Hi Doll!

The museum is holding an art exhibition, paintings, drawings, and 'dolls,' run by the council as part of a community art thingy.  Personally art may be OK in its right place but a museum is for history, not art I say.  There again it is all part of being a 'community,' that meaningless word.  Why can't they say 'town?' However I notice the opinion of the esteemed viewer appears to be an exhibition of a very high standard, several visitors have remarked so.  Many have already been sold and gratified artists will be collecting their cash at the end of the display.  
One individual, I did not catch the name, has created these dolls, which have attracted notice. There are several on display but not being a doll collector I am not sure what you may think of them.  I cannot recall if any have sold as I forgot to look, they are however interesting and remind me of one of my nieces in that she looks like them!  I have just found a name, 'Fantasia Textiles.'  This may be the work of more than one individual, although they do have a similarity don't they?  
Difficult to photograph through the glass case however.

No doubt the artist would not refer to her 'work' as 'dolls,' but I am a simple individual and like to keep life that way.  None of the many visitors today mentioned these as they left, and I always seek their opinion if possible.  One was delighted to see her excellent drawings of flowers had been sold (£15 was cheap for two examples of her talent I thought) and one not so happy as she collected her 'failed effort.' Her entry was rejected by the judges which was a shame. 

It was a delightful warm day again and this I think brought people out of doors and straight into the museum.  Some even bought things, quite a lot of money came from a very happy couple from Brisbane, wherever that is!  One nice lady gave me info on her Great War relations and another fellow may well provide more in the days to come if his gran can remember the details.  While I scribble this I ought to be writing these folks up so I am off to do that now while you talk among yourselves.

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Blue Skies & Sunshine.

The Bee's are busy, the sky is blue, white clouds float past, and a hot sun burns the skin if you sit in it for too long.  Tonight such weather will bring rain, probably with thunder and lightning, but by the time I head for work the sun will have his hat on and have come out for the day!  

Most of the day I was trapped indoors doing women's work.  There were NO shirts ironed!  Not one and I need one for tomorrow.  It's a disgrace.  I had to rush out to the shops before the crowds gathered as the fridge was empty also, it's a disgrace the way I am treated here.  

This is what I need, a woman who does!  here we see Mrs Blackbird getting in the shopping, and rightly so.  He of course can be heard in the distance singing happily while chasing away other interlopers from his patch.  Then he will sit down to watch the football while awaiting lunch.  It's a jolly good life for him!

A Wee Trip!

Derek Hoskins 

Watch on full screen!

7 videos of John Cameron's A4 loco 60009 Union of South Africa filmed on its two SRPS organised trips around Fife on 21/4/2013. The morning trip was 1Z29 Linlithgow - Dalmeny & the afternoon trip 1Z30 Dalmeny - Inverkeithing. Both trips were via the Forth Bridge - Kirkcaldy - Dunfermline - Alloa - Stirling - Falkirk Grahamston.

1) 1Z29 crosses the Forth Bridge in poor conditions.
2) 1Z29 is seen climbing towards Cowdenbeath around the back of Lumphinnans.
3) With no improvement in the weather, 60009 struggles to keep her feet as she climbs through a TSR to Kilbagie on the SAK line with 1Z29.
4) Nearing the end of the first trip, 1Z29 climbs off of Polmont Junction and through Polmont station..
5) With weather considerably improved for the afternoon run, 1Z30 accelarates out of the restrictive curves at Burntisland and climbs towards Kinghorn as 1E23 13:47 Aberdeen - Kings Cross passes in the opposite direction.
6) 1Z30 coasts down the branch towards its water stop at Newmills on the banks of the Forth.
7) After a well deserved break, 60009 gets back into her stride along the wall at Culross towards Alloa and Stirling.


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Hot Saturday

The local Carnival sped slowly past the museum door this afternoon.  This poor wee lass was forced into the Honey Bee costume and sauntered out giving hugs and leaflets to wee kids.  The kids loved it! 

Well, most of them!  This one just hid while mum took a picture of the others around the Bee.

Our desks, bell and headmasters robe, managed to get themselves aboard this float.  I hope they collected a lot of cash.  Torrential rain fell for about twenty minutes in the morning.  The wind blew, dark clouds gathered, rain hammered on the roof and windows, lightning flashed and thunder roared.  By the time of the first float the weather was hot, too hot for the Bee, but the kids loved every minute of it.  

Too hot?  I don't remember saying that before!

The 70th.

It may well be that you have had your fill of D-Day commemorations.   I had the TV on since early morn watching  the BBC's coverage of the events in France.  There can be no doubt that this British led operation was a historic event.  Had it failed, and it could have cost 40,000 lives, not 9000, it would have taken another few years before a second attempt could be made.  By that time Stalin may well have been in Paris!  General Bernard Montgomery, given little prominence today, was the man responsible for the operation.  This was the last great operation of the British during the war.  A second plan, at Arnhem, might well have shortened the war but that failed!  However this one worked, a beachhead was established, Canadian, British, American troops all took the beaches in front of them, in spite of some determined resistance in areas, and the difficulties many endured.  Also arriving were smaller contingents of Dutch, Polish and other nations who were determined to defeat an evil empire. How strange I always find it that people will spend money to watch Hollywood pap in which an evil force is defeated yet will not read about real situations in which a really evil force is opposed.  Fantasy horror is better than reality.  
My father was not involved in this event, although he crossed the Rhine some time later but only after waiting two days while the armour went over! However on our local memorial we find Flight Sergeant Dennis J Sims of 234 Squadron did not return while on low flying duties over the enemy coast.  Gunner Kenneth Puttick fighting alongside No 6 Commando is recorded as dying on the 7th. He is buried at Ranville Cemetery, Ranville being the first village liberated after 'Pegasus Bridge' was held. Nearby lies Private Arthur Graham attached to the 7th Paras.  His date of death is given as the tenth and he like many others died in the intense fighting that followed D-Day.  Few realise that more people were killed during the last year of the war than in the four previous years.
Watching the dignitaries gathering, some with military experience, some who endured the war, I appreciated the need for formality and organisation, not least of all security, but found the clean, smart people, cheery and happy all around somewhat at variance with the clips of war film shown.  The young men running up the beach had thoughts very different from those of us watching from the comfort of home.  We often sentimentalise such men rather than treat them as human beings.  We always refer to them as 'brave,' 'heroes,' and identify them as different from ourselves.  To some extent this is true, however they are men, not all were 'heroes,' few were 'brave,' all were under military orders, some would not be people we would want living next door.  Without this invasion however the world would not be rid of Hitler and his crazy gang.  The Nazi hordes enslaved their own people and such slavery can be found worldwide today in many nations.  Sadly all too often we do not see it!
Those men interviewed on TV today looked happy.  Many were happy to be there as such a gathering cannot occur again, the organisation behind it ceases to exist as the aged soldiers fade away.  Ordinary men from everyday homes did extraordinary things and freed the world of a tyranny.  We cannot forget this, and our prosperity today has a great deal to do with their action in the air, on the sea and on land that day 70 years ago.   

Hole in the Ground

There was he, digging this 'ole....
A small crack appeared in a pipe, not that I could see the crack, and 'Anglian Water' were alerted. There it was a fortnight later, still seeping out so I calls them on the email and gets informed they are a comin out when the lights is a ready.  The 'lights' are portable traffic lights required for this position as we are a main road.  (Which as you will know is also known as 'Stane Street' after the Romans improved the muddy track that ran past my door to Camulodunam.) This little imposition did annoy the traffic somewhat but appeared to have been worked quite well.  Not that I looked out to watch being very busy with my studies.  Well not that busy but I gave up when the info received did not fit the facts found. Some things I came across were interesting. In 1914 a Red Cross hospital opened in a wing of the Workhouse, soon this became a Voluntary Aid Detachment Hospital with 26 beds full of wounded soldiers.  The info comes from a marvellous book that originated in the diaries of one Andre Clark, a local rector, 'Echoes of the Great War.'  

Monday, 24 January 1916.

1p.m. Miss Eliza Vaughan called.  She is on the staff of the VAD hospital, Braintree:  Some of the patients are Scots, or at least of Scots regiments.  Miss Vaughan told us a hospital story, of a man who was brought in unconscious.  When he came to himself he found himself in bandages, head and foot.  She explained he had a vinegar head-swathe because of his fever; a mustard-plaster on his chest because of his lungs; and salt bags on his feet because of frost-bite.  ‘Then, Miss, I think you ought to bring some pepper, and I’ll be the complete cruet.’  

Saturday, 12 August 1916.  

Braintree VAD hospital notes.  There has been sedition among the VAD hospital patients on the question of religion.  Last Sunday those who were officially returned as Church of England were appointed to go to church with miss Leila Vaughan of Braintree, and elderly, staid VAD Nurse;  while the Nonconformists were appointed to go to Chapel with Miss Ennersley, another VAD Nurse, apparently young and frivolous.  Before Service time the CoE men said they were really strict Chapel-men.  They had each their story pat.  In the end the gay Miss Ennersley conducted a great band to the Chapel; and Miss L. Vaughan escorted the one faithful C of E man to Church.  Tomorrow, if the nurses in the Hospital get their way, Miss L. Vaughan is to have charge of the party that goes to Chapel!   

By the time my after dinner snooze arrived the workmen decided to use the digger to disturb my sleep. This failed!  However I was impressed by their speed.  Once they got going it only took a couple of hours to find, repair the pipe and refill the hole.  The traffic hold ups did not produce heavy horn blowing and dangerous driving, the size of the man in charge helped here, and soon all was back as normal. This did not help my search for words for the stuff I was supposed to be writing.  All this detailed information but it will not form into a meaningful few words.  I blame the coffee, I should have had some! 

  
They claim millions of gallons are lost this way every year and round the corner there was another burst pipe offering a wee fountain last week, I hope that was fixed quicker!  
You see how little excitement there is in this part of the world?   A hole in the ground causes me interest, which is more than the bank account does.  If things get any more exciting I may have to move to Frinton!

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Nothing to Report, again.....

So here is a picture of a cat!

My brain has been overworked in recent days so I wandered about ending up in the shopping centre. Here I purchased t-shirts from a miserable woman, and shortly before that a book and a couple of DVDs for a sick man from an efficient unfriendly woman.  What is it about folks in shops that friendliness is lacking? At the museum we insist on a friendly approach, otherwise folks do not return. Surely even efficiency cannot be enough?  A bit of pretend friendliness helps. The book shop women was helpful but we need to see life!  The other lass will not be employed long.  I wonder if any keep their jobs for long in that centre? The atmosphere is a bit well, yeuchy.  On top of that I saw a decent dark brown cord jacket that I want, at a price I would pay, and naturally enough, they don't have one that fits me!  Bah! Isn't it always the way?

                                                                                                            

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Tuesday Laffs

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Research Day

One of my bosses made me drag my weary and clearly far from awake body down to the museum by 9 am this morning as we were off to the Essex Record Office for a rake through the files.  She naturally was late!  However we eventually got going and withing thirty or so minutes we were confronted with the 'You canny do that here!' rules.  Having obtained our ticket without which research is not allowed we proceeded to dump our jackets, our cameras, any food, any water, all bags, in the lockers provided. Signing in we were allowed through the locked doors and instructed by the capable, knowledgeable and indeed friendly staff.  The only problem we found, apart from my ignorance, was a technical glitch which made many of the computers used for searching go doolally!  

We found a couple of diaries written during the Great War, the idea being to discover local information. The one I read, written during 1916, revealed the middle class small village lifestyle. That is when we could read the writing!  A nice woman who appeared to spend her time going 'into town' (there is only two streets there) or visiting Mrs this and that, spending time at the 'Red X' (but what did she do?), occasionally feeding poor children or discussing collecting coal for the poor, or taking a Turkish Bath (where?).  In between visiting the vicarage for tea an occasional mention of the war passes by.  The Battle of the Somme is referred to as 'Great news of the British offensive' obviously this was announced during church on the Sunday morning.  Apart from a Mr Low worried about his wounded son no other reference appears.  I'm told the other diary, for 1918, was similar.  This woman went on with her life, hindered by an occasional Zeppelin passing by, but not considering the war important enough to mention in her diary.  Was this 'stiff upper lip' or upper class living I wonder?  I can tell you that by the time I reached the 31st of December I was glad to dump her!  I don't even remember her name.  

We trawled through one or two other things but I think we are heading in the wrong direction.  I certainly did deciding that one bundle of letters were irrelevant to our search, naturally once we returned them we realised how wrong I was!  Bah!  Now I know how the thing works I will go back and read the old newspapers and the bits of info between the lies and propaganda.

Unable to take pictures inside the building I was glad the canal/river outside offered a small taste of countryside.  Admittedly behind me stood a car park laid out on the remnants of what once was most probably a warehouse of some sort. Dereliction abounds as the town improves itself, however it will be some time before the car park is lost I reckon.  I'm glad as I suspect the newer housing nearby will replace whatever stood here thus bringing crowds flocking along the riverside, ruining the peace!  Bah! Lovely to have a day out doing something useful, next time I am reduced to utilising the bus pass!  Bah!   

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Zonked

Zonk City today.  Up early and soon back in bed.  Being unfit and old is no fun. Later this week, once I am over my running around, I will restart again the exercise programme that failed after a few days last time.  Maybe..... 
Anyway I heard a clip-clop outside the window today, and you don't get too many of those around here, and discovered a Gypsy Caravan being pulled by a tough wee pony.  Most unusual this, although the area has always had many Gypsies (or 'Travellers') as they are called these days.  Twp camps lie a mile or so outside the town.  However this beaut was not the common means of travel. 

The reason became clear much later when I dragged my emaciated body out into the sunshine.  There is a Catholic Church round the corner and most Gypsies here tend to be Irish Catholic.  They have some sort of confirmation ceremony for the girls where they dress up as brides.  This caravan was obviously used to make a day for the young lass posing on the drivers seat in the photo.  It was not easy to get a better shot of the caravan with the kids milling around and the sun directly behind (Hot sun even today!) so I have made the best of it I could.  I could not decide if the pony was bored or happy with his lot. There again he looks well fed and the adults were copying him by heading to the pub, all in their Sunday best as was the pony. 
I dragged myself home and eat a substantial dinner, one suitable for those who have no taste, no finesse, no energy and canny be bothered.  Tomorrow the Essex Record Office to look for I know not what.  Can I not just stay in bed? This volunteering bit is worse than work!   

Saturday Music

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An Old Bird

I met this old bird in town today, he didn't say anything and was not all that keen on his visitors. As the dear kiddies are off school this week for yet another holiday (teachers have such an easy life don't they?) the shopping centre in town puts on events.  Yesterday a couple of shetland ponies from a rescue centre ignored the kids and today a menagerie appeared.  White ducks, rabbits, a bored dog, sheep, chickens and a goat or two, oh and a bored pony.  Small pens kept the beasts from the animals (yes that is the right way round) and it reminded me of the old pictures of the town when market day really was a market.  Similar stalls stood in front of the pubs while folks sold sheep, pigs, horses and cattle. The pubs did a roaring trade as they fed and watered those coming a distance to market.  The Victorian way was everybody around one big table and eating when the landlord got things ready.  I think such a scene happened in one of Dickens books but I may be wrong. 

     
Goats and horses are always happy together I am informed by those who know, this pair prove that. Possibly bored, possibly just weary they made it difficult to obtain a picture when both had eyes open. The little pony and his mate were content however and the pony happily rested on his mate. Interesting how these two creatures get along so well.  

The other big chick was not much more impressed than his friend.  I suppose as I was discussing preparing 'Cock-a-leekie' soup with a woman he was offended. I had to be careful with the explanation of the soup also, English women are not very bright at times.  Still he was a beauty of a bird and both have been well prepared for their day out.  I suspect they both have practiced that suspicious expression of theirs for some time as it was very wary.  I was surprised at just how big two these birds were however, this is not how I imagined them up close.   

I always considered such beasties as wee birds, or at least not this size! Possibly they are shown at er, shows, as well as paraded around for the kids.  I am quite glad they chose not to show us just how loud they could be however.  Every so often a news report indicates newcomers into the country have complained to the local council re the noise of such birds crowing early in the morning.  Some have been known to grumble, which I never do, about cows 'mooing' too loudly in the fields nearby.  Not that long ago a young couple objected to a town clock that insisted on chiming every 15 minutes and clanging away on the hour!  Now if you retire to the country for peace and quiet you might well find it but if you don't do the homework a council, on some occasions a judge, will tell you to move back into town if you can't stand chickens or cows.  They make noise, that is what animals do!  A clock that has rung continually for a couple of hundred years will not cease because you are a spoilt brat either.

That said I am glad to have found the beasties. It brightened up a poor day. The brain is not quite functioning yet as the bug still leaves my mind weary and I have written and rewritten the intro to the war for the museum exhibition booklet around a hundred times, and that only this morning!  That was the reason I went out, to oxygenate my brain.  It failed.  I'm going back to bed.

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Austin

Austin, it's not in Texas, it's here, in the rain!

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Busy Tuesday, Art, Georgia and Kids.

I watched, from a safe distance, as they prepared the 'Open Art' exhibition at the museum this morning. As part of what they refer to as 'Community Involvement,' using that meaningless word 'Community,' we do this each year. The art is often local amateurs although some folks make good money from this type of event.  Last year some of it as always made no sense and still other items were excellent and deserved a good sale.  I mention this as I had come across this story in the 'Daily Mail,' this morning. What Tracey Emin called her 'confessional self portrait' is being sold by owner Charles Satchi and is expected to go for around £1.2 million.  Satchi of course is renown for spending squllions of pounds on modern art.  As I looked at the art being piled together awaiting hanging I compared it to Emin's efforts and noted once again how false the art world is.  Art at the expensive end is not based on talent but on what sells.  All sorts of muck can masquerade as 'art,' if the 'artist' places it before a dumb enough 'desperate to be accepted by the chattering classes' rich guy.  Russian friends of that nice Mr Putin appear keen to put their (well, Russia's) money into art and will pay millions for anything that is modern and available. To expect them to actually appreciate art may be filling the wrong samovar.  Her money grasping friend Damien Hurst I note has gold plated, well his staff have gold plated, a skeleton of a dead beastie, canny mind what, which will grace the art world and make trillions from some mindless sap with too much off other folks cash to launder.  This is not art, this is taking sweeties from babies.

Now I accept that what I call art and what you call art are different.  We are different people, our cultures are different, our backgrounds vary, our life experience cannot be the same and this means we see what is presented as 'art' through our own eyes.  I accept that a mess on a wall might be an expression of an artists emotions, however the stuff I drew at school, all abstract and going nowhere, might have been an expression of my inner soul, but it may possibly be that I am just unbalanced. Quiet at the back!  Anyway one was placed on the school wall, so the teacher either liked it, appreciated my effort or fancied me.  He certainly fancied that curly haired teacher in the class next door.  The janitor probably dumped my esteemed artwork in the bin later.  Had I been less scrupulous and more determined to alter the world through art I might have been rich!   

Anyway I blame Thatcher!  It was her idea of closing all the psychiatric hospitals to save a few pennies that allowed all these 'artists' to walk the streets when they could be inside out of harms way getting the treatment they desperately require.

In a month or two the Tour de France takes its usual deviation out of France and passes close to the town.  Two miles up the road preparations are under way for the mass influx of people who will venture out to watch the bikes flash past at thirty miles an hour and disappear over the bridge and never be seen again.  That's it! Up here they will not race just stick together as they cover the miles, sorry kilometers!  It is later, down near London itself, that the action hots up. Here we will see little and to find a spot to observe this will be very difficult. However the kids today were entranced by making masks featuring bikes, and good masks they were too.  The kids were pleased with their efforts and mum was happy as it was free plus by escaping out the back door they avoided the kids entering the shop and spending their cash. Bah!

  

We had several visitors, Gran and Granddads bringing kids dumped on them for the day, others reminiscing about their local past and a couple from Georgia who know Stone Mountain.  All these it must be said paid only the concession rate!  Most were cheery but one attempted to question why Scotland should be independent, even being silly enough to believe the papers that 'England pays for Scotland.'  I soon put him right on that.  The English cannot conceive Scots attitudes.  To them we are all the same but they have not been treated as second class.  This area of course is far from Scotland and very much a backwater in some respects.  Scotland could be Greenland as far as some here know, but money is important to them and the feeling that they pay for Scots benefits hurts, even though it is a lie!  

The Georgia couple were not very friendly.  Usually the Americans come to see their ancestors or the old airfields they were once based.  I am not sure what this couple wanted but he was very offhand.  She did the buying postcards bit and I managed to force a book on her suggest a suitable book of old photos that might help.  The house they believe their ancestor lived in they had identified and that pleased them but I refrained from suggesting a walk round the cemetery to find a suitable grave as the weather is dreich and he might have suggested putting me there.  He's an American so probably was carrying a gun! Still I got just over £10 out of them but wish I could have cheered them up somewhat.  Possibly the weather pout them off, possibly tiredness possibly the town itself.  The town is not the greatest place to visit in the rain or even in the sunshine! At least I know one Georgian lass who would enjoy it here whatever the weather.  

  

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Dreich Bank Holiday

Bank Holiday usually indicates dull clouds and wet streets, this bank holiday has therefore not disappointed as it is gray, wet and dreich.  Not that I care as the virus has left me looking for sleep most of the time.  Sunday was a bright day but I watched it from my bed, except when I left to watch the football.  The brute of a virus hangs around today also and tomorrow the kids will fill the museum. I'll get them some time off school the week after if I cough enough.  I ventured as far as the bins this afternoon suddenly realising how many adverts are found on the shop wall next door.  It reminded me of those Victorian photos when such advertising abounded everywhere, clearly uncontrolled at the time. It makes me wonder if the council notice, or care to notice, whether this breaks some by-law.  I hope they do not notice as he is a good man struggling to make his business work.  Without the ads it is possible the town could not operate properly.  

The good book says we should not rejoice when our enemy falls, that is not the heart of God in action, however I allowed myself a moment or two of giggling. You see Hibernian, who I may have mentioned before, played their 'play-off' game against Hamilton Accies on Sunday and were in an unbeatable position. It was impossible for them to lose their two goal advantage against a team from the lower division.  Yet they did!  Worse, they went on to lose a penalty shoot out and all this after laughing out loud at our relegation, caused as we all admit by mismanagement leading to administration. Hibernian's talented players have by sheer willpower crawled from Fifth place in the league to the lower relegation! Oh how we laughed!  Now I am not one to taunt the Hibbys when they are down - but I managed it! It fair cheered me up and wore me out! They are not speaking to me today, it's a giggle innit?  

So here is the victor of the moment, posed appropriately in front of English flags, enjoying his breakfast I presume.  He will sleep well tonight content with the fear running through Westminster.  The Conservative Party have watched their voters run to Farage and Labour watched their voters stay at home.  Half a million people in this region voted for UKIP, and ten thousand in Edinburgh voted that way and that is a surprise to me!  This area is dominated by wealthy Conservative types but there is also a large working class Tory vote and they have gone for UKIP in a big way.  Whatever happens in the next few weeks I know not but Scotland must go for independence, England will be dominated by the right of centre for the next few years.  Some of those are so far to the right they think Thatcher was a Communist!  If you have never prayed - start now!  

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The Saturday Night Movie

Boring Tired Post

Nigel Helps Police with their Enquires

There is no doubt UKIP can rejoice in their success in last nights poll.  They have touched the heart of England, and I mean 'England,' in similar vein to the Scottish National Party in Scotland. In many an Englishman's heart their concerns have been pushed aside for immigrants arriving on these shores, for which the indigenous population have been called 'racist,' their dislike of same sex marriage has been ignored in spite of so many objections, and 'Human Rights' being abused by thugs and murderers and Islamic preachers has been a bone of contention often raised but ignored also.  In the eyes of the English voter he is a stranger in his own land.  He sees the Scots given preferential treatment, the 'Daily Mail' says so, benefits cheats abounding while his work is underpaid.  On top of this the EU costs him cash and the politicians spend more time shoveling cash to their friends rather than dealing with the Englishman's needs.

He knows all this is true because the right wing media, the one he reads, tells him so!

Daily he reads of millions of Romanian, Bulgarian, Polish, African, Afghans amongst the many arriving, here receiving payouts greater than his wage, houses better than his and if he objects he is called 'Racist.'  The paper speaks daily of EU waste, fiddling MP's and local authorities and makes clear he is the one paying for it all.  The Englishman, who sees his home as his castle is frightened by this. 

The media intended him to vote Conservative by peddling all this misinformation, half truths and downright lies.  Instead along comes an everday bloke like Farange who speaks their mind, drinks a pint, smokes, and tells the EU what he thinks of them.  "He is one of us!" they cry!  

Of course he isn't.  Farage is another well educated rich man who knows how to play the system, a rebelrouser who shouts the Englishman's wishes.  Those wishes are for fair treatment and a government that listens to them.  That does not exist today.

The Scots cannot understand Nigel and his party because it is an English party, not a UK one. Scots have a more egalitarian approach to life, this comes from the hardship of past years.  The use of utilities for the whole nation not just a few shareholders goes down well up north, aiding the needy is a part of society. The Scots are more left of centre than the English they are predominately right of centre.  Add to this politicians from well to do backgrounds, with Oxbridge accents, no life experience to speak off, people full of ambition to be number one or make the most out of the job and we have a parliament out of touch with the real world.

No wonder desperate people, lied to daily, see Nigel Farage as a man who can speak for them.   

UKIP, that should in my view be EIP, have shaken the parties, especially the Conservatives.  There is every chance Nigel and his men could be in the House of Commons in a years time and that will be fun.  The response of the various parties after a result in which they have been hammered is always the same, no matter how good or bad the spokesmen always tell how well their party has done and just how much support there is for their policies.  I am reminded of the leader of the Scottish Communist party appearing on TV in 1968.  That year the Scottish National Party made a huge breakthrough by winning something like 325 seats at the local elections in Scotland.  The Communists had one man elected in somewhere far to the north, Inverness I think.  The Communist leader took this opportunity to read into the election of one man as a sign that "The Scottish people are turning to us as they realise Communism is the way to go." The 325 or so SNP seats were ignored.

The party spokesmen have been floundering today, blame has been sent around and only one thing remain the same, the media accept no blame for anything at any time!  The media, desperate for money and supporters of the Conservative Party have inflamed the English nation. This has hurt their party dearly.  From tomorrow the papers will do their best to sell to the UKIP support while not hurting Cameron's chances in 2015, such two faced action is not beyond them.

Will Farage really change the nation?  Time alone will tell, but as Scotland will vote for independence in September only England, an Wales and Northern Ireland need worry. 

Did I vote for Nigel?  Don't be silly!

Democracy in Action

The voting paper had two folds in it, opened out it was over a foot long, all the major parties and quite a few loony's were on offer.  "Right," said I as the young ladies at the desk proffered the paper and gave instructions on its use,"Where is the Scottish Nationalist?"  One of the girls sighed quietly.  I fear she believed me.  The choice entered with a big 'X' in the usual manner of a Hibernian footballer signing his name I vacated the premises.  Voting takes place in the Museum Hall and my Big Boss who is in charge of the operation informed me the day had been light (about ten thirty) and no-one ventured over the door until half an hour had passed.  Rather unusual for here even allowing for the increasing number of postal votes.  The EU election does not go down well.

The main parties were all represented and I did not want any off them. However a vote for UKIP, racists in suits, does influence government policy as the Conservatives are terrified they will lose out to them. Indeed the right-wing media has spent the last weeks attacking UKIP at every opportunity but offering absolutely no Tory policies!  That tells you the fear at Conservative HQ.  A while back I wrote to the local member of parliament and in the middle of the letter I mentioned "..it was brave of you to vote for the 'Bedroom tax' when UKIP as so strong in this area..."  he did not reply!  Personally I think we should vote for UKIP, I believe in England for the English!  The best thing for them to do would be to give £250,000 to everyone else and send them back to their own country, but wait until after September.

Is it not funny how in Afghanistan people queued for hours to vote, knowing that bombs could explode at any time, rifle fire could break out and death was minutes away yet in the UK such an important vote leaves us bored or disinterested.  People died in various parts of the British Isles over many years to get us the right to select which lying rogue will represent us, or here put their nose in the trough, yet we stay at home.   Always vote, but I would like a 'None of the above' added at the bottom.

Possibly the insistence of the Police helicopter to hover over my head when I was sleeping working had some connection to the crowds waiting patiently to vote.  It could be spite on the pilots part as I have yelled at him to sling it before now as these brutes are noisy.  It looks like he is watching us but more likely his cameras are aimed a mile or so further down the main road, away from us and towards some drug dealing types who are moving into the area. These are not welcomed here especially as a recent murder was caused by this. Rarely do the constabulary explain why they make such a fuss, not that I am nosey,  but I do ask!  
Ha! Acting suspiciously.  Here is the reason and naturally he deafens us while watching something a mile away, typical!  Nobody arrested and thousands spent.  Is it cheaper to put police on the ground I wonder?

No News, Make Something Up!

Charlie, the nations trainee King, has we are informed said something quite outrageous.  During his latest visit somewhere or other, not sure where I really didn't bother to investigate too deeply, he encountered a one time Polish WW2 refugee.  She claims not to be able to remember the exact words used (hmmm) by the Prince concerning her war experiences but claims it was something along the lines of 'Putin is acting like Hitler.'  I remember her statement with the same authority she remembers his.  

There are no major news stories at the moment that is why as I brought my bleary mind into the world before six this morning the radio headlines were filled with Charlie endangering the world.  His throw away comment, if actually made, would harm diplomatic relations with Russia it was claimed.  This would be seen as a criticism of the Ukraine situation which in turn would cause a breakdown in relationships worldwide and possibly the Third World War!  At least that is what the 'Daily Mail' appeared to make out of it.  A word to a woman who we have never heard off taken out of context to make a story.  I am not sure what happened to the wifey but surely her story would be more interesting, but I guess sell less papers. MP's on the prowl for votes tomorrow are being questioned by earnest cretins from the media re this shocking statement.  TV and Radio debate the empty story for hours to fill space, and the papers are in a terrible tizz.  Prince Charles himself of course will be giving a little smile. Whatever he says will be abused by the folks living like leeches of his existence.  No doubt a member of the Foreign Office hierarchy will now be writing to him for 'clarification,' I guess he cares not a jot. His tactful father has taught him how to get attention well.  

BBC

A non story but at least it pushes the lost sailors of the main page.  Now I am sorry indeed a small yacht has gone down, the loss of four men at one go is a tragedy indeed.  However there is something not right about the urgent demand from the relatives that the US coastguard continue to search long after their official search has ended.  An official search that had already been extended beyond the normal length.  Quickly, very quickly, 150,000 signatures appear on a petition demanding the UK government makes the US continue the search. An expensive and efficient organisation appears overnight pleading for rescue of these men.  Media men are available at the beck and call, until Charles took a hand that is, 24/7 it appears.  

Something is not right about this.

Concern for the lost we all understand.  Pressurising governments for help is also what we would all do, however the unspoken belief that these are middle class folk with money and therefore more important than other lost craft remains.  The whole world, the UK government, or at least the US Coastguard, must do what they say.  The US have indeed continued to search, the RAF now is also sending a Hercules C-130 to contribute also.  If only this government gave the same priority to old folks in the NHS as they are doing for four wealthy Hooray Henries lost at sea, maybe of course they are not wealthy or important!

   

Cured

The usefulness of cheap whisky where bugs are concerned is underrated in my view.  Copious amounts of Hot Toddy plus similar amounts of prayer worked wonders.  The prayer may well have been the biggest influence on the healing but the Toddy stopped me from thinking about it!  There followed a quiet day at the museum.  Remarkably few people around and only around £6 taken at the till. Something must be done!  The folks are falling fast, another leaves for higher things tomorrow, yet another volunteer has a sick family member to care about and one found a job!  Looks like I work Friday morning as well as Saturday this week.

Nothing interesting happened round this way 
so here is a British Transport Film.

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Monday Morn

I had a brilliant post, full of insight, wisdom and humour for the world but the wee bug that has assaulted me has annoyed me all day and now late on, and full of Hot Toddy, I canny be bothered.  Work tomorrow, if I am still alive.....

Sunday

In the many meaningless items found in the UK press today we note that letters and emails that went between Tony Blair and 'Dubya' Bush, mostly from Tony to his boss, these letters appear to be locked away and one in particular is 'lost!' How interesting.  The Chilcot enquiry has been hindered by the refusal of those concerned to hand over these documents and now one is lost, the most important one.
How long before we obtain the evidence that shows Blair followed like a puppy to his owner and sent men to die needlessly in Iraq for a needless invasion? How long before he stands trial as a war criminal? Will this report ever be published?

Good news for Cowdenbeath who defeated close neighbours Dunfermline to ensure their place in the Scottish Championship for next season.  Little Cowdenbeath, population around 12,000, have as a part time side managed miracles to stay in the division.  My late mother, who was born in a miners cottage that overlooked Central Park, would be proud.  As a child she used to scramble into the ground by use of holes under the fence, I suspect these may still exist.  Her brothers often clambered up onto the roof so they could watch from a distance - for free, sixpence then was a lot of money for a miner!  

The European elections take place on Thursday.  This is the day we elect yet another goldigger as they fly off to line their pockets and disappear into obscurity.  Which waste of space to elect?  No idea!  I don't want any standing in this area, they are all bad.  What a depressing situation.  Interesting to note that the 'Daily mail' as well as other Tory papers continue to inform us of the latest UKIP loony.  They do not offer the Conservative policy, just point to others faults, what does that tell us eh?  

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Sunny Saturday

Sunny Saturday so me sitting inside the museum 'training' a new volunteer. Hopefully he will take over soon and allow me my Saturdays back.  It is difficult tot rain someone when nobody ventures past the front door, well some folks did arrive just as he was leaving.  Typical!  Then I had to rush home and sit through two cup finals.  St Johnstone you will be delighted to know won the cup for the first time in their 130 year history, and the game was full of interest.  I really enjoyed it.  Following this was the less interesting English cup and after a game that enthralled this meant little.  Quite how the English can get interested in their football beats me, ours is far better.  At least it means something to me.  

That sums up my day.  Writing for the boss at seven thirty in the morning, working sort off and football. I will be glad the season is over as it is wearing me out.  Of course I never got any of the sunshine.  

This is good!

An Old Dream

Really Loud

Looking up from my steaming laptop I noticed on the telly a car similar to this one.  This little beats is a Fiat Gamine, and I first saw them in a garage at Blackhall in Edinburgh in the late 60's. At the time I could neither drive nor afford a car, £7 a week does not ensure happy transport! However I was impressed at the little runaround and have harboured a desire for one ever since. There again I have harboured desires for many things since that time and few have borne fruit, although the Heart of Midlothian did win the Scottish Cup in 1998 as I am sure you know and if you don't be happy to let Mr Smith instruct you.   

In those far off days I wore a lot of jeans, as I do now, however as Edinburgh has only two seasons, winter and a cold wet summer, I also wore maroon coloured cords quite a lot.  Indeed some time back I was perplexed as these were no longer to be found in the shops anywhere.  It appears Messrs Levi and Wrangler had ceased production.  After years of searching I discovered online where these could be obtained at enormous cost and very much against my wallet so I let that lie and returned to Tesco for their £6 jeans.  One of the 'outlet' shops nearby is a 'Levi' shop where jeans have been reduced to a cheap price, 'Buy Two for £90' was one offer I failed to run over for, and while Mr Levi made jeans for the gold diggers it now appears the gold diggers are working for him!   

Anyway my little run about, totally useless in cold wet Edinburgh, designed for Italian summers where heat and sunshine are found alongside blue sky and funny tasting wine.  It is of course possible the wine in Italy actually tastes better than the rancid stuff they send us of course.  So poverty and no licence ended my dream, a dream that remains.  Of course if anyone has such a working car they wish to donate please don't hesitate to send cash with it.