Thursday Twaddle

Dismal week so far.  Feeling a bit rough and today was the first time I could attempt some exercise properly.  The past few weeks have jaded me somewhat with the latest bug.  Things get done but slowly and sometimes twice because I forgot to actually do what I intended to do.

There was some time spent on Twitter defending Kate Forbes from the gay and trans lobby.  How dare she believe something and take it into politics just like they do?  How dare she threaten their privileged position within the SNP and stand up in public and state how she would vote against their behaviour?

Tsk!  Such beliefs ought to be kept to yourself, unlike the beliefs of the gay and trans mob who are free to say and do what they like!  

Such fun!

Especially as the Bishops in England are getting deeper into the mire, and that conflict is ongoing.  So, I had enough of this and have attempted to avoid Twitter for a day or two, I was to tired to continue, and have been dwelling in the realms of fantasy instead.  er, I mean searching YouTube for fantasy seascapes, or ships at sea, to give a background far from home.  There are masses of You tubes worth watching, and being on laptop there are no adverts thanks to AdBlock Plus.   The masses of irrelevant ads on the phone amaze me.  Lying in bed last night, searching YouTube for a video on the phone, reminded me of reading the 'Beano' under the covers by torchlight!  No mother came in to complain.

PlusNet did play up again.  The bill came in and I logged on, but it refused my login even though it has not been changed.  I fussed and raged but it made no difference.  I attempted a new password but still nothing gave in.  I left it until today and it logged on straight away!  Why?  I suppose we will never know.  Tech is such an improvement to our stress.

Sunday Daffs

A combination of things saw me remain indoors today.  However, just after 10, when the shop opened, I wandered across the park to buy bread.  The sun shone, the sky was blue, an aircraft flew 32,000 feet above us making his way toward the Americas, and all appeared well with the world.  

Of course, if we only look at what is in front of our nose we can ignore the earthquakes in Turkey and Syria, the war in Syria or Ukraine, and conflicts in various parts of Africa.  We can also ignore the suffering closer to home as we either do not see or know about it, or it is kept secret from us, not everyone wishes to share their problems with the world.  

So I wandered across the path enjoying being outside in such weather, and also enjoying the sight of greenery in the sunshine.  Just walking through a small area of parkland can enliven the spirit, especially if much time has been spent indoors.  The green has an affect on our spirits, some like to call this 'spiritual,' it is not, but it does hearten the mind.  Others, with or without dogs, were also being heartened though this did not always show.  Quite quiet being early, the shop opened, a few were in desparately filling the trolley, I grabbed my few bits and hobbled gladly back home.   

 

So, having checked that the Daffodills outside the Council offices are well ahead of the other council ones, watched two miserable football matches, and listened to three tracks from AC/DC to bring some excitement into my day, I now end it with tired timewasting on the internet.  

More excitement tomorrow awaits...

 

Daffs are a Drug

You will realise that as the £1 bunch of Daffodils in this old pint mug have overnight responded to the failing light through the window, I will now fill the page with Daffs?  So far two have opened out, and the rest are beginning to follow.  Not bad for £1 from Sainsburys, and they brighten the place up no end.

In the park opposite the council daffs are standing green and ready to open.  This too brightens the area.  A swathe of bright yellow fills the sight, and brightens the heart.  That I suppose is why people steal them rather than paying £1 at Sainsburys.

Flowers are amazing things, so slight, so colourful and of huge variety.  They work also, making use of the bees to keep the world going.  Do they breathe pollution in and oxygen out like trees?  They certainly make the world a better place.

The park was full of youth this afternoon.  I have no idea what was occurring, I thought it was a drugs fest at first, or a gang fight as in days of yore, but instead it all appeared organised, well run and left me with absolutely no idea what was going on.  Most have since dispersed, youth feeding time calls, and those left gathered in small groups teenage style will no doubt disappear soon.  

The past year has seen few gather here to take drugs and hang out.  Each year the faces change, age catches up with them, and in recent years there has been little noise or problems.  Action has been taken to remove one drug hiding place, now someone wishes to build flats there!   Those that are doing deals must be doing them elsewhere these days.  

Friday Frolics...

 

Another day of speculation, blame and buck passing passes after Nicola's resignation from office.  Naturally, the facts are blurred, lies and deceit abound, and yet she remains in office at least until the new man is sworn in, and the Stasi in the SNP are deciding which one will it be?  It is unlikely to be either of the girls who object to the genderbending, they do not fit the image, nor will it be lesbian Joanne Cherry KC, as she speaks out too often against to many of the Stasi.  She has stood down as she claims too many obstacles lie before her, this may well be true.  However, she would seek independence, and this may upset some in the SNP.  By March 27th the next lackey will be chosen, then what?

Another day seeking info on the man I sought info on yesterday.  This appears to have reached an end, though there are one or two more areas to search.  I wonder how I managed this a few years ago?  I find it all so tiring now!  This man we know a bit about, hence the search, but I laid it aside as Covid and remodelling of the Home Museum up north meant nothing could be done.  I then forgot about it.  The info once gathered will be posted to Margaret, who opened the search.  The one question is whether she herself remains about!  

This lad joined up with a 'Home' Battalion.  This means they did not venture overseas, but passed through this town on their way to Ireland.  This was after 1916.  While here, he was billeted with a family in South Street, and wrote to them when in Ireland.  Clearly they got on well, this was not uncommon at the time.  Many young men far from home were looked after by mothers missing their sons, many of whom did not return.  This man was 26 when here, obviously popular with the family and made this clear to his sister up in Darlington.  

During 1918 he somehow made his wat to France.  I suspect this was after the last great German Push in March 1918.  Desperate measures were called for and as far as I can say he moved from his 'Home' Battalion to the 'Overseas' one and took his place in the front line.   There, during September of 1918 he fell during the attack on the slowly retreating enemy.  

At the time he was called a Private, but it appeared from various sources he was a Lance Corporal and had been awarded a Military Medal.  A sis so often the case nothing could be proved, not all MMs were recorded as they ought to have been.  Also he fell as a Private, so where did the promotion come from?  The war diary, as always, does not mention his name, only officers or those with very special merit are named, but clearly during the last battle it was decided by his officers to regard him a s a Lance Corporal, and put him in for a posthumous Military Medal.  This takes time and sources never catch up for at least a year in the circumstances.  

This is all very well, but more is required, and tomorrow is football day, beginning tonight.  Margaret may have to wait a bit longer...

Nicola News

 

Surprising news indeed.  Nicola Sturgeon steps down from office as First Minister.  

There can be no doubt that the loss off trust among the Scottish public regarding 'Trans prisoners,' that is violent, often rapist, men pretending they are women, being placed in women's prisons has led to this change.  This is unfortunate as there is no doubt Nicola was indeed a powerful First Minister.  Many think she would be better as a Prime Minister than any of the last five who have occupied that office.  After the next election it is possible the SNP could form the official opposition in the House of Commons.  If she stood as an MP she might yet make it!   

Nicola entered Holyrood during 1999 and rose to the position of Deputy Leader in 2004.  When the SNP took leadership of Holyrood Alec Salmond the leader remained a member of the House of Commons, as such his deputy, Nicola, ruled the Scots Parliament.  

The failure of the 2014 Independence debate (Don't even begin to ask about the corruption here) led to Alec resigning as leader, something the Conservatives need to emulate, and Nicola became First Minister when the SNP won the next election.

Alex Salmond scandal:  During 2019 Nicola attempted to smear Salmond with a court case alleging harassment of female employees.  The female judge, the Scottish jury of 15, dominated by women, quickly noted that the women called to witness had been coaxed to speak against their own will, possibly by Nicola and Leslie Evans the top civil servant.  There was no case to answer and the court awarded Salmond £500,000 at the end.  Neither Leslie Evans or Nicola stood down as they ought to have done.

Quite what brought this about may not be clear, but the only other politician who could match Nicola is of course Alex himself.  There are no quality MSPs or MPs available at the moment to replace either as far as I can see from here. 

There is of course the matter of some £600,000 that appears to have gone missing.  The dubious 'loan' from her husband, which she knew nothing about apparently, of £100,000 or thereabouts, and the real possibility of the constabulary now entering the fray to ask questions.

Now Nicola has stepped down among much rejoicing from Unionists. I avoided her goodbye speech as I suspected it would not be pleasant, we must find a new leader for the Scottish National Party.  One is required who will move away from the misandry of recent years, the support for gays and trans, and concentrate on reviving the economy under Westminster interference, continue sensible social policies, and seek a properly thought out independence procedure.  All this within two years or less!

I do not think such a person exists!

So, now we await the election, possibly slanted to Nicola's preferences, and possibly opening up wounds kept quiet for some time.  We wait and see.

A War Story

Wood's book is one of a number of local history books that have been appearing over the last 20 years or so.   This is one of a number of books from 'The History Press,' that look likely to be worth a read.  This is one of a number that concentrate on the History of Essex and the locals involved in recent past times

The subject of the book is born just before the war breaks out.  His Jewish grandparents came from the east trying to escape pogroms there.  Based in London the family are moved to Basildon, a small hamlet in Essex just outside London, not far from Southend.  As the war progressed the young lad and his mum remained in accommodation supplied by a 'friend' called JL.  This came through his two aunts, women who would enjoy life during war with the number of men available at the time.  JL was what is referred to these days as a 'wide Boy,' one with his hands in every opportunity and not all were as honest as they appeared.  However, he had accommodation the family could make use of while heir home in London endured the 'Blitz.'  David's dad travelled into work, finding a new workshop close to a few more 'wide boys' and 'east end' types.  This while the 'Black Market' was about to get into swing during rationing.

The tale concerns the boy David growing up from a 5 year old until his 11 Plus at the end of the war.  Not all children suffered during ww2, many indeed enjoyed it.  There are a huge number of interesting people and objects that come into the hands of many a youth during such times.  This author was to mostly enjoy his time as scary experiences were rare.

Written well by a man who is not an author, the life lived as a child, but told as an adult looking back on a war, now knowing so much more about the war than possible at the time, is interesting.  Information was not easy to obtain, except via the press or 'Pathe' or 'Gaumont' newsreels at the cinema.  While the propaganda was to be seen there is no doubt the UK knew more about the war than any German would know, unless he tuned to the BBC secretly.  

The houses, the friends, the Black market, even German POWs are encountered.  His aunts behaviour left him somewhat bemused at the time, and when able to visit the towns around his mother dragged him along window shopping!  How tedious for a boy!   

Anyone familiar with Basildon today would not recognise the place, now a modern 1950s town.  The area has changed, the boy has grown, and written a decent short book covering his childhood, a better childhood than many today!

Lazy Saturday

Saturday has been a delightful day of rest.  

I ignored Twitter's demands, read fitful news, and ignored the world's problems.

Fair to say the world ignored mine.

I lounged, I ate, I read books, I daydreamed, though I may actually have been asleep, I ignored the outside world.  

It was a good day.

With the main football being last night, and today's being Scottish cup games and little else, I have avoided much football also.

Until tonight.

Tonight I watch the 5:30 game.

This will end the day quite well.

I need more days like this.

Synod Day

The Bishops have pushed through their sin encouraging today.  Almost all of them supported the motion allowing blessings of gay marriage.  This could lead to an exodus from the CoE, but this is still far in the future.  However, it may well be that action can be taken by the more powerful churches to make a stand and hinder this motion.

I doubt it will be successful.

Far too many in the Anglican church merely attend, those who believe oppose this motion, however, they are only a third, at most, of the congregation.  What will happen now?  The strange organisation that is the CoE does not work like normal people would work.  It has tradition, History, ecclesiastical heritage, hindrances abound, and masses of paper work that would tire out a barrister.

Who knows what now.

Of course on Twitter, such as Twitter is these days, the gay boys are out grumbling.  The use of 'bigot' and 'hatred' abound, and as always they come in a crowd, never alone.  It is as if they need the reassurance of others to convince them their 'tendency' is normal, while they know it is not.  However, in love and biblical truth I saw them off, especially those who are just abusive, they are blocked.  They remind me of children.  When a child cannot get what it wants it cries 'You hate me' to the parent, when the parent is loving them.  Gays these days use the same tactic, a tactic like others learned from lobby groups.

Those tolerant of the gay life are very intolerant of any who indicate it is wrong.

Funny that.

Jesus cries over this, but he is used to crying over Satan's attempts to destroy his church.

 

Chilli Mist

So pleased with myself for getting out at around 9 am this morning and spending an enormous amount of cash in Sainsburys.  This was not because I bought too much, it was because they have been going around the shelves increasing the shareholders payout.  There was 10p on tins here, an increase there, and all this surrounded by shelving claiming 'special offers,' none of which were.  Even their reduced stuff is to expensive.  The supermarkets have us under control.  They tell us what to eat, what to buy, how to live, if we do not keep our eyes open.  They will not give Sainsburys staff bonuses at Christmas but they will give big payouts to shareholders, the very shareholders who refuse to vote for staff bonuses at Christmas.  There are more Tories in this world than you thought.

A mere saunter around the white, frosted park was a change for me.  I have not been getting out lately, again.  The bright sun shone through the mist glistening of the frozen branches, warming the puffed out chests of the pigeons sitting high in the trees, satisfied, I think, with their breakfasts.  I suspect it was freezing, or just above this morning.  I ought to have worn the 'Tam O'Shanter' as it would have prevented my weak head from being frozen.  However, wearing this scruffy beard has certainly been an advantage this morning.  

  

Of course I am now worn out, my 'Chilli stew' was not chilli enough, the sun remains shining as the cold draft comes through the old window frames, and I want to go back to bed.

Nothing changes...

Monday Morn Sun

The day began brightly, the clouds were red tinged and the sky was blue.  This meant the temperature must be about freezing, and it was.  Having wiped the condensation from the windows, stuffed aged 'hot cross buns' down my throat for breakfast, I switched on the heater and wrapped up.

This was a day where the light tempted me out and the cold tempted me back in.

I remained in.

I worked through another chapter of the book of Amos and wondered how nicely this book fits in with the government of the day.  Both Westminster and Holyrood, and indeed Wales, have corruption at the centre these days.  Being in power is on one hand an opportunity to do good, it is also something people do not like to let go off.  The Westminster power does not appear to have the intellect or political savvy to hold their position, not heled by Boris and Liz obviously.  Nicola has some talent, she ought to be PM not FM, but her weird obsessions may bring her down.  Her gender failure may be too far from Indy for many.  

Next I spent a few minutes pretending to exercise, I will feel the aches in the morning.  And followed this up by dusting!  The stour flew all around, thick clouds filled the house, lost items were recovered, much more exercise was involved, and after this was over I considered hoovering to finish off.  However, instead I made lunch and spent the rest of the day seeking out live pictures from various parts of the world.  I had to, the effort had worn me out.  I realised the bug that hindered my earlier this year was still hanging around.  An underlying weight hindering life.  This has hit the UK hard this year, and while I am quite used to suffering this was for months on end it has come as a shock to all those who used to call me lazy.

I give them no sympathy.

So, I sit smugly here, happy with what has been done, planning tomorrows day, and seeking a decent football game to finish of the day.  As I wait I watch the Blue Tits flitting through the trees, I note the happy attitude that comes with the shorter nights and brighter mornings, and an expectation of Spring soon calling us from afar.  This keeps the news of the Chancellor, multi-millionaire he, who is going to increase our energy prices come April once again.  The Conservatives, the party that cares...

My Saturday Evening Post...

 

Grave Thoughts

Working my way down the new Twitter stream this morning it struck me how many people have died.  Now this is not new, people have been dying since people began, in case you did not notice, and sadly, one day we will join them.  It is a thing to be noticed that there are more dead than there are living in this world, and the number of the dead increases all the time.  

I was becoming more aware of this as people I once watched on TV or listened to on radio have departed.  At my age when musicians from the 'Punk' era are dying it makes me feel old, as they are still in their 60s.  Yet more and more people who became famous, or perhaps infamous, have departed and they are still doing this.  Singers, TV personalities, comedians, footballers, actors, troublemakers, strikers, politicians, good and bad, all pass on.

In my family only two of the original 6 remain, and I keep reminding my sister that she is much older than I. The aunts and uncles have long gone, friends, neighbours, those who make up my past have moved on.  The life I grew up into has long gone, and most people with it.  How strange.

Yet this is life as it has always been.

My mother lived until 94, all her friends went long before her.  Friends and family from her youth have long passed on, their sons and daughters also!  All that remained were memories and some fading photographs.  

Of course, not all we knew have been missed.  Many we saw regularly on TV or in the press ought to have benefited society by going sooner.  A great many harmed society in many ways, politicians, businessmen, celebrities, and spam merchants.  These are not missed by many.  

Others are missed, even if we knew them only from TV programmes, mews headlines, and goal scoring feats at the football.  Many a musician is missed today as there is no one to equal them now.  In the locale there are always people who benefit the area by doing those little jobs, such a 'Lollipop Lady,' escorting kids over busy roads, or by just keeping an eye on disabled or lonely folks.  These are irreplaceable.  

In our town, population around 40,000, each one has a story to tell.  Some well known faces, some well known to the constabulary.  Each known to someone.  How many have lived here since Neolithic times when a handful of people foraged in these then woods with stone implements to survive?  Since the town blossomed 2000 years ago many have walked the lanes, built houses, had lives and loves, fought wars, made babies, traded goods and services, and fought for better conditions.  Holy days were celebrated, as there were few other holidays, some were serfs, others made it big.  While most worked the fields there were others who travelled the world, usually in an army or a boat.  Many went to the new world, others were forced to Botany Bay!  Still other came for the work on offer and their descendants remain.  

When I worked in Maida Vale Hospital at night, I often wondered about the many who had gone before.  The doctors who had created the Neurological studies during the 19th century had left their pictures in the Board Room.  The nurses, passing doctors, porters and other staff were rarely shown this way.  Occasional names arose but many staff had worked for years in the building and at that time they were now forgotten.  Just like we will be in the days ahead.  

Depressing though this may appear it is not so.  This is life as it is.  We all go through it, some more easily than others, and the good news is the bad days that surround us, which are not as bad as they have been or could be for us, will end one day.  The rogues who hamper us will meet their end, the situations that are difficult will soon leave us, and possibly we will see better days yet.

I confess, if it was not for Jesus it could be a depressing time for me.  However, I look forward to better days, and life is already improving as the days indeed are getting longer.  Nothing better than rising with the sun shining in the kitchen window, and the rush hour beginning with the setting sun brightening the skies outside my window.

Frith, Paddington Station

William Powell Frith - The Railway Station

 

I think this is a great painting, of Paddington Station, supposedly as the train prepares for departure. 

Frith liked pictures that were long, and had a rise in the middle, here supplied by the porters loading luggage onto the roof of the coach.  Rail travel in 1862 was exciting, adventurous and also dangerous.  Apart from the danger of human beings being themselves there is added class distinction, a signal system nowhere near as efficient as todays, and train times that are as believable as railways anywhere in the world.  

However, I like the picture as it is full of life.

Clearly Paddington, it is always recognisable, the train sets the scene, the smouldering engine awaiting at one end, the long line of wooden coaches, terrible in an accident, and the wide selection of human nature to be seen on the platform. 

Brunel's spectacular Paddington Station building had been completed only a decade before this picture emerged in 1862.  Frith would no doubt have used it before, he certainly reconnoitred the place to get this right.   He also ensured his family's fame by placing them in the left centre of the picture.  The woman kissing a child goodbye in the near foreground, possibly the son of to school, is Froth's wife, he himself stands behind with his elder son.  The bearded man next to them had given Italian lessons to Frith's daughters, and appears to be haggling over the taxi fare.  As the porter scrambles to pick up the luggage and possibly a tip, a bridal party in full Victorian overdress fusses about nothing before clambering into the coach.  These coaches were not very big inside, how did all those women fit in?  Or did they just dump the Bride and Groom and send them on their way?  I guess so.  

A Sherlock Holmes lookalike is being accosted by two Police Detectives, accompanied by a uniformed officer.  This apparently is based on real incident.   

The picture is full of the confusion, worry, fear and nervousness so many experience at railway stations.  Add the class distinction, the need to be in the right place, the distracted children staring at the huge arena about them, the noise of the engine warming up for the off, the smell of the smoke, Welsh coal was the best coal for engines it appears, the noise and bustle, the thoughtlessness of those in a hurry or just used to the fuss, the dogs, the mixture of uniforms and the journey ahead.  All are caught in this wonderful painting. 

Frith sold it for £4500, plus another £750 for not showing it at the RA.  This allowed the buyer to show it in his gallery at one shilling a time.  Louis Victor Flatow saw 83,000 visit his gallery for a peek.  It was also shown elsewhere and I suspect he easily regained his cash.

I think this a great picture in so many ways.

For Christmas, could you buy it for me...?

Bacon

 

I took this picture eons ago while trundling up the old railway, or 'Flitch Way,' as it is called.  The name derives from the competition that takes place every leap year in what until recently, was the Flitch Pub' in Little Dunmow.  The winner receives a 'Flitch of Bacon.'  Like many such pubs this is now a restaurant.  Because of the size of the event the judgement now takes place in Great Dunmow.

The competition, which goes back many years into the 14th century, they say Chaucer mentions this, is simple in outline.  The idea is to find a couple who have not regretted their marriage since being married in the past year and one day.  The award is a 'Flitch of Bacon.'  Aggressively questioned by magistrates, and providing witnesses that they have not regretted their marriage once, a jury then decides the outcome.  

It appears few 'Flitches' were ever awarded!  

I wonder if any of my readers have gone a year and one day without regretting the marriage?  Of course you must ask the spouse this also, no magistrate will question you, no jury decide.  There again the bacon will come from Tesco if you had won. 

I wonder if I will ever ride that bike again?  I doubt it now.  Things do not appear to improve and I am losing interest.  I may have to find someone who needs a bike to take it on, do it up and have fun.  

I miss the Flitch Way itself mind.  A  two mile long stretch up to Rayne, busy at times with dog walkers, and how the dogs love it, people strolling along, and much further on the horse riders out for a trot. 

It gave some nice pics also.

Coming Soon...

 

Hunt & Railways

This millionaire wishes people who have retired after 50 or so years of work, to return to work to save his party from defeat.  That is not how he described it, but that is what it is.  Instead of obvious solutions, return to the EU, or at least the 'single market,' tax the filthy rich like himself, Sunak and those who 'carelessly' forget to pay several million pounds in tax, as this is difficult, we get old folks to work long hours and die.  I wonder which millionaire came up with this?  Too clever for Hunt, but maybe a Tory loving civil servant seeking promotion thought it a wheeze.  

Guess what the nations response is...

HS2, that multi Billion waste of time and effort, has failed once again with the news that it might not reach all the way into London, they place it was supposed to start from.   This exciting news raised blood pressure everywhere, but, for once, the Tories have risen to the challenge with Hunt,  (see previous) has made it known HS2 will indeed end at Euston Station.  Possibly.   

There was no need for this.  The railways could be improved as we all know, but surely improving what is there rather than introducing something new covering similar grounds was another 'Boris type' piece of flannel.  Badly thought out, badly planned, and l still have no idea how much work has already been done.  I know huge machines have created vast tunnels in places, I know many have lost houses and lifestyles because of this railway, I know the Leeds part has been scrapped, but how much has actually been completed, if any?  

Still, we can afford this even if we cannot pay the railway workers, the nurses and NHS staff, the postmen, the ambulance staff, the....

The dying embers of the day produced a mild pink in the sky.  This is to warn us tomorrow will be as chilly as today I suspect.  The winter has been mild so far, and the energy people are not happy with the warmth.  The prices will however, remain high.  On that note the water people have informed me that in spite of the cost of living crisis they must put the water charges up.  This is to pay the fines received for polluting rivers, streams and the seaside with sewage rather than spend money cleaning it up.  So the money I am charged for 'sewage' is now paying the bill for the sewage they did not bother cleaning!  Privatisation blessing here.

Eon Again

 

I got another letter from Eon.  

The send emails and letters informing me I need to switch to a 'Smart Meter.'  The last letter offered it slightly differently by telling me they must replace the meter as it is getting 'old.' Well yes, it has been there for almost 30 years so I would suggest this meter is old.

The problem is meter they wish to install will not work.  This requires a signal, via the phone it seems, but there is no signal in the basement.  On top of this even if there was a signal it would not reach up to the 1st floor.  So it is a non starter.

Now their man told them this when he came to inspect it some time back, but they do not listen.

So, I keep getting such helpful information that is of no earthly use.

Should I be surprised?

All big companies have a major flaw, they are operated by people and computers. 

Neither work well.

The people do not insert information.

The computer carries on as told but does not understand what it has not been told.

Wrong information is inserted.

The computer carries on as told.

No information is inserted by human.

Computer just makes it up as it feels like it.

Or is that the human element?

Privatisation has ended the mass of troubles we used to have with the old 'Electricity Board.  I am so happy it has all worked out so well for us today.

Except of course energy prices are coming down at high speed, but prices are not lowering at all.

Bosses bonus's will be good this year.

Burns and Haggis

It may have escaped your notice that today we celebrate the 'Bard's' birthday.  Rabbie Burns will not join us however, having passed away in 1796.  Scots, and quite a few others, will be attempting to cook Haggis, Neeps and Tatties for lunch, reading the 'Address to a haggis,' and if they are not Scots they will be making a fool of themselves with the accent. 
 

Sadly the haggis available in my Tesco's is not great.  I could have got 'my butcher' up in Forres to send one down, but time beat me here.  I did consider the 'mince pies' in the freezer however, by the time I considered them it was too late to defrost them. 

I had garlic bread and vegetable soup instead.

There was no 'Address' offered.

A proper Haggis from a butcher can be expensive.  It can be however, marvellous, not like the rather dry ones I find in supermarkets.  I certainly would not buy the 'Vegan' or is it 'Vegetarian' one that sometimes becomes available, as clearly there is no point.  

As my late sister's birthday fell on Jan 25th along with Rabbie, I cannot forget the date.  She however, showed no poetic talent, unless sending postcards from places she visited with 'I was here today,' on the back counts.  It counted a wee bit when she sent a card thus commented upon featuring the Andromeda Galaxy!  I was in two minds if she had actually visited.  It turns out the family had been to a science type exhibition in Edinburgh.  Not many stars seen from there at this time of year mind.

No Haggis but however, I have the whisky, given to me by one of my secret admirers.  Burns referred to whisky as 'John Barleycorn,' and his poem offers his delight in the substance.  It may be Burns, as he often did, made use of an old poem and livened it up.  However, he, working on a farm when not seeking smugglers for the exciseman, and usually helping them rather than catching them, he knew all about the difficulties of raising Barley as a crop.  He would know about the hardships of farm life and the struggle to make it pay at that time also. 

And while we make the most of the Orkney Barley we keep an eye out for those Vikings seeking to steal back their product.  We however, have ways of dealing with them...

Bread

 

What a good day.  Much of it has been taken up with stuffing my face with my 'Stonebaked, white, crusty, bloomer' that I was overcharged for at Tesco.  Very nice bread indeed, meaningless name for a loaf made by the thousand and then priced higher than the rest to make it appear special.  However, I enjoyed it, and will enjoy the leftovers tomorrow, before it suddenly dies.

The poor lassie pictured above is creating bread, probably a 'sourdough' bread, apparently first discovered in Egypt.  They say they liked bread there, and by 3000 BC there was plenty of variety of wheats and other crops with which to make it.  I am not sure I would wish to be a woman rolling it back and forward there for much of the day.  She would also have to crush grain before this to create the flour to use also.  The bones of such women show years of hard work.  Of course the men, who died earlier, also show the effect of the hard work they endured, but being men are ignored, they do not sell papers. 

As far as I remember early wheats were not very good, and the bread did not actually make you very healthy.  It took some time before such grains were worth while.  By Jesus time Barley Bread was for the poor, and Wheat Bread was for the rich.  Jesus prayer, 'Give us our daily bread,' meant just that, give us the barley bread that keeps us alive, the very basic of life.  Note he did not mention the better bread.  

I like trying the differing breads on offer, though all here are found in Tesco or Sainsburys and therefore not exactly the best options, but they have to do.  I suspect the health food shop sells their own or 'fancy' bread but the price will be fancy also, they can keep that. 

It used to be small bakers kept Edinburgh going for bread.  Walking home late at night I passed one at Stockbridge, door open because of the heat, and the fabulous aroma of baking bread filling the area around.  On Sunday morning someone was sent down the road to get the 'rolls and papers' so we could eat and work our way through the mass of papers we once bought.  The family on the top floor used to change the papers they bought for the ones we bought so together we got through the whole Sunday output of the press during the day.   

How different now.

The only media then during the 50s and early 60s was the wireless and the papers on a Sunday morning.  And usually full scale papers at that.  Not the tabloid things of later.  Even the 'Scottish Sunday Express' had things worth reading at that time, while today it is a dreadful dying rag.  I understand the journalists that remain are not allowed back into the office, it is cheaper for them to 'work from home' while writing items telling people not to 'work from home.'

At least back then, after lunch eventually arrived, we could sit near the gramaphone and listen to the 'Goons' or 'Hancock' making us laugh.  The 'Goons' offered a strange world of sound that nobody has touched since, or at least, not so successfully.  The 'Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy' the nearest thing on radio I can think of similar in output.

 

After I left Tesco I ventured into the museum as I wanted a couple of postcards.  I have four second class stamps to use up before they are out of date, so I must send something to someone to get the benefit!

Here, I encountered two of my women, women I have not seen since Covid began.  How long ago that appears.  Avoiding buying anything but what I wanted was difficult, I almost bought a book I do not require but still found myself arguing in my mind about buying it.  Anyway I wasted around 30 minutes there, including having a quick look at the latest exhibition, 'Ladybird Books,' before heading home to my bread.  Since then I did nothing.  I filled my face and look forward to the weight increase happily.

 

 

 

Frost, Bishop and a touch of Toby

It was one of those ridiculous winters morning today.  The sky was blue, the sun shone, and the streets were slippery with frost.  As I walked, tripping up several times and almost going flat out once, the pavements on one side were white while the frost on the telephone wires above slowly melted, dropping great blobs on heads of the few passers-by.  Everything ached, and as I rose that morning my one thought was "I wish it was Monday."  Then I can go back to bed, but not today.

 

Today the Bishop was preaching, so I was ordered there to take pictures.  

This once confused me as he is not the Bishop of Essex, just of Colchester.  But large counties have a Bishop and as many 'sufferagent Bishops as required, Essex has three.  The sbishops, as you may have noted, are strange people, this one however, has his good points.  For a start he knows God, though he does have a tendency to the 'Stonewall' nonsense.  I was glad he did not mention this today, I may have started something.  All went well, he spoke well, many pictures were taken, all smiled.

 

I then watched as the Heart of Midlothian strolled past the poor Hibs team.  This, as you know, is not unusual.  The best part was watching Toby Sibbick run up the park near the end of the game and chip the ball past the despairing goalkeeper.  Toby Sibbick, the new striker!  Another great performance from him, though the team was not playing to well once again.  Playing not to good we have beaten Aberdeen and Hibs.  All looks good so far.