Cold Sun

See!  I told you it was cold!  I found this man posing for Christmas cards and Calendars in the gardens this afternoon!  He missed the snow as it had melted by then but he was ready for the next lot, his scarf and mittens were lying in the background.  

There was sunshine today trying to pretend the east wind was not happening.  It failed!  However as it is now half term around here the place is chock full of kids running around.  I dread going to Tesco tomorrow as a million kids will be there.  That reminds me some will be in the museum doing arty things tomorrow.  What with that and the popular art exhibition I may not find time to read my book!  Bah!

You can tell it has been another quiet time.  
Some excitement will arrive soon, and the weather might warm up...

Light Snow

Light snow this morning, freezing cold night.  Snow has returned as we speak so I am wrapped up indoors watching poor English football on the laptop.  It is zero degrees at the moment but they claim that buy Wednesday it will be 10% here!   What has trump done to the weather????  I'm taking the laptop to bed...

 

COLD!!!!

While some grumble about 40% of heat in Australia others are watching snowflakes fall outside their window failing to appreciate the lack of heat. Those desperate too cool down can come here and test the frostbite if they wish! 

We suffered a serious loss in the comedy world recently, Alan Simpson who working with Ray Galton created both 'Hancocks Half Hour' and 'Steptoe & Son' died the other day aged 87.  
Born in Brixton in 1929 Simpson had the misfortune to contract tuberculosis when only 17.  However while in Milford Sanitorium, the way such diseases were dealt with in those days, he met Ray Galton and together they improved the patients lot when writing scripts together for their fellow sufferers.  
Surviving their ordeal the two sought out advice from the then leading scriptwriters Frank Muir & Dennis Norden, they were told to send scripts to the BBC and from this odd parts appeared in Radio comedy of the day.  Tony Hancock noticed one of their scripts during a rehearsal and soon they worked on a new kind of comedy from that usual at the time.
Radio comedy featured short acts with musical interludes and occasional special guests.  The two decided more realistic comedy was required, no funny voices, no gimmicks, no catchphrases instead just a situation comedy using wit combined with good acting and indeed that was the basis of the Hancock shows.  The fact that Kenneth Williams indeed offered 'funny voices' and some of Hancocks phrases became a kind of catchphrase, 'Stone me' & 'You will get a punch up the bracket' amongst them, the comedy combined awkward situations, clever witty lines often genius's in themselves, Hancocks personality and acting ability produced a show that was so popular that in the days of 1950's radio some twenty million would tune in to listen.
The Hancock experience lasted until 1961 when Tony broke off the tie and ventured into oblivion but Galton & Simpson continued to change the face of comedy this time continuing on TV where the Hancock shows had naturally ended up with a new long lasting powerful drama comedy called 'Steptoe & Son.'  Once again it was sharp wit, clever lines and good actors, straight actors this time, who combined to produce both pathos and comedy at the same time.  Once again the programmes popularity brought millions to rush home to see this programme.  The popularity was such it is claimed one programme was taken off air on election night (always a Thursday) to ensure people would come out to vote!  
Neither man achieved such success again as that found in these two programmes though both worked in various programmes with mixed success.  It matters not as their place in history is assured.  Both became OBE's and they were awarded a BAFTA Fellowship in 2016.
Like Muir & Norden Galton & Simpson among remain the UK's best loved scriptwriters and their work will remain popular for eons to come.

   
Men beware, the Valentines guilt trip is upon us once again!  Valentines Day on Tuesday is now compulsory violence against men and ought to be banned.  Throughout the land men are forced to pay large sums of cash to florists, card shops and chocolate sellers to ensure they are not kyboshed by a loose frying pan on Tuesday.  Women, whose devious ways are manifest, will of course claim this day means little to them then reach for a blunt instrument, not their tongue obviously, when he forgets or worse doesn't bother about the day.  It's cruel and a mere business moneymaking scam!
Naturally I need buy nothing, the last time I had to was about 15 years ago and I offer a used frying pan, somewhat dented, to show the result when I forgot.  I could of course send anonymous cards to several women just to upset their men  mind....

Books Again...

Instead of my misgivings about the local W.H.Smith shop I ventured in there this morning on the basis that being Thursday half day closing it would be quiet, and so it was.  Clutching tightly in my mitts was a £10 Book Token from my delightful and best looking niece way up north in an uncivilised part of the world, West Lothian!  I strolled along the limited shelves searching out the great book that I was waiting for and as always failed to find it.  However two useful books were discovered.
'The Railways' looks a decent history of rail in the UK and at £9:99 it fitted the book token.  However I was left with a dilemma!  Buying this book meant there was a penny left over and I then decided to add to my purchase a hardback book 'The First World War on the Home Front' produced by the Imperial War Museum (IWM).  Now I am not keen on the complicated IWM website and a couple of their books I have read before were not to my liking either knowledgeable though they were  but as this book was only £5 I took it, the paperback version was also £5 for some reason so I got the hardback.  I'm like that.  This means that to avoid losing a penny I spent a further £4:99, what does this indicate about my thinking processes....?
The books have been added to the 'To read' pile and by astute use of the remaining Amazon Book Token I might well add more before the day is out.  Of course all this may mean I have no time today to actually read any of these literary works but at least they are there in the moments when I am free!

I was irked again this week, occasionally I am irked, this time I was irked by the phrase 'Moving forward!'  What does it mean?  Variations of the theme can be 'Going forward'  but this does not help me.  I mean where are they going?  Football teams often use the phrase, "We want to be moving forward with the club," they say, why?  Can they not say "We are developing the club" or "Life goes on and there is nothing we can do about it!"  Is anybody actually moving when they move forward?  I mean what is this woman going on about, "Food is ever-changing and ever moving forward and getting more and more complex." Alexandra Guarnaschelli.  Food is moving forward?  If my food was moving forward it could be that is because of the green stuff growing on the side of it!
Possibly black olives falling off the plate are 'moving forward?'  I don't know, maybe that's because I keep moving backwards...

Crackling

I woke with a bit of crackling this morning.  This has become normal in this house.  Daily I awake and the springs in the mattress, a mattress which I confess has seen better days - the relief of Ladysmith was one I believe - a mattress which requires replacing urgently with a real one.  The noise as I head for my seven hour coma can be mistaken for one of those avant garde Radio 3 late night shows where 'modern music' is given its head.  Heads which many of a musical bent would consider ought to be removed I suggest.  Anyway the creaking and groaning, the crackling and crashing of aged springs which could be mistaken for my knees at the moment discouraged me  and sent me off, eventually, to my mornings stint at the museum.
Having held a book signing last night in which almost two hundred 'arty' people came to call there was a lot of clearing up to do when I arrived.  This of course is not unusual, I usually spend the first hour removing that which belongs elsewhere to it's own lodge.  Quite why women canny do things in a logical straight forward organised manner beats me.  The cleaner agreed with me, clever and very busy man that he is, but I just carried on without one word of complaint as I always do.

There are those who do complain however, my associate who spent the entire day wandering off or grumbling about nothing.  Not that I complained when she left me with an hour of the 'Beach Boys' on CD while I wished for Coleman Hawkins, I merely attended to the many visitors coming in to see the art exhibition.  In fact many folks are travelling many miles to view these pictures.  It made me wonder why?  What is it about painting/sketches and the like that makes people seek them out?  
I like pictures, I am happy to view galleries if what is on show is worth browsing but I doubt I would travel miles for that reason.  Art brings in the punters big time, why?  
Do these folks dabble in art or is it just that they dabble in the art world and all that goes along with it?  Is this a middle class seeking a role model or possibly hoping to seek art that justifies their views on life?  
These folks may have prints of the pictures at home and wish to see more, maybe they lived in the village or area where the artists worked, possibly some are relatives of people shown.  However whatever the reason art brings people from miles around just to spend a long time checking out each sketch, painting or book cover design.  I still wonder why.  
Interestingly a question on 'Brain of Britain last week asked about an incident at a famous art gallery. None knew the answer which was that the famous artists famous picture had been hung upside down.  Nobody noticed for forty seven days!  That speaks volumes for the art world.

   

I Don't Get Out Much...

I don't get out much these days.  Either the weather is dreich or I am it's always one or the other.  Yesterday the mist covered the land until I appeared and my presence turned it into cloud cover.  I hurried slowly back home from a very good morning at St P's to watch the Heart of Midlothian demolish Motherwell as we ought and then wasted the rest of the day footering around on the laptop trying to speed things up or watching bad football. 
This was not my most productive day.

Today I was off to St P's for the study time but was directed by the museum to attend a meeting instead.  This was good as I was still sleeping having woken at seven ans not fallen asleep until very late.  Therefore my mind did not recover sufficiently to debate things and a museum meetings was just about right for my head.  The meeting was to inform us volunteers of developments, problems, exhibitions, secret stuff we already knew about (walls have ears) and other highly informative news that I admit I have already forgotten.  
These little meetings are important because one or two of us ask the questions they do not wish asked, I only once upset the boss, and we all had a jolly good time.  It is nice to have an idea of what is coming up, lots of good things this year, and long term developments that may also occur money willing.  It's good to work amongst folks who enjoy what they do and have good ideas re exhibitions and money gathering, I am so glad I do not have to do any, my role is to mutter and grumble, nothing else.  
It is impressive that there are signs of an income increase, slight though this is, that school numbers are also increasing, and that bright ideas are being thought through.  I look forward to later in the year when we bring the locals in to talk about their past, that is if they will actually come to join us.

I did however have a disaster on my WW2 memorial.  I went on to it to amend something and the info box claimed it could not connect to something, followed by computer speak.  I clicked on it stupidly and the thing deleted everything!  Whether this was a virus that sneaked in or just a cliche I know not but luckily I have most of the info on file. 
So I have spent time required in bed elsewhere replacing the basic details and when that is done I must go over everything again and add the more informative bits.  There is only about a hundred names after all...
In between times I merely bait Trump lovers for fun.  

 

Rough, So Read a Book.

Been rough the last couple of days and have only ventured out to the shops.  This reflects the very exciting life I now lead.  Apart from another highly satisfactory result from the Heart of Midlothian today there has been little to comment on.  Fiddling with the laptop and reading books has been my lot and I managed to finish one at least.  

Amazon

"A Foreign Field" tells the true story of a few British soldiers caught behind the enemy lines after the Battle of Mons in 1914.  As they withdrawal began the enemy swarmed all around and many a man was caught out by the advancing Germans.  Some became prisoners, some killed on the spot, others after desperate measures of living off the land remained hidden in the houses and out buildings of French homes hoping to escape back home or survive the war.
German behaviour at this time was not pleasant. The village in the story had the unfortunate luck to be in what was to become part of the Somme battleground.  They therefore had German authority over them and many troops billeted on them, both going to and coming from the battle.  Going to the line troops were often reasonable while returning troops had the haunted looks war offers.
The local Major took opportunity not just to impose military rule but grabbed each and everything he could from the people.  It appears he thought the peasants had more than they had and were hiding things from the Germans so he issued many orders demanding this that and the other.  One demand included ordering that all Cock chickens should lay two eggs a day, another that all rabbits in the are should be counted!  It was clear he was not a country lad.
Several soldiers remained hidden in the village for almost two years.  Hiding in lofts and behind walls while Germans ruled the houses the men appeared in the open air dressed as locals and learning to speak the local patois. It fooled the invaders but not any local!
Inevitably one man fell for the prettiest girl in the village and in spite of mothers stern opposition a baby appeared also!  The book concentrates on the relationship of these soldiers to the village and much of the problems arise from this relationship.  Jealousy and resentment were common enough before the war but the straightened times, the threat of imprisonment and death if the men were found took its toll.
Several attempts to escape were made, the local smugglers knew the area well, however the vast number of occupying troops made this impossible.  Indeed only one man, moving alone rather than in a group, managed to make it to the Netherlands and home.  
Eventually someone tips off the enemy and the remaining men are captured.  Tried and shot much to the villagers disgust many were more disgusted by their own treatment by the Germans.  Many were condemned to death, most imprisoned and this meant a slow death anyway, and others soon afterwards removed to refugee camps far away.  This was because the war at the Somme was now the main battle ground for the British and the Germans were with drawing to new positions.  They then destroyed deliberately the entire area, villages, churches, farms, woods were cut down, cellars turned into dangerous mines, booby traps laid everywhere, the village turned to rubble.
The book from this point concentrates in searching for the one who informed the Germans of the presence of the British soldiers and what was the motive?  
So we have a war book with little direct war, a clandestine group of soldiers, a love story (yuk) and a mystery.  The book rattles along at a decent pace and while I had heard of the tale a while back this gives an in depth study of the times.  How courageous these French folks were!  Many like them died for their efforts to aid such men, and after the war a medal and other tokens were received from London as reward, one couple at least were taken before the King, they had hidden one soldier in a cupboard for four years in a house full of Germans!  Deprivation, fear, fighting the enemy in any way possible and finally traitors!  This was a decent book even non Great War lovers would read. 

Friday Life

We walked into the restaurant, she brunette dressed in black, me scruffy leading the way, and the waitress similarly dressed in black showed us a table.  I wandered to the back and she suggested another table while asking about my 'girlfriend.'  Clearly she wanted me also.  I returned to the table for two by the wall and as I sat down I woke up and discovered Justin Webb the middle class 'Islington leftie' attempting to browbeat the Finnish Prime Minister unsuccessfully.  How I wished to return to my dream.
Wednesday was a good day, one in which I read books and slept a lot.  Beginning with a wander up to Sainsburys before the rain began I ignored the world and relaxed in my best day for weeks.  At night I felt a wee bit radge but the next morning I was very radge indeed.  The boss at the museum had a cold and she has given it to me!  The dreich weather meant I was going nowhere anyway so 
I suffered indoors.
Today I ventured out to buy some Corn Bread, fancy bread being one of the present day fads I am enduring, and I got there just as the lass brought one out.  Naturally while having my tea I forgot all about it.  Bah!
I looked in the museum as I passed, heard how the lass had been "busy all day" and was lumbered for a few minutes as she wandered off to chat to someone!  Good job I'm not the complaining type.

On Wednesday night I did however see a revival of the good old days when visiting Glasgow teams were put to the sword.  In my youth this was what we expected, today the mismanagement of money and the league set up has limited this for all clubs, Scottish football is in a bad way.  However in spite of our recent problems the Heart of Midlothian are indeed on the way up again and under Ian Cathro's enlightened coaching we were able to reduce the Rangers Tribute Act to a trembling jelly like mess.  It was wonderful to see!  There is much more to come in this new system and even the Glasgow media must take note. 

I've found a new toy to play with!
One of the lassies at the church has become obsessed with UKIP and lately Donald Trump.  Her facebook page is littered with 'Daily Express' pieces telling of nasty Muslims, good old Donald and the love of Brexit!  
Naturally I am indicating the problems here.
This took her by surprise as she doesn't appreciate how the 'little englander' come 'racist' approach is actually unchristian.  She believes UKIP and Donald trump are Christian simply because they oppose abortion.  No I agree with banning killing children but I 'hae ma doots' that UKIP personnel have much in the way of Christian doctrine in mind.  Their leaders show no evidence and appear more concerned with bringing back a fantasy empire than anything else.  
As for Donald I note his many Tweets on Twitter, always worth linking to them, and while he is seen at prayer with others and has some decent advisers in Christian ways I 'hae ma doots' aboot him also.  The word 'publicity stunt' appears in my mind when such photographs appear and until more evidence is forthcoming I will be wary of our Donald.
Sadly it is clear there are far too many stories for and against almost everyone in the media or online that it is difficult to know what is real and what is half truths exaggerated.  Reading the tweets however there is indeed a man in the White House who requires someone to polish his act somewhat.
I expect to get a loving mouthfull this Sunday...

Hard Work...

On Saturday I popped into the museum for the opening of the exhibition.  I was late and missed that, missed the boring speeches, missed the cheap red wine, missed the cakes, so I went home again before I didn't miss the washing up.  
Today the first thing I did was wash up the left over cups!
The thing about art exhibitions is the people that this attracts.  Tuesday mornings, especially dreich damp ones, are usually quiet however by not long after ten thirty I had dealt with ten people already!  So it continued, art lovers, both local and distant arrived and will continue to arrive in their droves as long as the exhibition lasts.
When doing the war memorial it was clear most of the men in the village were agricultural labourers, horsemen or stockmen.   It is no wonder that after three or four thousand years of such work the men took the chance to move to Canada or Australia for a better life!  What future would there be unless you found an exceptional talent and the opportunity to use it?
No doubt that also enabled many to enlist in 1914.  Several volunteered and occasionally one or two were already in the army,the temptation of regular pay and the opportunity to see the world too strong for some.  In those days the army was a rough place to be but at least there was the chance to be rough in India or China, Africa or some other hot exciting spot.  The fact that you might get shot didn't loom high at that moment.
In the late twenties when Bawden and Rivellious arrived the village would have been a quiet retreat from the big market town.  The small village surrounded by fields would, in the Spring, offer a delightful opportunity for painters to wallow in country living and express this on their canvasses.  Quite what the farm labourers really thought as they slugged away at twenty tons of potatoes or turnip while some chap drew sketches of them i cannot say.  I know what might have crossed my mind however.  
We have this exhibition on until April 15th so I expect to be an expert on these men and those who followed them by then.  Just listening to the folks this morning was interesting, though few of them bought much from the books and cards we have on offer however!  Bah!

 
  

Remembrance

Today many remembered the Holocaust, and with good reason.
However while it is important not to forget it is also important not to take things out of context.
The well organised, efficient deliberate murder of several million Jews and others alongside is well documented.   We learned about this when young and are sometimes surprised that there are those who appear ignorant of the facts concerned.  To me, and I think others, it occasionally appears remembering the Holocaust is now an industry perpetuated by politicians for reasons of their own rather than concern that we ought never to forget. 
In my view we must remember what depths our human nature can reach however we must not concentrate one one item only for there are other holocausts that receive no publicity, no annual remembrance, no speeches from people of importance.
The Armenians murdered by the Turks during the Great War may have numbered over a million and a half, the dead in the wars in the Democratic Congo over the last thirty years may number five or more million, and this fighting continues at times.  The USA was created by moving into land occupied by the Indians, sorry 'Native Americans,' and they were pushed aside and shot at will if and when this was required.  Close by the English government in the 1840 refused to send grain to Ireland while the potato famine caused almost two million to leave the country and over two million to die!  There was wheat available but this was not only withheld grain in Ireland was exported!
A glance at history shows many occasions whole populations were eradicated but only some are remembered.  This has been the result of human nature at its worst, and this is a nature we all share.  The untold story is that we too can be responsible for such actions, we just deceive ourselves as we do not wish to accept this.
If we did accept this we might cease the other closer to home holocaust, the murder of babies in abortion.  Murder committed, and often encouraged, by those who take the Hippocratic Oath!  Since 1967 when such were allowed in the UK some seven million have died because they had a hair lip, were disabled, happened to be female in an Asian family or many other excuses.  Always society cares for the mother, actually society cares for itself through using such mothers, but society cares not for the child ripped out and thrown alive into a bucket.
History reveals many holocausts, we are all capable of such actions.  Just give thanks you have not yet been put in the position of those who have carried out the work, willingly or unwillingly.     
But let us never forget, for it will happen again.

In Out the Cold

Braintree Station, Bawden

 

To get out of my freezing flat, Esmeralda costs too much when she bothers to ignite, I accepted the offer of filling in for a couple of hours this afternoon at the museum.  I wandered down there in temperatures just below freezing with rumours of snow in places irritating me passing frozen noses and many an ungloved hand thrust into not very warm pockets.
The time was well spent, I cleaned hundreds of cups left over from the day before and spent some time proof reading labels soon to be attacked to exhibits.  The amount of work to ensure an exhibition is put on properly is astounding, mostly I avoid it.  There were few changes to be made and when we closed I wandered around gazing at  the pictures already in place.
Edward Bawden and the many other artists who gathered in the wee villages of Great Bardfield to the north of town in the twenties and thirties onwards are the subject of the exhibition.  Based on a book, 'Life in an English Village' we show many of the works and expect a large number of adoring art lovers to visit in the coming weeks.  

 HMS Glorious, Ravilious

 

On Saturday we have the official opening and already over fifty people have decided to be there, so will I, probably washing glasses again!  The works themselves do look to me as very 40's and 50's as many were done by the artists following on from the originators Bawden and Eric Ravilious.  Bawden continued working for some years but Ravilious unfortunately obtained work as a war artist and was sent to Iceland which at that time was an RAF base.  Not long after he arrived an air sea rescue mission was launched for a missing plane and he went along on one of the four aircraft searching.  Only three of those planes returned, Ravilious and his aircraft were never seen again.  
The pictures are a bit iffy to me some of them.  I saw several very good ones and too many of the type often called 'naive,' I think people who pay large sums of cash for them are naive myself.
I must look out my crayons...

Dreich, Cold and Miserable...

And so is the weather....

Lost in a Misty Haze

My mind is lost in a misty haze each day at the moment.  Jumping up out of bed I noticed the world was in such a haze also.  The misty haze arriving when the temperature was below zero left fields cold and white and early risers not much better.  
I notice Theresa May has become a misty haze also.  When asked four times if she had been told of the failed test of the Trident nuclear missile she failed to answer, possibly a wee bit of misty haze there I suggest.  There is also a misty haze when she is asked about Brexit, EU negotiations, cost, and organisation of trade debates with the world and EU and indeed everything else.  Is she up to the job?  

 
Mondays have changed as each week I am now committed to a meeting at St Paul's when I ought to be enjoying my siesta.  This of course need not hinder my siesta as I can shout my mouth off even if asleep.  However we work our way through the bible making use  of a book called 'The Story,' well they do I read the good book myself rather than a cut down version.  This is good in that I get to know people better and in several cases they already loathe the sight of me, so normal situation appears.  
The problem is time!  This means getting up, waking up, eating and going out at lunchtime missing lunch.  So lunch is early, alongside breakfast to save time, and then I have to prepare my little head and walk down there is the freezing cold weather, not that I was complaining however my knees were!  By the time we finish and I stutter home via the park looking for a picture or two it is time to eat.  So my day has been eat, talk, eat and now ty and scribble something in a blog.  Not easy when you are glaikit like me.

   
One advantage of the cold is the public gardens are free of children, mums consider their child too precious to go outside in the cold which is good - for everyone else.  However with no kids offering peanuts the beasties have to dig for the many treasures they hid when times were good.  Whether they actually find what they hid or whether they are just grubbing around is unclear to me but several were at it when I approached and none appeared to be successful.

Something very attractive about the sun shining like it does but also very difficult to capture.  Nothing else I tried worked so this is all I can do to catch the sun.  
Scenes such as this, with birds and beasties grubbing all around make me forget the worries of the day and the sights are important when sitting indoors for hours at a time.  When stuck inside for hours it is important to walk amongst something green and see blue sky, or gray sky as it usually happens to be round here.  There is something within us that requires time in the outdoors among greenery and animal life.  I think combining this with the seaside is even better for our mental health, the sights refresh the mind and allow us to think freely, expand the mind somewhat and in truth are just enjoyable if nothing else. 

The Sunday Sermon

Sat Day

What an excellent Saturday it has been!
I sauntered out slowly this morning, the pavements were white with frost, and visited Tesco for bread.  A quick look at the sky above and then back into the heat, once Esmeralda had switched herself on, and I have sat in front of the laptop all day.
Now this does not indicate working I should tell you, Oh no, instead I have been playing with 'Little England' 'Brexiters.'  One facebook friend keeps linking to people who post 'Daily Express' stories, the 'Express' is constantly brought up before the ineffective Press control people for misleading, indeed lying headlines.  They do not change them as they are well aware headlines offering stories concerning foreign bodies stealing money, attacking women, murdering their family always sells to the 'UKIP' voter.  I ask them to show the white English doing similar but find no support.  
The lies re 'Brexit' continue to fill the page just as bias towards Trump does.  I indicate helpfully misunderstandings, and indeed bad spelling, but this gets only abuse.  Violence is offered by some in they way hey detest when 'Liberals' 'Communists' and 'Luvvies' offer it.  The little englander is not the brightest.  For some reason they dislike that professor who called England the 'Lager lout of Europe,' I failed to see their objection.   
Tee Hee how they revolted at my comments.  I am so unhappy about that.

Anyway I returned to war memorials and finished and printed off two more of the pile I was doing and decided to return to other museum work.  Then I decided to return to it after lunch, after this I decided to sleep it off before working and then after that decided to watch the football instead.  I ought to have worked at something.  How depressing to see Rangers lose a goal and then come back and win!  No chance Celtic will lose goals tomorrow so both the evil twins go through.  The Heart of Midlothian have the hardest task with Raith Rovers tomorrow yet we know how that will turn out.
I eventually considered dead soldiers again but luckily hunger took over and football has run my day since.  How lucky is that?

Oh Dear Oh Dear

I noticed this man sitting there enjoying what sun there was on his back.  He sat contentedly watching the world go by.  For millennia birds such as he have sat on branches, walls, and telegraph wires watching the world go about its business and carried on with their lives as if nothing was happening.  Eating, laughing and sleeping is all they care about.  We however can envy animals and birds this leisure but have to participate in one way or another while the world makes its mistakes.
I mentioned to this bird Trump has become president and he flew away screaming!  I wonder if he will be back?

Oh dear Oh dear, what has America done?  One of the mistakes made is the people listening to politicians speaking up for them and then failing to work for them as promised.  Trump did this to excess today.  He told his congregation what they wanted to hear and happily left them to it.  Of course it is nonsense, for one he talked of bringing jobs back to America yet he sent his factories to China, has he forgotten this?  His cry that the people are now the government was brilliant but clearly nonsense as he is the government, well him and Congress, the military, powerful businesses, the insurance companies, the lobby groups ....

  
Should we be placing bets as to when he gets shot....?
Just asking, it is the USA you know!

Beware the Ides of Friday

 

Much against my better judgement I rose from under the bed and took my frail and freezing cold hulk down to the museum.  Claiming she had gone deaf, no surprise to anyone who has spoken to  her, she has called off the Thursday afternoon.  As little occurs at this time she will be happy enough to be at home in the warm reading rubbish wimmens novels.  

As expected nothing happened.  Two persons entered, two called via the telephone and I opened a box of books connected with the new exhibition.  A full afternoons work.  

The town has a half day/early closing on Thursdays and the place gets very quiet in the afternoon as people tend to stay away, even Tesco was quiet when I went for milk.  In a weeks time however the new exhibition will draw in the 'art' types who will flock to see what is on show.  Already around 80 are expected at the official opening, probably to avoid having to avoid paying when they come to visit the exhibition.   Some pics have gone up but still much to do to set out the show, I am doing my bit - I am clearing off out of the way!

 

A pathetic attempt at catching the dying sun on my wee camera.  This camera is not made for more than snaps rather than pictures.  Still it took the one of the tree quite well.  Maybe it's the photographer...

  

Tomorrow is the day the USA begins to wonder if it has done the right thing.  Tomorrow is the day the rest of the world begins to wonder in similar fashion.  We can of course remember that US presidents, for all their power, are in fact limited by so many 'checks & balances' that all too often anything they attempt is hampered by Congress or some Lobby group or other.  Even the UK system is better than what Americans have to endure.  

Tomorrow Mr Trump is allowed to know what no-one bar the president gets to know (so who tells him and how do they know it?) he also gets to carry the code for the nuclear button!

However we need not worry about this as his pal Putin is not in any danger of creating a war, although he might invade Poland, the Baltic States, Ukraine, Czech republic and Hungary and all the rest but he and Donald will not exchange nuclear missiles over them will they?  

meanwhile Mrs Theresa May is going flat out for broke, which is what the nation will be when she has finished.  Only last year she spoke of our strength and economic power being safe only in the EU now she realises her new job and its important powers depend on keeping the right wing little englanders in her party happy and she is not going to lose her new job because of economic collapse and a few hungry people is she?  What with Boris (this man is our foreign secretary!) comparing the French president to Nazis she has one less opponent to fear but others will arise just as clearly as Boris will do something stupid again.  

Normal politics really.  Up there in Elite Land they make their decisions and we don't count until they need us to vote for them.  Propaganda spewed out daily through the gutter press (which the Tories own) and a compliant BBC will be used in any referendum or against those seeking a referendum.  It never ceases to surprise me how the messages are passed by a ' free Press!'  The elite continue to prosper and it is the 'poor wot gets the blame.' 

Even Less Happened Today...

Nothing Happened...

A Day in the Knees

I have spent the day in cogitating.  My thought processes have been working all day.  This as you may understand is not a regular exercise.  Having to take my creaking knees down to S P's for the midday session I prepared by deep study of the relevant passages, or the few I managed before my head hurt.  I mean I had read about Abraham many times before but early in the morning, that is about nine a.m. it is a little bit of a strain.  The big words in the commentary are easy enough at night when fed and watered and having no football to watch but before the cereal and stale bread it is much harder.  
The world 2000 BC is an interesting time.  People were flocking into cities in what is now southern Iraq three thousand years before this and life then was just as it is today, except there were no laptops or phones.  Writing began 3500 BC roughly and literature such as the epic of Gilgamesh around 2600 BC.  Writing probably began as means of recording sales as populations increased and an 'elite' were taking charge of an urban growth.  Great wealth and that from far distances has been found in 'royal' tombs from this time at Ur.  
War of course had begun by then.  Small tribal clans were usually less intent of robbing peoples far from themselves and it seems to me the increase in population and greater size of cities with associated wealth brought small local disagreements into what we now call national wars.  'The Standard of Ur' shows the result of one such conflict from the winners perspective.  It is recorded that peoples in the south held sway over those in the north of Iraq and faced rebellions around this time.  Boys will be boys.
It's fascinating to conjecture on how such folks lived, the crops, farmed since since 9000 BC, and the number of old folks wandering around grumbling that life was better in the old days.  Human nature does not change and the peoples of Mesopotamia reflect this clearly.

  
However much that interested me the group in which I blethered was less interested especially as most of them knew these things.  Instead we concentrate on Abrams faith in his God and how we ought to react to God today.  The asking of Abram to kill his son, the one through whom the promise was to be fulfilled was interesting, especially when you consider Abrams reaction.  I wonder what went through his head as he went to the chosen mountain?  Whatever God understood his reaction as while he never wished Abram to kill his son he did himself allow his Son to die for us.  How he hurt to save us.  A fathers love is something rarely spoken of in the media today, unless it is some sentimental twaddle.  Fathers are of course the lowest in society according to PC attitudes.
Now I sit with aching knees wondering how to deal with museum work tomorrow.  I mean should I try to stay awake or just doze....