The Sunny Chancellor

The UK budget occurred yesterday, I missed it.  Usually I sit through most of the hour or two while the man responsible for the British economy mumbles on, sipping whisky and water and supported occasionally by gruff cries of "hear hear," from his side of the House.  This year I just couldn't be bothered.  Whatever they say it is clear you will suffer.  This year it appear Gorgeous George has made a complete hash of things, lowering taxes for the rich and raising taxes for pensioners, good vote catching stuff Georgie!  When asked if he would benefit from lowering the top tax rate he claimed he did not earn enough!  Just his MPs salary. Hmmm I believe him, but he is lying in his teeth!  (Sue me George!)


This morning I jumped on the bike to avoid his smarmy lies on the radio and made my way, slowly, to Felsted station.  Actually this has been a private house for many years but the 6 miles and 12 chains distance was more than I have managed this year! That's 12 miles and 24 chains plus a bit more today.  I'm getting so fit I may soon be almost human. (A chain is 66 feet by the way.  Railways, estate agents and others still require to use this measurement today. 10 chains make a furlong (used in horse racing) and 8 furlongs make a mile, but you knew this.)  I almost went a bit further however the bridge at Felsted has been removed and this means a roundabout meander to continue.  Behind the old station house lies a Gypsy camp and I wandered into this by mistake.  The dogs were quickly awake at a strangers approach, one keen to eat my leg was a bother, and a chap standing by a huge bonfire, there is always a bonfire in such paces, pointed out the way to go.  As I made my way back, once again assaulted by the dogs, I was impressed by the amount of broken glass lying around.  One or two skips overflowed into the road, but the glimpses inside the caravans, mobile and static, through open doors showed a high standard from the women of the house.  No surprise there.  I would have continued on but at the beginning of the trail lay another pack of dogs so I decided to return home.  Just as well as I was knackered by this time.  Two slices of brown bread and cheese is not sufficient sustenance!


It impressed me that the dogs I encountered were all small 'yaps.' No big dogs to be seen.  Very good watchdogs, loud and aggressive, but the bites considered less dangerous and newsworthy than the bite from an Alsatian or Doberman.the fact is such dogs are much more likely to bite, just ask any postman!  Appearances deceive and these folks are no fools.  It is about ten years since I was last there, and the camp appeared very much tidier the last time, maybe it's just me?  Some folks complain about gypsies, the mess they leave when they camp unwanted, and I have endured that outside my door before now, the criminal element, and the all round trouble they cause.  Much of this is true of course, and gypsies, or 'travellers' as the media has decided we must call them now, do not do themselves any favours all too often. On the other hand I have seen similar conditions in this town, from the noble locals, and big cities have areas so 'deprived' no traveller would dare park a caravan there overnight.  There was a report that some in that camp were Christians and did a lot of good in the area, and a radio programme recently revealed a christian group composed of gypsies, and proud of it too, running an proper evangelical group on the outskirts of Edinburgh.


I wonder if it is within us all to make barriers between us?  What comes first, crime or rejection, being different or being bad?  The chap who gave me directions was friendly enough, although all the other eyes contained suspicion and glares.  Mind you I find that walking the streets everywhere I go, maybe it's just me.....


Anyway, do you like my style?  geddit?  Style, see....oh forget it.

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Underground Heritage

London Underground History

Jenny's excellent post regarding her outing along an old London Underground (but overground) disused line brought to mind the websites devoted to disused stations.  These stations are historical masterpieces, well sometimes, and always interesting to inspect.  Many overground lines have been turned into pathways much used for leisure purposes while some, if the remain recognisable, are derelict and much vandalised.  Two very good site on the underground are :

London Underground History

and

London's Abandoned Tube Stations

British Railways lost most of their stations and rural lines in the early sixties.  This means the vast rail network left behind a vast network of pathways, many now developed for leisure use, and ageing station buildings.  For some years rail enthusiasts, often called 'anoraks' round here, have photographed such places. These also are fascinating, especially for the nostalgic who once used them when steam was king!  Obviously only me then......

Check this out:

Disused Stations

and

Urban 75: Railways

You may also be sad enough, like me, to enjoy this:

Derelict London

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Timber!

Just a bit peeved at the site of trees that have been chopped down.  In the UK removing trees requires permission from the local authorities because of a variety of reasons.  So I was surprised to find the folk controlling the old railway line have chopped down lots of the trees that graced the path.  I accept many were getting old, and that one or two looked a bit dicey, but there is now a row of stumps awaiting beasties to move in.  The colour is much brighter than my picture shows, it appears a bit feeble on this laptop so use your imagination here.  The bright yellow wood stands out against the leafless trees and not yet grown weeds around.  No doubt the Rangers know what they are doing, but it still seems a pity to lose so many lovely trees.

Joyce Kilmer. 1886–1918 119. Trees I THINK that I shall never see A poem lovely as a tree.   A tree whose hungry mouth is prest Against the sweet earth's flowing breast;   A tree that looks at God all day,         And lifts her leafy arms to pray;   A tree that may in summer wear A nest of robins in her hair;   Upon whose bosom snow has lain; Who intimately lives with rain.     Poems are made by fools like me, But only God can make a tree. Bartleby                                         Joyce Kilmer   (A man by the way) .

The Early (ish) Bird....

Spotted this pigeon earlier today as the sun was attempting to push through the dank Spring cloud cover.  It shoved its way past the cumulus now and then to the delight of those walking the dogs. Actually this chap was walking the dog, the other two broke away full of high spirits from a chap who daily passes by with seven dogs.  Usually the tails are wagging and the smiles are evident as the beasts thoroughly enjoy their trail, noses twitching, through the park.  He was somewhat loud in his rebuke as these two unwillingly returned, tails between their legs, after him yelling at them to "Stay," "Come here," and "Come back here," each time louder and more gruff than before.  I have never seen them do that before, possibly just high spirits and a female dog in sight.   

Recent days have been a bovver.  The PC smoking has ruined my life.  This laptop is slow, so veeeeerrrrrry slow, and it keeps doing things it ought not do!  Using this daft 'Touch Pad' causes trouble. The curser takes on a mind of its own, it races up and down unbidden, the pages change of their own accord, pictures disappear and the browser separates into differing browsers by itself!  I slammed it shut the other night as it was taking hours to change and I was most indignant with it.  I yelled at the world, got no reply, but yelled anyway.  The yelling began all over again when I went downstairs yesterday morning and discovered ANOTHER puncture in the rear tyre.  It had appeared OK when I got home yet here it was flat as my singing voice. It's a disgrace the way I am treated by technology!  And 'tyre' is spelled 'tyre,' not 'tire.'  Will someone tell this dumb American spellchecker! Don't they have schools in the US?

Sporting Life

Life did improve during lunch time however.  The Heart of Midlothian, Edinburgh's finest and Scotia's Darling's, once more walked, at half pace, all over the wee team from Leith, Hibernian.  This time we merely scored two goals to their nil, but we don't need to do much to prove our superiority over them again do we?  I wish them well in their fight against relegation to the lower division.  Maybe Rangers liquidation will secure their place for another season?   The marvelous Craig Beattie (pictured) scored the first goal from 'Man of the Match' Ian Black's wonderful pass.  Suso Santana rubbed salt into Hibernian's wound (snigger) with an even better goal in the last minute.  What fun!


A few hours later and more good news as the other half of the evil empire called the Old Firm (That's Rangers and Celtic to you) were defeated by Kilmarnock in the League Cup Final by one goal to nil.  A deserved victory for a team supposed to crumble in such an atmosphere.  Sadly the joy felt by Killie was ruined when the father of Laim kelly, a Kilmarnock player, suffered a heart attack at the end of the game. This follows on from the incident at the Tottenham Hotspurs v Bolton Wanderers game yesterday when a Bolton player, Fabrice Muamba, suffered a Heart attack on the pitch during the game.  The shock of his collapse causing  the match to be abandoned.  Both men appear to be in a critical condition. 
 Football knows its place at such times.

The afternoon saw the clearing of the skies later in the day, an end to the rain that had washed the pigeon off the lamppost, and left behind the first decent sunset for some time.  How nice to watch the sun descend slowly and brightly, causing alarms to go off all over the antipodes shortly afterwards, and leave us one of those wonderful skies.  Good morning Australia!

I hope this week brings good things, and no cardiac arrests, to one and all.

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Misty View to World View

The sun rose as early as usual this morning but had to struggle past the mist that formed late last night and attempted to hinder the suns approach come the dawn.  Funny how enlarging the picture and looking directly at the sun made my eyes water as if I was looking at the real thing!  Anyway the mist cleared by lunchtime and when the sun reached its zenith I naturally fell asleep.  Something wrong somewhere I think.  


The 'Daily Mail,' that organ of truth and righteousness, apart from the half truths, lies and sheer blatant deception, does have a scientific journalist.  I use the term 'journalist' sparingly.  However the Science section knows how to bring science to the people, lot's of pictures and few words, and those repeated often to aid learning.  This is a good idea as we do learn by rote and understand later, in spite of what educationalists may say.  I think it fair to point out my spelling was incorrect there.....


Anyway Eddie Wrenn, if indeed he exists, has written an interesting piece with few words and lots of pictures.  This, like much found in the media today, he discovered while surfing the web for something interesting to earn his wage.  He found a site full of pictures and worth publishing and I must say I agree. The site is called  http://www.stratocom.com/s/1011  and, to the delight of the readership, is dead simple (insert own joke here).  The site contains picture taken from Google, showing interesting pictures from around our blue planet from high above.  There is a button at the bottom that enables the viewer to vote for or against each picture and so in this manner we can discover the most popular.  I recommend a look at this site, some of the pictures are excellent, and you are able, so they say, to move the map around and take your own favourite shot and upload this.  Worth a look.

Daily Mail

David Cameron's favourite Prime Minister, himself, is indulging in his favourite activity this week, Publicity Stunts!  He has outdone himself however by popping over to the United States (which include the Southern States) to visit a proper politician, President Obama.  The photographs showing him 'one of the boys' at a basketball game (whether he knew what  was going on is unclear), and with wife at a banquet, look good adorning his fawning press.  The 'special relationship,' between the 'English speaking peoples' still being strong, in some English papers at least, and mentioned dutifully even if he doesn't believe it either.  In between stuffing his face, posing for cameras, and wondering why they all speak so funny, it is to be hoped the two men can work out a strategy to leave the Afghanistan mess they inherited, sort out the extradition treaty that Blair slanted in the American favour, and do something, however slight, to ease the Syria situation.  There again while there Dave could possibly look into standing as a Republican candidate, he is empty of policy enough to satisfy quite a few I suspect.  


The 'Special relationship' was of course something Winston Churchill dreampt up during the war. His mother was from the US, and not a very good mother it seems to me, and Winston really did like the place.  However Winne suffered from a romantic view of history, his views on the great 'British Empire' were very romantic, and he did see a 'special relationship' between the 'English speakers.' (What about Australia or New zealand, or even Canada I hear you ask?)  The presidents of the US naturally never quite saw it his way however.  There is indeed rightly a good relationship between the nations.  A shared outlook on defence, and many, but far from all, foreign policies have similar outlook.  The UK is always ready to fight Americas wars for them, even though they are late in arriving for ours, and in recent years has foolishly followed George Bush's  military mistakes, at great cost.  There is no 'special relationship' if we are honest, just a similar outlook in many things, and the UK as always is the one that loses out all too often. The many successes British troops have accomplished can easily be lost by one American breaking down under the strain.


I note that the New York Times has a mention of Cameron's visit, hidden away under politics, and mentioning only the banquet, nothing else.  No success of the PR front there Dave.


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1890

London 1890.  There is not much difference between the traffic then and the traffic now.  People meander across the road in a similar manner today, although there is not quite so much room in between vehicles.  The machines today are of course faster but a horse and cart was just as deadly.  In fact a man who;s name escapes me obtained permission to erect a traffic island in the middle of one road in an effort to make crossing safer.  When it was complete he was so excited he ran across to it and was killed by traffic!  You will note the police still question suspects, buses make up their own rules, and men stand around being important.  Women are to be found there but most will be elsewhere, in the shopping districts!

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A sunday Drive, so to speak....

Not so much a drive as a trundle along through a few back roads in the sunshine.  The haze was quite thin, the sun shone, the cabbages, or maybe Brussel Sprouts, were growing in the fields and emitting a noticeable fragrance, if that is the right word.   I stopped alongside a field of grass like shoots and watched a skylark hover twenty feet above.  The song is one of the best you can hear, no wonder it inspires music!  In the distance a grouse like creature croaked away, his throat must be sore, and in between the birds there was silence, complete silence.  With traffic right outside my door, the old 'Stane Street' runs past my window,  and a bypass close enough to allow the noise of busy traffic to be murmuring in the background, it was delightful to sit in the sun in almost complete silence, bar the bird life.  An occasional 'four by four' came by, one or two driven by farm folks, the rest by people suffering in the recession,  and by the time I got out the roads were become home to Sunday drivers again.  

I stopped of at Cressing church on the way back.  Standing here for almost a thousand years, and this spot used most probably for pagan worship long before that, the small church building stands in a graveyard used to this day.  The normal attitude today is to allow parts of the graveyard to run wild to some extent, just behind the memorial it is possible to see small daffodils and snowdrops peeping through the grass.  One half of the yard is tended while the rest grows wild in a controlled manner.  Up at Black Notley some time back I noticed the sheep has broken through and were happily ruining the controlled part of that graveyard.  Here all was peace, especially as no service was being held that day.  Three or four churches are now controlled by one man quite often, this one was High Church, that is Anglo Catholic, and communion was held elsewhere.  At least it is used but this does mean it is always locked when I pass by.

This small side door, possibly to allow objectionable clerics to escape,  looks as if it has been here for years.  Certainly that end of the building is constructed in a different manner from the main part.  I wish I had looked up the history again now.  No time at present however. So a close up of the construction of the wall of the main part, very common around here.  There are a couple of old Roman bricks in there but I think the majority are later.  There were Roman villas around here in days gone by.

What do they call this, Charnel or something like that?  Most church buildings here have such construction, sometimes they are quite big also.  A few Roman narrow red bricks also.

Just clearing up and I have deleted the last post I made and once gone never recovered!

I was not born an idiot you know, I had to work at it!

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Cycling Early in Morning

Having managed to cycle up the old railway this morning, and already losing the aches, I intend to follow the line a bit further tomorrow on the basis that if I am out of this place I will not be endangering the laptop!  It's fascinating in a way that at one time, like 1914, thousands of miles of such lines covered the nation.  Small towns and out of the way places were connected by railways, as long as there were some bigger towns along the way to make it pay of course.  Engines such as the one shown would chug along at speeds between 20 to 50 miles an hour, stopping at well made stations and small halts comprising no more than a twenty foot platform, an oil lamp and an entrance way.  Some became very successful and carried thousands of passengers, many struggled from the off, built by enterprising local men with grand but sadly mistaken ideas.  By 1950 most were overtaken by the more convenient bus and the beginnings of the car worship that was complete by the 60's.  A shame in many ways, as railways are more romantic than cars, but the cost, especially of steam, was prohibitive.  Famously Dr Beeching, under instructions from transport Minister Marples, who had made his money in road building, killed of the majority of the local lines.  
Tomorrow I intend to get as far as what remains of the station, although not this one, it's 15 miles away!  I must get some fitness as Spring is Spinging and punctures permitting I will be away.  I wonder what the ambulance service is like....?



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Another Day in the Life......

Life changing moments come out of the blue.  You walk innocently under a bus, war breaks out when on holiday, your team loses to Hibernian, a disaster of such depth is never expected.  When I worked in the Infirmary the most common comment each day was !I never expected to be here today," but they were!  The other day I rose early and headed into the day.  I scanned the papers online and considered shopping for breakfast at 'Tesco's' more interesting.  When I returned I switched on the PC and sat mesmerised as smoke drifted slowly from the back of the brute and curled its way towards the dirty spot on the ceiling.  My brain numbed in the way politicians brains numb when asked to be honest and I cogitated ruefully on the disaster beside me.   When the smoke cleared, the burning smell abated, an aroma not dissimilar to my last stew I must say, I considered my options.  This I did in a mature manner. I curled up into a ball on the floor and let out a Munch like scream for an hour or so.  


The days following passed like a ten year jail sentence in solitary.  I did steal obtain a laptop, which it turned out required a 'wireless connection' which I don;t have.  That took days to arrive, locking me into an 18 month contract via an hour long call to Mumbai.  Using 'Windows7' it failed to link up with my e-mail, it does not connect with the printer, is desperately slow, distorts every time a car passes, took hours to install 'Windows Live' as an e-mail client which would not work, told me to verify, then told me nothing could be sent for several nonsensical reasons, the buttons are fiddly and this keyboard has keys in the wrong place for my fingers, hurts my eyes, and I have to re-install almost all my links, not counting the things I lost. 


The emptiness without contact with the real world!  Things were so bad at one time I went outside and spoke to people!  The radio, limited to the old set in the corner, gave me what it wanted, not what I wished to hear.  With no TV I could not see the meaningless empty guff that I would not watch anyway, but I could not use the BBC iPlayer where I can find things to watch, like football!  Life was almost dead, I felt bereft.  There was no help around, the only expert I knew left a while back to start a new life in the Orkneys!  However I have managed to get back online, send an e-mail telling folks to use the 'Google Mail' address, and discovered the 'Windows Live' sent out all the e-mail it told me it did not send out!  During the operation to set that piece of junk up I managed to use words I last used at Firhill Park, Glasgow in 1969!  On that occasion Partick Thistle beat us by five goals to nil, but they had the ball in our net TEN TIMES!  I did not realise those words still existed.  Of course 'Windows7' not connecting with my e-mail meant searching through the ISP to find it.  They, naturally, went down!  It took until today to find my mail and I had to sift through pages of stuff, and using a very poor system in comparison to 'Outlook Express' I must say.


The problem was I had no spare pc as backup.  The problem was I use the internet for everything now.  Research, blogs, e-mails, keeping in touch, reading intelligent folks like you, searching for work, sending out CV's to people to delete, listening to the radio, watching football, so many things go through the web that when it died I was at a loss.  It was as if I had gone deaf, blind and been locked in a desert island, a cold one at that!   Still I have some sort of connection now, and I can use this laptop from my bed rather than be trapped here all day, says he trapped here today.  


It shows I spend too much time on here, I managed to read vast pages of books during this time, in between curling up into a ball and bawling loudly enough for the neighbours to call the police twice.  That reminds me, I must thank that doctor who allowed me a double dose of Valium when he thought I was about to jump of that ledge.  The web is a place in which to live life.  Everything is here, good and bad, that an individual wishes for.  The only thing missing is the way to make money to cover the expenses incurred amid curses and tears over the last few days.  That is a problem I must now face.  The situation also reveals the weakness in our stuffed,self satisfied society, cut the electricity and we die!  Well, at least I almost did!

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Another Successful Friday....

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The sun shone all day today, it is almost possible to believe Spring is Sprung, well almost.

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A Wish

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Recession

Economic recessions, whether national or personal, have never been good. In times past such a thing as a recession meant real suffering in the UK. Today I am glad to say this is not the case, well it is not the case in that should actually starve.  Benefits provide for those who fail to find work and stop them either sleeping on the streets or starving.  Benefits certain 'Daily Mail' readers and cabinet ministers wish to bring to an end!  Some do slip through the net, sometimes this is their fault, sometimes the system fails.  Others see their companies, both large and small going to the wall as the recession bites, often through no fault of their own.  There are of course those who can take advantage of this, temporary workers agencies for instance, these come into their own in times like these.  These two cars were bought a year or two ago to provide transport for the owner of one such agency.  Six in all were obtained to provide transport for the top men in the company.  (incidentally my bike's puncture has now been fixed) It is a strange situation in many ways.  Companies do go to the wall, directors and staff often losing their homes because of this and yet others can run expensive cars, and they are not even members of David Cameron's Cabinet!  I note the man in the thousand pound suit is not yet troubled, we are indeed 'all in this together,' eh Dave?  There is an increasing divide between the have's and have not's, many suffer badly because of rising costs, especially concerning energy supplies, and yet as a nation we still run expensive cars, buy expensive clothes and look to profit by selling the house for an increase on what we paid for it.  We still expect to get what we wish, and whine loudly when cuts force us to buy what we need as opposed to what we want. (Tell me about that!) In the 1930's the depression led to soup kitchens and real hardship.  Rents could not be paid, clothes and food could not be bought, yet today we can retain expensive mobile phones, cars of some sort, and worry about our weight.  It's a funny old recession right enough.  The nation, indeed the west,  just got slack when wealth became common and when living of the fat of the land we still remained unsatisfied.  maybe we forgot what life was all about?  Wealth is good, I will buy a lottery ticket, however a wealthy nation becomes lazy, dull and self satisfied.  The media satisfies our demands for things to fill our emptiness with dumbed down pap and we lap it up.  Maybe the west in general required a good shaking, maybe we need to remember what matters?  I would be happy being shaken if we were 'all in this together,' but I suspect the usual suspects will come out of this alive.  Now, where is that mince.....?




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Breathe

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Lumbered

A young lass has lumbered me with what is called the 'Versatile Blogger Award,' for reasons of spite I believe!

The rules insist I must first post this :-

Then blether share seven things about myself.  Now as you know I am a humble and retiring sort, and sharing one thing about myself is difficult for one so shy, and therefore finding seven things to lay before you may be difficult indeed.  However I did make a start and considered what I could post here for your delectation. This at first glance appeared quite easy, however by the time I was working on the sixth item the detritus that makes up my life revealed itself starkly to my face.  The emergency services who talked me down of Marks & Spencer's roof in Chelmsford were very kind. The interesting white suit with arms that tie behind my back has been removed now the Valium is taking hold.  


Here instead are seven things that have crossed my numbed brain during this time.  Maybe some of those who bother to read, and being Friday few will be around, life offering them a break from the routine at last, those who bother to read might identify with dome of these things.  Help is available if you do, but please don't jump off tall buildings, it hinders the traffic, apparently.

The Bike!  Yes this bike is struggling a bit these days, it is about 15 years old, and that's older than my mentality.  The gears are not quite what they should be, my technical skill remains at switching on the light and turning a key in a lock, the mudguards have long lost the screws that keep them together (and replacements do not exist you must buy a new mudguard!) and the tyres are so thin that punctures come easily.  I was out for 15 minutes this morning and had one by the time I returned!  However that said one of the great activities open to most people whatever their age is riding a bike!  If you have quiet streets, a country lane, or a path by the beach it can be even better.  Some folks are into walking, over long pathways, hills and mountains and even deserts, but nothing beats riding a bike.  You cover much the same ground and at three times the speed. If the view is boring you accelerate, if it is excellent you stop.  The only hassle is rain, wind and motorists.  Oh and punctures!  One of the great joys, and I would do it more if my knees did not keep aching.  I will be out again tomorrow although I think I made a blooper fixing the tyre, it may go again!

    Roman Britain.org

History!  There are only four subjects kids need to learn at school, reading and writing, counting, geography and history.  Everything else should prepare them for the real world in whatever role they wish to participate in.  Lack of proper History teaching leads to myths, and all nations have them.  These myths are often propaganda that began during war time and have become part of the nation.  Often half truths and omitting those events that put the nation in a bad light myths can come to be a major part of a nations psyche.  You will know of many in your own land.  Factual history not only tells us the reality of the past, and we need to know this to see how we became what we are, but the truth enables us to develop a better structure for the future.  Some people slant history to their own advantage, though I have never known a Scot to do this, and politicians are very adept are taking portions that speak to the nations heart, whether right or wrong.  The study of History is therefor the most important and in these days one of the least supported by education establishments.  This is a pity.  History tells us about ourselves, and maybe that is why it is not too popular!  However I find it not only important but fun!  There is a strange and difficult to explain thrill to stand where a great event in the past, so long talked about, occurs, whatever this may be.  To be on a battlefield a hundred years after the war is not only safer, it aids understanding and sets the mind working.  To stand on steps Jesus must have walked on, and by working it out by yourself rather than trust a guide, is a thrill.  For some reason while watching 'Time Team' I found myself very interested in what once was the doorway into a store,  yet if I stand outside a warehouse today I find it less interesting than one stuck in the mud from 250 years before?  Hey ho, life is strange.  But history tells us about us, because wherever folks come from and whatever time they lived they are just like us, human nature never changes.

Blogs!  Yes I know there are a hundred billion of them out there, and that one third have not been updated for yonks, but they are a fabulous way to keep in touch, entertain, inform or just let of a scream into the world!  The last is what many people are indeed doing, yelling "I am here and I am important too!" to a disinterested world caught up in its own importance.  Writers, both serious and er, dilettantish, can state their opinions, sort the world, meet people, and I have met good people this way, and upset most off them, and widen the experience of life by crossing frontiers from a keyboard.  Lonely old folks, or indeed younger ones, would benefit by making n effort this way, much better than staring at a TV as many do, numbing the mind and killing and wasting the life experience of many. Blogs and bloggers, whatever their reasons, are excellent I say!  Oh yes and you can post your fotos also, which is another fabulous use of a blog, try it!

Dole!  There is nothing like being unemployed!  The lack of money, the debts that do not go down, the threadbare shoes, and the sideways glances from those that say, "Scrounger, workshy and lazy,' all these can wear you down.  Nothing is more objectionable however than millionaire Cabinet ministers (Yes Duncan Smith I mean you!) appearing in the press saying with an innocent expression 'The unemployed just need to square their skills with the vacancies.' all the while ignoring the fact that there are five unemployed, at least, for each one, and that most are unsuitable!  This from a man who is putting seriously sick people onto the dole just to save a few bob on sickness benefit!  Maybe it's my age but I don't care as much as I used to.  I have had enough of office politics, inept and often corrupt management, and the buck passing that work brings.  I want work, indeed a man needs to work, it is part of his makeup, but after all this time I wonder what to do?  I have on occasion found myself sitting in the park with a blank expression, having done all and having no idea what to do next.  Usually this is followed by tales of some nobody who finds a penny and within a year is a multi-millionaire and a member of the House of Lords.  I hate folks like that!  Sometimes I think I should have struggled on at work, although that did not appear good at the time, sometimes I wonder what is the point?  However, searching for dead soldiers, reading blogs and keeping in touch with the football brings me back to life again, unless we get royally stuffed of course!  Something will turn up, one day.

Day by Day

Edinburgh!  Scotia's darling!  My birthplace and the best city in the world, apart from the rain of course! The city has a thousand years of history for those who like that sort of thing.  The life of the everyday people mixing in close proximity to their leaders engenders an egalitarian attitude not seen in Englandshire.  This does not preclude a social structure of course, oh no, an establishment exists here indeed!  The castle towering over Prices Street has seen wars, indeed it was bombed in 1916 by a passing Zeppelin, royal births, massacres (of English mostly so that's alright), tattoos and festivals, and today ranks as one of the most visited tourist attractions in the British Isles!  The half million people can crowd in shops and offices, and some factories exist but not as many as in the past, and nowhere near as many as in Glasgow and the west, and finance still makes Edinburgh second only to London where money is concerned, although what the banks do with it is worth pondering.  To the north the Firth of Forth rolls into the north sea, and once watched as the fleet sallied forth on the Forth to defend the waves she claimed to rule.  They did not all return.  Behind Edinburgh rise the Pentland hills, with the odd historical site, a gun range and people of old age sauntering along in a manner that makes me weary!  The city has everything most folks wish for and these days is, they claim, full of jollity and fun, carnivals and exhibitions, young folks entertaining, with cafe's and bars, and an openness to visitors.  Sod that for a game of soldiers, I'll stay here where it's miserable enough!

Humour!  Jenny, an intelligent and able lass, whom I will not mention because she is the woman who lumbered me with this, appears to think I have a cynical view on life, me?  I fail to see why she links me with Anthony  Aloysius Hancock.  He was a great comedy actor who, using the writings of Galton & Simpson,  brought the nation to a halt once a week, whether on radio or TV.  It was claimed that some 25 million people would turn on the gramophone and listen into 'Hancock's Half Hour' in the early 50's. Later, along with Sid James, Bill Kerr and Hattie Jacques he transferred to TV and again stopped the world.  Hancock's ability to read a script and act it out first time perfectly, plus impeccable timing, made him a giant of the comedy world.  His talent matched the writers skill perfectly, their insights both into the subject and his personality and the world in general still makes the programme worth listening out for.  Individual lines have stayed in the nations memory for generations now.  The programme is broadcast still on BBC 4 Extra.  Quiet how anyone could say I was cynical like Tubbs escapes me I'm sure. Before we had TV the family would visit 'The Empire Theatre,' or the Edinburgh 'Palladium' for a variety show.  I used to laugh my head off all the way through these shows, right up to the end, until a David Whitfield type singer would appear and I demanded to go!  Few escaped my censure apart from Wee Willy Harris, emerald green Teddy Boy jacket and red hair,in 1957!  Or the man with the golden trumpet, Eddie Calvert. I liked them.  I would have loved to be a comedian and to that end I lacked only one thing, talent!  Oh yes, and humour!  Oh and wit, understanding, timing, ......  

God!  The one thing that keeps me from topping myself on gloomy days is the thought that this man Jesus not only died for me, he came and told me about it. Now I don't wish to give the wrong impression, there was no voice or manifestation, but Jesus broke into my life, and over (far too) many years has been trying to get me to trust him completely, and his life will flood mine. This has been a struggle, he has sweated a lot over me I can tell you!  Yet the Love of God is seen in his coming to seek me, and only I know how bad I am, and offers forgiveness and life, to me!  You see people also who have found this, a strange lot some say, but when the living God appears you must change.  Even sitting blankly staring after another joyless meeting at the job shop if the thought of Jesus love comes to mind all else is put in perspective.  I sometimes ever smile at strangers!  My twisted personality would be awful without his interference. In fact I would be dead by now.  As a teen I just wished to visit Edinburgh's 500 pubs, and chase women, no doubt had drugs appeared I would have gone for them like an idiot and been long dead!  Looking back it is clear he led me to London, although quite what I am to do out in this wilderness is less clear I can tell you.  The car crash in 1986 revealed God's hand.  We could easily be dead.  The healing afterwards saw Jesus at work in many ways, and his participation in the life of the church at that time was evident.  He is alive today and wishes to let us know him!  Nothing tastes in life once you have tasted something better!  Jesus is the best!

Oh yes, another rule of this was to list 15 pour souls to pass this on to.  However I do not know 15 souls, only a handful.  I will mention the names of some, and if you wish to pursue this or not I leave with you.  I select  first the great Max, then Soub, a man of many talents!  Mike, is a man who understands the world, RDG, a poet and a sweetie, and 'A,' who makes me laugh!  Rab also, a thoughtful and erudite man well worth reading. Feel free to ignore this if you wish. These things usually annoy me yet how can I resist a pretty face?  




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Wednesday Evening

I was writing something for the blog but got so bogged down with it and the football commentary began on the wireless so I gave it up and posted this instead.  I thought it very funny and clever.  I did log on to the Twitter thing, not so much to post when I was drinking coffee, sitting on a bus or washing my face but to read what football players were saying about their injuries.  I have posted more than I thought, and thought far too little when I posted.  It seems that is all to often the way.  However I can add my short thoughts to the outpourings from various football reporters, I avoid the word 'journalist,' and rarely do they reply.  I think one at least has blocked me.  Oops.!  You would not believe how many people disagree with my opinions.  The 'Glasgow Herald' will not let me post unless a moderator passes my comment, asking questions regarding Rangers football club upset them, and the 'Daily mail' regularly indicates a post has been withdrawn following a complaint.  The 'Guardian' objects to their mods being referred to as 'Nazis' or 'fascists,' for some reason.  


On the other hand I have five fingers these are opportunities tor each the powerful and the movers and shakers amongst us.  The web allows us to e-mail our MP's and I did send a comment to that idiot Ian Duncan Smith regarding his use of young unemployed as slave labour for his friends in Tesco's. Not too sure if that will get a response that one.  Every comment reveals our opinions of happenings great and small.  This can be a good way of informing these powerful people, even if they do not wish to care a toss about what we think.  The thought comes to my mind that the BBC does not have such a facility.  I mean I do not know the leading man/woman/confused gender who runs BBC1 for instance.  I would like to make my views knows directly, I wonder if it wishes to hear? So I suppose that such things as Twitter, blogs, forums have improved the knowledge our leaders, MP's, Editors and others, have of their peoples opinions.  It doesn't appear to make too much difference mind does it?



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St Paul's

Henry Dawson painted this view of St Paul's high above the Thames in 1877.  The river is full of craft of various types. Behind the artist many large ships would be unloading, lighters would be transferring goods from ship to shore, and I suspect that even at that late date some 'taxi' boat still crossed the river in places, not all bridges having been built by then I guess.  I say 'guess as I am to lazy busy to check for myself.  Until the early sixties when the dockers lost out to cheaper, more profitable, and less likely to be pilfered container ships the Thames was a busy, dirty river.  Today a few barges pass by, the tourist boats rip off the clients, and some private craft are seen.  The warehouses are trendy flats, office blocks avoid taxpaying as much as possible and the view of St Paul's is still possible, if you find the few places where a gap in the building reaching for the sky allows this. Dawsons view is better than today's, but the lifestyle of the people, as well as their health thanks to the NHS must be considerably better!    


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Now I'm not one to complain, but...

This is the scruffy, unkempt face of the Scotland team manager.  He presented it, along with a smile borrowed from a tired airline steward, to the illiterates that form the Scottish press football corps.  These devious lying cretins arrive with only two thoughts, "How can we make this seem bad no matter how good it appears, and how can we get him to talk about our club, Rangers?"  Today they gathered at Hampden pretending to care about the Scotland side. These worm like creatures would have noticed the three Celtic players but only one Rangers player in the squad.  This would have been alleviated by the three ex- Rangers and only two ex- Celtic players announced.  Of such childish sectarianism does the Glasgow media feed!  What would have missed their attention was the ever increasing number of players born outside of Scotland, some of at least one Scots parent, and others selected simply because they read 'Treasure Island,' as a kid or once ate an oatmeal biscuit without any butter to prove they were a man! And that only last week!


It is gone to far now, this foreign import of 'Scotsmen.'  We have reached a stage, although the media miss this as there is no mileage in it for them nor are they willing to think outside of the OF box, we have reached a stage where a halt has to be called to Leveins choice of foreigner. Do players like Murphy and Lasley not matter?  Are Dundee United players not yet ready? I am sure Levein does not wish to play young men too early, and with this I agree, however they have to start sometime, and if they are true born Scots they must get a look in somewhere, even in a friendly. We have to take a chance and develop young players, even if not ready, and use them for at least half a game.  Instead we bring in those not nearly good enough to ever get a call up for the nation of their birth, and indeed of their choice.  It is true some have done well and I do not suggest they be thrown out now they have played, but we weaken the development of young players without a sixteen team league, and by taking away their opportunities by filling the gap with 'journeymen! If we are to play such talents let them be Scots 'journeymen' I say, not English ones!


Maybe Levein is right when he says his job is to Progress into tournaments."  Maybe he is more intent on succeeding here and moving to a better job afterwards down in England, or even juts doing enough to keep his job as manager of the Scotland side.  We all know how trustworthy the SFA are.  Once the press turn against the manager he is out, unless he has Ibrox connections. I have nothing against the chancers players myself, it is just that they are NOT Scotsmen, had no thought for the most part concerning Scotland, and only heard of it when that ageing granny said "Wee," and "Scunner!"  Now they have the chance all players wish for, to play at International level.  Who can blame them?  However I could never put on an England shirt, how can they turn on their nation so easily?  Have they no pride except when lying about '66?  The idea of allowing sons of nationals born abroad is indeed a good one, however where it falls down is when the slightest connection allows you to play thus hindering the development of young home grown players.  This may keep a manager in a job, it may even bring success, but it is NOT right!


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Half Time

Could it get worse?  I sit here listening to the game at Motherwell and the Heart of Midlothian are losing two nil at half time, I am freezing here with the north wind howling through the gaps in the window and now rain is lashing down storm like!  The only bright spot in this dull, damp, dreich, Dundee like day is the news that Rangers, in such financial trouble they might perish, have drawn a huge crowd to Ibrox Park and are now not only losing but have had a man sent off!  Every cloud has a silver lining I suppose!  
No it hasn't. Motherwell, two nil ahead, have a man sent off!  Now we have a chance to get back into the game, isn't this good?  No it isn't, we are three nil down..... The rain is still falling, the sky is dark, my fingers have frostbite, but I am not one to complain.....


It's cold, the dinner is burning, we lost, life is cruel, it's being so cheerful wot keeps me going....


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Invincible

I have been engaging my dim intellect on a search for this ship today, 'HMS Invincible.'  I was actually not really looking for the ship, I know where she lies, but for information regarding Acting Leading Stoker Henry Samuel Goodchild.  The centenary of the beginning of the Great War arrives in August 2014 and I am trawling around for one or two local men named on the war memorial for the museum.  Goodchild is one of them, as his parents lived in 72 Manor Street, just around the corner from me.  


There is little concerning him online as far as I can see although the Commonwealth War Graves Commission site does tell us his parents address and that he was a native of Gorleston on Sea, up in Norfolk near Great Yarmouth.  A quick glance informs me this was a poor little town that survived on fishing in the 19th century as far as I can see, life appears to have been very hard and the inhabitants poor.  I presume that this brought them all the way to this area, I suppose at the turn of the century, in search of a better life. Quite what that employment would be I can only guess at. Henry Samuel's employment was as a stoker on his Majesty's Battlecruiser 'HMS Invincible!'  This ship was built in 1909 yet by the war she was far from being the most modern amongst the fleet.  Newer ships were faster and had updated equipment.  However she saw service at the Battle of the Heligoland Bight and a major part in the 'Battle of the Falkland Islands' where, along with the 'Inflexible,'  she sank both the 'Scharnhorst' and the 'Gneisenau.'  However after playing her part during the 'Battle of Jutland'  she herself received a barrage of shells courtesy of the German Navy, from both the 'Lutzow' and the 'Derfflinger.'  German gunnery was accurate and several shells from each hit the ship.  One pierced the 'Q' Funnel and the resultant explosion made its way to the middle of the ship. 'HMS Invincible' was rent asunder and withing 90 seconds all that remained were the front and rear ends of the ship sticking out of the water.  Six men in the Control Top firing the guns, were flung clear and were found clinging to a raft cheering on the other ships in the chase, they were the only survivors. 


So this morning I attempted to develop my limited knowledge of both the battle itself and Acting Leading Stoker Goodchild.  I found out that he was only 'acting,' and this shows not only that he was capable and trusted by his superiors, but also the cheapskate way the services promote.  'Acting' means you possess the rank but not the salary, and many men, even of quite high rank, find that later the rank may be withdrawn and you revert to a previous position. Not all accept this with good grace!  A stoker is usually considered but nothing other than shoveling coal into a boiler, an extremely hard job, however there was skill involved as the coal had oil sprayed onto it to increase the burn rate, and stokers had to attend to the engines as well as the boilers.  He may well have had some technical skill therefore.  Somehow I must discover when he enlisted, was it before the war?  He was 29 when the ship went down so maybe the enthusiasm of 1914 called him to enlist. Gorleston was by the sea and possibly he had always hankered for the sea again, and pride in the Royal Navy was high, far too many men volunteered for the Navy in the end.  It is always possible that he had already tried the fishing at Gorleston, maybe that made the family move!  So all morning I searched the web, being sidetracked here and there, until I discovered nothing other than it was afternoon and I was getting nowhere.  My eyes had begun to shrink into black dots by then and now I find I'm still writing about it now for goodness sake!  Enough! 

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How to Word an Advert

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Woolpack Inn

This fine old building is the Woolpack Inn, Bocking.  Or at least it was in times past.  Today it is divided into three 'cottages,' the far one selling for just under £300,000 if you are interested.  The two outer buildings have dates of 1590 carved into them, the old Woolpack is dated around 1660,  There are of course many 'Woolpack Inns' around these parts.  Wool was England's greatest export for many years and until recently the Lord Chancellor sat on the 'Woolsack' in the House of Lords, this to represent England's wealth!  Today the speaker sits on a pouf!  Very apt!  Not sure what the carvings are supposed to represent but there are many in this long road.  An attractive road apart from the constant traffic that thunders down here throughout the day and night. The houses are very old and attract the 'best' type of resident, I do not live here. A man named Savill bought the pub in 1779 and his family were still running the place in 1841, it appears to have closed shortly after this as old photographs show the buildings as housing.  There were many more public houses in the past, partly because of the poor water, partly as eating places, and partly because the English are drunks I tell you!  1590 to 1660 concerns Raleigh, Shakespeare, Marlowe and Elizabeth as Queen.  James VI & I became King of two nations and he called it 'Great Britain' for the first time. We have the gunpowder plot, English settlers at Jamestown, plague, fire and war.  We can speculate as to how the residents of this area dealt with those occurrences but I wonder if the needs of the moment meant more to them than national events?  News spread very fast, although slower when  there was no 'Twitter' service, and people in small villages and towns would have been aware of much outside their own area.  Most surely would not have wandered that far from home unless war called, wouldn't they?  I wonder?  The house has recently been sold, if next door cost £300,000 then this would be more, I didn't make an offer.


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