Not a Lot

 

 Frank Kelsey

 

Not a lot has happened.

The bug has bothered me a bit.

I have avoided everything.

Remaining inside, weary, sleepy, and staring into space.

Today, it improved.

I visited the expensive supermarket.

Made soup that tasted like it was meant to.

And now am revived by my own soup.  That has not happened before.

I di begin a post yesterday, I remained inside all day, but was not happy with the phraseology.

It made no sense in other words.

I have returned to one of my Twitter names however, I may soon be banned again.

Hopefully the world is treating you all better than the cold north wind coming through the gaps in my window is treating me.

 

Laptop Death

I have decided to write a book!  It will be called 'Your Laptop is Trying to Kill You!'  It ought to be a best seller.

Today, I attempted to download family history info that had been lost some time ago.  I had most of the info in place and was sure of finding what I required once again.  After some faffing about I began to download info onto paper for printing.  Because of the setup I had to first copy and past the info, then paste it onto what they call 'Sticky Notes' as this removes any little boxes and frames the info has been put into.  From there I then paste it onto a 'WORD' or in my case a similar page.  Simple.

Not so.

For a start, right clicking on this machine either does not work, or if it does it then switches off as you use it to cover info or paste info.  This is a constant habit.  As it sometimes requires several attempts before it works things can go wrong.  While copying one piece about 'Margaret' it failed several times, by the time I had copied the details and printed it off I realised I now had two 'Isabell's!' The blasted smug machine had switched back to the previous woman!  

Add to this my confusion caused by one of my beautiful nieces.  She has also been looking into this and managed to place one wife as the daughter of a previous parent.  It took some time before I worked this out.  The unfortunate habit of using similar names in each generation may be romantic to some but it does the head in of those of us today scrawling through hundreds of Margaret's of Isabell's.  As my dad was called Robert, and so were almost all the fathers before him, and others of the same name also used Robert for generations it is quite easy to come to the conclusion those Mad Axe men found in the daily press are not so mad after all.

Of course add to the fun the router.

This is a machine that sits on the desk quietly doing its work.  

Except when it begins to flash!

Green, Orange, still orange, flashing orange with a 'b' and possibly a wi-fi sign, then more orange before Blue appears, before it begins the whole routine once again!   

Mine takes a delight it playing nice until the football begins, then it goes off on one.

When it all works, the swear box is filling up nicely, and the printer is working well, that is when you realise the ink is about to run out.  There is of course plenty of black ink in the cupboard, but no coloured one.  The coloured one runs out.  You glance at the clock, the wee stationer is shut, supermarkets crowded, but if you go there is no suitable ink, and if there is, it is not the one you need.

You pick up the mobile, switch it on, or at least attempt to switch the brute on.  Nothing happens.  You press again and again, yet nothing happens.  You fling the brute down and it switches on.  

You then attempt to count to ten but that is not helping...

Tomorrow I will visit Tesco, I may have to use the self-service machine.

This could mean trouble...

The Morning Shift

 

I hobbled slowly up to the bank just after it opened the doors this morning and made to place a cheque in the 'paying in machine.'  A woman approached wearing a face a doctor's receptionist would be proud off.  

"Yew paying in?" she asked. 

"er, yes," muttered I.

She grabbed the cheque and examined the signature closely while the other staff glared on from a distance.  The vixen passed the cheque around the others who slowly examined the small piece of paper.  

"It looks almost genuine," one whispered.

"Him, paying in?" said another.

In the corner a customer mumbled to the clerk at the 'Information Desk,' "It looks dodgy to me, he has never been seen inside this place before."

The clerk agreed, but added, "However, I have only been working here ten years."

After a quick call to a stunned 'Bank Interpol' service I was allowed to proceed, though the woman with 'Stasi' in her blood did indicate she was watching.  Indeed she was, and soon made clear it the machine would not work while I was doing it  upside down.  Why are self service machines so difficult?

I made for the door, eyes watching me, some red amongst them, others white with little black spots in the centre, I took the opportunity to hide among the early morning throng.  I did notice two men across the way stare at me as I left the bank doorway, "What was he doing there?" one mouthed.

I sauntered through the townscape.  The sun shone brightly, those avoiding the market day crowd sauntered also, mostly in my path I noticed.  Few stalls were seen, though many regulars take holidays in the sunny parts of the world at this time of year.  Push chairs pushed past, invalid carriages also, a dog was walked through the town dreaming of fields and trees, and children were locked in school to everyone's enjoyment.

I felt free.

On my way back to my abode I dared to enter Sainsburys on a Wednesday after 9 am.  I was pleasantly surprised to find the hordes had not in fact gathered there already, it was not quiet but it was almost safe.  Safe that is bar the men not used to trolleys and the women who used them as weapons.  

The security man greeted me with his usual smile, one learned while serving in the Kings Own Royal Deserters, ran that electric weapon searcher up and down me and waved a pair of handcuffs in my face.  

I think he was telling me something. 

I browsed the grossly overpriced fruit and veg, avoiding fingering any in case they made me pay for the stuff.  Dodging two grimacing men facing one another down in the narrow space between the shelving and a staff trolley, and I headed for the meat.  

There was lots of it and the prices were fabulous.  I decided instead to take a walk out to a farm and kill a cow at the weekend, chop it up and shove it in the freezer.  Hard work, but less hard work than paying the prices Sainsburys wish to charge.

Was it Sainsburys or Tesco whose shareholders voted against a pay rise for the staff recently?  One of them gave their staff a box of 'Quality Street' chocolates as a Christmas gift!  As they sell at £4 a time and cost the store considerably less I am amazed at the generosity!  

Carrying a basket enables me to avoid the slow, old people that hinder so much in supermarkets.  Thus I collected the needful and headed for the checkout.  Alas!  The aged population had queued up, blocking the main passageway ignorantly.  This is not surprising from a generation that always considered themselves before anyone else, and so I went off and joined the other young people like myself at the self service tills.  

The young lass, who I had not seen before, was quick to aid those requiring help, even though she at first offered a visage fit for those seen sitting behind Tory Prime Ministers at PMQs.  While we passed items across the pinging till she amused herself by dreaming of her boyfriends/better job/bank balance/way of escape, until a cry of help was uttered.  I think I would rather sit at a checkout that be forced to run back and forward from one till to another constantly as in this job.

Once she had cleared my mistakes, once the security man had ceased glaring at me from across the hall, I moved out into the cold sunshine and braved crossing the by now, full car park.  Dodging the man with the trolley that did not go in the direction he was going, avoided the woman in the red car putting makeup on her face while the car moved, and stopping to allow an ungrateful couple pass with their pushchair, I halted to catch the sun above the church.  

Naturally it comes out dark, that's what happens when you point the camera at the bright sunshine, but I like it and do not have many other opportunities on days like this.

Back home, while the sun hid itself behind cloud and the temperature dropped like a stone, I concentrated on things that mattered.  So, I slept, ate, slept and ate.  Seems good to me.  My knees agreed, and we have decided not to wander out again until Friday or Saturday, and spend the time available doing things that matter.  

So, not much will be done this week again...

A Bit About Britain

I was persuaded (that's another word for 'ordered') to obtain this book.  This I did, read it I did, and shove it on the bookshelf I am about to do.

The author has a website devoted to bits about Britain.  This, as you know, usually means 'England.'  The author is English, claims a Scots wife, claims a university education in History, and claims to have 'reason.'  

The book itself is an excellent example of turning a blog into a book.  Whether this was the original idea or not it has certainly worked.  Covering the UK from the earliest known dates, and dates as you know are always changeable, he works forward until the period after the second world war.  The method chosen chows how difficult it is to deal with history in a simple manner.  Far too much must be left out simply because of lack of space, include too much and people turn away.  This book manages to cover the whole period remarkably well.

Clearly there are areas to disagree with, what historian would ever accept a book as flawless?  The authors chapter on reason is clearly unreasonable.  He omits to say where his great pride in his reason comes from, nor why we ought to accept his opinion as 'reasonable,' when clearly it is far from that.  His view is clearly from an English perspective, his understanding of Scotland somewhat at variance from mine, and the very nature of the beast means much information a reader such as I wish to see must be omitted.

That said there is much credit in this book.  In fact, when considering the number of asylum seekers arriving on these shores it became clear to me that most will be very ignorant of the land in which they arrive.  When I came to this region of English wilderness I sought out the local press, visited the library, went to the museum and bought a small booklet detailing the towns history, and discovered what it was, or had been about.  This book could do the same for newcomers to the land.  Instead of absurd questionnaires designed to stop people taking up residence this book ought to be given to those allowed to stay.  Clearly this simple, one off book, will teach them more about UK history than what they will learn from the far from free press, TV or talking to neighbours.  

While this book has faults it clearly is ideal as a quick review of UK history, and also details a Timeline that is quick and easy to follow.  Those who find delight in certain passages will soon visit their local museums and libraries to discover more of their chosen time period. 

I recommend this book as a quick history of the UK.    

Books! & Family.

So, in spite of my better judgement I wandered off up the road to the wee shop, entering just after they had opened.  I am always wary of this shop, on the few occasions I have used it I have been confronted by what we refer to
as 'wide boys.'  However, after a quick prayer, and a quicker breakfast of stale hot cross bun and coffee, I made it anyway.  They were still sorting themselves out for the Saturday traffic and quickly I explained my desire and quickly the packet was forthcoming.  Soon I was heading home via Tesco.  This surprised me as I was aiming for Sainsburys but fell into a dream and found myself at the wrong shop.  This may not surprise anyone.  A quick wander round for the needful, and a fight to stop the girl at the checkpoint stealing my packet, and home I stumbled.  Another exciting Saturday in flow.

I have always liked the H. V. Morton style.  Especially as the books date mostly from the 1920s and 30s and as such offer a differing view on life.  Already I have mentioned his book on Scotland which I have somewhere on the shelf.  The link also offers the other Morton books I have read, and one on the man himself.  While his books offer an insight into the world of his day they also offer an insight into the man himself, this is not always pleasant.  

With the book on medieval churches I failed to realise that is contains over 400 pages of small font!  It looks historically interesting, probably is, and will be very interesting to read.  However, with several other 'heavy' reads on the go it may not appear here for a while, possibly this year!  

There are quite a few books I am slowly working my way through at the moment, and one of my sensible nieces has given me an 'Amazon' voucher, this means I will have to make use of the second hand books available there and save money and increase the book pile.  I am not sure this is a good idea...

I will start looking on Monday!

Yes its a baby.  Yet another great niece for me to spend money on.  However, on this occasion, the mother has brothers and family without nieces or nephews to spend money on, so I will not venture much more than I already have.  As far as I can count, that is four nieces, one nephew, three great nieces and two great nephews.  Though I may have missed one.  They are all at a distance, only the latest two require anything, the rest all successfully grew up and found work, bar the archaeologist who still has to decide whether to find work or study for a PHD.  

Her dad says 'Work!' 

Boring Again

 

It's been a boring couple of years, and there appears little excitement on the horizon for me.  I have not been getting out, and if I try to get out now I am unsure of busses or trains at the moment. One or other will be on strike, and this corrupt government under another gooseberry will not be able or willing to do anything about this.  Not as long as they are coining it in.

On top of that inactivity has made me less inclined to activity, my knees tremble easily and therefore I rarely venture far.  This does not do me any good but that is how it is at the moment.

This sums it up.

My head wants to see other things, find strange places, take bad photos, invigorate the brain and stimulate the intellect (don't laugh).  But the bulk of my body wants to sit here watching Scottish football, eat, and sit some more.   The knees like the rest but I know they need exercise.  We argue about this often.

Anyway, tomorrow, Saturday, I must trot up to a shop, one I consider the biggest chancers in town, to collect a couple of books UPS have left there.  Or at least that is what I am told has happened.  These were bought via Waterstones at beginning of December, it took me a while to work out they were not coming, apparently had been attempted delivery, but no card left, no idea what happened.  When I contacted them I was told they had been left in a safe place.  What place?  No idea.  Today I have the paper telling me where they are (HA!) and tomorrow I find they are not there.

Ah well, some excitement I suppose.

If You Canny Find Rinso...

 Do it the Hard way, let the SunLight up your life.

An Angry Post!

Speed and Coffee Talk

Not that long ago a workmen's van arrived, stopped across the road, unloaded gear, set up a security fence, climbed the ladder, placed this sign on the lamppost, collected the gear, and drove off.  Thirty minutes work.

Nobody has taken a blind bit of notice!

As I trudged down to the Post Office to finally post my card to the new born, the rain began, the cars splashed, and none looked up to find a big '20' sign in front of them.  I suspect this is because there is no sign at the beginning of the road, nor one following on from where the supermarket shoppers join the road.  Ignorance is bliss for many, deliberately from some.

Whether such a speed on this main road helps is debatable but few are debating at the moment.  I can understand this on the side streets where people often wander on the road, but this is a main carriageway and heavy traffic can be found on many days, including 'rush hour' traffic that never reaches 20 mph on any day.  

Having posted my cards 'Special Delivery' (£6:85) to ensure they get there this week, I wandered around to the church coffee morning to get out of the increasing rain.  The occasion is an excuse for old women from the locale to join old women from the church, and one or two men, for a mornings gossip.  It is one of the things that keeps such women alive.  Many are lonely, one or two not quite right, and all like to gossip.  During the day they get bored, at night they watch dumb TV, and the next day they find another church with tea on the go to fill a moment.  My mother used them when she aged, and enjoyed them all.  Here, my beard growth was encouraged by one women in the hope I would play Santa next year!  My reply was curt.  

After being offered a lift home I returned to eat and sleep.  Which sums up my life at the moment.

The abode requires urgent cleaning, and much has to be done.  However, there is no urgent cleaner on show at the moment, and none of the women, bored as they are, would offer.  So it may be left until next week...

That's That Then...

 

Well, I'm glad that's over.

I have spent much of the past few days attempting to work out what day it is.  Either that or deciding what to eat before the sell-buy date, or because it might start growing mushrooms.  And my teeth are sick of chocolate, especially the liqueur type.  No more longing for the postman with the parcels, they all appear to have arrived, no more expectation of cards, nor any to send.  At last I can get back into a proper rhythm and return into the slob stage where I belong.  Spending is now for me, not others.  

Still, I enjoyed it.

 

Twitter have banned me again.  The first name remains banned, as I will not remove the post that offended the 'Trans Lobby.' The second has been banned because I upset the 'Trans Lobby.'  I appealed both, and have every right to be returned to my position, however, the 'Trans Lobby,' is strong in todays UK Twitter staff.  I will not remove the post, which was correct.  Twitter, under the weird owner, promised 'Freedom of Speech,' where is it Elon?  I may try the other one, Mastadon is it?  But I am not bothered, maybe it is time for other things.

 

Look, blue sky!

Not what we expect from January.  Of course, as I wander down to the Post Office tomorrow the rain will return, you bet!  Good job I do not complain.  

New Years Day, 2023

 

The new year started with a damp saunter down to the Kirk.  The clouds did their best to hinder the sun brightening the morn.  Few were out this early.  A couple of dog walkers were dragged along by eager pooches, a car passed now and again, and a patrol car containing two sleepy officers wended its way down the road hoping everyone would stay quiet, at least until they were awake.  

Many were missing today from church, family gatherings, the cold bug, and left overs from Christmas keeping people inside.  A lot of old women will not come out when the weather is dodgy either.  Still, we managed to murder a couple of songs, pass our bugs onto one another, discover how many had fallen down or been manhandled by the kids or dogs over Christmas, and made our way home rejoicing, sort off.

I failed to 'see in' the new year last night, I was asleep by 11 pm, and even the fireworks from those who ought to know better did not trouble me much.  On YouTube someone walked about Edinburgh at night, offering the live view of the rain drenched city.  People massed about, glittering lights glittered, and wet streets offered an opportunity to break a leg or two.  The thought of mixing with crowds was far indeed from my mind as I watched.  I was glad to be sitting here wearying myself watching others.  

It is now when I come to understand the attitudes of the older generation I knew when young.  Why is it we understand things long after the time when we require to understand things?  And why do young folks have all the energy when people like us, over 35, need the energy more than they do?   

Life can be so unfair!

At this time people tend to either look back or look forward, to my mind it makes no difference.  Whether it is the 1st day of January or the middle of summer life, will go on as it is.  There will be hard times, tragedies, sad occasions.  There will also be good times, excitement, joy and happiness, often.  Just as life normally offers.  

You go into the year trusting yourself, and that has seen you through so far hasn't it?  I go trusting Jesus, well usually, knowing he will always be there, usually gnashing his teeth and asking "Why did you do that?"  He has been leading me for 50 years or so and I cannot fault him, though I have let him down often.  He is our only hope, in good times and in bad ones.  He never fails.

 

I hope you have a 'Happy New Year' indeed.

 

Happy New Year 2023

 A Happy New year to one and all.

May this year bring happiness to you.

Terms and Conditions Read?

Us dreich, miserable, types arose on the last day of a dreich, miserable year, to venture out into the dreich, miserable damp day to collect the several items forgotten yesterday when we visited Sainsburys.  An early start in the mirk was required as the rain lessened and the met office live map indicated very heavy rain to follow shortly.  They were correct.  As I huffed my way upstairs the rain had already began the days offering.  This the result, they say, of cold weather pushing down into north America thereby shifting the jet stream to the south.  This brings mild, but wet weather, or the Atlantic Ocean as we call it, upon our heads.  Climate change ensures this has made things worse than usual.  Rivers are higher, some places flood more, but at least the Water Companies sewage floating therein is swept away more quickly.  Touching innit?

At least the post is catching up.  The cards have been arriving, a parcel or two also, and a delayed box from up north has arrived full of excellent goodies.  I do not deserve women like these girls.  Of course the 'Private Eye' mag from three weeks ago has not yet appeared, and I am unsure if one ought to have arrived this week.  No doubt there are other items lingering in those large sorting offices placed at the edge of towns which will arrive in due course.  I understand how this happens, a 'York,' a large stand upright basket if you will, full of mails in bags arrives, it is pushed to the side with all the others.  Day after day, strike after strike, more mail arrives and the 'York' is pushed to the back.  Therefore later mail gets through first, until someone realises what is happening and changes things around.  This kind of thing, believe me, is easily done.  The dreich, drookit and miserable postman delivered my box today but without a smile.  Mind you, in all the years I have known him smiling was not seen as his normal habit.  Anyway, that's more chocolate for my few remaining teeth, a pullover that fits and another book to read.  This is a good one.  She has always chosen very good books for me, though I suspect her son helps, and this is another good one, which you will hear about in good time I suspect.  

So, we leave this year of joy and happiness, several Prime Ministers, umpteen Chancellors, and goodness knows how many cabinet ministers have come and gone.  The stability under the teeth now residing in No. 10 is based on making more money for the rich, not upsetting the 'wide-eyed loons,' and selling off whatever is left on the Tory ideology list.

More strikes then?

The year makes no difference.  Life goes on whatever the year.  We decide what happens, and the Good Lord rules over all the feeble upstarts leading the nations, both good and bad, mostly it is true, bad.    

No need to despair, Jesus continues to rule, our lives will have their ups and downs, there will be good times and bad, tragedy and laughter, and hopefully you will enjoy much laughter in spite of the many tragedies that we will face.  

Now normally, I am not one to Complain, but...

So, being desperate to post a packet to my latest Great Niece I hobbled unwillingly down the road to the PO.  My knees expressed their dismay, my tired body indicated my bed was the other way, and the sun cheered me up by shining in my eyes from a very low angle generously blinding me.  I was surprised to find the smiling lady not at work, the sub PO was closed.  "It opens at 10am," said the man running the shop and doing about 96 hours a week.  Holiday arrangements I presume.  Vexed, my knees considered murder and mayhem as I trudged back the way I had come.  This was not the day to fail, I was too tired to cope, and I therefore did not cope well.

Back home I considered my position, I considered lying flat on my back the best option, however, needs must, so I rose and continued the joy filled day.  The router is still slow, speed of 11, instead of 50.  I was thinking of playing with it again but instead I began to make soup.  My good day was to continue here.  All went reasonably well, though the suitable ingredients were hard to find, anything and everything was thrust in.  I continued with other important work such as clearing the mess left by this soup operation, and realised the soup was burning!  I now have four more bowls of vile burnt soup to eat, with a smile.  I know it is vile as I had two bowls and suddenly understood why Indian and Pizza takeaways are so popular.

Then I had to remove the rubbish for the men tomorrow, or whenever they come.  I also had to clamber down to the cellar, find the electric meter readings, and struggle back upstairs, smiling all the way.  Already the electric people have sent letters warning of increased prices, but not of how they use the money for their advantage and not mine.  I expect in February when things change I will be robbed blind!  

Nothing Happened Again

 

A Boring, Nothing Happened Day

 

Greeted this morning by glimpses of vaguely pink tinted, yellow sunlight, attempting to break through the cloud cover.  This looked destined to fail.  The chill in the air forces the heating on, the few dog walkers wrapped up in heavy winter outfits, occasional dogs wear bright coloured and soundly disliked outfits, it is obvious their owner is female.  A car or two passes slowly as the day begins and Christmas wears off the populace.    

Naturally, as I coughed my way around to a very quiet Tesco the cloud cover had disappeared.  Instead the rising sun hovered just above the rooftops, forcing the cloud towards the south.  The quietness allowed the birds to freely roam in the trees and front gardens.  Robins bounced, a Magpie fluttered and even a Jay was spotted above me in the tree.  Each flew swiftly away from the few pedestrians, keen to end their hunger, the birds that is, not the pedestrians.  If people are out it probably means they have been fed, unlike myself who was surviving on instant cappuccino coffee and one old banana.

However, I obtained a Persimmon, whatever that is, at Tesco and have just enjoyed one.  It looks like, apart from the price, these may be coming here more often.

Like everywhere else little has occurred today.  I fell asleep watching the football, nothing to do with the Brandy, and have done little bar scribbling a card or two, mostly to use up all the 2nd Class stamps I still possess.  The old stamps run out at the end of January and I may not have enough demand to use up the 10 I have left!  

Boxing Day 2022

I have no idea how I got fat, I ate only morsels and chose carefully at that.  Possibly all those puddings made a difference...?

Anyway, I had a good Christmas Day.  A trudge down to the Kirk, here I handed out chocolate to the ladies and miniature whisky to the men, I had promised them all a bottle of whisky for Christmas...

I felt welcomed, even before this, and obtained a lift home easing the walk, and enjoyed a decent lunch.  It was good day I must say.

Today, I remained indoors eating a veg type diet.  I need more veg and mostly that was called for today.  Very enjoyable, if you put cheese on the top!  

A walk round yesterday revealed a very quiet scene.  Today is no different, apart from kids making use of scooters, bikes and who knows what few are about bar dog walkers.  Traffic is sparing, and while one or two shops may open today most will be closed until tomorrow.  In big towns many will crowd into shops for bargains, as if they were indeed 'bargains.'  Having no obvious needs to purchaser and no desire to be ripped off I remain indoors quite happily.

However, news come through of most spending required.  My nephew has just had a baby, or at least his girl has.  Two kilo's in weight and looking fine.  This requires more spending on uncle's part, though I am glad to say uncle's nearer at hand will do all the work, thankfully they are 200 miles away from me!

Once again I will trust the Royal Mail to deliver, sometime in the next four weeks!  Another girl on the family, her cousin now 18 months old, and her arrival gives all the women something to purr about.  That is, they also are miles away and not called upon to do anything!  Purring is best done from a distance.

Nothing else has happened.  Other than the router playing up, speed down to 13 at times, other times it is slower.  Something must be done but all are on holiday.  Ah well, Wednesday maybe.  I may have to visit Tesco in the morning, I expect it will be full of people desperate for things they do not require alongside the few they do need.  I may be one of them.  

I hope my readers have had a decent Christmas.  Commemorating God taking human form is always good, and celebrating the solstice at the same time also worth while.   Jesus was probably born in March or April but as that is too near Easter it cannot be remembered then can it?  I hope your family gatherings were enjoyable and fun.

My family appear a bit disparate at this time, so many going in different directions to visit people who must be visited makes one day together difficult.  I must get up there one day however, just to annoy them.   However, when their cards and gifts eventually arrive I will love them more.  I need the socks...

Happy Christmas...

For Unto Us A Child Is Born

Christmas Eve 2022

At this time of year there are lots of tinsel covered cards doing the rounds.  The religious ones tend to feature a baby in a wooden crib, crowned with a yellow halo, as indeed are the loving parents featured beside.  Three men dressed in ornate robes, presents in hand stand along side a handful of grubby shepherds carrying a lamb or two.  From the child a glow emits, lighting up the stable and much of the world around, while high above a bright, huge, star glints as it lingers in the cloudless sky.  A touching scene, much loved by many.

However, (the cynical bit begins here) this is not what happened.

Certainly we are told Mary and Joseph went to Bethlehem, certainly we are told there was no room at the 'Inn.' Clearly there was little money for this pair as Joseph could not bribe his way in.  The implication of a 'manger' implies they found rest, either recommended by the 'Inn' or by themselves in a stable.  Clearly also they remained there for some time, all this with Shepherds and Magi may not have taken place in one night, so they had permission from someone to remain there.  Later, on the eighth day Jesus was presented at the Temple, the offering they gave was the cheapest, another indication of poverty.  A young couple, she possibly 14, he only 20, trying to care for a child, yet without revealing Gods words to anyone.  They both come across as worthy individuals.  

This is not the picture we have on Christmas cards.  This is a struggle, similar to many since and at this moment, who bring a child into the world with little resources with which to keep him.  This one however, under the care of the Father God is born, after a long walk for Mary, no donkey for these two, and born in such wretched conditions.  Unlike most in leadership Jesus started at the very bottom, and he was the one through whom this world had been created!  The mother walking, nine months gone, from Nazareth to Bethlehem, up hill and down dale.  Finding nowhere to sleep, giving birth in a stable, with or without animals.  At least they would create warmth, and an interesting atmosphere.  Alone, only the visit from the shepherds and the Magi is recorded, possibly Joseph went out to obtain food, possibly the stable owner cared for them while tending any animals.  Then the presentation in the temple, the words from an old man and an old woman indicating the future, in a distinct manner, and then the warning to leave for Egypt and another long walk carrying the child this time. 

No halo's, no false sentiment, just the Father's provision, childbearing, walking and an interesting future both Joseph and Mary were leaving in Gods hands.  How would you cope?

The child went on to learn his dads business, to learn his people's history, and to teach for three years before being arrested, tried unjustly, beaten, scourged and crucified, while having committed no sin.  He did not die by mistake, he, God in human form, accepted the Father's will as a way of paying the sin debt of all.  He endured this for me, for you, and for all who would believe it.  Not much sentiment there, just a loving God dying for his people, and one that wants us to believe him and rest in him.  He will never fail us.

Wet, Boring Christmas almost Eve

After last night I spent a short time cleaning up, returning things to a normal state of chaos and dust.

I woke at 6am again, dozed until 7 am, then while considering rising to shop early, I noticed it was almost 8am!  Heavy with sleep I rose and prepared for an early trip to Tesco.  How does that happen?  If I am awake at 6, why am I not awake at 8?

I dressed for the heavy rain coming straight down.  I made my way to Tesco, changing my mind and stopping off at Sainsburys as it was closer.  Here, just after 8 am, the place was full of people avoiding the crowds, thus crowding Sainsburys and getting in my way, one who went early to avoid the crowds.

My basket heavy with overpriced goods I joined the happy throng at the checkout, too much there for me to fight the self-service.  The cheery lass enjoyed the fact that I was wet through and she would go home the minute the rain stopped at lunchtime.   I wished her a happy Christmas!

Back home I put away the drookit shopping and fought the desire to throw Brandy down my throat.  My head was still asleep and the rest of me wished to join it.  However, there were things to do, drying washing to find, who put that there?  And then rest my bones in front of the laptop while the router once again switched itself off for no reason and limited the speeds for me.  I checked the responses on my emails, the Irish song went down well, though one lass in Costa thought she had heard it before.  With no post again, another days strike, no post till next week sometime, I waited for the bell announcing another delivery from one of the other 'white van men,' but it did not arrive.   

Only an after lunch sleep did my mood change, and then nothing happened.  Isn't it always the way?

Things I was going to do never came to mind, until it was too late to bother.  I intended to walk out again but thought better off it, the traffic has not lessened since this morning meaning the shops, town centre and everywhere is packed with people offering 'Goodwill to all men' if they get out of the way!

Christmas increases feelings of 'love' I find.

Good news!  The PM has appeared, mumbled about being carful about using railways, and not budging on strikes, that is the ones he has heard about.  He gave the impression he neither cared or indeed had  noticed any problem.  He may have been spending too much time checking the 'Financial Times' to see how his wife was doing.

Ironing Wine

This was my day.

Washing on, ironing on, downstairs to answer door, downstairs to answer door again, downstairs to throw out rubbish, not a moment to myself and my knees require peace and rest!  It's a good job I'm not one to complain.

Anyway, while planning my repast a knock on the door, well the next door actually.  My downstairs neighbour invited herself and her man up for a Christmas drink.  "See you in 30 minutes."

So, after a manic cleaning session, hiding the drying washing, pretending all else was normal, and ensuring glasses were washed, they arrived.  A bottle of wine and a card, and an hour or two of conversation which I enjoyed thoroughly.  We accidentally opened another bottle, and had they not got to go we may have accidentally opened another.  Altogether a very good evening chatting with neighbours I rarely see.  I was pleased with it all, I hope they were also.  Of course I gave them a bottle for their Christmas also!     

Unfortunately, while happy, I am losing interest in scribbling for some reason, the words dart about the screen.  Maybe I ought to do this happy stuff more often?  But that might lose my 'miserable old git' prize.  The man next door is well on the way to claiming it already.'  

Dropkick Murphys - "The Season's Upon Us" (Video)

Christmas Wooly Angels

 

It is Christmas week and once again the great nits have been er, hold on, that should read 'Great Knitters' have been showing off their talents by knitting small angels and placing them on railings across the town.  This has become another of the many Christmas activities that we now must have, or the season loses something.  I note passers-by have taken all of them, one by one.  The post box has not been crowned with a Xmas hat as yet, at least not one near me anyway.  Other places have covered all sort so things with such needlework.  I suppose they enjoy it, they gather together, make friends, have a laugh and enjoy the hobby.  No harm in it.  I have not joined them however.

Christmas joy continues with Rishis refusing to budge on nurses pay.  I wonder why?  He will not interfere in the rail strike, apart from paying millions to the rail companies, and has ignored the postal strike, as far as we know.  Clearly they are out to ensure leaving the EU meant making the most of turning workers into serfs.  Rishi would like this, I suspect he considers himself a Maharajah.  

Jeremey Clarkson has encouraged stripping Meghan and parading her through the streets, but he has mumbled an apology, far down the Mail Online.  

Ambulance staff are striking, at least those not worn out by exhaustion, as indeed the nurses striking have been.  The millionaires with their private health hospitals care not.

People are watching prices rise, the water people have just increased by monthly bill to £19, I suspect to pay for all the dumping sewage fines they have received.  Gas and electric rises will come in a couple of months. 

My latest pie delivery arrived in time for Christmas.

Nicola meanwhile is trying to allow men in skirts to be called 'women.'  This is another of the satanic episodes that have been unleashed in recent years in the UK, and indeed elsewhere in the 'west.'

First it was accepting gays, then same-sex marriage, now it is 'trans.'  We are plumbing new depths of lunacy in the nation.  The churches which have failed to oppose this are dying out, those who follow scripture will grow but face constant opposition, much of this from the police, who are now the 'Thought police' in the UK.  I almost said 'Stasi.'

Christians must be aware this will increase, and soon prayer and Christian activities will be 'hate crimes.'  I have mentioned this before, but few are listening.

O come, O come, Emmanuel - (Piano/Cello) - The Piano Guys