Friday, 1 July 2011
1st July 1916
.
On the first day of July in the year 1916, after several days of heavy bombardment British troops advanced over open ground to attack the German defences on the Somme. A million and a half shells had fallen, their intention to break the wire and damage the defences clearing the way for the men following. The wire was rarely broken, the shells badly made and difficult to set were also of the wrong type for the job. Howitzers were insufficient in numbers but effective in damaging dugouts but as most of these were 40 or so feet underground this was to prove an impossible job with so few.
At 7:28 several mines were blown along the line, however Jerry knew this would happen as foolishly one was blown at 7:20 at Hawthorn Ridge and gave warning the attack was about to commence. At 7:30 officers whistles blew along mile after mile of trench and the British attacking force climbed out of their trenches into a hail of machine gun, rifle and artillery fire. Within minutes thousands lay dead, dying or wounded, many having failed to clear their own parapet or make it through their own defensive wire. Only in the southern section of the line was a clear advance made, elsewhere determined attackers continued, heads bowed as though facing heavy rain and not bullets, and a few gains were made in the enemy line.
McCrae's Battalion, the 16th Royal Scots, along with their sister battalion the 15th, plus the Cambridge and the Grimsby Chums, remnants though they were, fought on in an attempt to keep hold of their part of the line. Defying flame throwers and repeated heavy counter attacks they succeeded, a few continuing and even making it to their final destination at Contalmaison, where they found themselves outnumbered and soon were made prisoner.
Around 60,000 British men became casualties, approximately 20,000 were dead.
General Haig had strongly opposed the idea of fighting in such an impossible theatre as the Somme region but had been overruled by London. "Do as the French say," was the command, in spite of the military opposition. The same had occurred a year earlier at Loos when Sir John French had been forced to fight there against his wishes. That too was needlessly costly. Blame is easy to offer, especially from this distance and the book 'First Day on the Somme' by Martin Middlebrook is the place to begin when researching what actually happened that day. This book is regarded as a 'classic' of its type and comes well recommended.
An official cameraman was on hand to record the 'Big Push' and the Imperial War Museum has made this film available, excerpts of which are online. I have this video and while it is of course a silent movie it nevertheless conveys something of the attitudes of the day. When shown in cinemas later in the year women would faint, men weep, and occasionally one would cry out in recognition of an individual. Unlike today that generation had no idea of front line reporting and many refused to believe the tales told by returning soldiers. It is not difficult to understand why the United Kingdom became a very different place after 1918, society changed in a way unimaginable in 1914, and we do well to ponder how this war, and this battle in particular, has an effect on us even today.
Some soldiers asked whether the losses were worth it, and it is difficult not to sympathise with them. However had we not fought the French would have been defeated and we would have a Germany dominating Europe, and this would have caused a war between Britain and Germany sooner or later in any case. That would have been a more difficult fight for us had that been the case. In that way it was worth it, however with 750,000 dead British troops, plus the 'Empire forces of India, South Africa, Australia, New Zealand, Canada and the rest losing another 250,000, plus about three times as many wounded it is hard to comprehend today whether this really was a war worth fighting.
The last fighting men have gone now, only a few relatives and their memories remain. As I research the names on the local war memorial I am surprised by how difficult it is to find a record of many of them online. Not being a native of this town doesn't help, as does not having the money to pay for research, yet I am still surprised how quickly these men have been forgotten. Their houses have often been swept away, their relatives move on, and later generations are too involved in life today to remember them. Village memorials do not gather large crowds on Armistice Day each November as the village has been taken over by incomers and the families of the day have often gone into towns and cities for a better life. Few now remember those named on the memorial, even those from a later war. That all seems rather sad to me.
.
Tuesday, 28 June 2011
Summer
.
As a male voice forced its way through 'Summertime' with all the grace of a cannonball through a shop window the thunder died away and the rain came straight down. The thermometer may read 78 degrees in here but outside the rain in overflowing the gutters and making me very glad I am inside. This may please the farmers but does nothing for me. This sort of weather may be well enough in Malaysia or Aberdeen but it does not fit in well in the wilderness of Essex. Bring back the sun I say!
.
As a male voice forced its way through 'Summertime' with all the grace of a cannonball through a shop window the thunder died away and the rain came straight down. The thermometer may read 78 degrees in here but outside the rain in overflowing the gutters and making me very glad I am inside. This may please the farmers but does nothing for me. This sort of weather may be well enough in Malaysia or Aberdeen but it does not fit in well in the wilderness of Essex. Bring back the sun I say!
Maggie Thatchers handbag was sold at auction today and raised £25,000 from a Cypriot who studied in London during her reign of terror. She, like all good politicians and actors, used this bag as a prop enabling cartoonists to also use it , showing her wielding it like a club over all that stood in her way. Now it has gone, and soon so shall she. I suppose none of the three million she put out of work, many of whom never worked again, would have gone to the auction and made a bid? Probably couldn't afford the bus fare.....
The 'Scottish Sun,' that bastion of morality and honest journalism, has yet more on Mr Thomson. Another girl talks of him pestering her (how much was she paid) and claims 'dozens,' or should that be 'DOZENS,' of others (unnamed) were also 'sickened' by his actions. These have not yet come forward nor informed the police it appears. He is called a 'SEX PERVERT' yet once again I ask how many homosexuals or lesbians work for the 'Sun?' What defines a 'pervert' anyway? Who decides? Not the 'Sun' that's for sure. Just because the girls were young does not equal perverse, perversion occurs in adults also. This paper will lose interest in the sensational story the minute Rangers announce the signing of another European nonentity and will return to pandering to the sectarian duo. The lynch mob howling at his door however, gays included, will be happy the club have bowed to pressure and suspended the man. This was the very least action the club could take, and should have taken earlier. However I wonder how many of the screaming banshees have looked at porn recently? That at least is normal for some men, even if unwise, but what exactly do they look at, and is it all really either 'helpful or 'decent?' Talk about 'throwing the first stone....'
Sunday, 26 June 2011
Decisions
In recent days the Heart of Midlothian have endured a rough time. The SFA has decided to invoke a fine for players bad behaviour, ignoring the clear improvement shown in the last twelve months. This of course is to be expected form the Glasgow based old firm leaning organisation. Several players have however brought problems on to the club by their offield activities. Not that long ago Lee Wallace, an international class left back, was fined for waving an air gun about in public. A 'minor' crime but one which brings much heart searching in the media these days. Two players were discovered in a public house in possession of Class 'A' drugs, and recently Craig Thomson has been fined and put on the sex offenders list for grooming a 12 year old on the internet
The Wallace affair was a minor one in that it appears unlikely anyone was either threatened or likely to be hurt. This was the actions of a daft young man not a serious crime. Would anyone notice if another young man was involved. He was it must be said brought up as a supporter of Hibernian football club, so blame that. The two in the pub may well have mitigating circumstances, however as the court case has been delayed for a few weeks nothing more can be said at this time. Any professional footballer taking a controlled substance ought to be fired! Not only is drug taking killing and destroying many, just like alcohol abuse does, it he could affect his career badly this way. Certainly the press would never let him forget this. While I always wish to give a second chance it must be made clear that this action would be unacceptable and wrong and I would sack them. It is as I say unclear what these two players were up to and the circumstances have as yet to be revealed. They both would be a great loss to this club but would have to go if guilty!
Craig Thomson is a very different case. The facts appear somewhat muddled as publication in the tabloids emphasises the worst and never gives a balanced view. Shock and scandal sells while mature judgement does not. The Glasgow media like to display the Heart of Midlothian in a bad light of course. 20 year old Thomson has been found guilty of 'grooming' a 12 year old of his acquaintance for almost a year. He is now on the sex offenders registrar, for five years, and has been fined £4000. The Heart of Midlothian have not sacked him and the chairman, Vladimir Romanov, issued a statement in his own inimitable style, claiming, more or less, that some are out to injure the club and this is somehow part of that. They also talk of 'mitigating circumstances,' which lead them to keep the player on the books, these of course are not stated. Many fans are not happy that the player has not been sacked and naturally the Glasgow press has a story from the girls mother, a story that does not make he player look good at all. Allowing for tabloid exaggeration and a Mum paid cash for her story, it does put this lad in a very bad light.
So the Wallace situation may be placed into the past, the two awaiting a full trial may well have understandable 'mitigating circumstance' which will appear later. However if they indulge in white powder they must leave, no matter how important they are to the club! The Thomson situation leaves me pondering however. Clearly this is a boy with a problem. When I was 19 or 20 I was chasing girls of my age, they did move fast however, and for a lad in his late teens to be involved with young teens does reveal a problem. Now There is the inevitable witch hunt of course, fans baying for blood, media scramble, and 'leading people' asked to comment. Most should be rightly ignored but the opinion of the fans has to be heeded here. Craig is a boy with a problem and the club ought to offer him help but in the wider world there is no doubt he must at least be removed from the playing squad. There is no choice here, his playing days are over.
However it does appear that there is an eagerness to 'hate' this man. Society today has been influenced by political correctness to such an effect that when a paedophile is found a 'lynch mob mentality' arises, just because this is possibly the only type of human we are 'allowed' to hate! PC fashion goes further. I was struck by one comment from a fan, he complained he would not take his son to the football in case he sat near this 'pervert.' However it struck me hat his son probably gets his education from at least one lesbian and possibly a homosexual also, is this acceptable but Thomson is not? Which sexual deviation is to be hated and which accepted? Who decides? 'Hating either is wrong but honesty is required, even if 'society' has decided otherwise. How easily influenced we are! Only thirty years ago homosexuals would not have been encouraged teaching, now it is a 'hate crime' to be unhappy with this! The fashion in morals has changed almost overnight and the only people that the nation is free to hate are 'paedophiles.' I wonder if in thirty years even this will become acceptable? Hopefully, as most still care for their children, it will not!
Sadly there is a possibility that three good quality players will have to leave the club. For one it may be the end of his career, the others will be picked up elsewhere. Many fans will defend drug abuse, as they happily kill themselves slowly this way, but attack Thomson. It's a funny old world, and made worse when the directors of the Heart of Midlothian have taken the wrong approach in the situation. You cannot blame either the SFA, the old firm or the players agent for these situations. Personal responsibility is involved, and the clubs responsibility has been lacking here.
.
Saturday, 25 June 2011
Friday, 24 June 2011
Night falls
.
Sadly I cannot remember where this picture originated, but I suspect I found it on the NASA site, but I post it as I like it a lot. A few days ago we enjoyed the longest day of the year, although much of it was hidden behind cloud, and this picture sums that up, the good times are over, the nights are drawing in! A most disagreeable situation in my mind but one we must endure with our usual cheerfulness. Do at least try to be cheerful about this, I always do. Of course had the shuttle taken that picture a hundred years ago it would have been very different indeed. Gas would have supplied most of the town lighting in big towns and cities, and many would still use oil lamps in more rural area. The cities lighting would not have been as efficient as the masses of amber lights that line our roads, nor would shop fronts, well lit though they were, be as efficient as the neon tubes that scream out at passers-by. Africa may well have been almost unlit, although bush fires can be seen from space they say and the Europeans who dominated in that 'humble' manner would have found some way of lightening their path in the evening, at least in the main centres. Much of the world would have been a black ball with occasional small outbreaks of light, while today that black reveals huge areas of brightly lit life and only much of Africa and the furthest reaches of Russia, and I suspect, Motherwell, miss out. The big ball may well turn black again soon as the energy runs out, it certainly will be dimmer soon when the hiked up prices start falling through our doors in the Autumn. As from tomorrow I switch everything off unless needed, except this PC of course.
I am annoyed that this Blogger system uses such a bad spellchecker. This brute uses American English, and the world and his Grannie knows that Americans canny spell! Several times I have been stopped because this dictionary does not know the correct spelling for everyday words, like 'Motherwell,' or ' realise.' It appears to think that a 'z' is required, and who in their right minds would think that? Worse still is the imperialist manner in which the spellchecker operates. Those of us who believe that the world needs to hear our ignorant rantings on newspaper comment columns have found that all are using American spellcheckers! Surely this is a disgrace and the imperialist English press ought to stand up to this rather than submit meekly. I suspect however most of the dozy trainees who appear to be running the media today have yet to realise that their spelling is incorrect. Facts and getting things right is a lost art in the press today. (I can talk!!!) I also note that on 'Word' even if you change the font default to 'UK English' it still wishes to return to the 'American Way.' Bah! Imperialists! Good job I am not one to complain that's all I can say!
.
Sadly I cannot remember where this picture originated, but I suspect I found it on the NASA site, but I post it as I like it a lot. A few days ago we enjoyed the longest day of the year, although much of it was hidden behind cloud, and this picture sums that up, the good times are over, the nights are drawing in! A most disagreeable situation in my mind but one we must endure with our usual cheerfulness. Do at least try to be cheerful about this, I always do. Of course had the shuttle taken that picture a hundred years ago it would have been very different indeed. Gas would have supplied most of the town lighting in big towns and cities, and many would still use oil lamps in more rural area. The cities lighting would not have been as efficient as the masses of amber lights that line our roads, nor would shop fronts, well lit though they were, be as efficient as the neon tubes that scream out at passers-by. Africa may well have been almost unlit, although bush fires can be seen from space they say and the Europeans who dominated in that 'humble' manner would have found some way of lightening their path in the evening, at least in the main centres. Much of the world would have been a black ball with occasional small outbreaks of light, while today that black reveals huge areas of brightly lit life and only much of Africa and the furthest reaches of Russia, and I suspect, Motherwell, miss out. The big ball may well turn black again soon as the energy runs out, it certainly will be dimmer soon when the hiked up prices start falling through our doors in the Autumn. As from tomorrow I switch everything off unless needed, except this PC of course.
I am annoyed that this Blogger system uses such a bad spellchecker. This brute uses American English, and the world and his Grannie knows that Americans canny spell! Several times I have been stopped because this dictionary does not know the correct spelling for everyday words, like 'Motherwell,' or ' realise.' It appears to think that a 'z' is required, and who in their right minds would think that? Worse still is the imperialist manner in which the spellchecker operates. Those of us who believe that the world needs to hear our ignorant rantings on newspaper comment columns have found that all are using American spellcheckers! Surely this is a disgrace and the imperialist English press ought to stand up to this rather than submit meekly. I suspect however most of the dozy trainees who appear to be running the media today have yet to realise that their spelling is incorrect. Facts and getting things right is a lost art in the press today. (I can talk!!!) I also note that on 'Word' even if you change the font default to 'UK English' it still wishes to return to the 'American Way.' Bah! Imperialists! Good job I am not one to complain that's all I can say!
.
Tuesday, 21 June 2011
Lord Snooty
'
How long before Cameron falls apart? Once again he is offering a 'U' Turn on shorter sentences, forcing his struggling 'Justice Minister' to sack other lower orders to save a few million pounds, this after the dotty bald guy at the DWP forced to do a 'U' Turn on pensions because this upset a few ageing women! The fact that men suffer sexism regarding pensions makes no odds here, women work for less time (and do less at work) get all the benefits in law, and now whine because a few might lose a little while most men lose much! This PC PM spends to much time on PR instead of leading the country. Is this the fiftieth 'U' Turn of his year or have we long past that mark?
Our friend BIG RAB has a wonderful post regarding Cameron's abuse of the RAF and his costly needless war for Libya's oil.. His abuse of the RAF follows on from his abuse of the Navy only the other day. Having sold all the ships and their aircraft he wants the Navy to work beyond their capabilities and shut up about it. He even brought the First Lord in to shout him down, probably with a 'Fag' to stand nearby in case the Admiral got rough. Clegg needs to show his support somehow. Sir Simon Bryant, Air Chief Marshall of the RAF, is now informing the poor rich boy that they don't have the pilots to cover two wars! Not enough pilots, not enough planes, not enough spare parts or mechanics and 5000 to lose their jobs! "We are all in this together says the man in a thousand pound suit!" He needs to change that to "You are all in a dole queue, but I'm all right Jack!" The RAF are claiming we cannot go on much longer. Gaddafi must be removed in three months as we fall apart then. I await this brave man's redundancy notice coming through the post.
How much longer will we have to put up with this boy in charge? He has so many failings and there is no opposition to him anywhere. What an Attlee or indeed any other Labour leader could do to him! Instead sitting opposite is ....whatsisname? Both front benches are full of middle class liberals who have never worked in their lives. The 'Punk' generation have arrived and that generation had nothing to say at the time and shows it today. 'Me first,' 'my needs are what counts,' is the attitude. We had leaders who had fought through war, Callaghan and Heath, this was followed by 'Baby Boomers' few of whom reached power in the UK it must be said. "Make love not war," was the chant as that generation attempted a better society, much of which was lost to VD and drug addiction. Clinton in the US got to the top and tried to be another JFK but this time the media would not keep quiet. Now we have those brought up with a 'silver spoon' in their gobs with no concern for anyone but their advancement telling real people how to live. At least the mad baroness had run a shop at one time, overcharging her customers and blaming everyone but herself for the faults I suspect, and those were attitudes the bitch never lost.
A shocking mob we have of public school louts looking down at us these days. Bring back Attlee I say! Public school educated maybe but non pretentious, considerate for others, with a 'can do' attitude, and don't let the powerful run over the rest, that's what we need today. Although someone running a government Jag, or perhaps a Centurion Tank over 'Dave' would be of benefit to us all.
How long before Cameron falls apart? Once again he is offering a 'U' Turn on shorter sentences, forcing his struggling 'Justice Minister' to sack other lower orders to save a few million pounds, this after the dotty bald guy at the DWP forced to do a 'U' Turn on pensions because this upset a few ageing women! The fact that men suffer sexism regarding pensions makes no odds here, women work for less time (and do less at work) get all the benefits in law, and now whine because a few might lose a little while most men lose much! This PC PM spends to much time on PR instead of leading the country. Is this the fiftieth 'U' Turn of his year or have we long past that mark?
Our friend BIG RAB has a wonderful post regarding Cameron's abuse of the RAF and his costly needless war for Libya's oil.. His abuse of the RAF follows on from his abuse of the Navy only the other day. Having sold all the ships and their aircraft he wants the Navy to work beyond their capabilities and shut up about it. He even brought the First Lord in to shout him down, probably with a 'Fag' to stand nearby in case the Admiral got rough. Clegg needs to show his support somehow. Sir Simon Bryant, Air Chief Marshall of the RAF, is now informing the poor rich boy that they don't have the pilots to cover two wars! Not enough pilots, not enough planes, not enough spare parts or mechanics and 5000 to lose their jobs! "We are all in this together says the man in a thousand pound suit!" He needs to change that to "You are all in a dole queue, but I'm all right Jack!" The RAF are claiming we cannot go on much longer. Gaddafi must be removed in three months as we fall apart then. I await this brave man's redundancy notice coming through the post.
How much longer will we have to put up with this boy in charge? He has so many failings and there is no opposition to him anywhere. What an Attlee or indeed any other Labour leader could do to him! Instead sitting opposite is ....whatsisname? Both front benches are full of middle class liberals who have never worked in their lives. The 'Punk' generation have arrived and that generation had nothing to say at the time and shows it today. 'Me first,' 'my needs are what counts,' is the attitude. We had leaders who had fought through war, Callaghan and Heath, this was followed by 'Baby Boomers' few of whom reached power in the UK it must be said. "Make love not war," was the chant as that generation attempted a better society, much of which was lost to VD and drug addiction. Clinton in the US got to the top and tried to be another JFK but this time the media would not keep quiet. Now we have those brought up with a 'silver spoon' in their gobs with no concern for anyone but their advancement telling real people how to live. At least the mad baroness had run a shop at one time, overcharging her customers and blaming everyone but herself for the faults I suspect, and those were attitudes the bitch never lost.
A shocking mob we have of public school louts looking down at us these days. Bring back Attlee I say! Public school educated maybe but non pretentious, considerate for others, with a 'can do' attitude, and don't let the powerful run over the rest, that's what we need today. Although someone running a government Jag, or perhaps a Centurion Tank over 'Dave' would be of benefit to us all.
It started yesterday, Wimbledon I mean. "Will Andy win?" "Will it rain?" "Do I care?" Well NO! is the answer to that! Wimbledon means two weeks of total coverage of this middle class game, fawning over Andy until he gets knocked out, then girning about the 'miserable Scot.' He will be 'British' until he loses when, as you will understand, he becomes a 'Scot' once again. English racism, ingrained in the media, knows no end. Can he actually win Wimbledon? I suspect this is the one major he does have a chance of winning,but with Nadal and Ferarer or whatever his name is I doubt he will. These two, and the unpronounceable other fellow are a step higher than 'Our Andy.' He may get to a semi final, possibly the final, but I cannot see him win.
It might make better television if this slab of grass down Church Road was to be sold off and turned into 'social housing.' 'Social Housing' in Wimbledon? More chance of Maggie Thatcher having pictures of Che Guevara on the wall! For two weeks every year we are subject to this monotony. Incessant babble, rain covered tennis courts, replays of past tennis, banal talk from ex players, and Sue Barker who at least we can look at. Tennis is dominated by women of course, they tend top prefer games which are one v one rather than team games and turn out in their thousands for this. In the early eighties we delivered around Wimbledon, as early as possible due to the crowds and the alteration to the roads, and up Church Road were several thousand fans, mostly young females, who had been there all night awaiting the doors opening. We had one question, what did they do for the loo? There was no obvious answer to that! There was a suggestion that to save money the Formula 1 and Wimbledon may be dumped! Wooppeee! I say. Now if we can just get the BBC to spend the cash on football and take it from ITV we are on a winner!
.
Sunday, 19 June 2011
Barley
.
I walked out to the edge of town this morning and wandered slowly (I don't do fast) along gazing at the fields of Barley growing far too slowly for the farmers liking, and watched the Swifts cavort over my head. What a lovely way to spend the early morn. I suppose the Barley is headed for beer or whisky use although some goes into foodstuffs and other uses. Rabbie Burns often called whisky 'John Barleycorn,' as I am sure the literary amongst you would realise. Barley was the first grain to be domesticated and was known around ten thousand years ago. When Jesus taught his men to pray, "Give us our daily bread," most would have considered he meant Barley Bread as this was the cheap staple of most people. Wheat Bread cost around three times as much! It is fair to say that as a staple it was worth much more than the bread so many of us eat today. Most white bread and a great deal of brown stuff bought from supermarkets is so bad for us. The requirement for shelf life has led to a manipulation of bread to make it dangerous for us to keep eating. Some doctors are beginning to believe that this is a major cause of much illness! The bread of Jesus day would not have anything taken out, and better still nothing put in! There are many additives in bread that the producers do not have to identify on the label. Can this be good for us? It is time to review what we are stuffing into ourselves, and I know for a fact that this government will do nothing to hinder big business, will they?
As I walked, still chewing the breakfast toast that lingered, I looked skywards and attempted to count the host of fast moving Swifts that gamboled in the sky. At first there was twelve, or was it twenty, the brutes kept moving, left and right, up and down, swooping at high speed past my ear and racing to the far reaches of the field and returning high above. It was like untangling a ball of string, it just cannot be done! I decided there was forty or more birds, then looked higher and found a cloud of them over the By-Pass. Maybe fifty, let's say.....no, let's move on as watching the birds I have just walked into a youthful oak tree and knocked my cap off. Who put that there at the side off the pathway? Returning the branches to where they belonged I moved on, always looking for a better picture than the one shown, amazed that these birds kept going without any break. They appeared not to contact one another, no two chased one another, they were all happily running about madly in the sky, I think just having fun! Imagine coming all the way from Central Africa to cavort in southern England? Would you?
.
I walked out to the edge of town this morning and wandered slowly (I don't do fast) along gazing at the fields of Barley growing far too slowly for the farmers liking, and watched the Swifts cavort over my head. What a lovely way to spend the early morn. I suppose the Barley is headed for beer or whisky use although some goes into foodstuffs and other uses. Rabbie Burns often called whisky 'John Barleycorn,' as I am sure the literary amongst you would realise. Barley was the first grain to be domesticated and was known around ten thousand years ago. When Jesus taught his men to pray, "Give us our daily bread," most would have considered he meant Barley Bread as this was the cheap staple of most people. Wheat Bread cost around three times as much! It is fair to say that as a staple it was worth much more than the bread so many of us eat today. Most white bread and a great deal of brown stuff bought from supermarkets is so bad for us. The requirement for shelf life has led to a manipulation of bread to make it dangerous for us to keep eating. Some doctors are beginning to believe that this is a major cause of much illness! The bread of Jesus day would not have anything taken out, and better still nothing put in! There are many additives in bread that the producers do not have to identify on the label. Can this be good for us? It is time to review what we are stuffing into ourselves, and I know for a fact that this government will do nothing to hinder big business, will they?
As I walked, still chewing the breakfast toast that lingered, I looked skywards and attempted to count the host of fast moving Swifts that gamboled in the sky. At first there was twelve, or was it twenty, the brutes kept moving, left and right, up and down, swooping at high speed past my ear and racing to the far reaches of the field and returning high above. It was like untangling a ball of string, it just cannot be done! I decided there was forty or more birds, then looked higher and found a cloud of them over the By-Pass. Maybe fifty, let's say.....no, let's move on as watching the birds I have just walked into a youthful oak tree and knocked my cap off. Who put that there at the side off the pathway? Returning the branches to where they belonged I moved on, always looking for a better picture than the one shown, amazed that these birds kept going without any break. They appeared not to contact one another, no two chased one another, they were all happily running about madly in the sky, I think just having fun! Imagine coming all the way from Central Africa to cavort in southern England? Would you?
.
Saturday, 18 June 2011
The UK Summer
Here we are in the middle of 'Flaming June' when the temperature reaches for the skies! Unfortunately the Americans send us their old hurricanes and left over rain clouds and this spoils the season somewhat. This picture is typical British summertime! The sun shines brightly on the trees and thunderclouds line up behind ready to wash the land below. This one burst about an hour ago and it is still raining now, although not with the venom thrown at the beginning.
I cleaned out a couple of cupboards the other day and as you do made some great finds! For one I found a Black ink cartridge for the printer, and this after I had struggled around trying to find a cheap one the other week when one ran out. Isn't it the way? Among the dust, clearly someone had died in that drawer, there was a mass of photographs long forgotten. I scanned some of the more acceptable ones in and among them was a picture I took of typical Edinburgh New Town railings. Many of these must have been nicked during the war when a all railings were used for the war effort, even though most were of little use, and I suppose being part of gardens owned by the 'important people' these were allowed to remain! Some things never change. This is the sort of thing Edinburgh folk pass every day and take for granted, it is only by living so far away that I notice such things when I return. It is always the way that good pictures are all around but because it is a daily occurrence we cannot see them! Another picture is found on my Photo page.
As you come down the steps from Calton Hill onto Waterloo place, not advised after visiting the local hostelries, you will note the rail that divides the stairs. At the bottom of each is this skillful representation of a lion, often found wandering around Edinburgh, making a nice end to the rail. It doesn't say much, it just sticks the tongue out as you pass.
Thursday, 16 June 2011
Blue Tits
.
This somewhat faded shot was taken a few years ago when the Blue Tits and Green-finches would spend the day fighting over the peanuts freely on offer. Today I checked the feeders and found almost none had been attacked. I realised that when I stopped throwing bread out the window to attract the birds (I stopped this because neighbours were finding rats appearing) birds may not be so easy to attract. Hard winters have killed of those that had found this feeding station and new ones are not being attracted. However while one or two Tits have shown themselves there has been no sign of the Green-finches. There appear to be fewer in the area round about and this is a pity. It means I spent all that cash on Nuts and may have to eat them all myself!
.
Tuesday, 14 June 2011
Monday, 13 June 2011
Monday
.
So the other day they announce that an official 'drought' has begun in much of Eastern England. (Droughts are unknown in Scotland you can rest assured!) The day this was made public it began to rain and has not ceased since. If it is not full time rain it is what they weather girls like to call 'showers.' I remember one such shower when I was a postman, it began at six in the morning and finished just after I got back to the sorting office - at half past twelve! Apart from the farmers beginning to count the cash that will soon drop into their wide laps the rest of us just carry on as normal, why? because this is normal for a British summer innit? One question arises, if there is a 'drought,' why do the council allow this fountain to operate? Is this one where the water is recycled? Possibly, although it is certainly clean water, especially after some wag put a lot of washing up liquid in the thing. The soap suds were there for days and the council had to clean the whole lot out! I bet he doesn't do the dishes at home.
Doing the dishes reminds me of an Alan Wicker story. he was doing one of his series from the USA and he came across a big house, a 'Dallas' style house, occupied by a married couple and the 'nanny.' They were not young, nor were they old, but they had got money! There arose a dispute, concerning dishes. The three of them argued about who's job it was to put the dishes into the dishwasher (they never thought about just washing up like normal folks) and the dispute grew some. In the end they visited a psychiatrist to find a solution for their problem. Why? Because they were American and at that date that is what the chattering classes were doing. The result of the visits, they used paper plates! Doesn't it make you weep?
We do not undergo such problems as we know that women have smaller feet than men, this allows them to stand closer to the kitchen sink.
'Acquired' from the excellent Max
.
So the other day they announce that an official 'drought' has begun in much of Eastern England. (Droughts are unknown in Scotland you can rest assured!) The day this was made public it began to rain and has not ceased since. If it is not full time rain it is what they weather girls like to call 'showers.' I remember one such shower when I was a postman, it began at six in the morning and finished just after I got back to the sorting office - at half past twelve! Apart from the farmers beginning to count the cash that will soon drop into their wide laps the rest of us just carry on as normal, why? because this is normal for a British summer innit? One question arises, if there is a 'drought,' why do the council allow this fountain to operate? Is this one where the water is recycled? Possibly, although it is certainly clean water, especially after some wag put a lot of washing up liquid in the thing. The soap suds were there for days and the council had to clean the whole lot out! I bet he doesn't do the dishes at home.
Doing the dishes reminds me of an Alan Wicker story. he was doing one of his series from the USA and he came across a big house, a 'Dallas' style house, occupied by a married couple and the 'nanny.' They were not young, nor were they old, but they had got money! There arose a dispute, concerning dishes. The three of them argued about who's job it was to put the dishes into the dishwasher (they never thought about just washing up like normal folks) and the dispute grew some. In the end they visited a psychiatrist to find a solution for their problem. Why? Because they were American and at that date that is what the chattering classes were doing. The result of the visits, they used paper plates! Doesn't it make you weep?
We do not undergo such problems as we know that women have smaller feet than men, this allows them to stand closer to the kitchen sink.
"Come to the edge," I said.
"No, we're afraid."
"Come to the edge."
"No... We're afraid. We'll fall."
"Come to the edge," I said again.
And they came.
And I pushed them.
And they flew.
— Christopher Logue
'Acquired' from the excellent Max
.
Sunday, 12 June 2011
Saturday, 11 June 2011
Thursday, 9 June 2011
Tomatoes
.
Good job I'm not one to complain. Sitting here as I do, with a pile of shredded Lottery tickets at my side, now reaching up to the top of the waste bin, and having so little excitement yesterday that just buying a large bag of tomatoes for a pound became a moment to cheer. Nothing else had happened, and it failed to happen all day. The cheering was not repeated today when I entered the dole office to sign on (yet) again and scrawl 'Scrounger' on the piece of paper thrust towards me. The discovery that a new lass was learning the job, a Pole, somewhat irked my constantly good natured persona. Now, thought I blearily, how come I am one struggling to find work, and failed to acquire a job in the dole office a while back through an administrative error, yet new people are appearing here on a regular basis and no jobs have been advertised? How come I am not doing that job? It was as I slunk out I began to rouse my rage and once again feel the world is against me. Did I not pass that test? Did I not succeed during the interview? Did I not get the letter informing me that I was 'On the waiting list?' Yet it collapsed because that form was missing through a blunder. Did I not try a second time when the interviews once more arose? Did I not make plans to attend the meeting in that absurd out of the way spot? Was it my fault that this was the day slimy Joe nicked all the copper wire from the signals and left me high and dry? There is no doubt that this is a Conservative/Lib-Dem plot to drive me barmy! It cannot be anything else!
Peeved I was when I returned to my slum (which was quite nice when I moved in, I wonder what happened?). I responded to this situation in a suitable manner I felt. I came home and fell asleep. I did however eat some tomatoes later in the day.
(Tomatoes, I will have you know, are pronounced 'Tomato' by the way, and not 'Tomato,' I don't want any needless arguments on that one!
.
Good job I'm not one to complain. Sitting here as I do, with a pile of shredded Lottery tickets at my side, now reaching up to the top of the waste bin, and having so little excitement yesterday that just buying a large bag of tomatoes for a pound became a moment to cheer. Nothing else had happened, and it failed to happen all day. The cheering was not repeated today when I entered the dole office to sign on (yet) again and scrawl 'Scrounger' on the piece of paper thrust towards me. The discovery that a new lass was learning the job, a Pole, somewhat irked my constantly good natured persona. Now, thought I blearily, how come I am one struggling to find work, and failed to acquire a job in the dole office a while back through an administrative error, yet new people are appearing here on a regular basis and no jobs have been advertised? How come I am not doing that job? It was as I slunk out I began to rouse my rage and once again feel the world is against me. Did I not pass that test? Did I not succeed during the interview? Did I not get the letter informing me that I was 'On the waiting list?' Yet it collapsed because that form was missing through a blunder. Did I not try a second time when the interviews once more arose? Did I not make plans to attend the meeting in that absurd out of the way spot? Was it my fault that this was the day slimy Joe nicked all the copper wire from the signals and left me high and dry? There is no doubt that this is a Conservative/Lib-Dem plot to drive me barmy! It cannot be anything else!
Peeved I was when I returned to my slum (which was quite nice when I moved in, I wonder what happened?). I responded to this situation in a suitable manner I felt. I came home and fell asleep. I did however eat some tomatoes later in the day.
(Tomatoes, I will have you know, are pronounced 'Tomato' by the way, and not 'Tomato,' I don't want any needless arguments on that one!
.
Tuesday, 7 June 2011
Garage Doors
.
The other morning I cycled, uphill all to often, down to the far off village. Among the interesting old buildings, now modernised and overpriced, I came across an old weatherboard barn like structure, now somewhat in need of renovation, and to the side of this now deserted structure I found a garage! Doors failing to fit properly, if indeed they ever did, windows slightly cleaner than mine I must admit, and paint still revealing an attraction greater than any soap opera to my mind. However if you look closer you will find one of the phenomena of our times. Yes indeed, in spite of the bedraggled appearance, the 'For Sale' sign, and a door not used since 1989 someone has inserted a free newspaper into the letterbox!
What is it about 'free papers?' You may well recall the episode of 'One Foot in the Grave' where the happy couple return from holiday in Spain to find their house had burnt down. All that remained was the front door and a little bit of wall on either side. It is night, glumly he pushes open the door to stare at the charred mess that lies before him. Stiffening up he turns and yells, "Would you believe it? They have put the free paper through the door, and it's todays! They have pushed this through the letterbox although there is no house standing!" It is funny because it is so true! Now I must say that postmen usually do the same thing. If a house has been burnt it does not stop the mail going into it. This however is done for a reason. Usually the house has been secured by the authorities, the mail belongs to the recipient who could be anywhere, or even dead, and the law states such mail must be delivered until the recipient informs the sorting office of th new address. (And today will probably be charged a fortune for this!)
This is yours for a mere £145,000. All you have to do is renovate it, permission already granted, and turn the 'Old Forge,' one of the oldest of the towns businesses, into a modern dwelling that you can sell for four times what you pay for it. I like it as it is, but I suspect fussy people would want a proper roof put on it before moving in.
.
The other morning I cycled, uphill all to often, down to the far off village. Among the interesting old buildings, now modernised and overpriced, I came across an old weatherboard barn like structure, now somewhat in need of renovation, and to the side of this now deserted structure I found a garage! Doors failing to fit properly, if indeed they ever did, windows slightly cleaner than mine I must admit, and paint still revealing an attraction greater than any soap opera to my mind. However if you look closer you will find one of the phenomena of our times. Yes indeed, in spite of the bedraggled appearance, the 'For Sale' sign, and a door not used since 1989 someone has inserted a free newspaper into the letterbox!
What is it about 'free papers?' You may well recall the episode of 'One Foot in the Grave' where the happy couple return from holiday in Spain to find their house had burnt down. All that remained was the front door and a little bit of wall on either side. It is night, glumly he pushes open the door to stare at the charred mess that lies before him. Stiffening up he turns and yells, "Would you believe it? They have put the free paper through the door, and it's todays! They have pushed this through the letterbox although there is no house standing!" It is funny because it is so true! Now I must say that postmen usually do the same thing. If a house has been burnt it does not stop the mail going into it. This however is done for a reason. Usually the house has been secured by the authorities, the mail belongs to the recipient who could be anywhere, or even dead, and the law states such mail must be delivered until the recipient informs the sorting office of th new address. (And today will probably be charged a fortune for this!)
This is yours for a mere £145,000. All you have to do is renovate it, permission already granted, and turn the 'Old Forge,' one of the oldest of the towns businesses, into a modern dwelling that you can sell for four times what you pay for it. I like it as it is, but I suspect fussy people would want a proper roof put on it before moving in.
.
Monday, 6 June 2011
Wet Monday!
.
The day started by appreciating the rain teeming down outside. "That will please the farmers," said I. There was no point in being upset myself, so I just got on with life, in my usual 'happy go lucky manner.' Tsk! A bit of rain and people grumble so. I am not one to complain myself as I see no point in this as it gets us nowhere, so I just got on with my day, smiling cheerfully at those passing by outside. Few returned my smiles however, but I suppose at six thirty in the morning some folks find happiness difficult? Anyway as I browsed the papers I noticed that a camera similar to this one, which I believe to be a replica rather than an original :-
a 'Leica 0.' An original one of these was sold at auction for one million pounds! One million just for a camera made in 1923? I had a Leica from the 1930's and found it difficult to get the best out of the thing, mostly because I am an idiot, partly because it takes some getting used to. These are the 'Rolls Royce' of cameras however and most owners have their cameras serviced regularly, and at a price most of us would not pay for a camera in the first place!. However most owners are professional or serious amateurs and use them constantly, so the cost is worth it. I would be happy to own one of their latest digital efforts mind you, if I could afford the three thousand pounds.....
The day started by appreciating the rain teeming down outside. "That will please the farmers," said I. There was no point in being upset myself, so I just got on with life, in my usual 'happy go lucky manner.' Tsk! A bit of rain and people grumble so. I am not one to complain myself as I see no point in this as it gets us nowhere, so I just got on with my day, smiling cheerfully at those passing by outside. Few returned my smiles however, but I suppose at six thirty in the morning some folks find happiness difficult? Anyway as I browsed the papers I noticed that a camera similar to this one, which I believe to be a replica rather than an original :-
a 'Leica 0.' An original one of these was sold at auction for one million pounds! One million just for a camera made in 1923? I had a Leica from the 1930's and found it difficult to get the best out of the thing, mostly because I am an idiot, partly because it takes some getting used to. These are the 'Rolls Royce' of cameras however and most owners have their cameras serviced regularly, and at a price most of us would not pay for a camera in the first place!. However most owners are professional or serious amateurs and use them constantly, so the cost is worth it. I would be happy to own one of their latest digital efforts mind you, if I could afford the three thousand pounds.....
A sad situation nearby today. One of the streets in which I used to deliver mail saw the murder of the woman and her child, a toddler under three. A man shot himself, apparently, when surrounded by police. A cheery lass from what I remember, although it is some time since I was there, and very sad that a child died because a man is not allowed to see her, if that indeed was the cause. How emotion, selfishness, and anger get the better of us! So many people appear able to find guns these days, I suppose that tells you something about those who carry them!
How I laughed this afternoon. I noticed the rain had ceased teeming down and the sun was attempting to break through the, now white, clouds. I decided it was time to move! I gathered the bag of old clothes and detritus other goodies and took it down to the charity shop for mental folk. (In Edinburgh these are called 'Hibernian Supporters') and deposited it there. Walking out of the shop I noted the sun on my face and happily strolled down the hill to the cemetery where I continued my search for dead Great War soldiers. As the four I wished to find did not have the regulation 'War Graves' headstones I knew it would be a bit of a slog. I found one, eventually, and one or two other interesting finds when there including a soldier not mentioned on the website. The rain returned and encouraged me to make my way home, up the hill, and so I came back, happy, slightly damp, and wondering how long my cheery life will continue like this? Or words to that effect...
.
Saturday, 4 June 2011
To What Purpose?
.
Sky News
Last night two Apache Helicopters flew from one of the few remaining Royal Navy ships and attacked targets in Libya. To what purpose I ask? I still find it difficult to comprehend the reasons for being in this conflict in the first place!
Alongside our French comrades (they also sent helicopters after targets last night but our media tends to play that down) we have been bombing and strafing Libya for how long now? This was, we were told, a short intervention to support the peoples demand for a removal of Gaddafi, but he still remains and we are still unsure as to who exactly these 'people' who rebel actually are!
Where is this leading? Nobody knows. Removing Gaddafi may well be a good idea, but is that not the Libyans problem, not ours? We really want him out, and his oil under our control, yet we are caught in this stand-off about which we can do little. A short intervention we were told, costs covered by reserve cash, yet already a billion, possibly three, have been wasted on 'Dave's' adventure in 'macho' politics. Like most of 'Dave's' PR stunts this one is not working and looks like it will soon be costing us more servicemen for no good reason! Have we not wasted enough of our men in a needless intervention in Iraq 'Dave?' Another died in a failed operation in Afghanistan last night, just how many more 'Dave?' And for what?
.
Last night two Apache Helicopters flew from one of the few remaining Royal Navy ships and attacked targets in Libya. To what purpose I ask? I still find it difficult to comprehend the reasons for being in this conflict in the first place!
Alongside our French comrades (they also sent helicopters after targets last night but our media tends to play that down) we have been bombing and strafing Libya for how long now? This was, we were told, a short intervention to support the peoples demand for a removal of Gaddafi, but he still remains and we are still unsure as to who exactly these 'people' who rebel actually are!
Where is this leading? Nobody knows. Removing Gaddafi may well be a good idea, but is that not the Libyans problem, not ours? We really want him out, and his oil under our control, yet we are caught in this stand-off about which we can do little. A short intervention we were told, costs covered by reserve cash, yet already a billion, possibly three, have been wasted on 'Dave's' adventure in 'macho' politics. Like most of 'Dave's' PR stunts this one is not working and looks like it will soon be costing us more servicemen for no good reason! Have we not wasted enough of our men in a needless intervention in Iraq 'Dave?' Another died in a failed operation in Afghanistan last night, just how many more 'Dave?' And for what?
.
Friday, 3 June 2011
Excercise and Cycling Early in the Morning.
.
Start the day the proper way I say. Stretch both arms high. Ooooooh, not that far.
Stretch again, left arm,
right arm,
left arm,
right arm, ooo let's stop that there.
Touch toes, oooh slowly. And again, and again, and again.
Grab ankle and pull left leg up behind and streeeeeetcch.
Now the right one, streeeeetttccchhh.
No more off that!
Swivel head to the left,
the right,
the left,
the right,
the lef...no hold that, I'm getting dizzy now.
Chest expanders now.
Puuuuuullllll oooooh, tsk. I think that can wait.
Stretch arms again,
and again,
and again,
Deep breaths,
In. Out.
In. Out.
In. Out.
In. Out.Right, time to get out of bed.
What a morning! Bright sunshine, clear blue sky, slight breeze. I must get on the bike!
Twenty to six and I am off up the road.
Should I go to the left and up the old railway, or carry on and go down the cutting to the...oh never mind I am not awake and have gone straight on anyway. Early it may be but white van man is about. I know this as he has just attempted to reveal how many coats of paint covers his van. I wish he had found some way other than using my handlebars to do this! Builders pass by in painted vans, rushing to overcharge their customers and find excuses not to complete the work while the sun shines. Folk head for work, probably these are the ones with keys to open up for the rest, and factory or shop will soon ring to the happy sound of human voices wishing it was time to go home. A cleaner or two passes eager (?) to dust, polish and hoover for £5.96 an hour. I note them all as they head for their destination, although I would have been better noting the traffic lights there as that would have saved that man in the Skoda using language that does not suit this time of day.
I aim to turn off for the railway but fail to negotiate the bend (maybe this is too early?) and am heading down the steep hill at breakneck speed holding the handlebars with two hands and my cap with another. I can foresee trouble ahead! At the bottom of the hill I pass an adolescent lassie delivering the morning papers, or at least judging by the speed she is progressing possibly it is the weekly free paper she began delivering yesterday?
I grunt and puff as I struggle up the other side of the hill and looking to my right, and avoiding 'P. Grant. Builder and Handyman,' as he zooms along, and watch the sun rising over the fields. Visibility is at least ten miles although the dew is causing a very light haze that makes me eager to stop and take pictures. Summer mornings have a joy all of their own! However if I stop on this slope I may not start again so I continue. I pass through the village full of aged buildings which are very much at variance with the nature of the road that lies in front of them, and turn off into the station (2 miles and 17 chains distance from home) and begin the run home down the slope. Today I am so glad of this slope! Five miles seems like fifty these days, why do teens have all the energy?
Home before six thirty in the morning. Breakfast, read the papers, blogs, e-mails, and it is almost time to do those things that have waited since yesterday.
I er, maybe I will do them later......
.
Start the day the proper way I say. Stretch both arms high. Ooooooh, not that far.
Stretch again, left arm,
right arm,
left arm,
right arm, ooo let's stop that there.
Touch toes, oooh slowly. And again, and again, and again.
Grab ankle and pull left leg up behind and streeeeeetcch.
Now the right one, streeeeetttccchhh.
No more off that!
Swivel head to the left,
the right,
the left,
the right,
the lef...no hold that, I'm getting dizzy now.
Chest expanders now.
Puuuuuullllll oooooh, tsk. I think that can wait.
Stretch arms again,
and again,
and again,
Deep breaths,
In. Out.
In. Out.
In. Out.
In. Out.Right, time to get out of bed.
What a morning! Bright sunshine, clear blue sky, slight breeze. I must get on the bike!
Twenty to six and I am off up the road.
Should I go to the left and up the old railway, or carry on and go down the cutting to the...oh never mind I am not awake and have gone straight on anyway. Early it may be but white van man is about. I know this as he has just attempted to reveal how many coats of paint covers his van. I wish he had found some way other than using my handlebars to do this! Builders pass by in painted vans, rushing to overcharge their customers and find excuses not to complete the work while the sun shines. Folk head for work, probably these are the ones with keys to open up for the rest, and factory or shop will soon ring to the happy sound of human voices wishing it was time to go home. A cleaner or two passes eager (?) to dust, polish and hoover for £5.96 an hour. I note them all as they head for their destination, although I would have been better noting the traffic lights there as that would have saved that man in the Skoda using language that does not suit this time of day.
I aim to turn off for the railway but fail to negotiate the bend (maybe this is too early?) and am heading down the steep hill at breakneck speed holding the handlebars with two hands and my cap with another. I can foresee trouble ahead! At the bottom of the hill I pass an adolescent lassie delivering the morning papers, or at least judging by the speed she is progressing possibly it is the weekly free paper she began delivering yesterday?
I grunt and puff as I struggle up the other side of the hill and looking to my right, and avoiding 'P. Grant. Builder and Handyman,' as he zooms along, and watch the sun rising over the fields. Visibility is at least ten miles although the dew is causing a very light haze that makes me eager to stop and take pictures. Summer mornings have a joy all of their own! However if I stop on this slope I may not start again so I continue. I pass through the village full of aged buildings which are very much at variance with the nature of the road that lies in front of them, and turn off into the station (2 miles and 17 chains distance from home) and begin the run home down the slope. Today I am so glad of this slope! Five miles seems like fifty these days, why do teens have all the energy?
Home before six thirty in the morning. Breakfast, read the papers, blogs, e-mails, and it is almost time to do those things that have waited since yesterday.
I er, maybe I will do them later......
.
Thursday, 2 June 2011
Yesterday, Today, Tomorrow.....
.
It ought to be done. It is sitting there awaiting doing, and I ought to get off my backside and do something about it. The truth is I just canny be bothered. I mean it requires doing, it needs doing and it ought to be done, but I, er well, I just think it best that it is left until tomorrow.
That's what I will do, I will do it tomorrow when the other things can get done at the same time. Good idea!
Now I can relax and get on with what I am doing, whatever that was?
It ought to be done. It is still sitting there awaiting doing since yesterday now, and I ought to get off my backside and do something about it. It is one of those little jobs that would only take a moment to do, just a few minutes out of my busy time, and it has been waiting since yesterday to be done.
I could do it along with that other little job that is awaiting doing. Two at once sounds such a lot though doesn't it? Possibly they could both wait until cleaning day and everything could be done with little effort then. Possibly.
I could spare time today although yesterday I had time and didn't make use of it, and tomorrow could be busy and I may not have time then and would be perplexed that I did not use my time better today, just like I didn't yesterday, and then I will be annoyed with myself tomorrow.
Ach is that the time? I think I will do it tomorrow, busy it may be but it is easier to do a lot when busy than one thing when quiet, isn't it?
Isn't it?
Much busier than I thought today, I still havn't done it. Other things are piling up on the 'To Do' list, one or two from last week, and one from last month actually, although it will rain soon so there is no point in cleaning windows now is there? I really am too busy today to do what I ought to have done yesterday, and now I am annoyed with myself for leaving yesterdays work for tomorrow knowing that tomorrow would be busier than today although now it is today I find it much busier than yesterday! So nothing has been done. It, the thing that need doing, and the others, still lie there, undone.
I will be able to do them, and those other little things, tomorrow.
Yes indeed, tomorrow is the day to do it!
Actually I ought to have got around to it yesterday after all as today has left no opportunity to get on with any of it, even though I allowed time for it yesterday when I ought to have done it the day before. Now it is today and I just cannot motivate myself to do any of it until tomorrow and how I wish I had done some of it yesterday or even the day before, or indeed the day before the day before. Although I couldn't do it the day before that day could I, not as it was. Now I must do it today in spite of allthe stuff that lies undone around me today, much of which came from yesterday and ought to have been done the day before that! Now it must be done today and I cannot fit it in.
I will fix it tomorrow, definitely.
Definitely!
It's all still there. Nothing from yesterday has been done today as yet. There are several things, some quiet urgent that are screaming for attention now. That one has been there since the day before all this started and I had forgotten all about it, what with the job from the other day and all that. I should do them today because I will not have time tomorrow and yesterday turned out to leave no opportunity because I was overwhelmed by things from the day before that required catching up with, urgently as it happened.
Now I have no time to do these things today because of it all.
I suppose I could leave them until the day after tomorrow when I have more time and.......
.
It ought to be done. It is sitting there awaiting doing, and I ought to get off my backside and do something about it. The truth is I just canny be bothered. I mean it requires doing, it needs doing and it ought to be done, but I, er well, I just think it best that it is left until tomorrow.
That's what I will do, I will do it tomorrow when the other things can get done at the same time. Good idea!
Now I can relax and get on with what I am doing, whatever that was?
It ought to be done. It is still sitting there awaiting doing since yesterday now, and I ought to get off my backside and do something about it. It is one of those little jobs that would only take a moment to do, just a few minutes out of my busy time, and it has been waiting since yesterday to be done.
I could do it along with that other little job that is awaiting doing. Two at once sounds such a lot though doesn't it? Possibly they could both wait until cleaning day and everything could be done with little effort then. Possibly.
I could spare time today although yesterday I had time and didn't make use of it, and tomorrow could be busy and I may not have time then and would be perplexed that I did not use my time better today, just like I didn't yesterday, and then I will be annoyed with myself tomorrow.
Ach is that the time? I think I will do it tomorrow, busy it may be but it is easier to do a lot when busy than one thing when quiet, isn't it?
Isn't it?
Much busier than I thought today, I still havn't done it. Other things are piling up on the 'To Do' list, one or two from last week, and one from last month actually, although it will rain soon so there is no point in cleaning windows now is there? I really am too busy today to do what I ought to have done yesterday, and now I am annoyed with myself for leaving yesterdays work for tomorrow knowing that tomorrow would be busier than today although now it is today I find it much busier than yesterday! So nothing has been done. It, the thing that need doing, and the others, still lie there, undone.
I will be able to do them, and those other little things, tomorrow.
Yes indeed, tomorrow is the day to do it!
Actually I ought to have got around to it yesterday after all as today has left no opportunity to get on with any of it, even though I allowed time for it yesterday when I ought to have done it the day before. Now it is today and I just cannot motivate myself to do any of it until tomorrow and how I wish I had done some of it yesterday or even the day before, or indeed the day before the day before. Although I couldn't do it the day before that day could I, not as it was. Now I must do it today in spite of allthe stuff that lies undone around me today, much of which came from yesterday and ought to have been done the day before that! Now it must be done today and I cannot fit it in.
I will fix it tomorrow, definitely.
Definitely!
It's all still there. Nothing from yesterday has been done today as yet. There are several things, some quiet urgent that are screaming for attention now. That one has been there since the day before all this started and I had forgotten all about it, what with the job from the other day and all that. I should do them today because I will not have time tomorrow and yesterday turned out to leave no opportunity because I was overwhelmed by things from the day before that required catching up with, urgently as it happened.
Now I have no time to do these things today because of it all.
I suppose I could leave them until the day after tomorrow when I have more time and.......
.
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
Tuesday, 31 May 2011
Monday, 30 May 2011
Pub Crawl
.
It appears there were forty three public houses in this small town at one time. There is only about a dozen today. I wonder what that says about society today? We have drunks on our streets night after night the press tell us, is this such a novelty? Could it be it was only drunk working men in days gone by, so that is alright then? Jesus drank wine, and the best he served up at a wedding, but he was never drunk, so drink has its place, not remembering what you did last night does not. Actually I have trouble remembering what I did last night anyway.
The Victorians had great trouble with water supplies and drinking beer was a much safer option for many. Living in squalid accommodation meant that gas lit pubs, often with entertainment on offer, (this grew into the Music Hall) and the companionship of like minded souls made such places an attraction. Better housing, the radio, TV, the death of heavy industry and the end of male only pubs has brought about great changes in society's approach to pubs. The recession today means more buy their booze from supermarkets and drink at home rather than be ripped off by a 'local.'
People get very romantic about pubs these days. The media tell us the streets are full of drunken yobs (shocked that many are women as if that is something new) yet tell us we ought to help keep pubs open as they are centres of the 'Community?' Really? Maybe in a village situation but not in the real world. Sad to say that these places mean little to me today. Drink is fine in its place but a bottle of Guinness is more than enough for me today. The desire to spend money on drink holds no joy, although the companionship of good people found there does! The men who filed in the 'Freemasons Arms' after work, bringing a smell of sweat, cigarettes and iron with them, would be amazed to see the plush pubs on offer today. They would probably be delighted with many of them but regret the passing of their own little hideaway. The women, rightly stuck aside in the 'snug, would be much happier with the pubs of today, the cleanliness, the brightness, although whether they would care for the twenty foot football screen depends on many things. OK, who's round is it? What? er...is that the time? er, em... I must be off now, I er, have a bus to catch, bye....
.
This morning, being a Bank Holiday, I strolled out through the quiet streets to attempt to take pictures of the houses in which my dead soldiers resided. By that I mean when they were alive, as they stopped living their when they became dead, the council would not allow it. Anyway it was quieter than a Sunday today, the sun almost shone, the rain threatened and moved away, and I took one or two hasty shots. I am not too keen on taking pictures of houses when people are seen inside. The gruff question regarding what I am playing at can cause offence, I've found. The policeman's quizzical look can also hinder a steady camera and therefore early morning is the most suitable time for such work. Amongst the interesting finds, to me at least, was this old pub I once delivered to. It ceased to operate as a public house a good few years ago and now houses this small company, and the two attractive young secretaries. Funny how I always remember such young women. Not that my memory is that good but they were early thirties, wearing green and blue tops, had nice....anyway, the windows. Wisely they have not removed the windows, or indeed repainted the place, although the massive amount of traffic outside their door today means the paintwork suffers badly. If you look close enough you will note the cleverly crafted advert for Spirits which can be seen.
In days of yore all pubs informed the world outside that they offered 'Fine wines,' 'blended whiskies,' and 'Famous Ales,' often on frosted glass panes. Whether they lived up to the adverts depended on how much the drinker imbibed I suppose. Until the absurdity of the feminist influence some public houses were drinking dens for men only, and I think this may well have been one such. Small, close to the massive Iron Foundry round the corner, and in the evening full of spit and sawdust, heavily drowned in cigarette smoke and a haven for the working man in which to lose his weeks wages before going home to be belted by his wife! Hmmm maybe this is an improvement!
It appears there were forty three public houses in this small town at one time. There is only about a dozen today. I wonder what that says about society today? We have drunks on our streets night after night the press tell us, is this such a novelty? Could it be it was only drunk working men in days gone by, so that is alright then? Jesus drank wine, and the best he served up at a wedding, but he was never drunk, so drink has its place, not remembering what you did last night does not. Actually I have trouble remembering what I did last night anyway.
The Victorians had great trouble with water supplies and drinking beer was a much safer option for many. Living in squalid accommodation meant that gas lit pubs, often with entertainment on offer, (this grew into the Music Hall) and the companionship of like minded souls made such places an attraction. Better housing, the radio, TV, the death of heavy industry and the end of male only pubs has brought about great changes in society's approach to pubs. The recession today means more buy their booze from supermarkets and drink at home rather than be ripped off by a 'local.'
People get very romantic about pubs these days. The media tell us the streets are full of drunken yobs (shocked that many are women as if that is something new) yet tell us we ought to help keep pubs open as they are centres of the 'Community?' Really? Maybe in a village situation but not in the real world. Sad to say that these places mean little to me today. Drink is fine in its place but a bottle of Guinness is more than enough for me today. The desire to spend money on drink holds no joy, although the companionship of good people found there does! The men who filed in the 'Freemasons Arms' after work, bringing a smell of sweat, cigarettes and iron with them, would be amazed to see the plush pubs on offer today. They would probably be delighted with many of them but regret the passing of their own little hideaway. The women, rightly stuck aside in the 'snug, would be much happier with the pubs of today, the cleanliness, the brightness, although whether they would care for the twenty foot football screen depends on many things. OK, who's round is it? What? er...is that the time? er, em... I must be off now, I er, have a bus to catch, bye....
.
Saturday, 28 May 2011
Strange Week
.
I canny mind where I found that picture of Bill Bailey but it speaks volumes and makes me laugh! There have been times this week when I did not laugh however. Take Tuesday, I logged off the internet around four in the afternoon for some reason, I must have been in the shops looking for the reduced price stale bread. I attempted to log in on my return and nothing happened. Sometimes there is a hindrance logging in, so I waited a moment and tried again, still nothing. This continued for a couple of hours and (after six when calls are free) I called Pipex. The woman's voice told me that the call would cost 5p a minute (even if it's free after six?) and blethered for a few moments to scrounge more loot out off me.
"Insert your phone number on the keypad."
I did.
"Insert or speak your date of birth."
"02/07/ 93"
"Please repeat that either by voice or on the keypad."
I keyed in the date.
"All our colleagues are busy at the moment, please hold, your call is important to us."
I held.
Music played. A scratched old 78 of some sort.
"Thank you for holding. Our colleagues will be with you shortly. Your call is important to us."
"It's important to ME too girl!" I said to the machine.
Music, "Thank you for holding....."
Tap finger.
Music.
"Thank you for holding....."
"Thank you for holding. You are now in position three in the queue,"she said with a self satisfied smile.
Music.
"Thank you for holding....."
Music.
"Your call is important....."
Music......
TAP FINGER!!!
"You are now in position two in the queue," she lied.
Music.
"Thank you for holding....."
Music.
"Thank you for holding....."
Music.
"Thank you for holding....."
Brrr brrr. Brrr brrr
"Good evening, welcome to Pipex, my name is something or other. How can I help you?"
"I cannot connect......."
That's funny, it's gone silent. Has he cut me off?
No! It's my phone handset. The battery has died! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
With internet contact restored the sun shines again. I was quite worried for a moment as I feared that I may have to talk to real people for a change. In fact I actually had to do just that on Thursday as I had to sign on the Dole and receive a visit from one of their employees regarding a query on my doings. The first part occurred in the morning. I entered in the usual manner, in rags, unshaven and unwashed, discovered the new system was in operation and prayed I did not have to deal with the lass who last had a thought about seventeen years ago, and she was wrong that day also! In fact I was attended to by a delightful, somewhat nervous lassie, although females are often nervous meeting me, we famous folk understand this, and while I attempted not to look anywhere but at her eyes I scrawled my name (an alias) and was thrown out again.
Back home the man who arrived informed me I had been overpaid by £178 or thereabouts. After the ambulance man had removed the defibrillator equipment and given the all clear the chap spoke, clearly and slowly, about the work I had done some months ago. I had of course informed them at the time and their robot had sent me a letter disclosing the change this made to my benefit. This was fine, except the robot had not bothered to alter what I was paid and now I owe them about £20. This I may not even be required to pay.
The rest of the week has been taken up with a drained mind which has been entertained by researching (a rather high faluting way to describe it) names on the local war memorial. This does give an impression for the effect the Great War had on this small town. Now holding 35,000 or so, I wonder what the population would have been in 1914? Already I have discovered four men dead in the local area, and several more not much further away! The response of the families involved, especially when an only son, a father, or for one poor lad two sons within a year dying is easy to understand. Today the names stand ignored for the most part on the memorial but some who pass must know they are related to them. I wonder what their thoughts are regarding such men and possible uncles, cousins or indeed fathers?
It is amazing what the loss of football can do to an individual? The great Champions League Final begins shortly. I had better watch this as in two years time I expect the Heart of Midlothian to be playing in this game. What? ...................oh!
.
I canny mind where I found that picture of Bill Bailey but it speaks volumes and makes me laugh! There have been times this week when I did not laugh however. Take Tuesday, I logged off the internet around four in the afternoon for some reason, I must have been in the shops looking for the reduced price stale bread. I attempted to log in on my return and nothing happened. Sometimes there is a hindrance logging in, so I waited a moment and tried again, still nothing. This continued for a couple of hours and (after six when calls are free) I called Pipex. The woman's voice told me that the call would cost 5p a minute (even if it's free after six?) and blethered for a few moments to scrounge more loot out off me.
"Insert your phone number on the keypad."
I did.
"Insert or speak your date of birth."
"02/07/ 93"
"Please repeat that either by voice or on the keypad."
I keyed in the date.
"All our colleagues are busy at the moment, please hold, your call is important to us."
I held.
Music played. A scratched old 78 of some sort.
"Thank you for holding. Our colleagues will be with you shortly. Your call is important to us."
"It's important to ME too girl!" I said to the machine.
Music, "Thank you for holding....."
Tap finger.
Music.
"Thank you for holding....."
"Thank you for holding. You are now in position three in the queue,"she said with a self satisfied smile.
Music.
"Thank you for holding....."
Music.
"Your call is important....."
Music......
TAP FINGER!!!
"You are now in position two in the queue," she lied.
Music.
"Thank you for holding....."
Music.
"Thank you for holding....."
Music.
"Thank you for holding....."
Brrr brrr. Brrr brrr
"Good evening, welcome to Pipex, my name is something or other. How can I help you?"
"I cannot connect......."
That's funny, it's gone silent. Has he cut me off?
No! It's my phone handset. The battery has died! GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr
With internet contact restored the sun shines again. I was quite worried for a moment as I feared that I may have to talk to real people for a change. In fact I actually had to do just that on Thursday as I had to sign on the Dole and receive a visit from one of their employees regarding a query on my doings. The first part occurred in the morning. I entered in the usual manner, in rags, unshaven and unwashed, discovered the new system was in operation and prayed I did not have to deal with the lass who last had a thought about seventeen years ago, and she was wrong that day also! In fact I was attended to by a delightful, somewhat nervous lassie, although females are often nervous meeting me, we famous folk understand this, and while I attempted not to look anywhere but at her eyes I scrawled my name (an alias) and was thrown out again.
Back home the man who arrived informed me I had been overpaid by £178 or thereabouts. After the ambulance man had removed the defibrillator equipment and given the all clear the chap spoke, clearly and slowly, about the work I had done some months ago. I had of course informed them at the time and their robot had sent me a letter disclosing the change this made to my benefit. This was fine, except the robot had not bothered to alter what I was paid and now I owe them about £20. This I may not even be required to pay.
The rest of the week has been taken up with a drained mind which has been entertained by researching (a rather high faluting way to describe it) names on the local war memorial. This does give an impression for the effect the Great War had on this small town. Now holding 35,000 or so, I wonder what the population would have been in 1914? Already I have discovered four men dead in the local area, and several more not much further away! The response of the families involved, especially when an only son, a father, or for one poor lad two sons within a year dying is easy to understand. Today the names stand ignored for the most part on the memorial but some who pass must know they are related to them. I wonder what their thoughts are regarding such men and possible uncles, cousins or indeed fathers?
It is amazing what the loss of football can do to an individual? The great Champions League Final begins shortly. I had better watch this as in two years time I expect the Heart of Midlothian to be playing in this game. What? ...................oh!
.
Tuesday, 24 May 2011
Another Door
.
They say when one door closes another smacks you in the face. Well this one did just that the other morning as I ambled along searching the gutters for dropped coins. Suddenly I realised that this was an old door! Yes I am bright that way. What I mean is that this door must go back, possibly to Georgian times. I reckon, without having investigated further, that this building was erected before 1850, and possibly nearer the start of the century. Some wealthy individual had themselves a very nice house, in the centre of town, and on the main road out. I wonder who it was? I may have a shot at finding out one day.
The door is what caught my eye, at least the steps up to the door I mean. Until the 20th century I think this street would not have possessed an actual pavement. ( That's 'sidewalk' to those who do not speak properly) The main road would not be tarmac but dirt, and the pavement ('sidewalk') would be merely an extension of this patrolled by passersby. Horse drawn traffic, leaving their aids to growing rose bushes behind, added to the general smell and unhealthy street. With rain the place would become a sticky, mud mire. That is why all such houses had steps leading up to them, along side of which would be metal scrapers (removed from these steps) which would be used to clean the boots before entering. Surely a town such as this would have paved the pavements ('sidewalks') by the end of the 19th century I ask? I am not sure they did. I must examine those old pictures later.
However this building is still in possession of rich folk. It is now a lawyers office with a very nice garden come car park at the rear. While the light above the door is no longer gas lit I am sure it works just as well with electricity. The actual door is not represented that well but I think it is considerably later than the original one. So not worth investigating. There are several old houses here, now all offices of one sort or another, and only one appears to be used as a home, and that owned by a successful artisan! I'm not jealous.....
.
They say when one door closes another smacks you in the face. Well this one did just that the other morning as I ambled along searching the gutters for dropped coins. Suddenly I realised that this was an old door! Yes I am bright that way. What I mean is that this door must go back, possibly to Georgian times. I reckon, without having investigated further, that this building was erected before 1850, and possibly nearer the start of the century. Some wealthy individual had themselves a very nice house, in the centre of town, and on the main road out. I wonder who it was? I may have a shot at finding out one day.
The door is what caught my eye, at least the steps up to the door I mean. Until the 20th century I think this street would not have possessed an actual pavement. ( That's 'sidewalk' to those who do not speak properly) The main road would not be tarmac but dirt, and the pavement ('sidewalk') would be merely an extension of this patrolled by passersby. Horse drawn traffic, leaving their aids to growing rose bushes behind, added to the general smell and unhealthy street. With rain the place would become a sticky, mud mire. That is why all such houses had steps leading up to them, along side of which would be metal scrapers (removed from these steps) which would be used to clean the boots before entering. Surely a town such as this would have paved the pavements ('sidewalks') by the end of the 19th century I ask? I am not sure they did. I must examine those old pictures later.
However this building is still in possession of rich folk. It is now a lawyers office with a very nice garden come car park at the rear. While the light above the door is no longer gas lit I am sure it works just as well with electricity. The actual door is not represented that well but I think it is considerably later than the original one. So not worth investigating. There are several old houses here, now all offices of one sort or another, and only one appears to be used as a home, and that owned by a successful artisan! I'm not jealous.....
.
Monday, 23 May 2011
Oh Joy!
.
I was delighted to read that the local jobless numbers had decreased somewhat in the past few weeks. It may well be an opening for a useless plonker (unskilled is the proper term) may yet appear I thought. A few objections have of course been raised to any encouragement by the revelation that these figures may well have been somewhat distorted. Gosh! Who would have thought that? Those gaining 'work placements' I understand are removed from the numbers. Invalidity claimants (or whatever name it has now) are also omitted even while many do seek work. Other 'positive accounting' takes place in an effort to smooth the politicians (and the HEO's) progress. It still remains that five people apply for every job. Or to put it another way Five hundred apply for the appropriate (easy, unskilled, overpaid, sedentary, numpty) jobs I look for. I stare into the future with my head held.........well in my hands actually......
Good old 'Dave!' Twice today he has shown us where his heart is. First he has announced he wants to encourage marriage to strengthen a 'stable society.' By that he probably means he will make folks live among the horses I suspect. He considers marriage to be the basis of a stable society and I agree with him. Will he therefore decide that benefits appropriate to this would arise? Tax benefits etc? Would he therefore encourage job creation and 'positive discrimination for married persons perhaps? Hmmm. PR is all very well but policy is no use without money Mr C.
He has suddenly come off the fence regarding papers publishing 'Kiss & Tell' stories. Suddenly he is claiming that it is unfair that Social media can publish names while papers cannot. Well I wonder why he speaks out now? Has Mr Murdoch been on the phone perhaps? You know Murdoch, that nice man who owns the 'Sun.' That is the paper yon tart was attempting to sell a 'Kiss & Tell' story to regarding a Premiership footballer. He had the courts stop revelation of his name, yet someone (surely not an employee of the 'Sun') placed his name on 'Twitter,' thereby breaking the injunction. You would not ask me to believe that such a man as Murdoch would now be influencing the Prime Minister of England just because he wishes to make a fast buck would you? Just because he sneaked up the back stairs into No 10 the minute Cameron forced his way in does not mean Murdoch has an unholy hold over this PM does it? Well, does it....? I am sure 'Dave' is thinking for himself, not for Murdoch, nor indeed for personal advantage. I trust this PM as much as I trusted Tony Blair, and you cannot say fairer than that!
cf with this excellent piece. Auld Reekie Rants
p.s. I am thinking of taking a job as a contortionist, just to make ends meet.
.
I was delighted to read that the local jobless numbers had decreased somewhat in the past few weeks. It may well be an opening for a useless plonker (unskilled is the proper term) may yet appear I thought. A few objections have of course been raised to any encouragement by the revelation that these figures may well have been somewhat distorted. Gosh! Who would have thought that? Those gaining 'work placements' I understand are removed from the numbers. Invalidity claimants (or whatever name it has now) are also omitted even while many do seek work. Other 'positive accounting' takes place in an effort to smooth the politicians (and the HEO's) progress. It still remains that five people apply for every job. Or to put it another way Five hundred apply for the appropriate (easy, unskilled, overpaid, sedentary, numpty) jobs I look for. I stare into the future with my head held.........well in my hands actually......
Good old 'Dave!' Twice today he has shown us where his heart is. First he has announced he wants to encourage marriage to strengthen a 'stable society.' By that he probably means he will make folks live among the horses I suspect. He considers marriage to be the basis of a stable society and I agree with him. Will he therefore decide that benefits appropriate to this would arise? Tax benefits etc? Would he therefore encourage job creation and 'positive discrimination for married persons perhaps? Hmmm. PR is all very well but policy is no use without money Mr C.
He has suddenly come off the fence regarding papers publishing 'Kiss & Tell' stories. Suddenly he is claiming that it is unfair that Social media can publish names while papers cannot. Well I wonder why he speaks out now? Has Mr Murdoch been on the phone perhaps? You know Murdoch, that nice man who owns the 'Sun.' That is the paper yon tart was attempting to sell a 'Kiss & Tell' story to regarding a Premiership footballer. He had the courts stop revelation of his name, yet someone (surely not an employee of the 'Sun') placed his name on 'Twitter,' thereby breaking the injunction. You would not ask me to believe that such a man as Murdoch would now be influencing the Prime Minister of England just because he wishes to make a fast buck would you? Just because he sneaked up the back stairs into No 10 the minute Cameron forced his way in does not mean Murdoch has an unholy hold over this PM does it? Well, does it....? I am sure 'Dave' is thinking for himself, not for Murdoch, nor indeed for personal advantage. I trust this PM as much as I trusted Tony Blair, and you cannot say fairer than that!
cf with this excellent piece. Auld Reekie Rants
p.s. I am thinking of taking a job as a contortionist, just to make ends meet.
.
Saturday, 21 May 2011
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)