Lazy Thursday

The leaves are changing colour, a wee bit like my face when climbing steps.  Still only the beginnings of the yellowing and much greenery still around.  Nice when the sun shines on it as it did for an hour this morning.  Back to normal now.  

 Telegraph

Talking about normal today the English parliament ended the UK union when they passed a law banning Scot or other MP's voting on English matters.  As the English parliament votes on Scots things this is unfair but the imperialists appear not to care.  This fooling act has brought about freedom for Scotland and poverty for England and they do not realise the cost.

Wet Wednesday

 

Dull, dreich, dismal day today.  Rain from early morning, cloudy drizzle thereafter, just the ideal day to stay indoors and catch up on the repairs the place requires. The night had been short however and I did not sleep too well for unknown reasons, rising early was also not good and the day has been passed in a blurry haze.  The blurry haze may be the reasons the work I began have failed miserably, others look to follow and work planned for tomorrow is looking very unattractive.  Maybe instead of letting all this go to waste I ought to write a play about an incompetent doing DIY?  The slapstick effects will be wonderful, that reminds me where is the paint?  

On top of this the workmen, who bodge it better than I, are coming to fix a Carbon monoxide detector in the house, something landlords must do by law now, and the plumber made it clear to me our boiler which sticks pout through a hole in the wall does not require one of these, but the law says install one anyway.  The new smoke alarm makes sense and mine must be getting old by now so that is a good idea.  I suspect they will arrive when I am walking in tomorrows rain towards the post office, my tea levels will be drained by the time I return!

 

A nice picture of the unelected English queen asking the democratically elected Chinese dictator how much he is willing to pay for her house at Balmoral.  He may as well buy it as he has bought her government already.  What a sight to see, English Conservatives selling everything to the Chinese as they have no idea themselves how to make money.  Will there be a 'special relationship?'  There will certainly be no questions about the thousands of lawyers recently imprisoned, the thousands of Christians imprisoned the churches torn down or the threats to Japan and other south east Asian nations.  There will however be money in George and Dave's pockets, so that's all right then...

How to be an Idiot Vol: 3 Chapter 227.

As I sat recovering in the 'Coffee Point' awaiting my host bring the 'Americana' to revive me I sadly cogitated on the inherent stupidity I carry with me always.  You see I splashed out £35 pounds on a small Android with keyboard to act as a mini laptop when away.  I managed to download Facebook and one or two other things and then stupidity came to the fore.  You see when I logged on all I got was the 'Try Again' message as the password would not work.  This was because the week before I had to change the password and could not work out what I had changed it to.  As only one email was working and I could not get into it without the password that I had forgotten I was stuck!    
I could write on WORD as I downloaded this, FB did allow me to read but not write as I could not log in to log in!  I bought this thing as it had a keyboard attached as opposed to fidgeting with one on screen and allow as well before I left.  How frustrating, I could have blogged but without pictures and bored you each night.  It may be years before I need the thing again!      

Back to work with sixty delightful children and teachers coming through the shop.  Not much else happened but as Xmas approaches we will see folks wander around the shop more.  I was glad to get home early as I begun repairing all the broken bits at home.  Some have lain broken for a while and in the next few days they will be repaired, painted, touched up and just as bad as they are now.  But it's a beginning.

Hard Work and People

The reason my back aches as much as the knees is this allotment.  Having an easy day they said, which meant working in the allotment.  The goods that grow organic like here are excellent and I wish I had a small garden in which to do the same.  However the bending, cutting, pulling and lifting are no longer aspects of my life and I have few thoughts of going back to them.  This did not make any difference to my friends!  In spite of their various health problems the work had to be done and therefore as I was the youngest and for unknown reasons considered the fittest I had to follow orders.  What was revealed was the level of fitness I possess, a near death experience I think it is called.  Having dragged me all over town, along the beach and up Mont Blanc, through Wareham and dumping rubbish at the council dump I can tell you I was ready for the Friday trip home.  The morning saw desperate prayer as I could not consider a long train trip tired as I was as a jolly.  Prayer of course worked and the trains, and the exchanges were as good as could be!  However by Friday morning I was worn out.  Monday sees me still recovering and my knees not keen on climbing stairs.

Again I embark on one of those exercise periods, this time I must continue this, otherwise I may well die.  

Dawn yesterday promised bad weather according to the proverb, remaining indoors I never really noticed how it went but it did not appear too bad to me.  Should we believe 'Farmers tales?'  There must be something in them as folks who work out of doors always watch the weather and little things attune them to the changes unseen by others.   

One thing about being back home is it means I do not have to watch others TV choices.  The missus relaxes after her hard work by making use of brain dead TV, 'Murder She Wrote,' 'Heartbeat' and 'NCIS' being the favourites.  These I watched with no remarks regarding the stilted acting, the bad scripts, the hairstyles (of the men!) or the endings, which were obvious, no I stayed quiet all through wondering if having my teeth pulled would make for more enjoyment.  

In 1978 I got rid of the TV.  I did without one until 1986 when the World Cup forced me to obtain a freebie when neighbours left for the richer suburbs.  Since then football, news, a documentary or two are about the only things I watch.  The so called drama these days is mere soap operas but soap opera with guns, explosions and near naked women, real original drama with new story lines, original events and proper acting appear rare.  Placed alongside a diet of house programmes and bloody cooks I find little of joy on telly these days.  There are good things available if you search hard enough but only rarely.  The demands of advertising force bread & circuses on commercial channels and the BBC appears intent o following them.  It's a disgrace I say!

However on the other hand sitting stuffing chocolates and other unhealthy foodstuffs down my throat as we gathered around the big screen was enjoyable.  Being with this my 'other family' is relaxing in other ways than forced marching.  I first came across them in 1971 when I entered a strange dark Baptist church in Notting Hill and spent a little time with them then as he ran his first attempt as church minister.  The place had almost closed a year before and he started with only a handful of people and left a thriving growing congregation behind when he moved to the coast.  There he took a thriving congregation and left them in a new building, a disused cinema costing a million pounds.  A great success at both places and all this leaving behind a sense of 'love' of the proper sort.  Of course they remain members of the church there but without the 24/7 stress, that belongs to others now. 

I would be nothing without them, they gave up so much time for me as they did and do for others, and I owe them much.  There are so many people I have met who have been good to me it is a wonder how so often I think only of the bad ones.  It is a truth that if ten things happen, nine of them being good ones, the one bad thing is what sticks in the mind.  We all have bad things happen to us and bad people abound, truth being we also do bad things to others but this we can justify to ourselves, these things happen and we just have to get on with it.  I am glad there are good people out there who read this and some who miss me when I am gone.  This surprised me somewhat as I thought you knew I was away but cheered me up a great deal to know you could not live without me.  What?....oh!  Anyway that made me happy.

A Wee Toon by the River

Wareham is indeed a 'wee toon,' with a long history.  Two main roads divide the town into four quarters and a few very tight roads run off from these.  This river crossing point lies at the far end of the great sweeping inland bay of Poole Harbour, between the rivers Frome & Piddle. A local brewery produces a variety of beers under the name 'Piddle' you may wish to know.
People have dwelt in this area for almost ten thousand years, Stone Age Man's flints soon became bronze then iron tools and when the Romans came they found this an ideal spot to land their ships and create a small settlement as they determined to occupy this land.  Later the Saxons built a turf wall, Alfred the Great in the 9th century may have been responsible as the Danes were then threatening everyone.  The fighting continued, as it does in England, King Canute trashed the town, some time later during the civil war (the 12th century one) more royals caused conflict here.  The Normans of course arrived as a kind of peace keeping force, they forced a peace and kept everything they saw!  The river however silted up and what had become a useful port saw its trade depart to the more approachable town of Poole itself, trade however continued for locals until the railway arrived in Victorian days.  
The English civil war saw Parliament and Royalist forces bashing one another in the town, Cromwell knocking the remaining walls and anything else he didn''t like down, during the Monmouth rebellion the town took the wrong side as did much of Dorset and the famous Judge Jeffrey's, the 'Hanging Judge,' held his 'Bloody Assizes' here and watched folks being hanged, drawn and quartered on the remains of the walls.  Cheerful lad he was.  Much of the town was rebuilt with Purbeck limestone from up the road after a disastrous fire in the 1700's and some nice houses remain.  During the Great War the town became a garrison town hosting 7000 soldiers nearby and Bovington Camp was established up the road in the 1920's.
You can tell I visited the small museum!

As we wandered around this locked church, 'St Martin's on the Wall,'we found it sadly locked, the key was available from a nearby shop but 'Harry,' as I shall call him, claimed the man with the key would not be there. 'Harry' came up to us as we looked at the building and gave us his version of the churches history, this had interesting points, which he obviously did not like contradicted, and we let him talk.  People like this often come into the museum and we must listen to their stories as such aged citizens do have memories and info regarding the local area well worth hearing.  However checking his facts is always a good idea. St Martin on the Wall, it does indeed stand upon the wall, is an original Saxon church made in stone and well worth a look inside, which we did not manage!  
However it is a wonderful church as these pictures of the Church reveal, I suggest you browse these.

As the old folks slept in the car I visited the very small but well laid out museum, free entry but pay 50p if you wish to take a photo - I declined - and wandered to the quay.  On the way I passed the 'Black Bear Hotel' with the Black Bear standing on the veranda awaiting guests.  Figures such as these, as you know, were used in times past to identify buildings for those, the majority, who could not read.  It is possible the bear was at one time a real bear as bear baiting was a popular pastime in days of yore, although not with the bears I am told.

 

      

While she wandered about Sainsburys we helped by wandering around 'Lady St Mary Church.'  They are proud of the 'Lady' bit in the name.  It appears the Celts built a church here way back when and the Saxons enlarged or replaced this, the Benedictines in the 12th century built a Priory next door to the church and once more enlarged the building emphasising their importance and wealth. Since then it has been much amended over the years (Not least by Cromwell who smashed up a lot of it).  The small 'St Edwards Chapel' pictured is probably part of the original building.  St Edward became a teenage King in the year 975 which did not please some nobles and his half brother Ethelred.  Edward was murdered at Corfe and his body lay in the church for two years when he was taken to Shaftesbury.  Tales of miracles made him a martyr (this bringing pilgrims and their cash) and somehow his bones now lie in a Russian Orthodox Church in Brookwood Cemetery near Woking.  His usefulness as martyr ended with the Reformation.

 

 

Graffiti in the 7th or 8th century appears to have been done by folks armed with chisels.  On the left 'Catgug son of Gideon' is written (as you know 'Catgug' is 'Cadogan' in modern Welsh). 'Congorie' probably a latinised version of 'Gongor' appears a century or so later.  Proving the 'Britons' of the day continued to live here for some time after the Saxon invasion but most were forced into Wales where many still reside.  This is a lovely impressive church but as 'Harry' appeared to continue lecturing we passed him on to a student from the local university studying the Reformation and ran for the door.

The student may still be there listening...

Hunger forced us from the town and we found a place to eat our sandwiches while deer posed for photographers who passed by heading for a tramp over the heath.  What the tramp thought about this is not known.  We ought to have gone their also but age time was catching up with us and we headed for home.  Such a small town is Wareham but with a long, quite varied and violent history.  English towns often are!  This one built on a landing area brought many invaders and defenders to the area.  It was a gateway to the south west and Corfe Castle was built up the road in an effort to block the path of strangers passing along.  A castle was built here but we were unable to visit the few remains, only a mound is now seen apparently and that in private land.

Some locals.

The Sea! The Sea! It's Wet...

Having arrived for a rest from my labours I was taken on a walk through a park, up the high Street crowded with heavy traffic and thousand's of people and then forced along the beach.  We started high up along the chine where seaside flats with large windows and enclosed balconies start at around £400,00 and with houses on the shore with views over Poole Harbour fetching between £3 and 10 million.  I will not be buying one.   

 
I was not only frogmarched along the shore but then forced to climb back up the chine the hard way - going upwards!  We took a shortcut (he said) to make it easier but I lost two stone in weight by the time we reached the top.  

The sand along here is well maintained. Earlier this year in was renewed as storms had taken much away and we watched a tractor pulling deep sand back from the stairs down to the beach, the tide has raised this several feet and his job was to pull it all back.  He soon gave up we noticed.  During the summer there are many guards on duty, strict control over the promenade, two cyclists who went through at the wrong times were fine £50 plus much more in costs for cycling at the wrong times, and huts are placed at various intervals for the many problems families bring with them, or children as they are known.  

We began our Matterhorn like ascent around here at the back of a somewhat grubby hotel.  Had we been able to continue we would have reached Sandbanks where the multi million pound houses are found but instead climbed to the mere million pound ones.  Flats here have wonderful views and are the last resting places of the wealthier type who retire here to waste the cash their children hoped they would inherit.  We were personally ignored by several of those. 

Poole Harbour, a lovely spot with water only a few feet deep for a long way out.  Usually you see people standing next to a boat far out but few were about this day.  In the middle of course the water is very deep and the Bologne Ferry passes by at regular intervals along side other large ships winding their way in.  The views here are magnificent, the weather always changeable but always offering a variety of sky to look at and wonder.  A very popular place to parade and only £2.5 million for a house, reasonable I say.  

This was to be the picture of us receiving oxygen from a passing paramedic crew but I considered it too unsavoury for tender hearts...

Reading With Eyes Closed.

Tsk! What a to do!  I wrote, in English, that I was away for a few days and I return to find that people do not read the words i struggle so hard "cough" to place before them.  In 'Miscellany' I said I would be away and you ignored it.  Pah!  Anyway I was of to sunnier climes, to good food, warm house, clean sheets, and fine company, alas also lots of appallingly bad television.  That's another story.  
You will be delighted to await the several hundred pictures, some properly in focus, that will follow in the following days.  Holiday pictures abound and some people find them boring.  I had to sit through forty minutes of video taken at the Victoria Falls in Zambia without ever grumbling once, although the crocodile slipping silently into the water made a comment rise in my throat I can tell you!  How many locals he had eaten was anybody guess.  

The sound of the sea and the aroma of the briny filled my head on at least one occasion and a trip to a far of land, nine miles, took us out of ourselves for a day.  I was force marched, in my condition, on several occasions aided only by my companions damaged hips and similar restrictions as myself.  They even forced me to work, getting my hands dirty for the first time in years, and thought this amusing.  It was only the thought of the food when we returned that kept me breathing otherwise I may well have collapsed and awaited the ambulance.
Right I am exhausted from travelling on Britain's luxurious railways, which I must say was actually enjoyable today, I did pray hard about both journeys, and then running up the road to the shops to put something in the fridge before I collapsed in bed for a while.  Worse still I had to watch Ross County defeating Aberdeen 2-0 tonight thus being unable to write anything on here.  The lack of substance inside my head also legislates against this at the moment I admit.  So I am back to bed and tomorrow I will be ready for ...going back to bed.

Lova & kisses etc...

An Intellectual Evening

A Miscellany

I have spent time attempting to clear up all the stuff abandoned in the last few weeks.  This was not helped by having to work yesterday afternoon when 60 charming kids came into the shop.  All well behaved and keen but having to deal with so many takes two of us.  This only lasted an hour or so but left us worn out and mentally drained, and that is dangerous when there is little to start with.
Still the kids spent nearly £3 each and that helps the museum remain open.  This is good as the Magna Carta exhibit brings in so many but we really require things local folks can identify with.  I spent some time today typing up paperwork left by a get together of folks who once worked in one of our past industries.  Some began work  in 1934 at ten shillings and sixpence a week, and they only worked every second week!  In those days women who married left work, or were forced to leave work, and single girls took their place.  It made for a turnover of staff but appears a bit daft to me.  Understandable if they have kids and should look after them but as a matter of rule it is a bit daft.

Would you believe I stopped there last night and then watched Scotland's latest debacle against Poland and forgot all about this.  Mind it was getting late and there was less to write about than I had already written which says something.

I am desperate to get out and practice some photography as I realise I need practice!   Looking at others pictures makes mine look inadequate therefore I need to get out and about but this has not been possible lately.  However I am away for a few days next week and have purchased a cheap android to see if I can put stuff up.  So far it works in many things but not Blogger, typical!  We shall see later if it works.  I may be amongst the wealthy, where the lifeboat poses the houses now cost several million a go, but I doubt I will be invited in for tea.  I did get an invite to a wedding, black tie and rich folks abounding, but have turned it down as I would look like Jeremy Corbyn amongst them and I would not upset the bride.  The twenty mile walk home late at night puts me off also.

One thing I hate is people posting pictures of their lunch!  At breakfast, lunch, in a coffee shop or watching the innumerable bloody awful rigged baking shows these folks have to post pictures of what is in front of them.  I thought about this as I looked into the stew that gurgles away on the stove.  It's food, nothing else, it either feeds you or doesn't, why post pictures every five minutes of what you eat?  There are those who every night reveal their tea to us, I refuse to look or indeed answer, whether on facebook or Twitter as I may say something offensive.  
The things people post on those 'social sites' sometimes appear strange to me.  One lass often posts one or two words as if she is answering a question.  Her 2000 may be as confused as I when she posts 'Tuesday!'  Especially when it is Sunday.   If not pictures of lunch one posts those absurd posters telling people to 'Be kind to one another,' or 'Be happy and accept others, they are just like you' yet when someone lets their dogs leavings remain on the street or doesn't say 'Thank you' she screams blue murder.  Maybe she doesn't read her posts.  Christians are just as bad, ten posting saying different things all of which go over the head or clash.  
I should say at this point that everything I post is suitable for use by each and everyone, all is relevant and never do |I repeat myself, never do I repeat myself.  Some nasty grouch may of course disagree but it is best to ignore such as they.

As I chopped up the veg for the stew, wiping away the blood that follows from actually using a sharp knife, I played a 'YouTube' Beatles miscellany.  This struck me as quieter than the 'Who' track, 'Won't get fooled again,' that I played earlier.  Both revealed a problem with YouTube and Win 10, the sound here is not as good as it was on Win 7.  Quite why this ought to be I know not but clearly it 'rasps' periodically through the song with can disturb the teenage angst that fills Beatles earlier work.  
At Tynecastle Park one day long ago as we waited the beginning of the reserve match against somebody or other the Tannoy played the Beatles 'Eight Days a Week.'  This upset Mattie Chambers the head groundsman.  He muttered about the music and offered his opinion in a full and frank manner and raced inside to fix it.  Montgomery, the assistant groundsman and others objected as this they thought was the music folks wished to hear.  A scratching sound was soon replaced with a ballad type song and a happier head groundsman.  How I identify with him when I hear the drivel that passes for music today.  Surely there is a deep crevasse somewhere suitable for Lady Gaga or Taylor Swift?


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Morning Work

This chap here tends to worry the kids as some think he is alive.  Sadly he is not and judging by the weight of his armour he is probably glad he is not alive.  The chain mail alone may weigh around 30 kilos.  He does give a good indication of the type of soldier you would see burning down your house and crops around the 1200's. 

Robert de Vere was the baron who lived in Hedingham castle (not this one, it's only a model) a castle which had only one failing, it wasn't very good.  The Keep seen here still stands and is well worth a visit if you like climbing stairs.  Much of the time it makes money by being used as a wedding venue or similar but occasionally it is open.  Some years ago a pretty girl and I climbed high up to the top and enjoyed the views over a wide area.  Then she pushed me off.  The layout is simle inside, one each floor you make use of the space where there are no dividing walls, just a curtain maybe to protect the Lord for you common types.  The dungeon was a bit dark however.
This present exhibition concerns the 'Magna Carta,' that's 'Big Charter' to you, and de Vere was one of the local Barons who rose up against King John.  The man at Stanstead Mountfichet, Pleshey and Dunmow also joined the rebelllion and after a short battle somewhere in Lincolnshire if memory serves me right King John came to Essex lookingfor the barons. 
They all hopped it to London as brave men do because London was on their side and impregnible. What happened to the folks left behind was not nice if they supported their man although many moved elsewhere as the ravaging army passed by.    
English inginuity has led to the small village around the castle being called 'Castle Hedingham.'

Another exhibition has been doing the rounds recently.  The women knitted several buildings in the town (when I first saw them I thought they were cakes!) and these are on display at the moment.  Here we see the museum including tree and statue of John Ray the naturalist in the front.

Some may prefer the view of the 'Swan' a public house that has stood here at least since the 1500's and probably before that also.  Taverns have a use and before the Reformation many pilgrims passed this way heading for the shrine at Bury St Edmunds.

Amongst our new stock I discovered this, it looks more appealing than 'Lemon Cheese' whatever that is!

The Gardens

The sun has gone, replaced with the beginning of another leftover hurricane sent from our friends in the west.  Quite why they insist on sending their used hurricanes to us I know not but there really is no need for them to do this, we have plenty wind and rain already.  However this means a wander through the gardens without screaming brats or the mothers with their noses stuck up in the air and gives freedom to actually enjoy the plant life.  The only life came from a white cat desperate for attention, I feared he was lost but he soon disappeared clearly knowing his way about.  As I wandered further a second likewise desperate cat appeared and I realised they were missing the woman who played with and fed them.  I was a sore disappointment for them.

Near the round pond a tree has been cut down after more than a hundred years service and some wag has turned the remnants into this seat.  Kiddies will love it but I wonder if it is wise.  Personally I prefer if it had just been left as a stump as has happened elsewhere but I suppose this keeps some happy. 

The gardens were given to the town in the 1880's by the Courtauld family.  These were their gardens over the street from their big house which still stands now turned into flats.  The family were Unitarians and during the 19th century they followed the common idea of a 'social gospel' in which rich folks paid for schools, hospitals etc for the local townsfolk.  Very admirable David Cameron would say keeping both hands in the pockets of his thousand pound Saville Row suit.  It was indeed a well planted garden and these trees rise majestically over it.  A wide variety are found here and various firs make excellent homes for a variety of birds, none of whom came anywhere near the feline visitors.

I spent much of the day listening to the excellent old programmes available, if you search hard enough for them, on the BBC iPlayer.  These included one programme about Austin Texas and the weirdos who inhabit that strange place.  Texans are of course like all Americans - weird - and fail to spell their words correctly also!  Deep in the bowels of Radio 4 I found 'The Roman Way' the first of several on their influence in history.  I would have listened to the news but this was full of George Osborne telling us lies re the marvellous things he is doing as he prepares to take over from Cameron as Prime Minister.  I switched off and burnt my dinner instead.  I must get out of the habit of turning the knob on the cooker too far, it keeps switching on the grill when I mean oven.  So much gets burnt this way.  At least while listening to the wireless from the distant past I sorted out my mail file on the 'in tray.'  I had about six months old mail lying there, much now in the bin.

This comes to mind when George Osborne speaks...

"Snigger" Sunday

I failed to cross the threshold till dusk was falling tonight.  Not for the first time my Sunday has not been what I wished it to be!  The sun shone brightly outside but foolishly I watched mediocre football instead of striding around in possibly the last sun of the year.  Ah well walking in the cool of the day when few people pass by is a good thing.  The gray like sky was blue when I shut the door but darkening by the minute as I caught the trailers of people rushing for late holidays in the sun or heading back home for work in Edinburgh or Belfast tomorrow.  Flying in the dark is not as much fun as in the day, I like to watch the earth pass me by way down below.

I awoke to a man chattering on about writing letters.  The thrust of his chatter concerned people no longer scrawling words onto paper and sending the epistle in an envelope to a recipient and how awful this is.  Today we send e-mails or even texts, those can can work text or understand text speak that is, and for many this is now a crime.  No more heartless informal e-mails they cry, get a pen and write it all down.
I disagree.
Indeed receiving a letter though the post is a great joy, I received one myself only the other day and after carefully steaming open the letter, reading how much they wished me to pay, I resealed it and wrote "Not Known" on the front and sent it back.  Receiving a letter is always a good thing if from a friend or if it contains something of value.  However since the telephone became popular in the late 60's and commonplace by the 70's and with the mobile phone that doubles as a computer writing letters is a needless action much of the time.  People can speak via the phone or text/send e-mail or just ignore you as they do me.  The requirement to sit down and cogitate on a letter no longer exists.
When a postman I reckoned one day I had three 'letters' to deliver, all the rest were routine stuff, bills, banks, birthday cards etc, as these need papers copies or contain gifts, letters as such are overtaken by e-mail.  
I like letters but I prefer e-mail as it is quicker, cheaper and gets a quick answer, usually!  However if any young woman wishes to write to me in a perfumed £20 note please note I am willing to rush downstairs and collect it when the postie gets here!

You will have noticed how the world is laughing at England just now.  The imperialists considered this was their world cup and took it for granted they would win it.  The bombast over playing Wales fell flat when the Welsh stuffed them good.  Murmurings were heard everywhere as this was not supposed to happen.  It wasn't in the script prepared by the media and the people.  The build up to the game with Australia is best summed up by 'The Sun.'

Naturally the Aussies stuffed them and stuffed them right good at that!  How the tears flowed!  Now when your side loses a big game it does hurt however when you for reasons unknown believe you will win and believe you are better than all the others in spite of the facts to watch your suffering becomes a delight to those trampled by your imperialism in days gone by, such as yesterday!  How the English cannot believe they have lost, how they weep and wail, how the search for scapegoats and demand hanging is brought back.  The fact is it is only rugby and not that important, but it is good to see them suffer, not that I enjoy this in any way whatsoever.

 
"snigger"

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