Resumption of Normal Boredom.

All Easter eggs ought to have been swallowed by now.  All carboard boxes in the recycling, paracetamol passed round for the headaches chocolate guzzling brings, and everyone looking forward to the next commercial money grab, whatever that is.

Having worked hard last week I have done almost nothing this week.  Annual paperwork has been attended to, eventually, online shopping for items to replace things that have shrunk in the cupboard over the last 18 months has taken place, and emails aplenty have been issued, received and answered, not that I made a penny out of this.

An occasional wander across the park, such as today to inform the council of my council tax paperwork, and a visit on other days for bread at Sainsburys.  

Easter is over and it is back to boredom.

 

Now bungling, bumptious Boris has opened the door to some holidays we can expect a mass loss of discipline across the nation.  Set limits will be treated like a visit to Barnard Castle, crowds will gather hither and thither having fun, assaulting police, fighting with each other and forgetting the virus is still around.  Marbella will be wonderfully full of English yobs if the Spanish allow it.

It may be some distance can be covered.  Caravans blocking the main roads will appeal to the 'Top Gear' fan.  Biker rallies everywhere will fill back roads and B&B's will be upping the prices to make up for lost time, those that are still in business that is.

How many cafe's, shops and hostelries will no longer open?  When the shops open barbers and salons will be OK but small cafe's?  Coffee shops and such like have not be able to pay their way, we lost one good one here, but I suspect the pubs will open, they usually survive.

There will be no more Lock Downs, all will be well!  So expect another wave and further LockDowns in June. 

 

Easter Monday Sleet

 

 

 

'Lost' sums up much of the day.

Freezing this morning, snow flakes flying about for a while, then later sun shining and fooling me into thinking it was warm.  It was not.  

The stale bread made me lurch up to the shop for goodies to feed my face.  With the usual Easter Monday Holiday weather keeping most inside there is little to tempt anyone out, bar the dogs of course.  So, manfully I ate and slept and watched feeble football, so uninteresting that I answered many emails instead.

Each email appeared to be concerned with Easter eggs for some reason.  Many desired to know if I had one, none suggested sending me any!  Luckily it fell to me three 'Creme Eggs' that happened to be lying about.  As I damage what teeth are left I will ponder on the spelling of 'Cream'  Why 'Creme?'   

Even 'Cadbury's' in the days when they were a proper business could not spell properly.  Either that or their marketing people were English educated.  I don't know.

These eggs, like much of their now American owned produce, were being made in Poland for a while. This in spite of the US woman in charge insisting they would not move production elsewhere.  She has been called to testify before the Parliament committee but remains out of the country for some reason.  I did read they changed the taste and are changing it back to the original again.  I also read somewhere production was returning to the UK.  Whether these things are true I know not but it is something to cogitate upon while stuffing the face.

 

Easter Morn 2021

 

 

This morning, long before I was awake, I shuffled down the road to St Paul's.  The road runs for about a one mile length and appears to me to be getting longer each time I wander down.  Funnily enough it appears quicker coming back, I wonder why?

Sanitised, masked, escorted to seat (near the front) by the 'sergeant at arms,' I found myself happy to be back inside in a well organised, disciplined, happy congregation.  

The other day a Polish church in London was closed by police.  They had a crowded interior, people crammed outside, and few wearing masks, with the choir boys sitting next to one another and no social distancing.  Yet they claim the police were heavy handed?  Vaccine or not, stupidity is not a good idea.  

 

We are limited to just over 30 people, and the place was full.  Wide spacing of course means the normal congregation cannot fit in, though many still remain indoors isolating.  The gray hair you see sitting to the right in this picture belongs to me, quite how it got gray I know not.  Mrs Vicar likes to photograph such gatherings while Mr Vicar burbles on.  It is fair to say we require barbers to open soon!

 

In spite of the Covid restrictions people were happy enough, Easter reminds them that Jesus is the purpose of life, his death for us, rising again while leaving our sins ransomed, and the offer of repentance for forgiveness gratefully received.  Add to this just getting out and about and meeting people in the flesh cheers everyone, and the sun shone through the chill pleasing us all.  

Easter eggs were also available and gratefully received. 

Hobbling home I turned to bacon rolls for lunch and football to relax.  Nothing much else happened as sloth was over me and I enjoyed that part of the day!

Time to Think...

 

Good Friday

It was a suitably gray day when I wandered out this morning, gray, cold and nothing like a Jerusalem morning.  The exercise was intended to loosen the stiffness caused by my hard work, naturally this failed!  I now have aches in places I did not know existed before now.

 

 

The somewhat glowering sky did not keep people indoors.  From early on the traffic sped by the door in an unending quest for something, I know not what.  Both supermarkets, and indeed the Butchers, were open, cars being loaded with important foodstuffs, enough to feed an army or two and avoid starvation over the next three days until the supermarkets are fully open on Tuesday when the whole process will restart again.  (One at least will open on Easter Monday)  While the foodbank has two openings in town these days and many suffer hardship through the pandemic it is clear many others have enough money to buy urgent things they do not really require, but will buy any shiny thing on offer to seek comfort and happiness.  

More real pleasure and happiness in watching the glow of the Daffs in the park to me.  A walk by the cricket ground 'Players Only. No Spectators' shouted the sign at the gate.  No need, only a groundsman fixing the nets for some future Kids tournament was to be seen.  That and a couple of Crows and a Thrush seeking worms were the only ones around.  Typical English town, it must have a cricket pitche, with at least a 'first team' and a  'second,' like all other small towns have.  The locals take such a game seriously, playing it at some level, talking about it as if it were important, and getting 'hot under the collar' when some question the need to spend time 'Throwing a ball at a man waving a stick?'  I cannot understand the fury aroused when suggesting digging up the grass and building houses for the needy!  There is a lot of space wasted there, don't you think?  Don't these people care...?

 

After staggering home I decided to do nothing all weekend if I can, though I must hobble to St Ps on Sunday.  So, today I watched the church Good Friday Meditation, on YouTube thankfully, and then sought out the football that will fill the rest of the weekend.  Obviously with prayer and watchfulness ongoing.  

Eggs are found at Eastertime, Bunnies however, ought not to be found in this context!  The image of an egg representing 'new life' was well known in Jesus day and Christians took to it well.  Today this is more of a chocolate bonanza but, looking at those small cream eggs sitting there with my name on I say it is perfectly acceptable!

I hope your Easter is a good one

 

 

Work Never Ceases...

Man alive!  I was at it early today.  Rising at 7ish, I was almost awake by 9.  Listening carefully I realised the house was quiet, all had gone out to earn large amounts of cash and pay towards my pension increase, not that many hours would be required for that!  So, I stuffed the next blanket into the washing machine and set it going.  Three days in a row!  This is costing a fortune in water.

Then in quick order I sorted out the rubbish for the bin men tomorrow, forgetting that it is 'Good Friday' and they will not come till Saturday, did some exercise to ease the pain from yesterday's exercise and then hoovered the house!  

What is wrong with me?  

Coming in from dumping the rubbish I began to pick weeds from the front of the house, a tedious and difficult job for someone who does not bend easily.  Thismay please the landlord but I wish he gave me a stick to use!

I then began my study time, three hours late, failed to understand a word, and all the while contemplating wandering across the park.  

By lunchtime I was dead.

No majorwork could be done as I had to check the budget!  So, I then struggled through the afternoon until near six.  It was then I stopped planning for tomorrow's work when I remembered it was 'Good Friday,' all would be holidaying, the sun would go in, clouds arrive and there is a church 'Stations of the Cross' online at 3 pm.  This meant my cupboard cleaning was out, under the bed remains under the bed, and the need to sort my files continues to grow. 

There again as it is a holiday, visiting Sainsburys early in the morning is also out which saw me hobbling up there tonight, much against my will, to collect what bread I could find for the weekend.  This meant eating late, being out of joint and catching up on emails.

What does it all mean?  

Energy and desire to work, exercising daily?  Housework rather than laziness?

I must be ill...  

Laundering Blankets and Baby.

 

Lock Down fever has hit me!  I returned to Spring Cleaning!  Yesterday I washed the bed cover, a large object that filled the machine.  It turns out it is actually white!  For years I thought it was a kind of magnolia colour.   Impressed with this, knowing the neighbours are all out, today I washed the big blanket.  This remains mostly black but some colour now shows in various regions.  Hopefull all are out tomorow and I will do the orange coloured one, I think that is orange...

The thing is I have to ensure folks are out or the whole building shakes, depending on which spin speed is used.  Luckily the large objects were done on 'Duvet,' though I have not the courage to wash my duvet itself, much easier to buy a new one possibly.  How many years should they last...?

The thing is large objects only get washed rarely, in this house years have passed by since the last time and the covers have done their work well, so why bother say I?  Fussy people may grumble about the smell and the somewhat tinged covers but these people I refer to as just 'woke.'  

After this I must clean out the cupboard I began Spring cleaning, oh about two years ago.  Then there is 'under the bed,' which may produce many lost items as well as a wee bit of dust.  I am in no hurry to look under there.  Worse may be the trays on my desk.  The last time I cleared the paperwork I had stuff going back four years, it creaks a bit now so there may be a similar outcome this time.  Time!  Where is a lazy person like me going to get the time to do all this, or indeed the energy?  Oh, I begin to feel weak at the thought...

 

 

I had not heard from my favourite, intelligent, beautiful and talented niece for a while and was under the impression her work was keeping her busy.  l ought to have known better!  ln fact she was not keeping a social distance between herself and her husband and while forcing him to do all the cooking, even choosing the ingredients, and they have been working on child production.  So now I have my favourite, talented, good looking, highly intelligent great neice/nephew to look forward to spending money on.

Her intelligence has ensured the birth will arrive in September, thus ensuring several gifts and avoiding them paying for same while Christmas approaches.  Then the family will pile more on the spoiled genius to be.  

Still, I suppose they had not much else to do in Lock Down...

 

 

In the Soup

As I walked out the other morning the weather she was gray, the sky cloudy, the wind chilled.  Frozen, I wandered around 'exercising.'  Today, trapped by the smelly washing and then making chicken soup I am stuck inside while the sun hits the 60's F.  Innit typical!  

The soup came from a chicken of dubious heritage, or is it just that no chicken today provides nourishment?  Yesterday I prepared the chicken and turned on the oven at 20 minutes to ten, then sat at the laptop awaiting the oven heating up.  At 20 minutes past 11, I remembered the chicken and placed it in the oven!  An hour and a half of warm house but uncooked chicken!  It was nearer one before I could eat.  My whole day was put out by crass stupidity, and not for the first time.  I could not hobble to the church this morning, too far for me today, though they were open, and could not find a proper service online, it being hours before our online one arrived, so I filled my time with listening to Alistair Begg again.  This however is not the same as meeting people, even wrapped up according to the orders, but he is always worth a listen. 

With the clocks marching forwards we see Spring in action properly, the gas and electric folk want a meter reading!  This means clambering down the awkward stair and then clambering slowly back up again tomorrow to read them.  Have they no heart?  Can they no longer employ people to read meters?  No, they cannot, that costs money the shareholders want!

 

Palm Sunday

 

Heart of Midlothian and Queen of the South

Nothing much happens here on Saturdays bar watching football.  I had an afternoon of much fun watching the romantically named, Heart of Midlothian, struggle as I have watched them doing so many, many times before, against lesser opposition.  The commentator fussed much about this being umpteen years since the also romantically named, Queen of the South, had beaten the Hearts at Tynecastle, I know not why, I think since 1963 we have only played them here eight times.  I did realise as they spouted the usual nonsense that I was at that game way back in October 1963, several years before I was actually born. 

Scottish Football has many romantic names, Hamilton Academicals, Partick Thistle (who don't play in Partick), Raith Rovers, where the chances of watching them 'Dancing in the streets of Raith,' is very thin, and Brechin City, a city with less than 8000 people!

The Heart of Midlothian team that October day were a formidable outfit, Jim Cruickshank, Davie Holt, Norrie Davidson, Willie Wallace (who reached a hundred goals in less than 4 seasons) and the great Willie Hamilton, a man of outstanding ability of international level.  He ought to have been playing with Law, Baxter and MacKay for his country but rarely made it, the drink did not help, indeed it killed him at 38 years of age.  That great Hearts team played a Queens side that was heading for relegation and naturally in front of 10,817 spectators we lost by one goal to nil!  I cannot mind what the 'Boo Boys' said that day, but they would have been out in force at the end I expect.  Queens dropped down a division, a drop down that has, as yet, stopped them ever returning to the highest level of football.  We had to drop down to play them!

I say that defeat in 1963 was much worse than this.  That day we were in fifth place seeking to go higher, they were eleventh and heading slowly downwards.  It is a long and indeed popular tradition among the Heart of Midlothian that we lose to relegation threatened sides,  Most such sides have done this to us, a tradition that will, rest assured, continue.  You will remember the Lord Provost at the Heart of Midlothian's 50th anniversary telling his audience how "The Hearts are good for Scottish football, they beat all the big teams and lose to all the small ones," a tradition maintained to this day. 

The 'Woke' generation are grumbling loudly and offensively, but they need to develop the natural cynicism that comes with following the Hearts.  I think I became cynical by about 1967 myself.

Indeed while this game was a problem for many I find a much worse crime is lying at our door.  On TV at the moment we have a World Cup Qualifier between Netherlands and Latvia, fine so far.  However, I just realised the referee is a woman!  A woman at an important football match refereeing?  What's the matter, have all the pie stalls been closed by Covid?  Blatant sexism,  false equality, a women refereeing something as important as a football match!  The end is nigh indeed.

 

 

A Day Holiday!

I've just had a holiday!

A church friend took me all off two miles up the road, (Rayne Station is 2 miles and 14 chains from Braintree Station in case you wished to know) where we got coffee from the one time booking hall!   Closed many years ago it has been run for some time by volunteers (I think) with a successful coffee shop attached.  This now provided takeaway coffee and cake for aprice from behind a security window.  I wish I had known this before. The coach just peeping in the photo is used as a museum, when open, and the use of the building in this way is very successful on normal days.  

Naturally, I suggested this spot as I knew it would be quiet, with an occasional passerby, the old railway line now being a popular walking/cycling spot.  Today the car park was full, with others outside, so we squeezed in at the end and joined a long - distantly seperated - queue for coffee.  Very slow, only one man doing everything, and having avoided the slice of tempting cake we both regarded as fattening we could afford it.

 

 

How lovely to photograph something other than a Daffodil!  A pot of pansies at the end of the platform, next to the aged railway cart, supplied some colour to the scene.  Sitting nearby I allwed the young lass to disgorge her worries and offer news of the past year.  We have not met for a year, I wonder how many others are in similar situations?  The sun shone occasionally but the clouds kept hiding it again.  This however, did not deter the number of people walking/cycling/dogwalking from using the line.  The coffee queue never ended, it went on for ever and I suspect this is a constant at this spot these days, there is nowhere else nearby to wander abroad.

 

Had we more time we may have trundled up the path a short way, but neither of us would have gone far.  Age is not a blessing!  It must be 18 months or more since I have been here.  The place is looking a bit grubby, the grass worn by the people attending events before Lock Down, as well as the daily traffic.  This is rather sad, the popularity of the place enhanced by Lockdown leading to a despoiling of the area.  A well kept station building however, and a marvellous day out for me!

 

Maudlin Monday

 

 

After a restful football day yesterday, I fell asleep in every game, I wandered out twice today to grasp the sun and feel the chill of the northern wind.  Not really exciting but it meant I could avoid the no-news that filled the news today.  Indeed, almost more talk was of some bloomers in a Cop show on last nights TV than on real news.  Of course much space is given over to attacks on Nicola by the English news men (all news is Englsh owned) because she is the only opponent Boris has. The sight of so many demanding she resigns while not demanding this of ANY front bench Conservative from Boris down is a level of hypocrisy even the House of Commons has not seen before.

 

Easter approaches, therefore I have bought sufficient eggs for my many women.  If I fail to meet any, as I intend, I will have to dispose of them in a simialr manner to their Christmas chox.  Hmmm...My teeth are falling out!  The choice was somewhat limited I thought, overpriced and for reasons that make no sense a wide variety of expensive Bunnies are to be found.  Another commercial US money grab!  I refuse them. The use of eggs as a symbol of new life was around before Christ rose from the dead, so his early followers took it on.  I am not sure they had chocolate ones mind.    

 

My thoughts on Easter bunnies...

 

 

Football Day!

 

It must be Saturday.  I know this as I have been watching football again.  This is one of the ways I find out what day this is.  Once again I spent much of Wednesday thinking it was Tuesday, this is becoming a habit, I may have to start drawing marks on the wall and checking them off daily to keep up to date.

This afternoon, for the price of £12 I watched the hazy pictures of Arbroath playing the great Heart of Midlothian.  This went as expected.  A 0-0 draw, several bruises, and anither point as we head towards promotion.  Dogged defence, dangerous on attack, and determined under our 'surge' late in the second half Arbroath deserved the point.  Some of our midfield did not.  So, another game passes, another Saturday is almost over (after I have watched the 6 'O' Clock game on BBC Alba) and then I snore into the night.

 

I've had a look around and nothing else has happened.  I suppose everyone is watching football on TV?

Book!!!

 

Waterstone's

 

At last, after much struggle, I have reached the end of 'Engel's England.'  Something many of us wish to achieve!  I began reading this book early in Lock Down but just could not find the effort to read anything for a while.  Several dust covered books lie awaiting my eyes so I have begun another two of them.  At least one introduction and one first page!   

Anyway, you may remember Matthew Engel from his previous book, 'Eleven Minutes Late,' so you will know the character of the man.  That book concerned railways, this one involves his journey around every English county.  English only, which is fair enough.  This makes the book a long read, even if some chapters are not too long he does like to spend time in those he associates with.  

There is no real pattern to the journey, he took several years over it, between 2012 and 2014, hopping here and there, and it is worth a look just to see what he thinks is important in the county in which you may have connections.  Ten years out of date maybe but relevant still today.

London here, is treated as a seperate county, and this makes sense.  London has little connection to England, much less to Scotland or Wales, even though the government offices reside here.  London, the government, the Oxbridge set that run the nation, and all the powerful of the land care nothing for anything north of Euston Road, London alone counts with them as that is where their money and friends, make that contacts, are.

Engel travelled around London on his own when around 12 year of age, he lived in Northampton but holidayed with his gran in Temple Meads.  He travelled safely, wandering on and off bus and tube, visiting interesting places.  Boys that age would enjoy such an activity even now, however, I suspect the police, social services and women with short hair and dangly earrings would suffer hysteria at a 'child' exploring on his own today.  Personally I did similar, round Edinburgh, and no harm came to me.  His love of London is clear, possibly because he now lives miles away outside, and here, as in all counties he offers an interesting view of what is around him.

All counties in England are found here, some history, some novelties, some people stories, all the usual things to expect from a travel book.  He missed one bit of Essex mind, this one!   

 

Reek!

 

Bottled or Tinned?

An American gentleman, if there is such a thing, posted, on behalf of his dog who struggles with keyboards, about the Brewing of Beer.  This is a subject much loved by people with nothing else to do.  A blog worth reading I say.

Naturally I was intrigued.  The detailed information even going far back into History to the dawn of life in Sumer 5000 years ago.  Here women brewed beer as this was a mainstay in those crowded cities, it was issued to the workforce as payment along with a bowl of food, and women had nothing else to do with their time.  The inference of the Dogs long tale, which is well worth a read, being that beer was always brewed by women until men took over.  Typical feminism!  This shows how strong a hold his wife has on him!

 

 

This reminded me of my third job, I having quickly been disposed off by the first and second ones for the rather unfortunate talent of being totally useless.  For four years I developed this talent in the office taking orders over the phone from pubs around the nation and pushing bits of paper together to organise loads for the lorry drivers.  Actual 'work' I knew not.  It was not a bad time for a ignorant 16 or so year old and when I reached 18 I received an allowance of beer for myself FREE! 

 

 

 

Tennents produced a famous Lager, the kind of beer drunk by youths just to get drunk rather than real beer for taste.  This was not brewed in Edinburgh as far as I knew, that came from the Glasgow brewery but as far as I know both have long closed so I no longer know where it originates these days.

However, each day I passed through the huge noisy bottling plant where all to often bottles of 'Piper Export' were passing by.  This replaced the failing 'Husky Export' which had to be put down.  'Piper' itself was also 'improved' as sales were poor, but in thosed ays all beer was losing flavour and large breweries cared not for taste. 

During the late 60's and through the 70's both 'Tennents,' part of the huge 'Bass Charrington Brewery,' and 'Scottish Brewers,' chose to lower the quality of their beers and produced cheap, easily made simple beers.  The quality of the public houses reflected the unoriginal taste of the beer.  This was universal, in England 'Watneys' produced 'Red Barrel' beer, somewhat akin to left over washing up water, but this came in large '7 Pint' tins which found favour with partygoers who care little what they drink.  

In days of yore beer was counted in shillings, 60/- was light beer, 70/- mild and 80/- 'Heavy.'  The term 'India Pale Ale' I believe came about as 60/- beer lasted the voyage to the Raj in India better than any other.  

However, at Tennents the slop we sold included 'Toby Beer,' and English intrusion that was taken in lorries equipped with large containers filled with beer.  For some reason Miners welfare clubs found this popular.  Interestingly, the miners of Ayrshire like light beer, the 60/-, but it had to be 'Extra Dark.'  If you take a barrel of beer and add a thimble of dye it becomes 'Dark,' two thimbles it becomes 'Extra Dark.'  The miners of Fife however refuse this dark 60/-, indeed, if you gave it to them they would refuse it because "The taste is off."  The Ayrshire men felt the same in reverse.  

The Lager cans decorated with the 'Lovelies' you see at the top were very popular at the time.  By the 70's however ugly girls were being upset as the attention of men became lodged on looking at the cans and not them, so they shouted about  'early sexism,' and had them stopped.  The girls themselves continued to pose as far as I know elsewhere, too grown up to follow such nonsense, and they made money.

Eventually, just as I was enjoying my work, the girls answering the phones needed me they said, and I needed them more than I ever said, but change was coming.  The office was a place where we talked openly about many things and life was good, but Jesus intervened.  One day as I collected my free beers he arrived and said "Oi! Walk this way."  So I did, sort off, moving to London and soon working in a charitable organisation 'Helping people.'  At least that what I said.  

By this time people were sick of grotty beer and a campaign began to return to a higher standard.  Soon smaller breweries were arriving and offering proper beer again, and today they appear to be in many peoples back gardens.  Not that they can sell much during LockDown unless a supermarket takes them on.  The slop mostly died away, Tennents Lager continues, youth gurgles it down and men over 35 drink stuff with flavour.  

Is it too late for one now?

 

Bandwagon Hysteria and Actual Figures.

 

This is Jennifer Helen Jones, Baroness Jones of Moulsecoomb.  A Green Party member of the House of Lords.  As you may expect with a member of the Green party Jenny is 'a penny short of a shilling.'  This was made clear yesterday when she called for all men to face a 6 pm curfew in an attempt to make the streets safer for women.  This is because a police officer is being investigated regarding the death of a young woman and now a Hysteria Bandwagon has arisen with all the usual suspects lining up to tell of their woes.

However,I recall searching out the murder numbers a while back and discovered things were not as they appear.  Today I looked up these numbers and, eventually after much searching, discovered them.

The ONS figures for 'Homicide' are indeed interesting.  Latest figures.

 

There were 695 victims of homicide in the year ending March 2020, 47 more (7%) than the previous year; this figure includes the Grays lorry incident with 39 homicide victims – if this incident is excluded, homicide showed a 1% increase overall.

The homicide rate was 11.7 per million population, with the rate for males (17 per million population) almost three times that for females (6 per million population); this is a higher difference than previous years because of a 20% increase in the number of male victims, from 422 to 506, and a 16% decrease in the number of female victims, from 225 to 188.

Just under two-thirds (443 or 64%) of all homicide victims in the year ending March 2020 were from the White ethnic group. The number of Black victims in the last year, at 105, was the highest seen since the year ending March 2002 (107 victims).

 

There were 105 victims identified in the Black ethnic group in the last year, accounting for 15% of all victims. This was an increase of nine homicides compared with the previous year.

The homicide rate over the three-year period to year ending March 2020 was 49.5 per million population for the Black ethnic group, approximately five times higher than for the White ethnic group (9.4 per million population).

There were 142 homicide victims aged 16- to 24-years-old, an increase of 32 on the previous year and a return to the relatively high levels seen in the year ending March 2018 (147).

Almost three-quarters of all victims were male (73%) and just over a quarter were female (27%).

It appears the number of women involved in Homicide cases is decreasing, possibly the Green Party do not know how to find figures, it is not a simple task.  73% of death were male, that figure is increasing, while the female figure drops.  The news coverage of this does not appear anywhere as far as I can see.

It is clear that men suffer Homicide more than women (how many men killed by women is not stated) and Black men are suffering proportionately more than any white, male or female.  

The truth is however that such loud women will join the bandwagon, that this sells papers and that the truth is not to be found as welcome to those individuals.  It is still safe for women to walk the streets in 'England and Wales,' as the female MP's and loudmouths driving past will notice.

Interestingly, way down the page in the onine 'Daily Mirror' I fond Davina McCall tweeting:

 

 "Female abduction/murder is extremely rare. Yes we should all be vigilant when out alone.

"But this level of fear-mongering isn’t healthy. And men’s mental health is an issue as well. Calling all men out as dangerous is bad for our sons, brothers, partners."

Naturally the sisterhood have denounced her with bitchy Twitter replies.

She is of course correct, as the figures prove, 188 women out of around 30 million females is rare indeed, especially when more men die, and young Black men in particular.  However, correct figures do not defeat emotion, and it is emotion plus publicity seekers ensuring they are seen as leading the way that matters.

 

 

I found Davina's experience while I looked for something more 'light' to fill the page, there was nothing!  All was "Woe and thrice woe!" and I went back to my daffodils for some succour.  It is not easy to get succour out of a daffodil, so I just sit here looking at them and feeling relaxation wash over me.

 

M and H and a lot of Bull...

Lucky us!  A missing woman has been found dead, murdered allegedly, with the investigation centering on a police officer.  How lucky for us as this distracts the small minded press from the Meghan and Harry soap opera that has unfortunately filled the spaces everywhere.

As always we must ask when such stories fill the papers what is hiding behind them?  What is being pushed through by Boris and his gangsters while the plebs gape at these millionaires telling us of their suffering?

The nation is divided, half support poor, hard done by, racially insulted Meghan (a woman), while half support the poor, hard done by queen (a woman), who suffers through all this while half, like me would prefer them all to go away.

Maths @tabloid press.

How easy to gain sympathy by slipping in the accusation, with 'no names,' about the child being black! What sales arise, what support from half of the United States Black population, who it must be said, have absolutely no idea what the royals are all about.  A throw away line that generates mass publicity.  I wonder who thought that one up?  Possibly the same person who decided her 'Mental Health' was suffering?

The 'Daily Mail' reader has of course stood up for 'Our poor, hard working, long suffering queen,' who, while counting the millions she has banked away in foreign banks, suffers daily the indignities of her role, or at least of the behaviour of her family.  

So, we have two millionaires, one living off the royals while claiming he has no money, claiming they have cut him off (including the child?), one a bint on the make marrying into royalty, like his mum, while crying loudly (overacting?) about how hard life is being a well paid royal with responsibilities she did not wish to bother about, and an interviewer, who failed in the UK, but has made millions by being black and female in the US.  I feel great empathy for these poor struggling people.  

Mind you I am not so sure those queueing up at the Food Banks that now proliferate throughout the queens Kingdom feel the same way.  

At least the press have tired of them and have a murdered woman to make the most off.  Twitter is awash with women telling of their struggles shaking off unwanted men (no tales of them chasing men who don't want them for some reason) and inspiring fear in all women by telling them how they will all be killed by a stranger/friend/policeman/sadist as they walk down the street.  They tend to forget Rose West and Myra Hyndley for some reason.   

Ah the media, this wide world, nearly nine billion souls and the press concentrate on soap operas and half truths that cause fear just to sell papers.  It appears journalism is dead, just as most of these papers are dead.  Maybe one day they will note a reason for the death of the press?

 

At £1 a go I decided rthe place required brightening up!  Brilliant idea!  Immediately the sun went in,  clouds covered the land, rain fell, pushed along at high speed by strong winds keeping sensible people indoors.  I might have to place a lamp next to the Daffs just to pretend it is Spring!

 

Spam Meet

 

 

Last night was our SPAM meeting.  'SPAM' being the St Paul's mens meeting.  A chance to escape the women and talk freely.  Being Locked Down we had to meet on Zoom, this is not the best way to meet but it had to do.  Eight noble men met happily together, until it was discovered two wives were in attendance just out of the picture, plus one who kept bursting in accidentally!  These women cannot be trusted can they?  Or is it the men they canny trust, I wonder?

The discussion ranged wild and free, especially as the whisky took hold.  I myself indicated I was only drinking water.  "What proof is that?" came a voice, "37:5," came the answer...  It is good to see faces you have not seen for a year, not the easiest way to do it, but all that we have and we just got on with it.

The meeting broke up at 9:30 when the wives arrived to take everybody home.

 

However, after this I cogitated on 'Spam.'   I mean, as kids we ate Spam Fritters often, and it appeared to me at the time to be food.  I tried some a wee while ago and could not in any way find a connection between 'spam' and foodstuff.  It tasted, er, unusual.  Maybe it was the make, maybe it was me, but how on earth did we survive this?  And the stuff still sells as a quick look at any shop shelf will show.  Created in 1837 when an American company had too much Pork Shoulder to cry on.  He mixed this with Ham and cooked it in the can, I did not seek to know how, and made millions!  Having begun in time for the war he sent billions of cans to feed the US army, billions to the UK to feed everyone there, and billions of cane elsewhere, even the Soviet Union got them.  There is no doubt that he made money but saved many lives, and a few taste buds then.  

 

 

Of course the real reason people turned to Spam during the war was the vast amount of Corned Beef, 'Bully Beef' that was forced down the throat.  Spam arriving in 1941 tasted of something, constant corned beef does not.  There again I suspect constant Spam will soon become a bore but with little meat of any sort available during war, not counting the 'Black Market,' then Spam was a treat.  

I found this reference: "Paul Theroux, in his book 'The Happy Isles of Oceania,' seems to claim that Spam was popular in countries that used to have cannibalism because it tasted like human flesh."  Does any one have any idea if this is so?  If you do, how do you know, and please keep your distance?