Sky

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I am, as you know, keen on the sky! There are many reasons for this and watching gray Edinburgh skies for so long possibly ranks high amongst them. One thing for sure it is the late summer Edinburgh sky that I miss most from that city. Yesterday evening, resting from the strenuous efforts required while listening to the football on 'Sportsound,' I wandered around as the pretty girls, and one or two pretty boys, made their way to the drinking establishments to waste their cash and endeavour to increase the population. I found it strange that an activity that meant so much to me as a teenager did not move me much now. Instead I was fascinated with the mixture of coloured clouds drifting along on a south western breeze. As the sun went down the pinkish hues flavoured the otherwise gray clouds. The deep yellow sunshine joined in making the sky a  wondrous display. I suspect few bar myself would have noticed this. I like to think this is caused by my 'artistic nature,' although cynical folks of my acquaintance prefer to refer to me as a 'ponce' for reasons of their own.

  
This afternoon the sky was once again a mixture of cloud types. Mostly however, gray and dreich, which is a disappointment. You can tell how bright the sun was when shining through the gaps, and I notice outside the window, now that I am indoors, that the sun is shining brightly and the only clouds to be seen are big puffy white ones! Tonight will not be the night for skywards gazing. The darkening sky now speaks of the heavy rain the man on the BBC warned us about. Clean streets tomorrow I reckon! 

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Speak!

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Another unwanted spammer has arrived, and after the Chinese porn merchants spamming many old posts I have decided to add the 'Comment Moderation' module to keep them off. This does mean I will forget to check for comments, much in the same way I tend to forget....er,.... whatever it was. Anyway I just thought you ought to know. 

Calum Elliot has suffered much from the cretins amongst the Hearts support in recent days. His role as a hard worker who fails to score has earned him abuse which I never felt was deserved. The abuse ought to have been directed elsewhere, are you listening Mr Nade? Elliot required more support for his hard work, and a solid centre forward whom he could work off. Under Jim Jeffries he has been encouraged to be himself and we now see the result. A.goal last week against St Johnstone, and two, apparently excellent, goals today against Hamilton Academical's! Personally I have always liked him, and felt the abuse unwarranted. There again as every player knows is that fans react like women, emotionally, not through understanding of the situation. Women have an excuse, they are female in the main, but football fans have no excuse whatsoever. From the fans viewpoint if the club is not winning then it's all HIS fault! The 'HIS' could be a variety of people, players, manager, directors, rarely do the fans get this right. Sadly few of us really understand what is happening on the field of play, we only know so much, and the management and paying staff alone understand the truth. I off course NEVER abuse any player at any time - not counting Danny Ferguson's own goal v St Mirren that time in the sleet of course! I am glad Clum has shown his talent. This puts pressure on the new boys Kevin Kyle and Stephan Elliott (with two 'T's) and can be no bad thing. With young players coming through and some players beginning to find their form I do believe we may be on the beginning of the good times once again. Not their yet, a long way to go, but things are looking up!

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Seventieth Anniversary of "The Few!"

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It is 70 years to the day when Winston Churchill gave his famous speech in praise of 'The Few.' The airmen who fought the Luftwaffe and defeated them and thwarted the German plans for an invasion of the United Kingdom. And this was a time when the kingdom was indeed united. This island would have stood alone had the enemy arrived on these shores!  Many now laugh at how they would have face the well drilled German army with prune hooks and home made spears,  but an attempt would have been made had it been necessary! 


It was of course more than aircraft that thwarted the enemy. Hitler in fact had no desire or genuine plan to invade Britain, his eye was towards the Soviet Union. The sinking of the French Fleet by the Royal Navy, one of the hardest decisions Churchill had to take, took from the enemy the shipping required to cross the channel. The bombers, suffering heavy losses, some 50,000 by wars end, hindered any genuine plan for invasion. Churchill's speech did bring the nation together, and that in a war is more important then anything. This is the reason the popular press continue to talk of the war, constantly reminding people that they won a victory! Indeed they did, eventually, but the nation was left bankrupt and broken, and has suffered ever since because f this war. Germany has flourished and questions why the British refer to the war so often. I suppose that having been the losing side that is to be expected is it not?


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Thursday

I wandered around to the Labour Exchange feeling less guilty because of the small job I have obtained. John, the man wasting his life dealing with me, mentioned that I look so well because of this. In fact it was I had a second bath this month as well as my six month haircut that gave an improvement to the look. I suspect the dim lighting probably helped. What is it about women in offices? When not whining that they 'get paid less than the men' (as if!) they demand the best seats, the hating turned up, the best windows, and today they have blocked all the sunshine coming in the best windows because it is too bright! I read today another feminist lie that it will take 33 years until women 'at the top' (whatever that means) will be on equal pay to men. Bunkum! men will never be equal to these whining females. Our only hope is that this generation are ageing fast and will soon go, leaving behind the next, non feminist dominated generation. Hopefully they will be more grown up. However I doubt that even if they are they will moan less than wimmen do now!  It was indicated by some that women at the bottom are never mentioned by such 'chip on the shoulder' types. Could this be because they look down on them, or just don't care as long as they are doing fine I wonder? This does not of course indicate I have anything against wimmen, (the last time I had something against a women I got three months) they have their place, and their talents ought to be put to best use. As long as this does not interfere with the football or lead to whining and bitching about one another's earrings and dress sense!


Anyway, John, who rarely criticises the girls (he has been married a long time) gave me three more jobs to fail to get, and then through me out. I suddenly realised just how long I have been going there. Being over 55, indeed 45, without specific 'skills' as they say is not good today. 'Work until you are 70' is the latest idea, but only helpful if you have a job. The knee trouble is not bad enough to be solely responsible for this. Two short, okay, very short, days work shows this. I fear it is the lack of the skills required and being dumb that limit. Anyway, I keep getting letters from Multi Millionaire David Cameron and his lapdog Nick Clegg telling me to get out there and get a job! Join the 'Big Society,' "As long as you don't cost us anything," that is! Not that I am cynical, but the Con-Dem alliance does not have a clue what it is doing does it? Something George Osborne is reported to have said made me wonder if he is aware of the damage that will occur next year. Could it be he understands, and Yogi & Boo Boo have not, the mess that is just around the corner. The tax dodgers, especially the bigger companies, will still get away with their dodging, the benefit claimants will still increase in number and suffer abuse as scroungers, and the rich Tories will talk about 'fairness' and destroy the nation, blaming Labour, and do well themselves. It's Margaret Thatcher all over again, but this time without the intellect!


I take solace in small things, such as meeting a checkout lass with a sense of humour this morning, long before you lot were up, and discovering some meat hidden away at the back of the freezer. I wonder if those mushrooms were meant to be growing on it or have fallen out of something else....? I take much solace this afternoon in Classic FM and the gentle bassoon music at this moment gently drifting though my ears. Until I was twenty years of age, only a short time ago as it happens, I had no time for such stuff. My mind was fixed on Blues, and rock, pop music of the day, although I did listen to other stuff including Glen Miller, however I normally listened to any pirate radio ship that had not been impounded or Radio 1, and when did you or anyone you know last do that I wonder? However one day I played some of the stuff my brother had lying around.gathering dust. The 'Morning' sequence from Peer Gynt caught my attention as one of the most wonderful things I had ever heard! Listen hear, I mean here, and see, er.. hear for yourself!  I was hooked, and I owe all this to Edvard Greig, who I think once played for Rangers, but I may be wrong there. Since then I have listened to all sorts of 'classical' music, and even opera, and that in spite of the screeching wimmen that all too often spoil the music. 'Classic FM' at first received much derision from the snobbish element of the music world. They claimed it was only playing 'the best bits,' which says something about the rest of the music doesn't it! However it tapped into a great audience that I, and probably you, knew was there. Most folks had enjoyed classic music excerpts in films and on TV, usually in adverts, but it was not the 'done thing' to actually go out and buy classical music. Yet the audience was there. I think it was Piccadilly Radio in Manchester that had a late night Saturday programme of classical music that had become the most popular on the station. Classic FM enabled people to enjoy, I almost said 'actually enjoy' classical music without the snobbishness and pretence that goes along with it all to often. Such music was not seen to be for the 'working classes' but for those of a 'higher frame of mind.' What bunk! What a sham such attitudes reveal. There is indeed more to be gained from listening to Beethoven's Pastoral Symphony, No6 (a favourite) than from Susan Maughan singing Bobbies Girl, but both are just music, sounds that please the ear or not as the case may be, pretentiousness works both ways you know! I do hope you take the time to improve your lives by listening to these links. (I don't mean listen to the link itself I mean listen to the music at the other....oh never mind). Anyway these days I listen to a lot of classical music from one source or another, not the loud raucous stuff so much, more the tinkling type that quietly fills the background and upsets the Radio 3 snob. Indeed one famous singer complained that Morse, of 'Inspector Morse' fame, (the TV detective who had my mother afraid to go to Oxford, because she said, "There is a murder there every week!") this singer complained that Morse never really 'listened' to the music that was constantly playing in the background! Morse was of course attempting to solve murders, quite why he needed to 'listen' so intently I cannot fathom. I am reminded of the two men interviewed on Radio 3 one day long ago. One was a music critic and the other some sort of musician. At the end the interviewer asked them what music they listened to at home for relaxation. The musician spoke of a wide variety of different kinds of music but the music critic did not listen to any music at home whatsoever. He claimed he could not listen to it as he would just 'criticise it.' In short this man's world was music and he could not enjoy it! What a sad man I thought. However since then I have made no attempt to 'understand' music, I just like what I like and dislike what I don't like. Yes the Eurovison Song Contest just passed through my mind also there.


Ah well, that has finished my working day for me. Tomorrow, after finishing the housework and visiting the soup kitchen, I will make another effort to find a way to riches and contentment. Hmmm riches are easier to obtain, and I know that they do not bring contentment, but I would like to be miserable in comfort after all.

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Photo Blogs

Seeing as how you lot have ignored my Photo Blog for reasons of your own, I am here going to use others Photo Blogs to remind you of my talent their talent and allow you to take your minds far away from the stresses and strains of life! The obvious place to start is with the admirable 'A,' a pretty young lass (she says) with an enormous bank balance talent who makes me jealous every time I look at her pictures. 
She has her own excellent blog at 'A Changing Life' where she offers such 'snaps' as this:-  

Now of course she has added (and not before time) a Photo Blog, found here:- 'Photos From the Indre.'

This is done to reveal her talent and boast about her travels to places far and wide. Myself I managed to travel to the small industrial estate in the rain today, but I am not one to complain, even when it rained on the way back, thanks very much. This is an example of her 'Must see' work.:-

 

However enough of that woman, there is a man in far off Thailand who has nothing to do but be waited on hand and foot by pretty Thai women, drink cheap booze, and wander the country photographing railways and birds, the other kind of birds I mean. His fine Photo Blog is found here:- 
'My Thai Photo Blog'.

You will notice he has added his name at the bottom. I expect a bill for breaking copyright now! Sorry, I am out at the moment...


If you, like me, are attracted to bright flowers then there is a blog full of such photos in darkest Darlington, at least it was always dark when the train passed through when I was there. Susan has some wonderful shots, of which I am insanely jealous, of the plants growing around her. Fabulous pictures as I know you are bound to agree:- 'Susan's Garden'

Isn't that great?


I came across 'Edinburgh Day By Day' recently and as I like the idea of day by day pictures of places I have kept the link. This appears to be an outsiders view of Edinburgh, always an interesting viewpoint. When you are brought up there you do not see the city as an outsider does. In fact when I first began to return to Edinburgh I could not find anything to photograph! It was after some years away I noticed things around me I had taken for granted before! And of course there is nothing like watching the sunshine outside the window and logging in to watch Edinburgh under that large gray cloud is there! 

If you prefer sunshine a daily photo of Jerusalem shows everyday life in the warmth! The kind of life ignored by the media as just to 'common' for their readers:-' Jerusalem Hills Daily Photo.'  These shots remind me of the time I went there, just before the first Iraq War. Everyday shots including lots of sun and interesting historical buildings. 

The Englishmen among you, and I know you are out there, will be interested in 'Unmitigated England,' a jolly nice wee blog that shows pictures of, well... England of course! Well worth a look! Try the quiz you English folks, I canny do it!

Well what do you expect to find in England?


I love Photo Blogs as they show so much of the world I never see otherwise. Oh by the way, mine is there at 'The Adullamite Photo Blog' just in case you are interested in my snaps!


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Next Blog

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By pressing the 'Next Blog' button on 'Blogger'  we are often led into a world way outside of ourselves. I enjoy this. I like to search through the blogs and discover something new, exciting or interesting to read, view or contemplate. With billions of blogs out there, and huge numbers on 'Blogger' alone I would think it possible to meet new people and find a wealth of untapped experience world wide. Blogs often contain fabulous photographs, intelligent thought, or be based around a subject of great interest. All too often however the trawl through the 'Next Blog' button can be a real disappointment. This is partly my fault of course, I discovered one day I was finding loads of professional porn sites, and while these may have their place I don't agree with them on 'Blogger,' and see no reason why these folk should make money this way. We are not talking about the home made site young men, and a few women, contribute, often under the illusion of being 'art' sites, those are inevitable on here I suspect.  I complained about so many the Blog controllers have amended my choices now. I find only football blogs on the main blog, and 'The Past' leads me, for reasons unknown, to American farms! Tractors are all right in their place but  I prefer the nudes to be honest. Through using other folks blogs I can still surf happily but I find all the blogs offered are limited in number or type for some reason. With a billion blogs to choose from why do we only get led to a few at a time? This is somewhat irksome I say!


Early in the day I often come across sites based in South America. Spanish sites, in Latin nations and in Spain itself, are very different it seems to me from those found in the UK or US. The approach and the artwork reflects a different outlook on life. In times past at certain times in the day I used to find myself confronted with adolescents from the far east! Worldwide adolescent sites offer the same world view, and once you are past sweet sixteen it ceases to interest! It is also sometimes difficult to comprehend that the creature who prepares such a blog today may possibly one day be important in world politics! Pray now I say!


Today however I have been coming across American family blogs. Now using Blogger as a way to keep in touch with a world wide family is a great idea, and many there are who go in for this. However I do find that many of the (almost all white) American family blogs are just a touch twee. Everyone appears to be ever so happy. Mum and Dad love one another and the kids grow happily and safely, life is one bundle of innocent happy joy. Sorry but that does not seem real to me. Normal family life involves scowling and huffs, temper and jealousy, stress and a regular desire to throttle the kid, dad or mum! The US blogs appear to ignore this, reminiscent of the ending of so many American TV series where everybody gathers round smiling and happy, in spite of the previous 46 minutes in which death and destruction were seconds away, totally unrealistic! Had our family put out a  'Blog from Edinburgh' in the 50's I suspect there would have been a family concerned for one another but with a realistic attitude towards the brats (us) and the world outside. You don't live through a depression, a Miners strike lasting six months, and a world war and dwell in shmaltz! The smiles would have been genuine, but rarer than the despair and the recurrent phrase "I'll swing for you yet" that was heard rather too often when I was around. I canny imagine why?


American political blogs, indeed all non UK political blogs, leave me grateful we have our sensible, thoughtful, caring, evenly balanced politicians over here. (What do you mean sarcasm?) Political blogs mean little to the outsider, but when US ones quote Sarah Palin I am unsure whether they are spoofs or for real! One day that woman (?) might be president of the United States! (Back to prayer folks) Some of the US ones are difficult to distinguish from American Christian blogs. Unfortunately some Republicans think Jesus was born in Illinois and appear to think campaigning for lower taxes is a Christian duty. Wrong boy, wrong! There are however some fabulous photo blogs around! Whether  a professional or a serious amateur showing off their talent, or some doddery old fool (who are you looking at?) taking pics just for the sheer enjoyment it gives, either way there are some great shots to be found. Not only can these photos be enjoyable in themselves but they reveal parts of the world we would never find otherwise. They give an indication of life in places that are often greatly troubled, and writers in such places also show just how life goes on whatever the public image of the place. The TV & Radio media, like the papers, only give the image that sells, and the stories that fit their agenda, so much is ignored and the real state of a nation is usually distorted by the press.  Bloggers can, allowing for personal bias, give a truer picture of the world around them in such cases.


The same cannot be said for those who fill blogs with cookery! Is there not too much of that already on TV I ask? We need to eat but must we endure pages of cakes and stews? However peoples hobbies are often worth looking at, pictures from a garden for instance can be enjoyable, although someone enthusing about their new cushion design or the hand made curtains may leave some of us somewhat cold. However a blog stuffed full of aircraft or steam trains must be enjoyed by all who have a heart and a brain surely? The breadth of material blogged about is amazing. Whether you like it or not the blog has revolutionised our lives just as much as the steam engine or the motor car has done. People without a voice can yell into the ether and maybe find an echo somewhere, the lonely can keep contact with humanity, interests can be shared and life, for the most part can be made better for many folk. Who reads all this stuff anyway? Does it really change the world? It changes the world you live in, it changes others world if the respond, and while some may have hundreds, even thousands of readers, the handful that visit most blogs regularly obviously do so because they wish to be there, and want to read you! Now whatever drivel you may write, that must be a good thought to hold on to?

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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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