I Forgot a Title...

Yesterday, though I did not notice, the multi-millionaire man Hunt, known by some as a famous mispronunciation, announced proudly a Budget for the rich.  As always with Budgets I ignore them on the day and await the other side revealing what has actually been announced.  So it is today.  The right-wing media speak of 'growth,' while the 'other side,' not always one party, speak of tax cuts for Hunt's rich friends, like himself, and nothing for the rest.  It may, they say, be a Budget ready to be fixed just in time for the next election.  Whatever, prices will continue to rise, Brexit will continue to harm the nation, the Cabinet millionaires will continue to gain in wealth, wherever it is hidden, and you and me will get little or nothing from the Budget.  Less than two years for this bunch of gangsters to line their pockets, how much more can they get? 

I was interested in the idea of forcing over 50s back to work.  Clearly, a millionaire sitting in a warm office surrounded by well paid lackeys might consider this a good idea.  A man who has dug up roads, fixed railway lines, shoved post through your door, or a woman who has walked miles around a hospital, taught kids, or taken you cash at a checkout may all feel that this is once again the Masters telling the Serfs what to do.  As a serf I know what I would tell these Masters what they can do, and indeed I may help them to do it!  I hope the nation responds accordingly.

So I filled the kettle, I placed it on the power, and went back to playing Solitaire work.  It was several minutes later when I realised I had once again forgotten to press down the 'On' switch!  This has now become commonplace in here.  Also common is the heating the water, filling the mug, sitting down and, several minutes later, wondering why my tea is still standing over there!  

This morning the milk turned sour as I put water (which I had remembered to boil) into the mug.  Thus, much against my tired body's wishes, I trudged up to the shop.  Milk, bread, and with the aid of two vouchers 'Wooster Sauce (home brand) and Organic Oats!  As I left the shop I remembered I had forgotten to take the vouchers out of my pocket and use them as I paid!  The thought had crossed my mind as I placed things in the bag but I still forgot.  Much of this past few weeks has seen me sitting here trying to remember things I must do.  Every so often the cloud clears to allow me to return emails, send off information, contact family, or...what was it again?

I have become used to switching screens on the laptop before hesitating while attempting to remember why I did so.  I am also used to walking through the room and asking, "Why am I here?"

It is common to go through there and do something only to return having not done the actual thing I went through for!   

I have trouble remembering names, though this has always been in this family a bit of a problem.  Age has made this worse and much time is spent staring at a mental image of a face wondering what the name is.  Forgetting appears to have become a full time lifestyle these days, and I would go into this fascinating subject but I have forgotten all the other instances of forgetting.  And forgetting to remember the things you forgot is a sign of forgetting professionalism, don't you think...?

Nothing Much Today

Nothing has happened, so here is another Daffodil.

Gary Lineker has defeated the fascist BBC controllers, but we knew he would.

All remain in place.

So far.

Some badly dressed females, they may be women, fill the press.  Quite where the glamour of such events went to I have no idea.  'Slappers R Us,' would be a better name.  This the result of some award ceremony.  Much excitement about nothing.  

70 million or so in this island yet there is nothing else reported.

Must be a quiet day?

Not that I would notice.  

I think I will just go back to bed...

Rouen

Gary Lineker and Prince Who?

The Gestapo like control from the Conservative controlled BBC continues.  Having refused to Kow-Tow to Tory policy Gary Lineker has been removed from his position on 'Match of the Day' because the Tory government demands this.  The fascist takeover of the nation continues.  The journalists that report facts objectively have been removed, anyone who disagrees fears for his life, so they keep quiet, and now Gary is being used as a weapon to demand obedience Nazi like from the Conservative controlled board.

A reminder, the Board of the BBC has 12 members, 9 of whom belong to the Conservative Party.  The Chairman of the BBC gave almost half a million pounds to the Conservative Party, he also 'arranged' a 'Loan of £800,000' to Boris Johnson.'  The Director General of the BBC stood as a Conservative Candidate at an election, and failed.   He headed up the Hammersmith Conservatives for some time.

Now they accuse Gary of 'lacking impartiality' on one of his personal, not BBC, Tweets on Twitter.  Here he likened the Tory approach to asylum seekers arriving by boat as similar to Germany in the 30s.  He was not wrong and has gathered great support.

Today we hear he has been forced to stand down from his job.

Sieg Heil I say!

Who is this?

Have you heard of him?

Nobody appears to have any knowledge of this man.

However, King Charlie III has.

Not only does he know him, he has decided to use this man both to fill up a gap in the royal protocols, and to annoy his brother Andrew.  Charlie has named this geezer 'The Duke of Edinburgh.'  

Now, you and I know this man has never been to Edinburgh, and indeed may not go there for some time, if at all.  We know this has been done because Andrew, awaiting trial in the USA, is not fit for purpose and must be shoved aside out of the way for another few years.  So, whatsisname comes in as 'Duke.'   This man already is a Duke, the Duke of Wessex, but that title now gets passed onto his son.  Gosh isn't this interesting?  Edward, for this is he apparently, is already Earl of Forfar, if he knows where that is, and is no doubt keen to be seen wasting folks time around Scotland.  

What do the people think?

Have they noticed?

Do they care? 

Well, no...

Dreich Again

The rain pitter-patting outside greeted me this morning.  Had it been pitter-patting inside I may have woken earlier.  I trudged through to the East Wing, agitating the dust on the carpet, brushed aside a cobweb or two from the electric kettle and made tea.

As I clumped up to Sainsburys through the saturated streets, I noticed the sodden pigeons in the park seeking breakfast, oblivious to the rain or the puddles on the pathways.  As I entered the store I greeted the security man, as I did so the water slithered of my cap onto his mobile phone.  I did not snigger.  He did not laugh, but did follow me around on my trail for a while.  Too early for the girls to be on the checkout I made for the self-service counters.  These were busy, and the one woman in charge busier yet.  "Someone is coming to help you," cried one machine after another.  I began to formulate an idea re criminal punishments.  I wondered if instead of 'community service' whatever that is, criminal had to operate the self-service department in supermarkets.  If they were not already psycho then they would be after 24 hours in charge of these!  However, surprisingly nothing went wrong!  I put the stuff through, paid, took the receipt and six needless bits of paper offering extra points for things I bought once a year ago, and went back out into the downpour.  

Splashing my way home I noticed a young man, well dressed, but unfortunately dressed as one of the characters from 'Peaky Blinders' or whatever that was called.  I suppose he is trying to make out he is some sort of 'hard man.'  I would have encouraged him to travel up north and wander around parts of Glasgow dressed this way had he not been on the other side of the street.  I suspect he would dress differently after s day in Bridgeton Cross or the Gorbals.

So the day is set.

Yesterday I made Chilli, and put four bowls into the freezer.  I also attempted Flapjacks, according to an old recipe I once used a lot.  These were a wee bit soft, that is they fell apart.  Maybe next time.  Today, it is chicken casserole for the freezer.  Good grief, any more of this and I will do the ironing, clean the house and dress as a woman and claim all their advantages!  Self ID appears to be the way today. 

The media is full of a terrible incident, Gary Lineker, the well known football presenter, has spoken the truth!  The right-wing have risen as one to attack him and defend the fascist Home Secretary.

The Home Secretary proposed and won with a bill to stop asylum seekers reaching the shores via small boats coming across the channel.  She claimed a hundred million can claim the right to land here, in one paper the term 'billions' is used concerning those who may seek to arrive in the UK.

Gary's tweet brought out all the bile reserved for those who speak truthfully.  Naturally all the 'right' Tories have arrived to defend a woman they all know to be incompetent.  The Daily Mail has more stories on Gary than on the royal family today.  Not even Meghan gets a look in here.  The BBC, in an effort to defend its 'impartiality,' called Gary in for a word re 'impartiality' on tweets.  The BBC has a board of 12, 9 of whom belong to the Tory Party.   The BBC has a Chairman who has donated £500,000 to the Tory Party and arranged a loan of much more for Boris (or was that the Director General? Corruption looks the same in suits)  The Director General stood as a Tory candidate in Hammersmith and has removed almost every journalist offers an objective view on the political situation.  All newsreaders and the ones behind them are Tory led, all political programmes are Tory dominated, few opponents are allowed to speak.  With this as the situation it is hard to understand why Gary's comments are threatening 'impartiality.'  Interestingly, I am told the BBC did not lead with the Bill itself, they led on Gary's Tweet!

The UK has voted, under the lie of Brexit, for a right-wing coup.  This has succeeded and we do not know where this will lead.  It is two years before the next General Election, though something may arrive that changes this, and we have a corrupt and inefficient government, an opposition wearing Tory clothes (which is understandable as they do not know what a 'woman' is),  and the outlook is not a positive one for this country.  

I tell you this is a judgement.

Spring is in the Air

We awoke to snow, wind and sleet this morning.  This of course had been foretold by the weathermen, supported by the screaming headlines in the tabloid press.  The vile tabloids are the reason we see the weathermen exaggerating the forecast.  In times past there have been storms, snow, floods heavy rain and bad weather which have caused difficulties across the land.  Screaming headlines demanding action, which quickly disappear when the sun shines once again, force the forecasters to make clear that winter weather can bring snow, rain, fog, and even a storm or two.  Such weather conditions appear not to have come to the knowledge of the vile people at the tabloids.  

My favourite is the 'Daily Mail.'  A couple of years ago screaming headlines warned of three months of approaching bad weather.  The indications were terrible, we might suffer and die if we did not take careful action.

The comments below were wonderful.

"It's called 'winter' DM."

"Three months, December, January and February, DM?'  

"How old is the writer?"

And so on.

Each year the same story appears, slightly different and with worse grammar and spelling than what you see on here.  It typifies the tabloid approach to anything, not just weather.  A screaming half truth, exaggerated out of all proportion, large headlines, pictures of storm damage (often with misleading scrawl underneath), and occasionally an outright lie.  

It is no wonder such papers are dying.

Anyway, we have this for a few more days.  I will be reluctant to venture out, and endure the comments from way up north where the sun is shining brightly!  

How unfair!

Talk Halted

 

I was going to regale you with talk of my coffee drinking in here today, however, due to circumstances beyond my control, housework, cooking, and sloth, I have not yet got around to it.  I could do it but time is pressing and you have little interest in how I accidentally made the coffee too strong this morning that my shredded brain has not unshredded itself as yet, and my eyes are still staring in a fixed manner straight ahead.

Another reason was the interruption to my day by time spent reading the story of an electric kettle on one young ladies splendid blog.  Through France to Costa as it were for a kettle!  Try it Bead.  

This followed on from a very interesting walk around Bermondsey with another young lady.  (I am open to any young female)  This captivated me and brought back memories from times past and is well worth a read, though I suspect you will have already read both these splendid works by now anyway.  

This, plus watching Saturdays football highlights, means time has run out and so my work here is finished for the day.

Men With a Hobby

 

Edinburgh Bus.  (Canny find @ sorry)

I was looking at a photograph of a cut down bus being used as a repair vehicle for the Bournemouth Trolley Bus service.  Now, before you start I realise you are yawning with your mouth closed but anyway, this intrigued me.  This was not the picture in itself, a routine snap of daily life in the early 1950s, but the follow up comments on Facebook.  Such pictures bring a flurry of men 'who know!'  Indeed, many did know, they knew it was not a 'bus,' as the poster had called it but a repair wagon, a cut down ex-bus.  Soon we knew it was a Huddersfield bus cut down in 1945 and used by Bournemouth buses.  We also knew the date of the picture, the repair man was not repairing but removing trolley bus overhead wires, that bus route had ceased and normal buses were being introduced, and I was somewhat surprised the life history of the man (wearing a tie and jacket) working there was not offered.  

The point of this the need for men to have a hobby!

Men require something to do, something they understand, appreciate, and can show off with.  Buses, their origin, age, design, engine power, and a host of other needless fancies, can fill some men's mind for days.  Show a 1958 'Green Line' bus to some me and they will wax lyrical about the bus, the routes, the tall tales about driver, conductor and passengers, some of which will actually be true.  Their wives will however, roll the eyes, mutter something under the breath and change the conversation to a more practical boring subject, one which we shall ignore here.

One place I worked fishing was the thing.  This I find boring and somewhat needless but when one of the boys laid down a copy of 'Trout Monthly; or whatever it was a long boring, but quite excited, exchange of view of trout, their habits, where they could be caught, how different men went about the deed, and on and on and on and on they went.  But they were happy.  My parents had a friend, Bob, who would go off into the Highlands with his fishing gear, just to get away from her indoors, and one his own or with a friend I know not, but would return with fish for the tea.  Interestingly, this couple had an old black 'Range' on which to cook, well into the 1960s.  Quite how they managed that, and they in Morningside at that!

Alfred_Stieglitz The Hand_of_Man_

Railways of course add another level of joy to a man.  There is no limit, and no possibility of reaching the limit of knowledge about railways, both in the UK and abroad.  The subject is limitless, and some can go on about it for ever.  I once mentioned in the museum a particular railways engine, sadly I gave it the wrong name!  I was jumped on from every side, where in two minutes I had received a history of the said loco, the proper colour and name, where it is preserved, and how to see it, if I was wishing to do so.  There are almost 20 sites on facebook dealing with railways of some sort, no doubt fishing and buses also, and I keep in touch with one.  Railway enthusiasts, never 'anoraks,' can find details on almost every engine ever made somewhere on line.  There is a man, always a man, who sits and lists all engines, coaches, trucks, stations, sheds, workmen's sheds, nameplates, badges, pay details, drivers names, old lines, new lines, new lines overseas, old lines overseas, uniforms, signalling, flags, hots, oil lamps, shoes, and on and on and on and on.....They also write books, of which I had read some...

Cars also drive many a man mad, and indeed one of my highly intelligent and beautiful great nieces is indeed mad on cars.  Naturally, being a woman she is fussy about which car she wants, the colour, the wheels, the seats, the engine (which she understands better than most men, and she finds I never mention cars to her.  I get bored.

Motorcycles also have men running around, especially when the wife finds him mending the oil caked ex-army 'Matchless' 250cc on the kitchen table.  Some men take great delight in restoring such beasts.

Several thousand pounds, that could have been spent on her, hours and hours of work can lead to great satisfaction and possibly a divorce.  However, keep in mind you can always get another woman.  

The hours spent on bikes or cars, alongside travelling on aged buses, and long distant rail journeys pulled by steam engine cannot be beat by any of the rubbish filling the tv today.  Men need a hobby, photography, cars, fishing, birdwatching, you name it, men will be filling the day doing such important activities.  

Note, I say men.  Certainly women do similar things, have great knowledge and understanding, but it is mainly men who do such as this.  You see them huddle in groups around an engine, all knowing the best thing to do, standing freezing at the end of railway platforms, gazing into the skies around airports listening into radio traffic between aircraft and control.  Men need this.  It would be easy to claim this was because they had lost faith in the living God, but many such men do have such faith.   Certainly their faith enables them to avoid living for the hobby as some do, for many it is all they have to fill their lives, and the faith in the creator God who enabled man to devise such machines as steam engines, cars or aeroplanes gives much pleasure.  A great bug engine which came out of the ground a s a bit of metal, now transformed into this beast is worth considering.  And without the Lords input would they have been created?

We all have this need to do something, to be creative, to use the hands, to write, build, see, follow, and keep ourselves occupied.  Those who do not have such hobbies end up in pubs, trouble or death.  The hobbyist repairing a machine that has not worked for 40 years has more satisfaction than many of us sluggards can ever appreciate.

Urgent Football

 

I had planned a very good post for today.

However, I watched Dundee United v Aberdeen instead...

Daffodils and Books

Another day of coughing and spluttering is upon me.  I am glad, because it was much worse yesterday!  This is a bind however, I do not get out enough and while I made it to Sainsburys I really wish to go further and enjoy the days blue skies.  This explains more Daffodils.

However, with the aid of a bag of casserole veg and some chicken I did made an excellent casserole.  Even I was amazed, and it actually had taste, lots of taste.  Lots of chicken stock and black pepper also I note, and believe me you note the pepper!  This is the first time I have made this, and I am amazed at my talent.  Tonight of course it is cheese on toast...

Pont the cartoonist, understood the nation quite well.  On 'World Book Day' this appeared on Twitter, and I think it sums people up very well.  I tend not to give books away, I may wish to look into them again, and if lent they never return.  I know this as I look at my bookshelves while asking "Where did that come from?"  These days I do not meet the type who read books so much as I used to in the past, the Brexiteer is happy with the 'Daily Express' or the 'Sun' and the women tend to go for girlie books.  The local charity shops offer many books, all too often rubbish girlie novels, and the 'Sue Ryder' shop which used to have many good books available cheap has gone downhill sadly in the past few years, new management I suspect.  

I have two books I have finished sitting here, I may post them, but by that time I may have forgotten what they were about!  Some books take so long to read, one here has 700 pages of small print, indeed, all his books are like that, and he writes many books.  How do these people find the time?  

I have begun a couple of books and already have found a glaring fault in one. This makes me feel very 'Holy Wullie,' but as I read I expect I will be put in my place as I go along.

Radio 4 Extra has a series 'The Book' by Keith Houston, on how books came to be made and on and on about them.  15 minute programmes, worth a listen if you can.  It is amazing that from marks on clay tablets down in Sumer some umpteen thousand years ago, we have now so many books, also on phones and tablets, that I find it amazing that we are still so ignorant!  From the number of sheep bought or amount of beer produced we can read any book from anywhere, now and in the past, via the internet, and so much is available still.  The thoughts of great minds, the humour down through the years, the threats, and the routine daily operation of business, church and politics for centuries can be 

read by us today.  I think reading is great!  

Unless you are reduced to reading this....

London Scots

At first sight I thought this would be an interesting look at Scotsmen in London during the Great War.  I was however, immediately disappointed.  The book is based on the work done at the St Columba's Church (Church of Scotland) in Chelsea, a prosperous area and thereby indicates the type of Scots we would be reading about.  

Many Scots followed James VI when he took on the role as James I of England.  They were not all welcomed then as now, but many prospered and fair to say the financial districts saw a great infusion of Scots blood, especially after the Lords were bribed and threatened to sell Scotland to England in 1707.  No money in Edinburgh for 50 years after that so they moved south.  Their Tory, Unionist descendants do similar to this day. 

I had hoped for a more detailed life of Scots at the time of the war but while we are given some information much of the book is based on the 'St Columba's Church Magazine of the time, reports of the London Scottish Rugby Club, the London Scottish Regiment, and similar Caledonian organisations. 

All these represent the middle classes in London, the lower orders not only not invited they could not afford the membership fees of many such glittering organisations.  This does not mean they were bad in themselves, it does indicate a small portion of Scots in London, it is not representative of all.

At the beginning of the war it was realised something needed to be done to aid Scots soldiers passing through.  The church, especially the women, you will know then type yourself, decided to be ready to help.  The various organisations in London aimed at Scots soon merged together, if not into one organisation, at least to work together for efficient aid to soldiers in the field, as well as to those passing through London.  Victoria Station was the main departure point for 'the front' and soon Scots troops were being herded to and from the church for a clean up, feeding, and provisioned as they went home on leave or returned to war.  

Indeed, a great and mighty effort was made by the church people here.  It appears their work became known in the line and soon 'sodgers frae a pairts' were awaiting the call at Victoria to be paraded into the church care.  Thousands from all Scots regiments, and one or two others with them, passed through the doors at Pont Street.  

There can be no doubt that whatever their real belief it is clear many a man was inspired, encouraged and developed a faith, or at least some hope, while worshiping in this church.  Especially those returning from leave.

While the various organisations fed the men in Chelsea, they also provided parcels for the front.  Many items taken for granted back home were much desired 'in the field.'  New socks by the thousand, 'Bovril' type cubes, sweets, soap, toothpaste, (many men had to be taught how to use toothbrushes at the time) and other items requested by the men when home were sent out.  Also on offer were newspapers from home, books and magazines, items designed to take the men's minds of the war while at rest (if they got any).  Vast quantities of such things were collected in a well organised fashion and despatched to regiments and individuals. 

Not just the troops out in the line, but also those who were Prisoners of War (POW), some who were so badly injured they were returned home via Switzerland. 

One small objection is the limited time given to the tales of individuals. Partly this is because little is known, partly because such research, as I can tell you, takes time.  Those mentioned on the memorials in various clubs and organisations get a mention: this one born here, educated there, worked in this bank, enlisted, commissioned and shot July 1917, sums up far too many tales.  I want more details, but this is asking a lot from such a book.  The toll of the war is however, clear throughout.  Many passed through the church care, received the gifts and parcels sent out, and never returned.  As many were from the right background and had attended schools that had Officer Training Cadets these men would soon be at the front in charge of 40 or more men.  As junior officers, 2nd Lieutenant, Lieutenant and Captain, they went first at all times and discovered that such officers had the least chance of survival on the Western Front.  Thus the names mentioned were almost all officers, or privates awaiting their commission.  

One section deals with General, later Field Marshall Douglas Haig.  Coming from a Presbyterian Scots background it is no surprise to find him declared an Elder in St Columba's.  One chapter discusses his faith, was it a 'born again faith' or a nominal one.  Some suggest his faith was based on whether God supported him in the war or not and this may well be the case.  Unlike many, I doubt he struggled through scriptural analysis before deciding to fight the war.  He did support the idea of Chaplains to the forces, mostly because they told the men they were on the side of 'right!'  I am unsure of the theology behind this however.  Clearly Haig was popular at the church, he supported it as expected and received much support from the people himself.  In 1928, when he died his body lay in state at the church before travelling to Edinburgh for burial.

While this is an interesting book with many items worth noting, it is quite disappointing regarding the personal thoughts of the many men who passed through, and clearly while their immediate response was positive there are so many gaps to fill.  Overall the book appears like a collection of end of term reports, quite satisfactory but not giving the whole story.  It has its place but not for everyone.

Daffodils and Rome

Typical Saturday, nothing happening, too much football and not enough enjoyment.  Rushed dinners, bread like concrete (last sourdough I buy), and umpteen cups of tea sum up the day.  The sun shines, the sky is blue, the chill from the north wind has found me, and the electric people wish to install a 'smart meter' they have already been told will not work, but they have asked me for the meter reading also.  This apparently is to avoid me being overcharged!  Pah!

However, I did waste a good 30 minutes on this...

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.