gauged the weather to have improved sufficiently to take the air. Crossing the park, passing the pigeons and blackbirds hungrily pulling worms from the earth, I pondered the weathers 'British' habit of clearing up sufficiently to allow the sun to poke through the clouds encouraging foolhardy people like me to venture out. My pondering began when on the other side of the park the light faded, the gray clouds loomed nearer, and that slight drizzle forced me to zip up the cheap tawdry jacket that will never be seen on  'Kimmy Style!' Wiping the soused spectacles with an even more soused finger, I blearily made my way round the houses. 

As I avoided  a woman using her umbrella in similar manner to the German Uhlans used their lances during the invasion of Belgium in 1914, although with less success than her, I was left pondering once again, but this time about men in shorts! The damp roads, the umbrellas, the sodden grass, the gray clouds above, and the wet stuff falling from the sky did not appear to have influenced an astounding variety of men in their choice of apparel! All around me I observed the men of the town, rising to collect the papers, or walk the dog or the girlfriend,  dressed in T-shirts and shorts! Peering through the rain running down my lenses I noticed the usual "My Friend went to London and all I got was this T-shirt" T-shirts. A few "Pink Floyd" T-shirts, worn by men older than me, and if not older certainly looking older, and even an occasional 'England' shirt, of indeterminate age, would appear. The thing was however, the shorts! Fine in your own house, great when camping or pretending you are Ray Mears existing on berries and squirrel, but here, in the rain? Certainly they were not all wearing shorts, many were damp three quarter leg trousers worn by men who clearly have lost all sense of reason. Maybe the trouser fairy came during the night or something I don't know?

Not let us reason here. Maybe it is my Edinburgh upbringing, maybe this is what folks do here in England, maybe it is just that they are all stupid, I am not sure which, but when the sun shines dress in shorts, preferably at home, or on the beach. I realise this happens every year, and I understand that the average  Englishman is not all that bright, however, when it is chilled drizzle, when the sky has a ten thousand feet thick gray cloud above you, when in short it is imitating winter, don't wear shorts and a T-shirt! 

I expect lots of 'man flu' to appear in a day or so.       

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Emotions

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Emotions are funny things. We all have them, we all fail to control them, or control them too much. None of us can enjoy life without them and some of us enjoy the emotions more than we ought. This thought crossed my mind, and you wish it had continued to cross, when I realised how satisfied I appeared to be after the Heart of Midlothian defeated Millwall in a testimonial match for their man Neil Harris. It was indeed a mere friendly match, but with an honourable intent, and the fact that the side is beginning to merge together leaves me feeling quite satisfied, and having a man who can score from free kicks is also pleasing me. Now I know there are more important things in life, however a football team winning brings a strange happiness, and many share this emotion. The emotions of the wee team the other night, that is the Hibs losing to a side they had never heard of before, does give us an inkling into the opposite type of reaction.  However, we will not go there, as this might provoke another emotional reaction from me, one accompanied with a lot of sniggering to be honest!

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Worn Out

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Twice this week I have cycled out to a nearby warehouse to help clear up the mess they are in. For a mere two hours, yes two hours a day I have wandered around flattening cardboard boxes and generally tidying the place up. This is a company that has dropped a number of staff yet found itself getting busier. This means the warehouse, actually well organised but in a mess through sheer industry, is creating a H&S problem, and a sheer practicable one for the pickers and packers as they wade thought fallen boxes, some full many empty, to fulfil their tasks. Therefore the cheap option is to bring in someone aged, desperate for a few hours work, and willing to happily wander around flattening the boxes and moving it in the huge bins provided. So twice I have spent two hours doing this, and now, after four hours work I cannot move anything anymore without aching everywhere! Not working, lacking exercise, and being as fit as a ten day old corpse, has revealed me to be less fit than even I thought. I stretch, I hot bath, and just await the girl from the Cambodian all night tanning salon to come around and massage my knees back into their proper place. However, the tiredness I feel, what some dafties call 'good tiredness' is hanging over me and I may not be able to stay aw...


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How Many Dead?

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Mail Online

I have just had a glance at the 'Mail Online' page and while I expect to see half naked, meaningless celebrities whom I have never heard off, and I also realise that scandal and shock will fill the page, I did find myself shocked by the number of dead people on the page.  One was 'happy Slapped' to death by neds, a four year old was found dead in a washing machine while playing 'Hide & Seek, a pretty young student finds herself dead crossing a road while on the phone, so the driver gets off with that one, and a father is found hanging not long after his wife and two daughters are found dead. Not a bad body count when we are still in the 'Mail's' opening section.

They were joined in the opening section by a 45 stone woman who, the 'Mail claims,' died after stuffing herself on junk food! We quickly move on to a nurse stabbed by her 'ex-lover,' never boyfriend, always 'lover' in this paper, and a 'newly wed stabbed to death by her step son' in the US. There is a cruise ship passenger dying after the gangway collapses, a mother bleeding to death after a long wait for the police, a professional footballer given 25 years for shooting an ex friend in a drugs related case. This led to another murder and about thirty shooting incidents in a notorious London housing estate. However hold on, we are only half way down the page! We still have the 'insanely jealous' boyfriend who bumped her of for finding another man, we must not miss him out must we? 

At a rough count, and it must be rough are there may be more yet to discover on this page, we have about 14, yes fourteen, bodies on one page of the 'Mail Online.' I have missed out the regular things, priests giving communion to dogs, a ship made from plastic bottles arriving in Sydney harbour,  shocking things found on a soap opera and lots of flesh on the side bar as 'B' celebs disport themselves for cheap publicity.

Murder used to be unusual in the UK. We use to manage about one a day, now we are at least ten times that number, although I have no official figures for this guess. The police once shuddered at the thought of carrying guns, now every station has it's 'armed response unit' Youths are always showing off by fighting, now however they all appear to carry knives, and especially so in inner cities. Drugs carry a great responsibility here as all areas appear to have a drug gang of some sort. Heavens, only a few years ago an armed police raid occurred on a house behind my mothers in Edinburgh. I spent 21 years in London and never saw an armed police raid, yet one occurs right next to what once was our playground! Totally unthinkable in the fifties!

There again it is a paper reporting 'news,' and facts are slanted to sell. These sad events take place all too often but life goes on. There are more good things in the New Forest than dead families, some housing estates, even black ones I will have you know, are full of folks just living their lives. Reading the press does give a skewed view of the world around us. When I lived in London the area, Paddington it came under, had about 660 'car crimes.' Stolen or just broken into for a few pounds, that sort of thing.  Maida Vale had well over 700 such offences! Yet when I arrived at this backwater  the local media talked of things taken from cars, garages raided, and police warnings to 'Take care out there!'

The end of the year report told us there had been 24 'car crimes,' and that this area was the safest in the county, and the county had the lowest crime rate in the country! Read your paper carefully!

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What has happened to our culture?

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Richard Webb

I had occasion to use Google maps the other day for some important study that has now gone right out of my head. It meant looking at Edinburgh for some reason or other and I eventually wandered over the places where I spent my youth. I was shocked! What caught my eye was an area used by some lads for football, now dominated by a council laid basketball court! What on earth is going on here I thought? This was a place I only visited once, and not because of the hard men who played there either. I did however play on the other side of those houses for a while with the chaps there, and a good time I had also. However I noticed their pitch no longer exists and tarmac paths cross what was once the goalmouth where my heroics often brought jeers of laughter! I wandered, from a height of several hundred feet, towards the more usual pitches of my footballing career and found a similar dearth of football being played. I was aware the roundabout had four trees planted in the centre (trees for goodness sake!) but now a ring of flourishing growth is found around the edges of the greenery. I am shocked. I gazed in a daze at the green grass, usually mud when we played, the trees and the lack of enthusiasm for the 'beautiful game!' I gave myself a crick in the neck shaking it back and forward with disbelief at the sight. I had known of course about the death of my first love long ago. The football had been hindered greatly by the imposition of the cinder pitch over our near neighbours pitch. (Funny how we rarely had a 'take on' with them for some reason, although we all played together at times?) The men at the bus stop had eased their despair at the buses by watching our football skills, which were many I must boast, and now all they could find were some enthusiasts 'training' or just walking the dog. Shame I cry, shame!

What has happened to our culture? Over the past thirty years, for no known reason, men have stopped playing football! This of course is not just in Edinburgh, home of the truly greats, like Willie Bauld, Bobby Walker, John Robertson, and Dave McKay, but it occurs everywhere in Scotland and indeed the United Kingdom! Not only this but it happens throughout Europe and even Pele, the world's second best player (Bobby Walker outshone him of course) even Pele claimed the kids no longer played football on the beach they way he used to! What is going on here? Football, whether with a proper plastic ball such as the ones we possessed, or with a bundle of rags tied together, been there done that, still happens, but in Africa, or some other third world nation. In those places where the economy is not strong people play football as we did. So is it wealth that has lost kids interest in the game? Almost any decent school reveals lots of brats kicking a ball, and one another, around the playground, so why do they prefer homework or computer games in the evening? They are not all sniffing glue or playing with little girls bicycle seats are they? A generation and more, has arisen that has no concept of the 'tanner ba' player. The idea of twenty or so a side, first to 21 wins, played under dim amber lights, in the rain and mud, means nothing to them. Yet all the greats of the past were reared this way!

I suspect one reason is the growth of football development! Football clubs select the best under eights, put them into the cut down pitches and reject the bad ones and retain the good. This may be fine for those who continue on but does it leave the young reject disillusioned with his chances? It appears the only way to make it big is not by enjoying the game, and dreaming of success, but by having sufficient talent to belong to a football team and train with them their way and no other. Add to this those who tell us that 'Playing too much football causes harm in later life' we are left with kids who play only when they are allowed. Well, those who obey their orders that is! Certainly we could have developed problems with too much football, but alcohol, cigarettes and women cause many more problems. Few suffer from playing football too much, certainly we never had to play to lose the burger fat that today's slobbish youth delight in. So I am left wondering why our football has developed in this way? Proper coaching killing the natural enjoyment? Too much homework as kids struggle to pass exams that will make no difference to their lives? Possibly the left leaning teachers, usually female, who robbed a generation of 'competitive' games had a belittling effect on attitudes? I just know that while I am not against the developing of the areas we once saw as our own I am struggling to understand why this change in thirty years?
   
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O wad some Power the giftie gie us

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O wad some Power the giftie gie us
To see oursels as ithers see us!
It wad frae mony a blunder free us,
An' foolish notion:
What airs in dress an' gait wad lea'e us,
An' ev'n devotion! 

One thing recent times have shown me is another look at myself. Like you I have been much influenced by many things, including other peoples opinion of me. This can of course be very encouraging. The football coach that speaks of your ability, the boss that praises your honesty and work, and admiring friends who praise your artistic or practical abilities. It can also be destructive, only today a young lass muttered "Sod of Granddad," as I passed by, and she was at least forty! Folk you question your right to life when you accidentally allow the ball past you - for the eighth time can be exceedingly wounding, and parents, teachers and family can all leave a mark on the consciousness that may never leave. This can sometimes make it difficult to know just what you are capable off, or worse still, make it difficult to convince others you can, or cannot, do certain things. Their image often clashes with your own and when you know yourself this can cause many troubles with those around you!

 Recent times have convinced me of my true ability, although there are few opportunities that offer decent money for being a lazy fat slob. There are many who encourage me in the view that this is the most suitable employment however, usually those I once worked with. I have often been swayed willingly by peoples opinions of me. I have realised recently just how many I still carry, and just how wrong they were. From their point of view there was a reason to claim I had some ability in this or that, but at depth this was misleading. Now, as time passes by, I have a much more sober estimate (a phrase never found on Auld Reekie Rants) of my abilities, other folks remain convinced of their opinion! The best way to determine whether friends, bosses, or others opinions regarding you are correct is of course to put them to the test in the real world, a world where strangers regard you in the same manner you regard them, and they soon indicate your failings, as you would theirs!  

My thoughts originated when I looked at that cat in the picture. Is this a reflection of the image we offer the world, tough and strong, while inside we are like a kitten? Or could it be that within each kitten we have the talent to be a roaring lion? Some will see us as lions even when we ourselves are curling up inside like a kitten, others note the kitten dressed with a false mane. What strange creatures we can be? I spent many years being encouraged by people, and fooled into misunderstanding much of my capabilities, I trusted much of the opinion and spent a long time attempting to be what I was not. It showed, oh how it showed, but I didn't notice! I can see it now of course, and am very glad those people who also saw this are far, far away now. 

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Do you know what I am talking about? I did when I started, but I appear to have gone off in a daze somewhere. This at least shows that teacher who slapped my legs a lot was correct when she said I was dozy. Mind you I was 37 at the time....... 

You What Pal?

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So the US senate has demanded that Scotland, and the UK, send ministers over to submit themselves to a Senate Committee investigation on the Lockerbie Bomber release? Just how arrogant can these men be? Since when does a Scotsman answer to the committees of a foreign power? Do these expensively suited men with shining plastic teeth consider the Scots to be some Arab state they can kick around? I assure them they are very much mistaken! MacAskill has rightly refused to jump at their call. I strongly urge him to take a more offensive attitude towards their offensive attitude. 

Why, they ask, as if they care, was Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahiget released from prison on compassionate grounds? And why is he still alive if he was so ill? He was released on compassionate grounds because he was seriously ill and Scots Law contains much US law omits, in particular compassion is mixed with justice. Scots Law after is all is based on Calvinism, a right understanding of scripture, and that is something most US Christians fail to understand. US justice appears based on retribution, not justice, vengeance, not righteousness. In Scotland, a nation now far from its Calvinist past, such attitudes are still embedded in the consciousness. 

The real reason the men with false teeth are concerned has less to do with concern for Pan-Am 103 and much to do with an electioneering attack on BP. It is of course understandable that the short sighted politicians would use the oil disaster as a means to attack Obama and his Democrats. They are not allowed to complain about him being black are they? Strange to say the black areas of New Orleans appear to be untouched by reconstruction, could this be because of cost, five years on, or because it concerns mostly black areas anyway? I wonder! Men such as this appear to think they can tell Scots politicians what to do? No chance pal!

Let us remember what is going on here. Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahiget (You spell it your way and I'll spell it mine!) was convicted of the bombing of Pan-Am 103, and many among us consider this to be a political conviction, and an extremely unsafe one. The international desire to avoid upsetting the wrong people, possibly Iran, was satisfied when one man carried the can for something a great many powerful people were concerned with. However this was seen as an attack on America, although  a great many passengers aboard were not from the USA!But let us hold and consider first what caused the downing of this plane.

Based in the Gulf we find the 'Gun-Ho' attitude of the USS Vincennes, under Captain Will Rogers III. The ship was known as 'Robocruiser,' by other US warships in the Gulf at the time because of his behaviour. The US had placed many warships in the Gulf during the Iran-Iraq war for reasons of their own. Such ships began challenging every aircraft, commercial or otherwise, even including those approaching Dubai International Airport! On board each ship were details of all traffic, their times, destinations, call signs, how to contact them, and so on. Yet a constant and needless interference with legitimate aircraft and shipping continued. Inspired by lurid anti-Iran propaganda, too many John Wayne films, their incompetence and lack of training, their lack of knowledge of air routes and how commercial airlines operated even though details were before them, added to the 'John Wayne' closed minded bullying so beloved of American military men, inevitably led to disaster! Captain Rogers excelled in such neurosis and was regarded with disdain by other ships in the Gulf at that time.

On 3rd July 1988, Iran Air IR655 took off on a regular commercial flight and headed over the Gulf. The pilot, Captain Mohsen Rezaian, an experienced pilot and a regular on this route, communicated with three air controllers as he flew. The channel he used meant he could not accept incoming calls from the Vincennes, as the USS Vincennes ought to have been well aware, they had the details on board after all, and he continued to ascend while the panicking Rogers, captain no less of a US warship, decided he was in fact 'diving' to attack. Concluding, against all the evidence, that this was an F-14 Iranian Fighter the Yanks shot two heat seeking missiles and brought down 290 passengers and crew, including 66 children. Their bodies could be seen falling from the sky by other US ships. These ships had made no attempt to respond to the Iranian plane, knowing it was on course as normal. Yet their crews were able to watch the men women and children fall into the sea.

The US propaganda went into full spin, supported by the ever faithful Margaret Thatcher. Claims of attacking Iranian gunboats were disproved on the evidence from other US warships, the Airbus diving with a suicidal pilot was one lie propagated by loyal media. All were proved to be a lie. President Reagan, a comedian that would never have been elected in any other nation, apologised to the world, and considered this 'sufficient.' He wrote to Congress stating 'This matter....is closed.' As he spoke most of the bodies lay unclaimed, and unrecognisable, in a warehouse. As far as is known no compensation was paid. They were after all just Arabs, weren't they? (Iranians of course are not Arabs, but Persians.) I doubt Reagan knew this.

Later, the USS Vincennes returned home to a hero's welcome. The crew received 'combat medals,' and were lauded by US for their prompt action. The dead were forgotten as they were probably enemies sworn to destroy America anyway. So that's all right then! The children probably had no idea America existed even when they fell out of the aircraft at 10,000 feet! However, they know now, don't they!

Aircraft leaving Heathrow and heading for North America follow a path towards the west coast of England and cross the border into Scotland shortly before heading over the Atlantic. On the 21st of December, four days before Christmas 1988, Pan-Am Boeing 747-121, named 'Clipper, Maid of the Seas,' flying at 31,000 feet, exploded just as it reached this point. A mere six months after Iran Air IR 655 had been brought down. The plane landed in the small Scots town of Lockerbie killing 243 passengers, 16 crew, and 11 people on the ground. 270 in all.

After an exhaustive investigation, covering many parts of the world, Abdelbaset Ali al-Megrahi was the only man convicted of the crime. The fact that one man took the blame indicates something somewhere has never been revealed concerning this conviction. One man could never have taken this action, so who did? Did the Ayatollah Khomeini's talk of vengeance lead to Lockerbie? Did Ahmed Jibril, the leader of the PFLP-GC, or the Syrians have a part in this? Will we ever know? I doubt it.

My opinion has not changed, and that is an opinion shared by many, that this man was 'set-up' by all nations involved, to take the rap for a crime he did not commit,any part he may have had was very small indeed. The politics behind the scene, involving the UK, Scotland, the UK, and Libya, and whoever else, was satisfied with having closed the deal. Justice was not served here, politics was! The cries from America after al-Megrahiget's release while ignoring Rogers murder of the innocent speaks volumes. Captain Rogers did write a book explaining his actions, did many read it, did many care?

Today we find the US Senate demanding Scots and UK politicians explain their actions. The arrogance! Who do these electioneering men consider themselves to be? The Scots have stood against English oppression for over a thousand years. They fought two major wars against oppression in the 20th century, and would have stood alone with the rest of the UK while others kept their distance had Hitler invaded in 1940! Yet some US Senator, nice suit, clean teeth,and a hand in all corruption available, instructs them to submit to his self seeking questioning? Aye right!

The Scots government must make a stand here. It must make clear to these self important men that Scots are not an Arab nation and will not be pushed around by anyone! Our men died in Bush and Blairs war in Iraq, not to defend a threat, but to enrich an American suit in an oil company, BP perhaps? David Cameron, that slimy Eton boy, may well pass the buck onto the Scots government, that's what his sort do, and that is what Conservatives do to Scotland all the time after all. He may well attempt to keep in with Obama, but he of course would prefer Bush, but whatever he does it will to make him look good, and our boys will still be dying in Afghanistan for the United States of America!

Alex Salmond, Scotland's First Minister, ought to ask why Captain Rogers prize has not been compensated properly, and why he has not been jailed for murder? He must make clear to America that while we stand by them when attacked, and we shall always do this because we still regard the US as a friend, and have many ties with that land, he will not behave like Tony Blair. Scots readily agreed to aid the US when 9/11 occurred, and stand against any terrorism against the US, in spite of America supplying the money that paid for the Irish Republican death squads for thirty years! Scots governments should not bend the knee to anyone, why should they? There is no government that will ever get the Scots to bow by force. Instead Salmond should indicate that many Scots were killed by the downing of Pan-Am 103, yet they were innocent of the slaughter of the Iranian jet! Why has America not compensated them for the results of their actions? If the senate, and its polite, clean cut, all white, members want answers they must begin at the beginning. Picking on Scotland will not avoid the US facing up to its own crime!

NEMO ME IMPUNE LACESSIT PAL

Auld Reekie Rants

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Memories

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I forgot what I was going to say...........






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This is a Spoof, Right?

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I'm sure it's a spoof......isn't it?

The Heart of Midlothian's New Strip.

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This is shocking! The Heart of Midlothian play in all maroon shirts, not reverse imitation Ajax shirts! This is a disgrace! The Heart of Midlothian developed their famous maroon shirts way back in the 1870's, and this has continued till this day, with one exception. That was the insistence by Bobby Seith, the then manager, that we ought to wear 'Ajax' type shirts, and inspire a better footballing approach from the side. It failed! It was a disgrace to adopt another teams shirts, and it is a disgrace that is being repeated here today! Only those with no understanding of the club, no knowledge of the clubs history, and a teenagers approach to fashion, could even contemplate such a shirt!

There are those who can accept the 'away' shirt and that is up to them. The 'change shirt,' a much better title, has to be one that does not clash with the enemy, and today's youth often prefer such, once again as they have little understanding of 'style' or fashion! However the change strip is not the main strip and almost anything would be acceptable their. The main shirt must however be all maroon! If it's good enough for Bobby Walker, Tommy Walker, Willie Bauld and John Robertson, then it is certainly good enough for what we have playing for the club today!

Channel 4. WWI: Finding the Lost Battalions

What is it with documentaries today? At one time a documentary told the story of an event, today it must be an emotional adventure aimed at those who consider daytime television worth watching! This programme is an excellent example of how not to tell a war story. For one thing the men at the front are given the second place in the story, the women at home fill the screen. The camera, which never remains still, closes in on their faces as they read the letters and diaries written by the men so long ago. In the background a piano tinkles slowly, as if desperate to produce tears. Every effort is made to enhance the sentiment including a granddaughter taking us to where her relative said goodbye to his family and walked away to war across the fields. This happened countless times during the war, five million men served, and this was indeed a poignant moment for any family. However little is said about the attitude of the men themselves. These men wanted to go, they volunteered! More men volunteered than were enlisted! Their attitude is ignored while the tear filled narrator weeps his way through the tale. This type of documentary is what dominates all to often such stories today. History is replaced with sentiment, facts with emotion. The men who fell in this needless attack at Fromelles deserve better.


The attack was just to draw the Germans away from action elsewhere. The officer in charge made a hash of it, and the attack failed with around 8000 casualties, including about 1600 killed in action. The cause of the programme was the successful discovery of a group of bodies found in a lost grave and reburied in a new cemetery. The use of DNA to identify many of them is a wonderful tool and those involved deserved recognition for their work. This programme fails them also!

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Old Maps

Am I the only one who finds old maps fascinating? Shown here is a map of the South of Scotland, concentrating on Edinburgh and the Firth of Forth, but the date is difficult to establish. At 3/- a copy, (that's three shillings to young folks, OK, that's 15 pence to you very young folks), and 'cloth bound,' it was designed for those rich enough to possess a motor car which enabled the middle classes to join the toffs driving around the country. Such driving became popular in the 1920's and with cars (That's 'automobiles' to those in North America) being so expensive the working classes, who often drove lorries and vans for employment, could never hope to obtain a car of their own. Indeed in was only in the late fifties and early sixties that car ownership really became a possibility.

I love looking at such maps and pondering their date, and indeed the owners over the years. It is stupidly interesting to look at a map of the district from days of yore and compare them to the present day. For no good reason I can be excited by the residue of ancient pathways, buildings and workplaces that no longer exist in a manner that I cannot repeat for the buildings of today. Why this should be I cannot say, but there it is! There is of course a demand for these maps, they sell on E-Bay and online shops, and mine arrived via a local boot sale. I may peruse E-bay for a few days and hope for a windfall, or a couple of pounds anyway. 

I still do not understand the interest, but I enjoy perusing old maps. There was a badly made programme which featured one eccentric chap, brolly and all, wandering about following ancient maps and those who travelled on long gone roads. Had the programme been better made, and avoided his overacting and the cameraman's love of shaky camera and blurred picture,  it could have been very entertaining. All around us are ancient pathways that are still used today, In fact outside my window lies 'Stane Street,' so called after the Roman army used their technological expertise on it, although it must have existed for a long time before this, possibly some thousand or more years at that, as a thin winding track through the heavily wooded land. Roman roads themselves are often made from previous tracks, but our incomers military needs meant they just straightened out the bends and climbed straight over the hills! Today such roads traces can be see on Google Maps quite easily.

In Edinburgh a wander through Davidson's Mains leads to the public park at the end of the street. Few realise that the road ahead was once a busy drovers road and sheep and cattle would be brought from west and indeed from over the Forth in Fife along this ancient track. As kids we discovered a bit beyond the park an old bothy once used by such men as a night shelter. I wonder if it was allowed to remain when the expensive middle class houses were built in the sixties? It is knowing this that it is possible to trace the route once used by generation, on foot, bringing cattle to market from far away. History is on our doorstep. Thousands have passed this way before, although they probably drove a bit slower when oxen were pulling their carts!

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Viva Espana

At last, just in time for the new season, the World Cup is over! Quite rightly the final was won by the only side which attempted to play football, Spain! The Dutch, who we always have to call 'The Netherlands' these days rather than 'Holland,' realised that the only way to beat Spain was to stop their midfield playing. This Van Bommel started to do from the off, and 'off' he ought to have been. I have always reckoned him to be one of those louts you come across in pubs. The 'hard man' always willing to step in, or outside, with anyone who also fancied themselves. While capable of playing football he preferred, like the rest of his side,  to just kick anything that moved. Had this not been the final there is no doubt he would have been off before half time! In fact I thought the English ref was not too bad last night, allowing things to be 'forgiven' because of the nature of the game. No-one wants to send of players in cup finals, let alone this one. In the end he had to, but by then it was too late. Spain, once a nation famed for the cynical foul and hard man defender, played what football there was and got the goal far too late in the day, but at least it was a winner! Good for them! Spain have always had the potential to win things and now they are European and World Champions at the same time! An achievement they might never again equal, but they have done it, and that is what matters! Of course many of their players are young, talented, and soon to be overpaid in the English League, this will make a man of them, unless they get decapitated of course, and the footballing future of this country appears assured. While the Dutch cloggers can go home heads bowed with shame at the dirty tactics and foul football they produced the Spanish have shown us all how to play. The ball on the ground, fast passing, and clever players working hard. Just what you expect in the Scottish Premier League really, isn't it?

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Tommy Cooper

Two blondes walk into a building..........you'd think at least one of them would have seen it.

 Phone answering machine message - '...If you want to buy marijuana, press the hash key...'

 I went to buy some camouflage trousers the other day but I couldn't find any.

 I went to the butchers the other day and I bet him 50 quid that he couldn't reach the meat off the top shelf. 

He said, 'No, the steaks are too high.'

 My friend drowned in a bowl of muesli. A strong currant pulled him in.

 A man came round in hospital after a serious accident. He shouted, 'Doctor, doctor, I can't feel my legs!'
The doctor replied, 'I know you can't, I've cut your arms off'

 I went to a seafood disco last week and pulled a muscle.

'Doc I can't stop singing 'The Green, Green Grass of Home'
'That sounds like Tom Jones syndrome. '
'Is it common?'
'It's not unusual.'

A man takes his Rotteweiller to the vet. 'My dog is cross-eyed, is there anything you can do for him?'
'Well,' said the vet, 'let's have a look at him'
So he picks the dog up and examines his eyes, then he checks his teeth. Finally, he says, ‘I’m going to have to put him down.' 'What? Because he's cross-eyed?'
'No, because he's really heavy'

‘You know, somebody actually complimented me on my driving today. They left a little note on the windscreen. It said, 'Parking Fine.' So that was nice.'

A man walked into the doctors, he said, 'I've hurt my arm in several places'
The doctor said, ‘Well don't go there anymore’

Writing

I acquired the Snoopy cartoon from another site, one written far better than this will ever be, but I was really taken with the theme. I have, as you know, written several books, one even getting to page two before I deleted it and burst into tears. I have sat looking at the PC, through strained eyes, filled with floating specks, and numb of mind. Inspiration would not come and yet I had a desire, a real hunger to write something, anything! However the question is 'What to write?' There is no use just babbling along like a panellist on 'Loose Woman,' is there? You need a purpose, something to say, an idea bursting to get out and change the world for the better! I often have such moments, such as when in the bath, on a bus, or burning toast, but when I get to the PC there is nothing there! It's gone, lost forever. Anything that ends up on screen is a pale imitation of the wondrous thoughts that went before, and have now just went! How on earth did people write in days of yore? Thucydides wrote his epic on the Peloponnesian War over a period of 27 years! How many scrolls of parchment did he use? Josephus settled in Rome to write huge long books, about the Jewish War and their Jewish History, as well as defending himself against his detractors. How did they do this? Trollope was employed by the Post Office to run the mail service in Ireland. In between creating the pillar box he write hundreds of books, letters, articles, and so on, often on trains or in a horse and carriage, and in long hand at that! Yet I sit here with PC and spellchecker facing blankness, hold on I am looking into the mirror there, let me change position. 

Several times I have started writing the History of the Great War. Several times I have realised I was a clown and stopped. In the meantime at least five new such histories have appeared while I sit here wondering how to begin the first line! I suspect a novel (a novel is nothing but a story, but do not tell novelists as they think what they write is life changing. Actually it is just a story made up so the world can be made they way they wish it to be. And they one day will know it isn't really.) as I said, I suspect a novel is easier to write. However you begin you can change it to suit yourself! Factual writing is harder, as you can see here, as there are always wingers who will point out your many mistakes, deliberate lies and similarity to a newspaper in that your style stinks and your writing is tosh! So maybe I ought to try this story writing stuff.  OK.

It was a dark and stormy night, well actually the sun was shining brightly and........

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Shock!

I am shocked! Yesterday I sent off my gas meter reading online, the 'in way' to do it these days. Today my bill arrives, and they have reduced, yes REDUCED, my payments by £9 a month! Has anyone ever heard of an energy company actually reducing prices before? They are always informing us of their 'cuts,' while the profits soar, and blaming rising prices from Russia and elsewhere. These may be good reasons to increase prices, however the reductions, which do arrive, rarely make it down to this level! The question then arises, if I have had this reduction, soon to be followed by a rise in costs as Winter is only a couple of months away,  then just how much profit have British Gas been making? Their smug 'Sir Fred Goodwin type' chairman was on recently boasting of reductions, while pocketing a fat salary, and did nothing to convince me to buy shares from him! Now they are reducing prices for real......What are they playing at? What lies around the corner for us I wonder? I suspect however they will be offering 'fleeces' and 'pullover' to older folks come winter, at reasonable prices of course.....

Spain Through to Final.

Well done Spain! Glad to see them get to the final I thought they deserved that tonight. 

The Dutch do not deserve to be there in my opinion. Not played well, won through by luck, but however are competent and organised. Might be a good final! Spain for me. 

Viva Espana!

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