Sabbath Football Joy, as normal.....

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Heart of Midlothian 2 Hibernian 0. Goals from Stevenson and Webster saw off the feeble challenge from the 'hump it and see' wee team.  The 'flair' with which they are famous (one day I will add that to the list of 'Myths that have no source,') was seen to be long balls up to the dope wearing the No 9 shirt. He fluffed it, several times!  Besides the usual attempt to decapitate and injure our innocent players the opposition offered nothing worth mentioning.  It was however pointed out that a club famous for having incompetent goalkeepers had a star man in their goalie today, and he still lost! 


The new shape of the Heart of Midlothian continues to develop.  Another season at the top end of the table is for us to expect, while the wee team suffer another season avoiding relegation.  While our noble players receive treatment for the bruisers obtained today they will rest, in between guzzling champagne, and while the fans indulge in reminding friends who support the Hibs, if they can find them (I appear to be persona non granta from one Hibs board) that Hearts are once again dominant, the Hibs folks will be in their beds!  I suspect the only thing Hibernian will do is sack the manager, although it is of course the chairman's fault that they are in this position, but he will be replaced by another numpty, probably McGhee!   However as I am not one to gloat when my enemy falls I will pass on such gloating, but I will feature the table as it stands tonight anyway!  This is fast becoming the most one sided derby game in the world!  Let us look at the figures.



Since the first derby, played at Edinburgh's East Meadows on the 25th of December 1875, which the Heart of Midlothian won by one goal to nil, there have been  618 derby matches. The statistics are as follows. 


Heart of Midlothian Victories : 276
Hibernian, the Wee Team :      200
Drawn games:                         141
Abandoned: (Hibs ran away in a huff) :  1


Goals scored:
Heart of Midlothian : 1064 Goals  
Wee Team:               892 


Interestingly Hearts have won more derbies on Hibs ground than Hibernian have.
Also interestingly, Heart of Midlothian have won more derbies on the Hearts ground than Hibs have.  Good innit?


I could go on, but I leave you with the table instead.

1	Rangers	5	9	13
2	Motherwell	6	4	13
3	Celtic	5	8	12
4	Hearts	6	3	8
5	Dunfermline	5	0	8
6	St Mirren	6	-1	8
7	Kilmarnock	5	2	6
8	Dundee Utd	6	-4	6
9	St Johnstone	5	-2	5
10	Inverness CT	6	-6	4
11	Aberdeen	6	-6	4
12	Hibernian	5	-7	3

The Future is bright, the future is maroooooooooooooooooooon!






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Nothing to say

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So here is a picture of Battersea Bridge.....


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The Waterfall

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Trundling out to exercise my knees I wandered down the path usually occupied early in the morning by folks walking their dogs. Being late afternoon the women were busy in the kitchens preparing their man's dinner which is what they were made for! This meant I could enjoy the bright sunshine, the warm air, and the raging waterfall I found there.  What a lovely spot, especially when the dog walkers were absent and the neds who leave their 'Carlsberg' cans on the waterfall have as yet not arrived. This once was a delightful wooded spot lying just under the hill on which the farmhouse stands.  In the 1850's the railway built the embankment that lies just behind the photographer but even this does not detract from the site itself, in fact in may enhance it.  However as the town has moved outwards the youth has followed on.  Kids of adolescent age use the slope of the embankment as a slide and their older brothers meet to share a can of beer to prove they are men at last. How many fall in while being macho I have failed to ascertain, although I would enjoy a photograph of such!


And look! A brick bridge!  How wonderful! I wonder had we got aerosol spray paint when young would we have scribbled our names on rail bridges?  I suspect we would but the only such vandalism I can recall came when I was in my late teens, and that referred to gang names.  There were certainly lots of such scrawls in Glasgow when we visited but in was only around 1970 they began to appear in Edinburgh. I fear we would have followed the crowd had it arrived earlier however.  I prefer the bridge with just brick rather than someones initials.   

In fact I am now convinced we would have vandalised with the rest.  This door is found at the back to door to the 'stair' in which we lived.  The initials dug into the door began with the 'Teddy Boy' neighbours (and my brother) in the fifties and have been continued since. I suspect this door has now been replaced with 'modern improvements' but you never know.  Graffiti has always been important to people.  Armies marching through the Cilician Gates near Tarsus (in Turkey) left their mark on the walls.  Greeks, Egyptian, Hittite and all put their mark, and those who could write left a statement of their intent as they passed. Sadly I understand the motorway construction of the eighties destroyed the ancient gates!   My dad once admitted that he and his mates had done the same to Stonehenge. Tsk!  The druids will not be pleased.

 
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The Power of Advertising

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A post by  a pretty American lass reminded me of a programme on telly a few months ago. It revealed the way to make something sell, even though we all obtain the same substance almost free daily. It concerned the rise of bottled water, in spite of the stuff coming into most folks homes by a tap! 

Since it was discovered that foul water brings disease such as Cholera in its wake the supply of clean water has become important in the UK and elsewhere. Today water flows (at a high price thanks to the stupidity of privatising peoples needs) freely into every house. Clean, safe water, doctored to preserve the purity at the pumping stations and keeping the nation clean, healthy and thirst free. Who can complain about this? No-one, it is just not possible to whine about something so important coming direct into the home. Of course natural resources differ. In Edinburgh the water is 'soft.' This gives a lovely 'feel' to the water, an improved 'taste,' and when thirsty nothing 'tastes' better than cool water. In some areas, such as the south, water is hard and leaves a 'limescale' deposit around the sinks and inside kettles and the like. While harmless it is an irritation and the water tastes somewhat 'dull' in comparison with 'soft' water.

This is where advertising men saw their chance. Knowing that the rich 'trendy' set are always on the look out for expensive 'one-upmanship' opportunities, those given the job of selling 'Perrier' water in the eighties went to work. By suggesting sparkling water that arose 'deep in the earth' was healthier than the stuff coming out of the tap, by including sexy women and of course an expensive price, the adverts touched something in the 'Yuppy' mentality of the time. Soon those bulbous green bottles were everywhere, and within moments dozens of others appeared in the shops. Today this is a multi million business.  From large enterprises to small a business is to be gained. One man found a disused well in the back garden of his new house and produces thousands of bottles, at high price, for five star hotels in Scotland! Straight forward 'water' in plastic bottles flew of the shelves at high prices as customers wished either to be seen with the right kind of water or fell for the idea that water filtered by a mountain was cleaner than that filtered by Fred Bloggs at the pumping station. Much later it was revealed that more bacteria is found in the plastic bottled water, of all kinds, and that tap water was healthier!  Facts of course do not end beliefs! The bottles still fill many shelves in the supermarkets, and price is no object to the daft ones who 'prefer it' because of 'health' or 'society' reasons.

I buy cheap sparkling water, and clearly not to impress the society around me!  This is because I looked at what is contained in the average soft drink, available at high price in the shops. Whether Pepsi, Coke or any of the dozens of other available they all contain at least eight spoonfuls of sugar and various other stuff, some of which I am not willing to trust. I decided to buy cheap carbonated water to provide for a 'fizzy' drink.  The stuff available in the shops costs from 40pence to over a pound if you are daft enough to pay for it. I pay 17 pence for the big Tesco bottle shown. Mix it with tap water and it is fine to drink, less harmful than canned drinks and with no additives bar the bubbles, and as I drink a lot of water these days it is better than the canned stuff.  When out and about during these hot summer days, yes there was one recently, buying a plastic bottle of water does make some sense. However paying £1:45 at a railway station appears to me to be just a bit dear myself!  OK if desperate but the word 'rip-off' goes through my mind here. People will not believe me when I tell them it is advertising, and the labels, which make them pay through the nose for water available from their taps. Advertising speaks to something within us, usually greed, 'keeping up with the Jones's' or a deep psychological need recognised by the advertising people. Such folks make better psychologists than psychologists! 

This is a (US) sample of the hype from the eighties, although all of my female readers will not be old enough to remember this sort of thing.

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Hmmmm, the French do things differently of course.....

                                   



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Awwwww

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Another journey into the centre of the world this morning, and a chance to wander through the park also.  The river, as seen last week, is not sufficient for some it appears, dad, and mum round the corner, have taken the kids to the small boating lake, aimed at kids, and moved in there. The feeding must be good here, as long as you can endure the folks crying "Awwwwww" everytime they spot the kids (the fluffy ones not the brats). I did first attempt to get a shot of mum and one fluffy wee one but as I got near she shoved the kid into the water and made off. Actually I thought she was a Mallard but I now begin to wonder if she was something else as both were darker than these seen here. Anyway dad was playing with his feathers and still keeping an eye on me as I approached camera in hand.  He did not appear concerned and I got the pics.  I ought to have been down lower but was fearful the knees would give way and send me into the pond among much cheering from charitable folks around, so I took care.  

   


Between the river and the pond I found these, tank traps from the second world war. I know thee is an old pillbox nearby but did not have time to go looking for this.  The ground here has many long humps, some going back to Roman days and some connected with river works, this are was clearly an attempt t hinder any German aggression in 1940.  The river leads on to the sea eventually and one reason the Romans took over Camulodunon was the fact boats could come this far upriver with supplies.  The town, on the hill to the left, was the capital of the Trinovantes tribe and some of the earthworks were part of their defences. Such things, once required for war, are now kids playthings!

Oh yes and a sample of track for the enthusiasts among you. Ah trains, how lovely they are!  Of course they are better off without mobile phones, and I would like to take this opportunity to apologise the the lass who fell into the 'loop line' as we changed trains. It was an accident honest, but it did bring a smile to those of us who crowded you while YELLING AT THE TOP OF YOUR VOICE on the train.  It brought  smile to our faces if not to yours.  I hope you found your phone, if not try looking on the back of that container train, one chap said he saw it perched safely there.  Have a nice day, cause we will - now!  




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Horrid Johnny

When I was a postman, my mate Henry John, an aged old man of one year more than I, informed me of the time he went to see his first football match.  He was taken to White Hart Lane, the Home of Tottenham Hotspur  football club. This was in 1956 (before you were born) to see Spurs playing a friendly match against Hibernian, a small unimportant side from Leith. Knowing I supported the Heart of Midlothian, 'Scotia's Darlings' he took every opportunity to mention a Hibernian victory (when?) and a corrupt referee causing the Heart of Midlothian to lose.  


On Thursday, as you will have noticed, the Heart of Midlothian played Spurs at Tynecastle Park in Edinburgh and contrived to lose by 5 gals to nil.  The ball used in such competitions differs from the one used in Scottish games in that it does not go where our players placed it, and appeared to have a mind of its own.  This disaster unfortunate occurrence was a sad event that came into my life on Thursday evening. I mourned through the whole of Friday and by Saturday morning I, along with all other 'Jambo's,' had recovered our strength and 'moved on' as they say.


The postman arrived, a happy cheery lad (he ought to be having an easy round!  It was twice the size when I did it mate!) and threw the post through the door (I wish he would open it first) with a cheery grunt. Naturally there was a bill for my neighbour, the only man I know who receives more of those than I do, and two for me!  One came from my sweetest niece, containing a programme from a concert she was involved in (Stravinsky piano piece) and was gratefully received.  The other was in a (used) Royal Mail envelope and contained this:-

      
It's a disgrace that he is allowed to use Royal Mail material for such activities.  I would complain to the management but I know that they would have given him the envelope!  Oooh I could spit!


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Friday Night is Music Night, well this Friday night is anyway.

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Is this the greatest music ever written?

                                


                                 

             


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Summer Afternoon Rain

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As I crossed the park this afternoon looking at the sunbathing lassies I observed that as the wind was coming reasonably noticeably from the north east. Not long afterwards Bournemouth, far away on the south coast, was inundated by a terrific rainstorm. This then moved rapidly from the south west and began depositing whatever was left of the rain upon us!  Remember when I moved here they referred to this as the 'driest county in England!'   They lied!  It is difficult to actually obtain pictures of rain from here and the spots on the window do not do justice to the rain that was hammering down outside.  The gutters overflowed and streams of water reached several feet into the roadway. I watched, very concerned, as folks who had failed to check the weather forecast made their way, soaked to the skin, passing by.  I stood at the window and offered a caring smile. This was not returned.


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Summer Afternoon Sky

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I noticed these interesting rib like shapes in the clouds as I tramped back from the market with my shop soiled, reduced price bananas this afternoon.  I am not sure if the warmth in the air was because the clouds keep the heat trapped in or because the sun is attempting to break through them and impersonate summer!
I neither knew nor cared. I was really just looking for some sort of picture, for without one snap there is something missing in my life these days. A PC and a digital camera, How did we live before these things were discovered?  Cyrus may have built a large empire, however he could never photograph anything as he did not have the technology, and he was called 'Great!'  Many powerful men have lived on this earth, but we can take pictures and manipulate them on the PC, they couldn't!  Pah!  Who needs an empire anyway?


And now for some dodgy theology but lovely music. 


                           



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Buildings

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Yesterday, as I hurried along to the meeting place, I noticed this house, with the sun shining on it, and was impressed by the design, if indeed there was a deliberate design as opposed to a builder just 'throwing one up. Victorian builders just built houses according to the way they were taught, probably from their fathers, and rarely used architects.  This one looked better with the sun on it and today the gray skies left it a wee bit depressed with itself. However there are some interesting aspects to the building.
    

This corner house must have cost a packet in its day!  This home is quite large, has bay windows and a turret!  Fantastic property when built, and a credit to whoever erected the thing.  I suspect however this one had some kind of architect involved. This is much to 'out of the ordinary' for the everyday builder. 

I am contacting the Office of Fair Trading about this.  It says 'Free Withdrawals,' yet when I withdrew thousand of pounds from it the bank demanded I hand it back. Something about using your own account they yelled. It does not make that clear I say. 

Another lovely turret, this time on a school entrance.  Those Victorians, or would this be Edwardian perhaps, knew how to build schools. I could not get near enough to get a shot of the sign above the doors, 'Girls' over one, and 'Boys' over another. Actually I could see the 'Girls' sign but not the 'Boys' one.  Now I notice it is under the turret! The foolishness of insisting the sexes mix all the time is a bad thing in my opinion. At our school they kids played separately and this had many advantages for all. Ideology has damaged much in education. Some things boys learn better together, some things girls learn that way.
  

Look!  Another railway picture! Great isn't it?  Oh really, well that's your trouble, your just a woman!  Real men would see this as an inspiration, a challenge and an opportunity!  The line brings a train load of who knows what to us, while the other line takes us into a new life maybe, or possibly the buffers of course.  I have been there already!

Even better! High above, well not that high actually, stands the frame carrying the electric powerline for the trains. I thought it made an interesting image, with the steadily moving gray clouds as backdrop. The occasional blue flash, especially when the non stopping express service flew past at 80 or so miles an hour, was missed by my camera. 


What a lovely day again. Another day trip, another good half hour, another enjoyable train journey.  Even waiting was enjoyable today.  I suppose it was the variety from my routine that did that.  Now of course my routine is out of order and I will have to spend all tomorrow attempting to find where I am.  Ah well.
And so to bed......


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Railway Day Out, Sort Off

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As part of my job search I was forced to journey into the big town today. This entailed finding a suitable train timetable, they all have variations these days and the prices cannot be trusted also, and this morning bright and early, the day not myself, I wandered down to our bit of line. There in the sunshine I joined the late commuters, the London train left an hour ago, and soon climbed aboard the exciting journey that is a trip by rail!  I admit I would prefer a steam engine chuffing along through the countryside but such things are not common today.  Instead we had the usual diesel and while comfortable enough to do the job it neither 'chuffs' nor has the same romance. The 'romance' of the journey began with the train announcement scrolled across the screen above the door informing us where the train had 'arrived at.'  I thought if you have come here pal you have certainly not 'arrived!' Still it could be worse I suppose, it could say 'Arrived at Scunthorpe,' and we wouldn't want that would we? 


People on trains are the main problem with public transport.  If I could share the coach with nice people instead of ones I disliked life would be easier.  Having traveled on the commuter train on occasion I suspect many there feel the same.  These trains have been fitted with windows that open and one chap came in, took of his jacket, it was indeed a warm day, and opened the window above him and sat down.  How I hate this!  He opens the window for air, yet the air has no effect on him!  Instead it blows over to the other side of the coach freezing the people over there.  The only answer, apart from shooting him New York Police style, is to open the window above you and hope he gets chilblains!  I noticed all the windows were shut today in spite of the warmth and stuffiness around.  Maybe a cop had got on earlier as the train made its way out here?  


A substantial lass also joined us.  She immediately got the mobile phone out!  Now while mobile phones are indeed one of the many blessings we take for granted they are not an advantage on quiet railway coaches!  On this occasion the lady made a quick call, now that is a miracle, and replaced the villain in the bottom of her bag.  Quite why women do this I know not, but when it rings she then spend several minutes hunting for the brute while it plays 'Land of my fathers' in an annoying digital manner!  Some women use the mobile in the manner that once cigarettes were made use off, as some sort of protection while in public.  It is as if being occupied this way there is a barrier between them and the dangers around them.  Many pass my door pushing a pram with one hand, a toddler several feet behind them, on a  main road, while they blether into their phone. Others, male and female, can be seen in the dark evenings like some sort of firefly creature moving around. The person is not seen, just a greening glow from their phone while they read important texts.


Changing trains I took several pictures of the line, secretly as possible to avoid being mistaken for an anorak! This enabled me to obtain not only the above picture but two at angles of 35 degrees and late at my destination, one of the platform itself!  There is something about railways, and something about the view as the line disappears into the distance.  When younger I watched a drama, worth watching in those days, that ended with a young couple on a rail platform as he made his move elsewhere. The story I forget but I recall an longing to move on down that line to find what was at the other end.  Now however, having been there, I find the longing less strong but an underlying desire to go and see does remain.  This time I no longer expect a pot of gold to be found there. 


For a couple of hours I was reminded of things I knew long ago, informed of the wonderful aid to help me 'back to work' that exists, but without being informed as to where the jobs themselves lay, and spent a jolly nice time with reasonable people, in the circumstances.  One thing I noticed was the spaces prepared for around a dozen participants, three turned up and one phoned in sick, he fell down the stairs on the bus or some such.  The rest?  I suspect several will not be interested, one or two will have seen it all before, and then there was us three.  Are these organisations really going to find 'placements' in firms?  If so will this be 'cheap labour?'  Who knows?  It is worth it just for the day out in the sun, the train journey and a few pictures. It makes a change from my usual humdrum routine, and nice to see some interesting, but grubby, Victorian buildings there.  I am back tomorrow for a more serious discussion and I will get a couple of shots of the buildings which intrigue me.  Clearly there was money here in Victorian days. "Who pays the fares?"  They did, good eh?

 


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Sunday Laffs.

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I was going to mention that the 'wee team' (Hibernian) lost 4-1 away to Kilmarnock. However I would not be so cruel as to include this in a post headed 'Sunday Laffs,' would I? What? ...oh!

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A lawyer died. At the same moment, the Pope also died. 

They arrived at the gates of heaven at the same moment. 

They spend the day in orientation, and as they're getting their heavenly vestments, the Pope gets a plain white toga and wings, like everyone else, and the lawyer gets much finer apparel, made of gold thread, and Gucci shoes. 

Then, they get to see where they're going to live?. 

The Pope gets what everyone else gets, a replica of a Holiday Inn room, and the lawyer gets an 18 room mansion with servants and a swimming pool.

At dinnertime, the Pope receives the standard meal, a Manischewitz kosher TV dinner,and the lawyer receives a fine and tasty meal, served on silver platters.

By this time, the lawyer is beginning to suspect that an error has been made, so he asks one of the angels in charge, "Has there been some kind of mistake? This guy was the Pope, and he gets what everyone else gets, and I'm just a lawyer and I'm getting the finest of everything?"

The angel replied, "No mistake, sir. We've had lots of Popes here, but you're the first lawyer we've ever had."

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The Archbishop of Canterbury and the Royal Commission for Political correctness announced today the climate in the UK should no longer be referred to as "English Weather".

Rather than offend a sizeable portion of the UK population, it is now to be referred to as: "Muslim Weather" (Partly Sunni, but mostly Shi'ite)

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One night, President Obama and his wife Michelle decided to do something out of routine and go for a casual dinner at a restaurant that wasn't too luxurious. 

When they were seated, the owner of the restaurant asked the president's Secret Service if he could speak to the First Lady in private.

They obliged and Michelle had a short conversation with the owner.

Following their conversation President Obama asked Michelle why the owner was so interested in speaking to her.
Michelle said that when she was a teenager the owner was madly in love with her.

President Obama then said, "So, if you had married him, you would now be the owner of this lovely restaurant."

To which Michelle replied, "No, if I had married him he would now be President!"

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A 50 yr plus woman was at home happily jumping on her bed and squealing with delight.


Her husband watches her for a while and asks, "Do you have any idea how ridiculous you look?, What's the matter with you?"


The woman continues to bounce on the bed and says, "I don't care, I just came from having a mammogram and the doctor says I have the breasts of an 18 year-old".


The husband said, "What did he say about your 56 year old ass?"


"Your name never came up!!!" she replied.

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Man sitting at home on the veranda with his wife and he says, "I love you."


She asks, "Is that you or the beer talking?"


He replies, "It's me............. talking to the beer."

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Saturday Musings

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Daily Mail

Car accidents happen, even the best make mistakes and at speed this can lead to pain and sometimes death.  For many years now all governments have emphasised the importance of not drinking and driving.  The breathaliser and the modern equivalents have helped reduce the number of accidents, saved lives and to please government, saved millions of pounds in clearing up the mess.  Sadly some fail to respond and this car shows the result when one young man decides to drive after entering a car while unfit. The short journey home was taken at high speed while veering unsteadily in the road. A couple walking home from the same restaurant where the driver had been drinking were run down by the car and both received fatal injuries. He is estimated to have been doing around 60 at the time of the accident in a 30 mph built up area. 

My point is simple. It is imperative that judges sentencing a man found guilty, as indeed this driver was quickly proved to be, are treated fairly and mercy must be included while sentence is declared. However there is also a need to ensure that justice, not vengeance, is done, but is seen to be done.  In this instance we have two people dead, they leave behind three grown children and it must be said they will not want for money, houses in that area begin at around the £3 million mark. However they have lost their parents, their lives are suddenly and cruelly changed for ever, and money does not compensate for the loss of a loved one.  Therefore I question the sentence passed on this driver. He was jailed for seven years, and the judge insisted he must serve at least half that sentence. This, it must be said, is not an uncommon sentence in such situations, and my point is to question what this says about the nation today?  

Do we really consider three and a half years jail plus a seven year driving ban, served probably in an 'open prison,' to be sufficient in the circumstances? Remember I am not looking for 'vengeance' here, but 'justice' tinged with mercy. Two people are dead, gone forever into God's hands and lost to their family who must endure this loss, and it would appear that human life is now regarded as worth a mere three and a half years in jail. In fact as two died they are only worth half that! Surely human life is worth more?  Some indeed would say financial crime leads to longer sentencing! I watched a footballer dancing around after scoring a goal last week.  He also had got drunk, smashed his Mercedes into another car, killed a man, robbed a wife of her husband and her young children of their father. He even ran away after the accident, a very serious thing to do, but received a mere six years in jail. He served three and returned to his footballing career, earning I guess around £7000 a week at that time.  He may earn less today as he ages slowly but how does the widow and her brood feel when he dances around as they struggle to survive?  Human life in Britain does not appear to be worth that much these days.  


Surely such an accident should receive a longer sentence, surely more consideration is deserved for the victims?  Surely we have our priorities wrong in so many ways today.  Terrorists can receive between twenty five and forty year sentences, often without actually killing someone, how then can a drunk driver get so little?  I have no problem with a man making a good living after sentence has been served, I do however have a major problem with sentences that do not fit the crime.  I realise that each one of us could at any moment lose control, whether of a car or at work or in the home and death could result. We all share the same weak frame and that is why courts must understand both the nature of the crime, the cause and the damage left to the victim and their family. I am not convinced this occurs today.
     

                         

Sad to say that Robert Robinson has passed away. Robinson came to my attention while hosting the world's greatest quiz, 'Brain of Britain,' and the erudite talk show 'Stop the Week,' both on Radio 4. His ability to make the contestants on the quiz feel at ease, no matter their background, and cheerful manner enabled this powerful contest to fairly fly towards a conclusion.  Even without him it remains the top quality programme although nobody can run it as smoothly as he.  'Stop the Week' was more controversial.  Seen by some as a talking shop for the chattering classes, it was criticised by those very chattering classes themselves, revealing that a nerve must have been touched quite often. Often spoofed as smug and middle class by smug, middle class comedians Robinson continued to broadcast into his eighties when illness made this no longer possible. He died yesterday in St Mary's Hospital in London, a sad loss to British Broadcasting, middle class or not.   

Dave seeking inspiration for his next PR disaster.

Good old 'Dave.'  He is working hard to fulfill the saying, 'Don't open your mouth and put both feet in as you will not have a leg to stand on.'  His latest gaff is to stand in the House of Commons and inform the world that the Metropolitan Police were failing to handle the riots until he returned early from holiday! He was backed up on this by his Home Secretary Theresa May, who as you know does a very good female impersonation. The police reaction was swift, '"Rubbish!" they said!  The constabulary realised, they admit, that their tactics were failing, adding this was not aided by having too few officers to deal with the troubles, they amended their tactics and took control, as much as was possible in the circumstances.  'Dave was to busy drinking Italian espresso to help out himself.  'Dave,' and his desire to be seen as responsible for the improvement, has alienated himself even more from the police while still insisting on cutting their numbers, in spite of the situation during the last few days.


Not only but also!  Yes indeed he has gone further!  This time he wishes to make an American head of the Met!  Has this man's desire for show no end?  Some famous Yank Cop, who nobody has heard off, has been approached, without informing the police themselves, and informally offered the job as Commissioner!  This produced a one word comment from a senior officer, "Stupid!"  He is right you know! Listening to the methods of foreign policemen is indeed worth the time, but asking someone from a completely different justice system to take control leaves not only the impression that the London police are incompetent but that 'Dave' has no idea what he is talking about.
Actually, that last bit might well be right!

Violette Szabo

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Born in Paris in 1921, Violette Bushell was the offspring of a French mother and a British soldier who she met during the Greta War.  The family of four returned to London where her father drove a taxi and when war broke out in September 1939 Violette was working as a sales assistant in a department store. 
War brings changes to an individuals life, and young women are enticed by the opportunities that arise as much as the young men who's lives are about to change for ever. Sexual norms are amended as many develop a 'live now because tomorrow we die,' attitude. Possibly this had an effect on Etienne Szabo,a 31 year old French soldier when he met the 19 year old in 1940.  They were married within a month. Szabo left to fight in North Africa and suffered fatal wounds while involved in a diversionary attack during the Battle of El Alamein.  He died in 1942 without ever having seen his new born daughter. One of the sad results of war has been the number of children who have never known their fathers. Some were killed in action and many were the result of a moments passion.  Many such children have lived with an emptiness inside all their lives. 


The Special Operations Executive was an organisation developed by Winston Churchill to work behind enemy lines in France and disrupt their communications, there being little other opportunity to hit at Hitler's rule other than through Bomber Command. "Set Europe Ablaze" was his order.  After the death of her husband Violette decided to join this organisation.
She endured a tough training round, unarmed combat, explosives, weapons and the like, all that was required to hurt the heart of the German occupation. It was thought by some that her French was too influenced by English and that she lacked the initiative required for such work. However senior officers overruled these fears and she was declared fit to send into action. Using 'Louise' as a code name she parachuted into France during April 1944. In France she rebuilt a broken resistance organisation and gathered information regarding German munitions. A successful mission for the twenty three year old mother. 
Szabo's second mission occurred after D-Day when she met with resistance workers attempting to hinder the German fightback. An unlucky meeting with a German roadblock led to a quick firefight in which she was captured. Possibly her English tainted accent had an effect here? The young girl met little sympathy and was handed over to the SD, the intelligence unit of the SS. Here brutal treatment failed to discover information on her work or her companions and eventually Szabo found herself in Ravensbrook Concentration Camp.  Here some 300 women slept three to a bunk in each hut. Malnutrition, harsh treatment and hard labour were common.


Violette Szabo was executed in February 1945.  Other SOE women were to suffer similar fates in this camp.


In 1946 a posthumous award of the George Cross was awarded to Violette Szabo.  A year later the French awarded her the Croix de Guerre and the Medal de la Resistance was also added in 1973.

Violette Szabo SOE


Violette Szabo


Young Brave and Beautiful


Szabo


Violette Szabo Museum


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