Essex Weather

When I arrived here just a touch past eleven years ago, I discovered that I had come to the 'driest county in England.' I rejoiced! Naturally enough it has rained a lot ever since! This year, while we have had some good days, and I have really enjoyed the Spring flowers and such like, the weather has been kind of dreich. Today the clouds hang overhead, gray and sullen, they don't seem to keen to move, and are not keeping the temperature as high as it should be. I listened this morning to a science type informing me that it was definitely man's fault that global warming had occurred. We could not blame the suns temperature changing, as it does from time to time, but we were at fault and no-one else. So why I thought, if it's called 'Global Warming' did I need to put the heating on first thing today? Anyway, not long after midday and the sun is not out, and neither am I! It looks like it will stay this way. Anyway, why is it always man's fault and not women's? Sexist!

On Being an Idiot

Some people find it hard to be an idiot. They strive to achieve such a level and feel emotionally drained at being nothing more than a success. I understand how they feel. I have discovered that being an idiot is not just a talent one is born with, one has to practice this also. I can assure my reading public, if you exist, that this practice is something I have become good at.

My idiot exercises take place from the moment I rise and find myself standing at the wrong side of the bed, it usually takes a few moments before realising the window is not the door. Exercise continues with loading up a owl of cereal and pouring milk all over it, and not realising until too late the milk went off yesterday. The lumps at it landed ought to have made this clear, but the real idiot will not be looking as he pours anyway. Before he leaves for work, if he manages to obtain and keep employment one must ask if the idiocy is actually fully attuned, the idiot will manage to lose at least one shoe, leave the gas on, and at the very least, forget to lock the door. Failure to do one of these actions would ensure you fail the idiot exam. However, I prefer to avoid those particular actions and specialise in practising leaving without my keys thus forcing me to stand outside for a considerable time, often in the rain, until rescue arrives.
This is a star idiot action!

However, now we must conclude for today as I have forgotten the rest of my teaching. So please continue chatting amongst yourselves while no-one is listening to you, missing buses, tripping over your feet when greeting important people and walking out of shops genuinely forgetting to pay.

Writing

I have been trying my hand at this writing lark. How difficult is that? I have some great ideas for features, and begin the process and almost immediately come to a halt. The blank screen stares back at me until the thing goes black. Then I begin again, finish a sentence, switch off and go away.
When I restart I note the sentence is poor and we are back to the blank screen. Reading through 'Wodehouse on Wodehouse' a collection of autobiographies we see him at the top of the tree coming across the same problem. Mind you, he managed to get out of it and become a roaring success most times. I have not reached the stage of 'mere failure' as yet.

Sitting in the Gardens the other day I decided to attempt a feature on them. I think I was inspired by the quietness among dappled pathways, gentle breezes ruffling the leaves around me, all made alive by the sound of bird song. Lovely stuff really. Enjoyable even when the weather is not too hot, but incomparable when the sun shines. I like to go early, before mum brings the kids to run around screaming blue murder, and the adolescents pass through on their way to pretend their studying at the college. In truth, these days I would be very happy with a garden full of trees and bushes, a few hidden paths, lots of colour and bird, a squirrel or two, and a chance to sit watching the sun go down while feeding the feathered ones. Sounds good to me.

Oh well. I had better just water the window box instead......
I would write about that but could you stomach it I ask?

Happy Birthday

Happy Birthday. What does this mean to you?
Today it means nothing to be frank. I find myself no 56 years of age. 56 years, what have I done with this time? Nothing. What can I find in all that time worth keeping or talking about? Little. There have been good moments, and good people. Good family and good friends. But what have I actually done? What accomplishment can I take to the grave? Nothing! No woman ever wanted to keep this useless bundle of fat. There was only ever one I really wanted to keep anyway, and she left. I am useless at handyman jobs, and find I have been incompetent at most jobs I have worked at. I don't drive, do not understand how to make money, know nothing useful in the complex society in which I dwell. I don't even drive, and am not sure I want to. I have used and abused friends all my life. I treat folks badly. I am loud and obnoxious in most folks view, weak and stupid in my own. Working with folks I find I rub them up the wrong way, either with my 'humour and wit' or annoyance at their lack of desire to share the workload and play fair. Often the fallout comes just because I am a worm. I find myself complaining and girning at most aspects of the world today. The television leaves me struggling to find a programme worth watching, and even then I find too many faults. I am out of step with the worlds ways (just what is a 'blackberry anyway?), and find the fashion of the day worthless in nearly every aspect.

So what is worth it about this life then? I would say God, except I fail even with him. He has called me to come to him for thirty years and still I draw back. I get up to the cross and try to go over, but know I hang back. Why? He has done wonders for me. My broken leg should have hurt, I felt nothing, he has always provided and always cared. Prayer has been answered and the greatest moments of my life have been touching him. Yet I don't love him as others do. Do I love him, or just like him when I feel the need. So much of my life is based on me. Yet there is nothing but Jesus, I know that. Here I am, fifty six, a useless lump, even God cannot get me working properly. Oh yes I forgot, I have no job, and little prospect of one. The band leg doesn't help. if it wasn't for that I would still have one. I notice only two cards have flooded through the door. There may be another one in the post, maybe. Even the family forget, who can blame them. I do nothing for them. Fifty six today. I've never been so happy! I have wasted my life, and now head for old age with little chance, or ability to do anything about it.

I was quite happy before I started to write this................

Muslim Terror

Gas bombs and nails found in London, Cherokee Jeep driven into the terminal building at Glasgow Airport, and our after hour coverage on Sky News. How do we react? Many in the UK are shouting for blood! "If they don't like our way of life, get out of the country." is the cry. Normally easy going types are beginning to edge towards the same attitude. The problem of polarisation is of course a very real danger, a danger fuelled by the racist types, the BNP and the like. How much easier life is when we know our enemy, how much simpler when, instead of careful thought, we just react and lash out. That makes us feel better but rarely causes the problems to end. Reports are already coming in, but none widely published, about attacks on Asian shops. I wonder how many non Muslim Asians will be confronted at this time? It is interesting that so many folk have been arrested so quickly. Clearly many indications of the likely source of problems was available, and information collected in the past few days must have helped. One can only hope the right people are found, and dealt with properly.

What is the answer? A change of middle East policy, certainly. A change of immigration/deportation policy? Indeed it must be wrong that those who advocate hatred towards the country in which they have sought refuge are allowed to stay. Especially when they remain here because of threats to their person back home. A change of policy, based on personal responsibility, is a must!

Muslims do share a 'fellow feeling' towards other Muslims, and I understand that. How many actually support this type of outrage? The minority perhaps. But how many would inform the authorities? I understand much of the intelligence received by the police comes from that source. However, would you inform on your family in such a circumstance, especially if you agreed, not with violence, but with the attitudes behind them?

What to do? Continue as always. Difficult if you travel in busy areas. Worrying if using airports, stations or crowded places, especially nightclubs. However, life must go on, it's the only way to defeat these folk. Easy for me to say, but there is no alternative.

Gordon Brown

Well Tony Blair has gone, taking his red ties with him, and Gordon Brown has at last reached the top, wearing a blue tie! However, while all politicians 'spin' we know that Browns spin will be very much less obvious than Blairs. I look forward to his changes, and changes there will be! Hopefully he will lessen the 'politically correct' influence, and begin the pull out from Iraq. Some foolishly think we can win in Afghanistan, I doubt it myself, and hopefully we can lessen our problems by leaving there also. Gordon Brown will provide a very different product from that which we have become used to. It will upset many, especially those who have got used to the Blair approach. I think myself that we will see a better, more human, Labour party. One concerned more obviously with people, one less concerned with image. His wife also appears keen to remain in the background, and seems unlikely to make to many gaffs similar to those Mrs Blair gave us. This also is good!

Tony Blair himself now goes of to the Middle East as a representative of the major forces in the world. What a good choice! A man detested by many for his support of the Iraq invasion, a man blamed for thousands of deaths. A man seen as a poodle of the US president. Hmmm, wise choice? Certainly he can reach people, certainly he can charm many, on all sides. But the main problem, the Israeli v Palestinian conflict, about that he can do little if the Israelis are not interested.He appears to side with them, this will bring trouble unless his approach is to be more even handed. However, we will see what we will see. I hope it is good.

Tony Blair : Image Man

Have you become aware of Tony Blairs image recently?
What strikes you most? The arms waving, the halting, sentimental speaking?
Not for me, I see the tie!

When he was elected he drew a vast amount of comment because he wore blue ties. Labour leaders always wore red! he insisted, blunderingly, this was not important, but it was. He was opposing the daft left, and trying to convince the Daily Mail reader that he was an OK guy.

The tie nowadays is red! Bright red!

Could it be the image he desperately wants to leave behind is that of a Labour leader? The tie will not change your image Tony, try honesty instead.

Longest Day

At 11:15 last night I looked to the north west and watched the dark blue sky deepening slowly as the longest day of the year drew to a close. Having risen at 4:25 to watch the bright blue dawn, to listen to the birds as they sang while beginning their daily routine, I enjoyed the best of the best day of the year. Sunshine, blue sky, a walk through the gardens, birds singing, blossom blooming, fragrances everywhere.

This morning I awake to weather warnings regarding possible floods between 10 am and 10 pm, gray clouds, wet roads, and the blackbirds sitting in the trees opposite holding umbrellas while the wood pigeons wear wellies as they seek breakfast in the park.

The nights are drawing in...........

Field Marshall Lord Alanbrooke : War Diaries 1939-45

Just finished reading this excellent book, 'War Diaries 1939-1945: Field Marshal Lord Alanbrooke.' Brilliant insight into the running of the Second World War. I came across it on the bookstall at the market and decided that as I had bought it I might as well read the thing. It has been lying on the shelf, looking good, but unread, for a while now. I found that, in spite of the weight of the thing, it was 'unputdownable!'

It is the habit after a war for those involved to race to publish their memoirs. The clatter of typewriters , in the years following the war, drowned out the traffic on many a street. Army commanders, Field Marshall's, politicians, and anybody who thought they had something to say, wanted to 'put the record straight.' Or at least, as straight as made them look good anyhow! The Prime Minister during the war, the great Winston Churchill, made sure that the record of the war would be made perfectly straight, he wrote it himself! His collected volumes sold well, and so they should. However, his ability to make himself the leading man of the war did cause some to wonder about facts. Especially when they were either put down, or just missed out.
Alanbrooke clearly felt betrayed by the man he had spent several years arguing with. He therefore obtained the help of Arthur Bryant to produce his diaries for him. This was accomplished in the fifties, a time when all the major players were still very active. Bryant had managed to 'massage' certain parts of the diaries, but some folks were somewhat upset at what they discovered. Churchill after all had not won the war by himself!

In 2001 this version of the diaries became available. At the beginning of the war Alanbrooke decided to write a diary as though he was talking to his wife. To talk to the book as though to her. A way of keeping in touch with home, and with himself. In it he revealed his deepest thoughts, and some of them were brutally honest.

The diary details his time in France with the BEF, the attack by the Germans and the escape from Dunkirk. His time organising the defence of the nation and for the most part his promotion to Chief of the Imperial General Staff, the top job! Instead of leading an army in the field, which is what he yearned to do, he had to lead from the top, and deal with Churchill. The diaries detail his daily routine, the late nights, usually because Churchill waffled as opposed to getting somewhere. The arguments that grew in time as both men felt the stress of responsibility, sickness and time getting to them.

By the end of the war Alanbrook was just glad it was over. Glad not to have to deal with Churchill and as a reward, first made a Baron, which cost him £200 he could not afford, and then he runs off to try and make some money. One thing we learn is that the few of the leading soldiers of the day had cash! their financial reward was pitiful, because of Winston's desire to be seen as top man, and most went in to print for the money, as well as the record. We see great men being great, but allowing personality and self service spoil the show. We see the weaknesses as well as the huge amount of work endured. We note the vast distances, of in dangerous areas, that were travelled. But underlying it all is the desperate fear that the war could be lost, and that the decisions taken in late night sessions could be fatal. The pressures of war are clearly seen in these short diary entries. The fears, the courage, the endurance, and finally, the victory!

One thing is for sure, Winston Churchill was a great man, and without him the nation was lost.
But Field Marshall the Viscount Alanbrooke was the man who actually, won the war!

Resurfacing Stane Street

For several nights we endured the dubious pleasure of the men resurfacing Stane Street outside. The road runs from Colchester to St Albans, or at least it did in Roman times, it may still do so. This work has been a desperate need for some time, and at last it has been accomplished. Naturally, being a busy road it had to be done at night, late at night! There is nothing better than reading your book while listening to a dirty great machine scraping of the top layer of the road - right outside your window! Not only do we have the machine, the flashing orange lights, the lorry in front catching the waste, the noise but we also have the shouts, whistles and the constant beeping of the trucks going backwards. But happily only for an hour or two - or three! Now I am not one to complain, and certainly not to a group of blokes as big as this lot outside, so I accepted this as just one of the occasions you just have to suffer for the good of the town.

Naturally we had two suffer for two more nights while they actually laid the new surface. More revving of engines, more beeping, once more the sweeper vehicle went back and forth, and back and forth, again the flashing lights, again the scraping of shovels. Generously the workers stopped right outside my window after the first night, so they had to come back and work cheerily as I struggled to finish the book. How lucky am I? I felt so sorry for these men earning £500 a night for keeping the are awake, especially when the rain teemed down on the second night. My sympathy was something I shared with the mirror in the morning as I examined my red eyes. How we laughed! Still it is done now. The surface is flat and even, the only thing missing is road markings. There were far too many dangerous areas before, dangerous to those of us on bikes, and they have been put right. This is good and the surface will probably last for ten years before disintegrating totally.

These men are not the first to repair Stane Street. This road runs in an almost straight line from Colchester and was possible begun by the Romans, certainly made into a solid surface by them, although it may well have existed for many years before their arrival. How many feet have slogged along the road? Troops marching from Colchester would stop here for the night. Fifteen miles is a good days march in normal circumstances, for me anyway. The road connected not just with St Albans but crossed the road from London to Norfolk and the road north further along. If desired the Romans could march from Colchester along this road and reach any place in the Island in relatively short time. The soldiers on their march could be sure of the reliability of the road, as they were the ones who made them. One way of keeping the men busy in quiet times and developing the land also. I wonder if the legions worked at night, and if they made as much noise when doing so? Somehow I suspect they were little different.

Authors Pictures on Blogs

Why do folk insist on putting their picture on a blog? Now I am not talking here of the postage stamp size pic at the top. These are usually too small to take note off and usually inoffensive. What I mean are those photographs some insist on placing right in your face. Usually these are too large, and worse, too ugly! Most often it is some male attempting to convince us he is handsome, or macho, or has some deep personality trait he wishes to show has damaged his outlook on life! There can be no doubt such pictures are a mistake.

Can I suggest to those tempted to post such frightful representations of themselves that they defer the idea until consultation with an adult has taken place.? What to you appears 'cool,' or even 'macho' appears to normal folk like an extra from a Hollywood disaster film has discovered the gift of writing. The image, so deeply felt, that you endeavour to project does not arrive at the target as intended! If you must post such close ups, or even head and shoulders shots, either don't do it, or, em...don't do it!

Thanks.

Sarah Called

She called to say that claiming women nag is a stereotype! She went on to indicate this should not happen! Apparently I have no right to say such things. She was so upset she actually created a blog just so she could log on and tell me. Sweet eh?

Unfortunately, there was a slight problem in that she spoiled her argument somewhat by adding "Women only nag when they have to!" See the problem? Bet she doesn't, even yet. The thing is dear, who gives you the right to nag 'when you have to?' Who decides 'when?' I know who does, you do! Get it now?

No, didn't think you would. You see, the thing is, when your mind is so self absorbed, and you care only for your opinions, you miss out so much. The main problem wee girls have today is the mouth opens long before the brain, and all too often that does not arrive. I suggest you put aside the girlie magazines (no dear, not that type) and go out into the real world with your mind open and your mouth closed. Ask grown up women what life is like, preferably not middle class ones, they are a wee bit like you see. Learn about things, get out of the rut you are in. Make friends.

Oh, and don't watch 'Eastenders.' It makes you think mouthing off is clever. Try smiling instead.

Virus

Where do virii come from? Why do they exist? Why do they come to me? How I suffer! Never complaining, always cheerful, just getting on with it. Aye right!
I am sick of this one, and it seems to go on for ever.

But where do they come from? Why do they exist?
Those little bugs, so complicated, so cleverly designed, cause so much damage. Look at the cold or flu virus, tremendously well made. The picture of the cold virus shows how complicated it is.

Now if God created them, what purpose do they serve? If they evolved, to what end? I just do not understand their purpose, but I know the damage they cause. if there is one thing I would like to do it is either lose them all, or adapt them to some useful purpose.

The Madeleine McCann Saga

This saga continues. Today the Daily Mirror tells us a German reporter asked the McCanns if they were involved in the disappearance? The paper implies we ought to be shocked by such a direct, and obvious, question. The Mirror forgets to point out that an ex Mirror reporter now works as PR for the McCanns. But surely such questions ought to be asked of a couple who seem to think we ought to drop everything and run after the child they have lost? maybe if we asked direct and probing questions we could get further than jumping on the bandwagon search they have instituted with their media savvy friends and family.

From the picture of the premises it seems a long way to go from young children. What if the kid choked or fell out the bed and broke something? What if fire broke out? How long does it take for a fire to fill an average room? Two minutes? Three minutes? It is hard enough to get out of a house on fire normally, let alone when you are dining at such a distance.

Are we being too hard on the parents? I suppose if they admitted they were at fault, and then sought the return of the kid in the same way others do, then we would emphasise their mistake, and let it rest with the proper authorities. However, when they demand we run after their bandwagon. When football players are blackmailed into wearing yellow armbands, and cup finals are shown videos of the child to keep the campaign public, then I think we are right to ask questions. We are now part of the bandwagon, and we must know the facts. I am as yet unconvinced that the full facts have been revealed.

Normally a mother in such circumstances would generate sympathy, unless she had run down to the shops for a bottle of beer and lived in a rough area of course. Then the Mirror and Sun would call her heartless and demand action! Junkies would naturally become outcasts, but not these two it seems.

The child herself? If, and I mean, 'if,' she has genuinely been taken by the bad guys then I fear she will never return. She could be anywhere. paedophiles may have taken and abused her, possibly even raping her to death, or maybe killed her to dispose of the evidence. It is possible she is alive, confused, and hopefully, being cared for. best not to even consider what kind of life she may end up with.

I would appreciate if the British police gave some understanding of their thought on this case. Somehow, I do not see them as being as understanding as the tabloid press. A healthy policeman's cynicism surely would have many questions requiring an answer.

Education

Isn't education great!

I love it! In fact I love it so much I have several books lying here, each one packed with subjects that will broaden my outlook, help me understand the world and its many ways, and, possibly, make me a better person. I can see them all over the house. They lie on the couch, pile high in the bathroom (the best place to sit and read I find), take up space on the bed and of course surround me on my desk. There are big thick tomes full of academic ponderings, thin easy to read types, books that will reward honest endeavour, books that require cassette tapes to accompany them to ensure you get the sounds right, books that help explain what other books are blethering on about - dictionaries and word guide books for instance. Some books teach much about history, some languages, others practical skills like photography, some how to communicate better. In fact, if you make the effort, it is possible to find books that educate on every subject under the sun, and beyond that even! Fantastic! What a world of learning we have at our fingertips.

Of course I sit here now staring into space and asking myself, if these books are so effective, and if education is so great, why have I not opened them? I'll let you know after I've had another coffee and a game or two of 'Tetris.'

Summer Birdsong

Cycled out into the mist this morning. Quite thick in places but soon burning up as the sun decided to rise. Came along a pathway lined with aged trees and bushes on one side. I had to pullover and sit there listening to the birds singing. A thrush was high in a tree overhead and difficult to spot. However I found him and watched him call for a while. Was he calling his mate, or maybe hers? He was too big to be new born anyhow. Flapping among the branches indicated a wood pigeon chasing off a rival, leaves and feathers falling as he made off over the school field. One of the birds then set to 'cooing,' possibly praising her brave mate. A young tit appeared, nipping quickly among the branches, feeding on whatever he found. A blackbirds sang high in another tree, possibly they are old oak trees but I am not sure. In and out of the branches birds flitted singing brightly, while in the distance the crows cawed to one another raucously.

A wonderful enjoyable short period of time. Listening to birdsong and watching them go about their business. If it becomes possible to add to these sights and sounds the fragrance of newly cut grass and of a wide variety of flowers and blossom, it is possible to imagine in some small way what heaven must be like. There will be no bad smell there, no rotten decomposing matter, just the best that we have here magnified multitudinous - if that is a word! Sunshine, birdsong, fragrance, how I love these small things. This year more than I have ever done, I appreciate them.

Summer Weather

The thing that pleases me about summer weather is walking through the Public Gardens and enjoying the trees, plants and shrubs. I don't think I have enjoyed it so much before. Maybe because I was always working and on my day off either too busy or too knackered! However, sitting there reading my book, listening to the birds singing and watching the never ceasing work rate of the squirrels is strangely enjoyable. That is the third time I have used 'enjoy.' The fact that the sun is warm, when it gets through the clouds that is, does help.

However, when it rains, I do not find myself any less happy, mostly because I am inside and not out there being soaked through. The English are a funny lot in summer rain. For two days it pelted down. The park opposite was an inch deep in places, yet some Englishmen were wandering around in T-shirts, and two that I saw were wearing shorts! Now if it had been warm at the time I would have understood, but it was cold, very cold. Still these chumps wandered about as though in Majorca. Being daft comes naturally to the English.

I wonder if Blackberry Juniper would allow her man such an experience? I somehow doubt it, being quite a wise nag...er, I mean, caring woman.

Missing Child

The media storm over this missing child worries me. Now I am all in favour of parents being concerned for missing children, and hope that the child is found. However, I feel she is now, sadly, gone for ever.

The media coverage and the fact that an ex reporter from a tabloid paper is now giving advice to the family, is disturbing. Why? because we have gone overboard on one child while ignoring all the others who have gone missing.
Worldwide Unicef claims around 1.2 million children are trafficked each year. How come this is rarely mentioned? The reason is simple. Most of them are in Africa or South East Asia. One white middle class British child is worth more than thousands of little black ones from the third world. They do not sell papers, they do not make parents in the west identify with them. They are worth less.

But it does not stop there. This site, controlled by the police, informs us that 77,000 children go missing annually in the UK, 9000 in Scotland alone. While most will return how many disappear and for what reason? Adolescents have always ran away, sometimes to seek their fortune, often because of family problems. Just as often caused by themselves! Where do they go? Clearly they have no understanding of the dangers they face out there, clearly some will end up dead.

http://missingkids.co.uk/missingkids/servlet/NewsEventServlet?LanguageCountry=en_GB&PageId=0

This child has however a great publicity campaign on her side. An aunt persuaded Celtic and Aberdeen players to wear yellow armbands during their recent game. Videos are shown at the English cup final, thousands of posters are downloaded from, I understand, a dedicated website, TalkTalk add a message to every e-mail, and on and on. On one side I feel this is an excellent effort by dedicated family members, on the other, it is an imposition of their grief, and a demand is made for us to join in. It is impossible for most folk not to be concerned for this pretty little girl. It is however also possible to wonder what would happen if a working class parent, let alone one on benefits, were found failing to guard their child. Would we be so concerned? Indeed, if another big story came along after the first week, would we still hear from them? I wonder......

I wonder also about the emotional blackmail we, as a nation, are now under. It is a sad reflection on society today that if the nation mourns, or is concerned we must all join in. If we do not the nation is horrified, and we are blackballed. Another Princess Diana situation arises. far too often we are forced to join the nations emotions together. Not from concern, but form peer pressure. This is wrong and must be opposed. Nothing wrong in the nation being aroused by sympathy, and in this case we are, but something wrong in the insistence on obeying the nations mood.

This mood reflects the spiritual emptiness that is found at the heart of western society. The need for God, has been largely filled with empty celebrity. It was ever thus. We need a cause, as a nation we need a war to bind us together against the foe, as individuals the need is satisfied, but only partly, by a football team or a lover, a job or a political party. All too often, the UK, once so tight lipped, allows itself an orgy of emotion, the first big outlet was Diana, this weeks is Mandy. The child suffers and we use her as much as the kidnappers. What they do I do not wish to contemplate, our national emotion is fulfilling our needs, not caring for her.

Nagging women, or is it Woman?

Why do women nag? It appears that no matter what part of the world a person visits, you will find a nagging woman! Of course, you will also find she has no reason to nag? There never is. How can a woman nag when she is surrounded by men? Men are the most reasonable of souls. Men tolerate the most unreasonable girls, the most thoughtless behaviour, the needless routine questions about their appearance ('what haircut?'), and an an inability to be anywhere on time.
Yet women complain? Why?

One example of this is Blackberry Juniper. She ignores me for what seems like years, spends all her time concentrating on her man, never phones, never calls, never e-mails, yet complains when she is not mentioned on these ramblings! Now she has been mentioned in the past, but has not noticed. Did I complain? Did I hold my breath until I went blue in the face? NO! I did what all men would do in the circumstances, I just got on with watching the football. Now there's another thing! Watching football. How many women will complain that it's '...always the same...' then go of and watch some soap opera? Tell me the changes in any soap opera over the last ten years? You can't because there has not been any changes! This one is still the baddie, that one the womaniser, she still the bitch, that one the tart! IT'S ALWAYS THE SAME RUBBISH!!!!!

Yet the women who watch it week by week don't notice. Why? Yet, if you wear the same shirt to work you wore yesterday they ask why? I have known men forced to change ties because 'You wore that one last time you went there.' A toilet seat being up becomes war at home, while hoovering when the cup final is on is OK??????????

No excuse to nag exists, yet women do. The toilet seat, the shirt, the ignoring the hair ('what hair?'), forgetting a birthday ('you're 48, I thought it was tactful to forget...oh 45, sorry.'), the anniversary slipped the mind ('I thought I would take you out on Saturday, honest'). If a man so much as throws a paper on the floor, in his house, she tells him to put it where it belongs ( he would like to!), he opens the window she wants it shut, she panics because the child needs a new school bag and he is not panicking also, so she complains, long and loud. If she e-mails, and he does not respond within her time frame (which changes constantly) he is nagged, constantly. Forgetting to mention a woman on here (and I am always pointing out their foibles her ooh missus) and sly comments will pass, like. MENTION ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Blackberry Juniper is of course a sweet young thing. Good looking, attractive, highly intelligent, capable of doing anything she chooses, wise (usually) hard working, good humoured, and on top of this a best selling novelist (tomorrow). Bet she nags me soon mind.........

Essex

Essex as a county is often treated with a great deal of disrespect. The image is one of the 'Essex girl' A lass who's ambition is to appear topless in 'The Sun' or reach the dizzy heights of being a high class 'model.' After that she will write her autobiography which, one day, she will actually get round to reading. The 'Essex Boy' of course has developed into a full blown 'Chav' these days. Burberry baseball cap, baggy trousers, and lots of cheap Argos jewellery. A shaven head and a gold ear ring helps to seal the image. Scars are worth extra points, and of course an ASBODagenham way.

However, while such folk do exist, and they do, believe me, they do, not all of Essex lives up to the stereotype. On the contrary, it is a place awash with cash! Many a pop star or movie hero will find a thatched or imitation Tudor eight bedroom house with several acres of garden to keep the residuum from the door. The election shows just how many Conservative voters can be found in this part of the world. Small country towns and villages are predominately Tory, and after the recent elections the county is almost all blue! Some areas remain, like Colchester, Liberal Democrat, and a few stay red for Labour, like Harlow. However, for the most part Essex is a moneyed place. The working class also tend to be Conservative in their outlook, lorry and taxi drivers have always been of course, the 'What's mine I keep' people. No concern for others, money first, until they can no longer work of course, then it is as many benefits as possible. many in Essex share this outlook. The 'Daily Mail' and 'Express' must do well here.

Essex is also a delightful place to visit. Historic castles, green and pleasant land, seaside, estuaries, bird sanctuaries and occasional sunshine. Narrow country lanes attract many motor cyclists in the warmer months, around nineteen died last year because of carelessness. But others stop to admire the churches which, in some cases, have stood on that spot for nearly a thousand years. All the requirements an individual needs for a few days out. On top of this Essex is one of the safest counties in England. Put aside the stereotype, leave that along the Thames coast, and let it remain there. or two will make you a hero down