My exciting life reached new heights this morning when I strolled out, slowly, through town and into the 'Café CM7.' Brunch was required, and after consultation with my wallet I decided paying for food in a café was equal to what has to be paid for foodstuffs cooked at home, minus the electric charge. So it was a happy me that discovered this place very quiet at the time I thought would be busy, especially as it is Market Day and people flock into town to complain about the people flocking into town.
As it was quiet I entered, sat at the back where I could watch everyone else, ordered two sausage, two eggs, two bacon, two tomatoes, beans and mushrooms and tea. The usual 'Greasy Spoon' type stuff. The young girl was polite, friendly, helpful and the Brunch was served at a reasonable speed. While the sausages were not quite my type, the tomatoes two large Plum Toms, and the plate large enough to feed such as me, I was very happy with a cooked meal, cooked that is by someone else! What a delight! This meal cost £8. I left the change from my tenner in the tip plate, and moved off happily with my day.
Considering most meals I buy will cost about £5 by the time I have bought them, cooked them, and added other bits, I am happy with the price. My choices of individual items may be different, but the costs run out similar, and the electric is switched off. It also saves time. So I am happy.
The trouble with not feeling to good is that things do not get done. This week I am feeling OK, so I have piles of washing, and piles of ironing to do. The last shirt has been used, those lying there since last summer muct now be ironed! This could wear me out again!
Sunday I felt terrific. I ate well, drank sweet coffee and wandered down to the Kirk quite well, for me. I felt good, confident and ready. I had to be, I was doing the intercessions. That is, at one point I rose above the mob and prayed (from my well prepared sheet). This went down well with the vicar and wife, mostly because I prayed for them! Mentioning her as a grannie, 'and so young' went down well with her. Nobody among the congregation mentioned anything other than they.
But as I came home I realised how much the churches prayers had lifted me and prepared me for my short slot. The people's prayers make such a difference.
I felt it on Sunday.
I ought to have prayed for a woman to come and do my ironing! Not that this would work with that lot!
When I received this birthday gift I did not expect to enjoy it. Science has its uses but my little mind does not comprehend the terminology, or the many mathematical examples offered. However, this book is written for those dim people among us, which pleased me greatly.
The point of the book concerns Radar, that wonderful the British invented to spot German aircraft attacking these shores.
One problem with that was an unfortunate fact, Germany already had Radar, and it was better than ours!
One man, R.V. Jones, was given the task of dealing with Radar. Actually while he spent much time alone fighting German devices, he worked alongside many others experts in this field.
The main problem concerned Bombers. Tracking their when they came here, and protecting ours when they crossed the Channel. Both were difficult tasks. The enemy were found to be using a Beam along which the Luftwaffe would fly, and a cross beam would meet this, indicating when to drop their bombs. In theory this enabled the German bomber to always hit the target, human nature however, and the wind factor, often led to problems.
It was Jones task to understand how this beam operated, work out an antidote and deal with it. In time his work was successful. However, as is always he case, the Germans were already working on a more advance system which he then had to defeat.
Jones had messages coming from agents on the ground, who often died unknown to London, and aerial photographs to try and identify Beams based on the ground. The majority of the work opposing their beams was however done in his head. Mathematics, intelligence, luck, and a wide physics knowledge, enabled the British scientists, in time, to overcome their opponents.
One intriguing aspect was the refusal often, from higher authority to accept the enemy had better equipment, or scientists working ahead of the British! Such Bull-headed approaches are not uncommon in the military world. I suggest it remains the case today also.
During 1943 the cause changed, defence was less required, now it was attack.
Radar was fitted to night fighters and bombers. The Germans also fitted radar to their nightfighters, and while the war raged all around the wireless world hummed constantly to the sound of dots and ashes, bleeps and any noise that would confuse the enemy radar. The British took to German speakers interfering in radio messages between German ground radar and the nightfighters, often arguing about who was the genuine article demanding the plane followed orders. Confusion reigned and as time passed the German war machine crumbled.
The ability to spot a blip on a screen, indicating a plane in the sky some miles away, had by 1945, become a massive technological operation involving men and women on the ground throughout Europe and in the UK. Those in Europe often dying when exposed by false friend or mistake.
R.V. Jones became professor in Physics at Aberdeen Uni after the war, on the recommendation of Winston Churchill himself. He had won the 'Battle of the Beams,' and in secret at that. Few working in these circumstances could make anything of their work, they were not supposed to speak of it for many years, so secret was the job.
A different book regarding the war, but an interesting one just the same, on a subject I knew nothing about. Education is a wonderful thing. This book is worth a read, if science interests you.
I was interested in Jenny's forefathers, at least the ones who served in the British Army. Until well after the second world war there was often no other opportunity for an unemployed young man than enlisting as a 'sodger!' Of course many joined the Royal Navy or Merchant Navy in similar circumstances, but reliable long term work was not always easy to obtain, nor to keep. So, for many soldiering was a choice. It gave a regular wage (10 shillings a week or so in 1914), a uniform as clothes were expensive, and the opportunity to see the world, a world that would remain unseen otherwise.
Those in work could count on a day or so holiday in some jobs, a weeks leave was possible but usually unpaid, unless you were in a clerical role, and wandering around the world was only for the wealthy.
So, in 1925, unable to find work, my father and his mate next door wandered up to the recruiting office.
'How old are you?' asked the sergeant.
'18,' They replied.
'Go for a walk around the block, and come back when you are 19,' suggested the sergeant.
A short while later the pair returned.
'How old are you,' gruffed the sergeant.
'19,' they replied.
'Sign here.'
And they were in.
Well not exactly. The MO, the doctor, decided my dad's mate had flat feet and rejected him, so my dad found himself alone in the 2nd Battalion the Kings Own Scottish Borderers,' for 7 years and 3 in reserve.
Within a year he was sending postcards from Egypt, where he climbed the pyramids, then Hong Kong where hew as to lodge for 5 years. A young man of his time would have been lucky to get a train to North Berwick or Glasgow for a holiday. Railways enabled many to get out and about, but if paid 10-15 shillings a week then a 3'6d rail fair was a lot. There again, where would the money for the day off come from?
I suspect there was also the Imperialist propaganda at the back of his mind. The UK had an Empire, we ruled the world, and he would see no problem at the time with dominating either the Chinese or the Indians he would meet much later. He probably considered he was doing them good! How times and ideas change in a hundred years.
@RHerriott
Was it 1961 my brother enlisted? A very different time, a very differing mental outlook among the people. The Empire remained, though it was breaking up fast. People rejoiced in a time when 'they never had it so good,' and yet the draw of a service life, this time as a photographer in the RAF was tempting for many. There was no 'walking round the block,' here, you enlisted at 19 or went away for a year. National Service had ended, no conscription, so all this was voluntary, and my brother had no intention of slugging it out under bullying corporals in the army, so he joined the RAF. Here, he found bullying corporals, but once passed the test he found intelligent men who were willing to work for the cause and have fun at the same time. The RAF has always drawn in a more relaxed crowd, mostly middle class, and often technically minded. This is something soldiering had little need for until the last 30 or so years. Many young soldiers now have learned their job through online games rather than pub brawls. Many enjoy both of course.
While dad kicked around the Chinese for a while and then tended to the hospital patients in India where he chose to be an orderly, Rob had a much more civilised time in Germany, Cyprus and what is now Dubai! He also endured after 102% in the Gulf the pleasure of RAF Kinloss, where 102% only existed in your oven. Whether he owned or stole the Royal Enfield bike I know not, but we never saw it. He did have a habit of acquiring shoddy vehicles.
The point that got my attention with Jenny's family is how so many were forced into the armed forces. It was a take it or starve policy that many benefited from. But how did this affect the children? Some I know had family in RAF or diplomatic service and travelled across the world. Some were dumped in Boarding schools, others on family members, or trudged around the world grabbing education here and there. Was this good for them?
I have to say it would have suited me in some ways, constant change would enable me to leave behind things I did not like, as well as things I did like. The experience of foreign places early in life, the warmth instead of the sold, different exotic foods, and possibly a less disciplined regime? A Boarding School would have been awful, not that this would have been considered by our family, only the middle classes went there. The main loss of constant moving would be the effect on the family. If the family was good and able to keep together it could be a great time. If it was troublesome or partings were forced this could be difficult for many. Families are meant to be together.
I never enlisted, though my father often suggested I joined the Soviet Union army, for the sake of the country...
To fill the quiet moments in my exciting life I have been watching Heathrow Airport Live on YouTube. With a bright setting sun, dawdling on its way down, brightening the area and enhancing the view, I sit while various aircraft head up yonder. Large ones, small propellor driven ones, and double deck bus sized aircraft are brought into view. All the time someone is leaving or arriving, a very busy scene.
I am once again amazed that a 'Turkish Airlines' plane weighing hundreds of tons, and carrying over 200 passengers with luggage, can leave the ground and fly for a couple of thousand miles with no problem. Sometimes we take for granted the amazing world we have. The fact that I can sit here, a hundred and so many miles away and watch this happening is another wonder. Another wonder we take for granted.
There are so many wonders around us, so many we take for granted.
However, I wonder why aircraft and photography, computers and medical science, were not 'discovered,' and put into production thousands of years ago?
Ah you say, we did not know the science, the chemicals, etc, so many discoveries came later. But why did they come later? Early man built huge Henges, Pyramids, Temples. Greeks developed theAntikythera Mechanism about a hundred years BC, why did they not go further, the brain power was there? Strange that so many things were discovered only in the last 300 years or so.
I watch as a double deck 'British Airways' aircraft lumbers along the runway. He appears to be doing no more than 50 mph, yet keeps coming. Slowly, so slowly, this lumbering creature runs along the runway that I begin to imagine him not getting off the ground. Suddenly the nose rises sharply, and the beast takes ungracefully to the air. It still appears to me to be doing no more than 50 mph as it reaches a thousand feet are turns away. At such speeds he will take an age to reach the USA or China, but reach it he will.
People will murmer about pollution, while driving their cars, yet little is done about it anywhere. Cars cause more pollution, there is more of them, and some nations, like India and China, still rely on coal fired power. A few aircraft cannot be any worse.
Heathrow is now concentrating on watching a Boeing 777 of 'Korean Airlines' take to the sky.This is no passenger flight, this is a bundle of parcels making their way back and forth across the world. More needless glittering items that someone 'must have,' yet will have forgotten by the end of the year.
To bring some life into my life I sauntered slowly down to the Geriatric Men's Club meeting last night. A grumble of old men if you like.
A gorgeous evening, the bright sun setting behind the trees across the park. A handful of people dog walking, chatting, and child avoiding in the late sun. How much better life is when bright sunshine, at any time of day, fills the air with some warmth and brightens the skies?
I entered the club, filled with men in bright team coloured shirts. They had gathered at the side hall, pints aplenty, talking and laughing, and disappearing occasionally through to the games room. This was a visiting Darts Team, come to throw darts and drink beer. As far as we could see more beer was being drunk than darts thrown. The noise was tremendous, quite unlike our usual Monday gatherings.
The fire door was open to let in air, as the poor barmaid was feeling the heat, it also let in the smoke from wandering smokers who paraded outside from time to time. How much better life is with a smoke free zone! How did we cope with this constantly in days past? Poor barmaid was overworked all evening, but not by me obviously. £3:15 for a pint here, club prices as opposed to Public House prices are much cheaper, no wonder the Darts Team were drinking happily.
We spent our time in the same boring conversations as always, nothing changes there. Nothing much came out of it, only a new grumble or two. Talk of grumbling, I noted one or two regulars were far from chuffed at the noise and crowd. They came for a quiet night and could not move. What with the Darts Team and ourselves, they glared a lot.
I found it unfortunate that I arrived a wee bit after the others. This meant I had to buy my own, and as they all had been served there was no requirement to by for them. This I found unfortunate. However, I manged to survive this and accept a drink when offered.
Very tired this morning, grumpy and tense. No idea why.
William Dyce - Pegwell Bay, Kent - a Recollection of October 5th 1858
It's one of those weeks. Nothing is happening, nothing excites.
I sit here, staring out the window, seeking inspiration. All that comes to me is a desire to go to sleep.
The world is silent, even for a Sunday evening. What the weatherman calls a 'breeze' is shaking the trees opposite, while clouds, often grey, scud across the sky, occasional, blue peeking out. Dogs are not barking, children are not shouting, and I suppose this is caused by feeding time at the individuals home zoo.
Football is boring. Church was boring, walking there tiring. Food unappetising.
This short, and very acceptable story of one female witch and her trial, is well worth a view.
Research by the University of Edinburgh claims that some 4000 people, mostly female, were tried for witchcraft. Witchcraft was between 1563 - 1736 a capital offence in Scotland. 'Scots Law' is of course very different from the 'Law of England & Wales.' At least 1500 were executed, strangled then burnt, and the conditions in prison were toxic, brutality and disease widespread.
At first glance it is tempting to regard this as the beliefs of an ignorant people. However, King James VI & I also took to investigating such activities. It is said that he was on a ship that encountered a storm, this, for reasons unknown, he put down to a 'witches curse.' Personally I reckon a storm of the coast of Scotland is something to expect, rather than blame on witches, by that is only my thought. James took this so seriously he produced a book on the subject and participated in witch trials at one point himself. It took a while before he lost interest in the subject.
But James was an educated man, he considered himself an academic. At one point he had begun to translate the Bible into Scots, and later forced a full translation once based in London. This was not an ignorant man from the backwoods, yet he took this 'witches' thing seriously.
A glance at a bible concordance will show the number of mentions regarding 'witches' as no more than a handful. Various translations of course may vary, but 'witches,' 'mediums,' and 'spiritists,' are often lumped together in one section. All are condemned, the reader is informed to beware of them and avoid them at all costs. Once in the 'Promised Land,' the people of Israel were told to evict such as they, and if found later to destroy them.
The New Testament merely informs the saints to avoid contact with such people. This, in a superstitious Roman society that contained many, of various kinds, that were very popular and found on many a street corner.
The reason is clear, both then and now, either these people are frauds lying to their hearers, or possess a supernatural power of demonic origin. Jesus finished work on the cross defeated Satan and his demons, however, he still has space on this earth to manifest his work both quietly, like an angel of light, or publicly through witches and mediums. The purpose is clear, these are all meant to turn the hearer away from the cross of Christ and salvation, which is found nowhere else.
The society around us today contains many who are more than willing to follow such offers, most who have little bible understanding, or indeed concern for bible understanding, are well open to manifestations of supernatural power.
Imagine Scotland in the 1600s. The reformation had encouraged reading, so individuals could understand the 'Word of God,' yet, when someone falls into a coma, or an unexpected illness arrives the cry 'witch' appears, and people in village and town go looking for a suitable candidate.
It appears women, young and old, were usually designated 'witch,' because they were different from the crowd. This could be their age, their chosen way of life, a blemish, or if they had some hindrance such a mental 'slowness' or epilepsy. Possibly mere jealousy from those around them could single them out. We know how 'catty' women can be to one another. The economic conditions, or the plague passing through, long lasting bad weather, all could contribute to a desire for an easy fix to the world around people, so a witch has to be found.
It is of course also possible some of these women were indeed working with evil arts, but few wish to accept this today.
How did an educated people, well versed in scripture accept such a widespread belief in witches? As stated scripture mentions them, mostly in passing as it were. The real message is for people, individually and together, to worship the Living God, Jesus, who died for your sins, and avoid all that hinders knowing him. That I can tell you is life indeed!
We in the UK have a society that has lost its centre. Liberal thinking has continued into the absurd, where men can call themselves women because they say so, perversion of all sorts is regarded as normal, when it clearly is not, and a lack of central authority that seeks what is right for the nation has ended. Boris, under Farage tuition, has created a divide, removed the lax boundaries that until recently held firm, and allowed concern for doing what is right to end, so some can get wealthy.
"Where there is no revelation, people cast off restraint; but blessed is the one who heeds wisdom’s instruction." Pr 29:18.
It took until 1736 for the law to change banning witch-hunts, and only then when the needless Union of Parliaments had occurred, though the scare had fallen away quite a bit by this time. Today society pretends witches do not exist, or are harmless, how wrong they are, while with-hunts of various kinds arise and fall constantly, among a people with no vision, no solid place on which to stand.
I stand of Jesus and his work, there is no solid base elsewhere.
It has been a tiring week. My sullen hulk refused to go out yesterday leaving me with no option but to watch football all day. This was tiring, especially as the football was mediocre English stuff. I struggled through two games and gave up halfway through the third. However, I did have the joy of watching Kilmarnock beat Rangers the evening before, and that cheered me greatly. Always good to see the Old Firm struggle.
One noticeable change in recent days is the Conservative Party candidates refusing to mention that they belong to the Conservative Party. Here is my own MP, and Foreign Secretary at that, not only dropping the word 'Conservative,' from his poster, he, like the rest, have changed the Conservative Blue to a peely-wally green. Possibly this is to convince people that the ones who have given licences for hundreds of oil and gas rigs to appear in the North Sea are doing so for 'Green Environmental' reasons. The water companies pumping sewage into the sea with no punishment possibly don't count here.
A simple con, which will fool many let's be honest, but not all. Whatever this crowd of gangsters get up to a third of the English population will vote Conservative. Why? Habit, fear of 'socialism, because the 'Daily Mail,' 'Daily Express,' 'The Telegraph,' or the 'Sun,' tell them the Conservatives will stop foreigners coming here on wee boats. They believe taxes will be lower, and they will benefit. The majority are no longer fooled, but many will still support this gangster party.
13 ‘In my vision at night I looked, and there before me was one like a son of man, coming with the clouds of heaven. He approached the Ancient of Days and was led into his presence. 14 He
was given authority, glory and sovereign power; all nations and peoples
of every language worshipped him. His dominion is an everlasting
dominion that will not pass away, and his kingdom is one that will never
be destroyed.
**************
This Sunday the church I didn't attend, was considering the transfiguration of Jesus. The time he took three disciples up a mountain alone, and was suddenly transfigured, Moses and Elijah appearing beside him. This, strangely enough, is a moment I and others I think often ignore. We read it and move on. However, if we read the powerful description in Daniel we see where Jesus came from, thus we can no longer imagine him to be merely a 'good man,' but we are forced to accept him as God on earth.
The supernatural is missing from many churches these days. Those who accept and believe it often forget it during the working day, yet it remains the real world, and this earth a mere copy.
Jesus transfiguration frightened the disciples, how much more we when God moves in our lives. When God interferes with our lives on earth it can be frightening, we cannot control him, the supernatural is above and beyond what we know. Yet, the image of God seen on his throne, pure and Holy, surrounded by myriads of angels, yet offering his Son, the one to be worshiped, simply to save individual people here on earth. The Love that is revealed as this Holy God reaches down to me and you, dies as a substitute for my sin and yours, and knows all the corruption inside, and there is plenty in me, is quite astounding. To think that this Holy God wants someone like you and me to be with him, enjoying him for ever is a thought worth considering.
Albert Goodwin - The Rain From Heaven, All Souls, Oxford
The rain hammering past the window, reminded me that this is the start of the 'Edinburgh Fringe Festival,' something I never attended. Edinburgh's changeable weather will not stop a billion people descend on the city, obstructing the streets, hindering people going about their business, and scaring the locals into taking a holiday in far away places, like Berwick on Tweed or Peebles. Indeed, the locals always make for the hills rather than endure the crush of southern softies blethering about their pitiful 'art.'
In my say, when colour had not yet been introduced to the city, the Festival proper got under way and we all ignored it. This was because it was too highbrow for many, or just too expensive. Today, I might be tempted by some of what is pon offer there. The 'Fringe' grew up later, London actors, theatre companies, comedians, perverts and hangers on, all came to Edinburgh and tried to become an overmnight success. Some did. Others failed, some failed yet became a success. Paul Merton is one, he is renown for his TV and radio appearances and happy to admit that in Edinburgh he was fired twice in one night, his act being so poor.
I wonder if I would bother about the 'Fringe' now? I almost went back in the day, but somehow it just did not happen. Did I miss anything? I had other things on my mind then, but maybe I ought to have looked in anyway. Today, I just could not be bothered.
Anyway, I am glad I do not need to fight the crowds there, tourists are bad enough.
Proper football begins tomorrow, well one begins tonight actually. The league business begins, anger, bad referees, bad tackles, managers sacked, venom, shooting, crossing, rain, wind and fire, all in every game, big or small. I canny wait!
By the time last season eventually ended I was sick of football. Far too many games, and the play-offs just went on too long. This season ends and a competition of some sort begins, world cup or Euro's, I know not which. There are so many competitions these days I don't know what half of them are now.
But tnight, an exciting Arbroath v Dundee United will grip the nation! Especially as the wind and rain are gtting up and the North Sea is a mere ten yards form the pitch! It will be grand.
This ancient picture sums up my day. Still, misty, calm, quiet. Nothing moving, except to eat. Now, as the gentle monsoon rain teems down I eat and relax and enjoy the sounds it generates.
I suspect those outside feel differently about this.
There has been some time spent on Twitter, much less than usual. Up till now by using the laptop I have avoided the adverts that appear every three posts, and sometimes more. Financial, wellbeing, betting and other cobblers constantly reflecting Musk's desperation to make money. Well, as Twitter under him is a shambles, and no longer any fun I like so many others are leaving it, these adverts are the end. Bad enough when occasionally using the mobile, but not acceptable now. Clearly he has worked out how to block AdblockerPlus, which was great up till now, but by doing this he has finished me.
I have much else to waste time on, many books to read, and I accidentally ordered another today by mistake. Which reminds me, I have an Amazon card to use also, I must investigate if there is anything worth reading on Amazon books...
The other day, my nephew, he of startling intellect, his spelling is less than that of a 'Sun' writer, informed me he was coming on Sunday. Now, Sunday I was taking off as I intended to go to Muswell Hill for a funeral. However, as I have not seen him for five years, and he was bringing his baby I had to say yes!
So for two days I swept, scrubbed, dusted, moved things, and improved the look of the place. I then attempted to buy things that may suit them. Money flowed, and I was tired!
Anyway, he came on Saturday night to the hotel round the corner, but I was not sure if he was there or elsewhere. Anyway, I was knackered so ignored him. Come Sunday I realise where he is and go get him.
There followed a day of delight with a cheerful 7 month old baby, a less cheerful mum, whom I have not met, and who looked bored all day. There was little to connect us, and I did not meet her expectations I think. Oh well, most people find this.
However, I was tired, and walking towards the park, down the slope, I found carrying the babe, which I was determined to do, just too much for my old age. My wizened fat body cannot deal with things like it used to. Eventually they left, I scrubbed the pawmarks off the phone, the laptop, the everything else, returned the place to the usual mess, and sat eating all the fancy cakes I bought and they rejected.
While it was not the happy time I hoped for it got one family visit for mum out of the way. It enabled me to get my hands on a baby that looked cheerful and full of life and indeed was such. She was determined to stand, refused to crawl, and is into everything. In a few months time she will be uncontrollable! Good job they live in Burnley. He only came this way as he was dropping her brother off, in Kings Lynn! Driving is no problem for him, he is used to it, and he thought this would be the only time I might see Nina as a babe, he is right, I could not get to Burnley at the moment. Good on him!
I loved having her around, took some poor pictures, fed her, bounced her around, stopped her flinging everything of the desk, and had a great time. Next time I see her she will be at least a toddler of not more.
So, that's four Nieces, all good looking and highly intelligent. Two grown up Great Nieces, beautiful and intelligent, and one new highly active Great Niece. One Nephew, one grown up Great Nephew, and one Toddler Great Nephew. I think, there may be one or two more somewhere I missed. Now I have met the youngest I am happy. I have dandled them all, spent money on them, and now can die happy - but not yet, not yet!
I ought to have been in Muswell Hill today for the funeral of a long time friend. This was to be an awkward journey. I eventually worked out how to do this, Liverpool St to Kings Cross, Northern Line to East Finchley, or train to Alexander Palace, then a bus 134?, onwards. Already you see I have made it more complicated. All this to be there by 2:30 pm.
As I searched this out, spending a lot of cash on an 'Oyster Card,' not yet working out if my 'Pay as you go card' will allow me to cover as far as Zone 3, something at the back of my mind grew all the time that I would not be there. It was a constant thought as I prepared, especially as this was one of my three closest friends.
Then on the Friday my nephew's call made me realise why this was bouncing around my head. The Good Lord knew this was going to happen, and after the exertions of the weekend I am glad to sit around at home, rather than struggle there and back for a 30 minute service. However, I feel so guilty at letting her down. This was a close friend, a real one. I am not there, just sitting here acknowledging how I failed her, and I did that often. I am glad however that her God has been looking after her, is at this moment listening to her only musical outlet, Bob Dylan, and seeking how to meet her demands for chocolate! Her going might save me around a hundred pounds a year on that alone I say! But my guilt remains, though if I had forced myself there I may as well have gone on to the crematorium, family only or not, and waited there anyway.
I was unsure about buying it, but I had to use the book voucher from last year and only two books in that shop were worth having. An unusual voucher in that few shops accepted it! Only W. H. Smiths did, but only senior staff knew about this! Tsk!
Having dumped it aside while I vegetated it was a while before I opened the book. Having done so I read it through in a very short time. John Nichol is not the greatest writer, but having been shot down over Iraq himself he understands something of the mindset of the men he quotes freely throughout the book.
We read something of the needs of the day, the war was in full flow and a need for a heavier bomber than what was available was noted. A plane called the 'Manchester,' flying on two engines was designed. This was underpowered and ineffective. One Roy Chadwick and his associates fought through the red tape and official obstructions to produce the improved version of the 'Manchester.' After much fighting the four engined 'Lancaster' was born! This powerful beast, much loved by those who flew it, became the backbone of RAF 'Bomber Command,' in the fight against Nazi Germany.
Using personnel stories of the men who flew these aircraft John Nichol takes us through the building of the aircraft, thousands of high quality pieces, many made by women workers, the conditions in the factories, the relationships good and bad, and then the actual tales of combat.
Skilfully integrating individuals stories regarding the team of seven men aboard the aircraft, and on one occasion one woman, a friend of the pilot, who was stowed away on board, once! We read of the preparation, instruction, ground crews who worked tirelessly on the aircraft, flights to the destination and the bombing of targets.
The author is very good at making you feel part of the operation. Memories from those who were there describing the appearance of a burning city, the flak from the ground attempting to kill them, the searchlights seeking them, and the desperate manoeuvring to avoid them. All through this the steady, quiet voice of the bomb aimer as he sought precision to drop the bombs. If he missed you came back the next day and tried again, this was not popular. 'Bombs Gone!' the plane lifts several feet into the air, a photograph is taken, and then the escape, at high speed, out of the flak area. This meant heading for home, avoiding ground flak and Luftwaffe fighters on the way. Sometimes the plane had been hit, an engine dead, flaps broken, and then the lower altitude as you struggled for the Channel and home.
Not all succeeded.
A fully loaded Lancaster hit before dropping the bombs could explode killing all aboard. Others would fail to make the coast, men dropping from the, often burning aircraft, forced to leave behind wounded colleagues, and then try to avoid capture on the ground. Here, whether in France or Netherlands, the populace would do their best to aid fallen airmen. However, it was not easy, had they been caught they could all be in a concentration camp and dealt with. Inevitably, though aided, the men found themselves in POW camps.
One such was Cy Grant, one of 500 or more West Indians who served with the RAF during this time. He was aided in the Netherlands but there was no choice but to hand him over. Cy was in the camp made famous by the 'Great Escape,' though he did not take part, a black man would stand out in German held Poland at the time. Several West Indian men are featured in the book, no racism was recorded, indeed the RAF strongly opposed this. Only one US airman from the deep south made any comment, and he did not get far.
This book covers the daily experience of men in action, the sleeping arrangements, the women, the pubs, the fact that death and the lost were never mentioned again. Young men, rarely over 25, flew 30 'ops' before they could be relieved. Many never made it, the chances of succeeding were low. Cy Grant, as a Navigator, was part of a 'Wellington' crew who survived their 30 'ops' intact, the only crew on 'Wellingtons' to do so. He then volunteered for Lancs!
Some lives are continued into the end of the war and the rebuilding afterwards. No-one wished to know their story. All were rebuilding their life, many had even worse experiences in Army and Navy, and the joy of life, family and future lay ahead. But the war left nightmares and a desire to find those who had fallen, to visit graves, and meet those who rescued them long years before. This book covers all this well.
Fighting a war is hard, humans are expendable, even to the most careful General. This book covers the hardship of war and the human reaction to it, and the life afterwards. I recommend it.
No rain this morning. Cloudy sky yes, rain no. So I prepared for a haircut!
Shoes on, not the slipper things I tried to go out with the other day, jacket on, glance out the window and off I go downstairs.
I open the door and the rain is thundering down!
One huge dark grey cloud hovers above me, drenching the park opposite and all who were dwelling therein. To my right heavy drops crashed onto the road, the cars, the people sheltering ineffectively under the brolly. To my left bright blue sky beckoned, a white cotton wool cloud reared up to the heavens, speaking of warmer climes.
I waited inside the door.
Eventually life moved on. My hair was cut by a lovely young lassie who, when I remarked on all the grey stuff lying around, informed that this was 'Very fashionable today.' What a clever lass.
While she was being a clever lass I was not being so clever. I went off to find something interesting to post and having failed, completely forgot about this post. This will disappoint few.
The new day is already half over, the sun is shining now I am indoors, and once again nothing has happened. The media crow over their defeat of the woman in charge of 'Coutts Bank,' as she resigns her position, after Government threats. Even the burning tourists are pushed aside for this one. What else are the press ignoring/covering up? The question as to why a wee girl, known to Boris, gets into the Lords perhaps?
Thursday morning.
Dreich.
Once again I forgot about this. I was so busy doing nothing that I forgot until late at night. Too late to finish of a meaningless post.
So I will take up the meaninglessness this morning.
Good news at last. Kenneth Vargas, the highly thought of SC Herediano player, has agreed to join the Heart of Midlothian to 'progress his career,' and get sold on to one of the big clubs around Europe. This is good business for the Heart of Midlothian, at least, as long as he turns out to be worth having! The Scottish game is not like those in Central America, as he will soon find out.
The usual international clearances are required, but as always it is the Visa that is a problem. This as you will know, is controlled by the English Colonial office in Westminster, and they may decide he is not wanted, him being foreign and all that. So we wait and see.
The rain began just as I returned from the shop. Light, fiddly rain, the type that makes you feel you are walking in a cloud. This, nor the harder rain that followed, did not stop the dogs taking their people for a walk. There will be many a dog towel in use today. And another on the owner I suspect.
Meanwhile, 'Blaze,' is seen here taking his owner on holiday. A week up north, in a place they have visited twice before, Scots beach, mostly empty, sea, cottage, and the man of the house left behind to give them peace. My niece and her daughter, in the daughters car, with one delighted dog leading the way. He loves the car, loves driving around, and loves being on holiday way up north. Considering his health problems he is always keen to get out and about. This will be a good week for them, rain or no rain, and let's face it, these three are well used to rain.
This 'X' is the new Twitter logo.
Musk, or is it 'Mush?' has changed it amidst a flurry of propaganda attempting to pretend this is important. It is in fact nonsense. He paid £34 Billion pounds for Twitter and is losing cash hand over fist. The loss of advertising, at a time when all suffer such a loss, is I am told about 50% of the total. Memories of course may vary. The constant tweaks, the daft changes, the stupidity of buying something, sacking half the staff, and then desperately trying to make it pay is quite sad.
I wonder if Putin put him up to it, just to attack the west?
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