Xenophon 'The Persian Expedition'

'The Persian Expedition' by Xenophon is the latest book to have ended up bruised and battered on the shelf. Nothing better than sitting in a bath reading the tale of one man's endeavours in long lost Persia. Xenophon joined his friend Proxenus in the war to support Cyrus and his attempt to deal with his enemies, then discovered that in reality Cyrus wanted to depose his brother Artaxerxes as king. The Greek mercenaries, however dubious they were, followed on mostly because of the promise of booty and reward as opposed to love of Cyrus. Xenophon tells of they battle being lost, however unreliable his account of the battle may be, and they journey home through Persia, Kurdistan, Armenia in the snow covered mountains, and along the top of what is now Turkey. Under constant attack, and understandably so, from the locals. Taking what they wanted, the ten thousand ploughed on their journey. It was an epic journey whatever they cause. Desert plain and high mountain passes, cold, hot, hungry, well fed, camping in the snow at one place and in villages or town at another. Even the temptation to build a new city in hostile territory comes to them, well to Xenophon at least. Maybe they ought to have made a go of it? When they eventually get back to Greek held Byzantium they were not wanted anyway. Who wants an army on their doorstep?

Xenophon comes out of this story as the hero leader. Taking control and ensuring all opposition is dealt with. Starting as a mere friend of a leading man, and in the end being 'top dog.' At least, that is what he would have us believe! Did he distort events to make his role better than it was, it seems likely. Politicians today unfailingly inform us, in their autobiographies, how good they were, and why it succeeded or went wrong. They are not to be blamed! Xenophon is no different. Writing years after the events his memory would be untrustworthy, as anyone over fifty can testify! His general impressions however would remain, although possibly polarised through time.

is this book worth reading? Oh yes! the incidental impressions of the time alone are worth it. The acceptance of slavery. Those captured in battle or during raids are sold as slaves. This was they way things were done. Nobody questioned the rights or wrongs of this trade - it just happened, and that's how things were done. Women were hardly mentioned, but seen as chattels and rarely more. Other sources do speak of the power women had of course, but that is not seen here. Understandable in an army tramping through foreign lands. The arbitrary use of power and the manner in which Kings could be influenced by those near to them is seen, especially in the Thracian adventure. Democracy, much lauded by some, is seen in the way the Greeks discussed their situations often. 'Might is right' is seen also in the manner in which they abused any they wished. Democracy did not win power in Greece of the day. In Athens and other places it had been seen to have an influence, but in the end intrigue and the military power of the Spartans put it down!

Xenophon does all right in this expedition. Going back to his Spartan friends, although he was a leading Athenian, and enjoying his estates and writing his books. All right for some.

Strolling Through the Town Tonight

I took a stroll tonight, about nine o'clock, across the park opposite. The dusk grants us the wonderful sight of deep blue skies and clouds tinged with the remnants of a setting sun. The trees stand tall, darkly silhouetted against the sky. Far off a star twinkles in one direction and an aeroplane slowly arcs round in another.
Leaving the darkness of the park the street lights seem harsh and even painful. However, the air is remains warm and still. The streets quiet. Only when one reaches the town centre proper does the Saturday life appear. Couples and small groups wander towards their destination, the club or one of the, oh so many, public houses. From 'The Swan' blaring, and decidedly unmusical, music breaches the decibel limit. A noise made worse for the occupants by the assistance it receives from several inmates. A thin young man waits while his shapely girlfriend collects cash from the 'hole in the wall,' then, hand on backside, hers, not his, they happily head to a watering place.
Large, suited men, stand outside the club and several public houses. How nice to know that the local doormen have all received a certificate from an authorising organisation granting them permission to bash someone's head in while assisting his flight for the door. I find that reassuring somehow. At one door, three hoplites banter with the collection of adolescents sitting in the marketplace. Adolescents full of testosterone, fear, ignorance and a desperate desire to be old enough to enter the premises so well guarded by the bruisers. Drivers opposite rush to their cars to deliver the 'chicken and chips,' or 'Special Kebabs,' to hungry souls to
lazy, or to drunk, to cook for themselves.
People pass another of the three pubs in the market square, intent on their evening. What are their thoughts? Are they happy? We all love a good time, and they appear happy. This is the entertainment centre for the town, that's why they are here. A penny for their thoughts, especially in the morning!
Wandering past the taxis ranked in a row, drivers mostly standing chatting, awaiting the evenings end when they would earn their keep and overcharge to their hearts content, I pass to girls headed the other way. I noticed them, well as much as one can notice to young lassies with their skirts up to their backsides and legs that stretch all the way to the ground. As they passed, their eyes watched me suspiciously. Did they think they had overdone it? Were they too noticeable? Was I just another dirty old man? Well yes! Of course I am. How old were they? They looked sixteen to me but were probably at least eighteen, maybe older. The two noses had raised themselves in the air as they passed, I suspected their legs would be finding a similar position before the dawn broke, although they may not actually be sober enough to be conscious of it at the time themselves.
A typical Saturday night and wandering around I thought 'I miss this.' But do I?
Having a ball is, well, a ball! But is this what my life is about? I miss the social life, but do I want to be drunk and wasting life again? Jesus has made himself known and that life, however much fun it can be, does not satisfy! There is more to life than that!
I saw also my inadequacies as I passed by. The inability to relate to folks. I am always so far from normality it seems to me. Too self conscious, to much a wimp, too dumb. Just too inadequate. I wonder if I will ever relate to folk normally.
The love of Jesus must be stronger than I thought. How could he want me when there is so many worthwhile folk out there?

AWESOME!

Today's word is 'awesome!'
Yes, 'awesome.' This is the word that is at present getting right up my nose!
A short while ago, as my reader will remember, I complained about the American illiterates use of the word, 'Cool,' for any and every situation. Instead of giving a 'yes' or a 'no' answer to a question, or as a response to any given situation, the American youth appeared to have only one word to use in response - the word 'Cool!' Glad to say this appears to have drifted out of fashion at the moment, and hopefully will remain so. However now the word of the moment is 'awesome.'

'Awesome' is used to describe a score line in a baseball encounter (we might get round to putting 'baseball' in it's place one day also by the way), can be noted as describing a child's first steps, or even a woman's bust. One feels other more appropriate words can be found with a short search of a thesaurus. (Thesaurus might need explaining to passing Americans. This is a collection of words, in book form, with are gathered together enabling the reader to find words of similar meaning. A useful source usually ignored by tabloid journalists)

It reflects somewhat on a nation that the word 'awesome' can be devalued by inappropriate and over use. once upon a time a sunset, or a Tornado (for instance) could be happily described as 'awesome. Something which once seen could never be forgotten. A baseball score, and a woman's bust do not, in my humble opinion, come into the same league here. However while browsing blogger it is possible, if you can find blogs which are not adverts or porn these days, it is possible as I was saying , to find blogs using 'awesome' to describe a letter from a serviceman in Iraq, as in 'How awesome to hear from one of our hero's.' We will avoid the misuse of the US military, the mistreatment of Iraqi's, the 'uranium tipped shells that have killed 500000 children from cancer, and the fact that they should not have been there in the first place, an stick to the word concerned. 'Awesome' is heard because the sun shines, snow is found on the window ledge, or the view from a New York, sorry, 'Noo Yark' apartment window shows thousands of people pushing, shoving and scowling their way through the ridiculously high glass fronted buildings which block out the light and all hope of survival for humanity. The word pops up when a wee lass is given her exam results, when a birthday cake is presented, and when a pair of shorts is discovered in a shop somewhere in Iowa. 'Awesome? No!

The 'greatest democracy in the world' @ any American you ever hear, is of course one of the most illiterate and ignorant in the world. On the one hand many of her citizens understand how the world works and genuinely wish the world well, however far to many are clearly unstable, think Iraq is run by the Taliban and the Soviet Union, know that Aliens have kidnapped the woman over the street (Awesome! She has been gone for days! Man that's cool! and awesome!) and these folks expect the Chinese to dig tunnels under the US of A before invading in a few years time.

The only thing 'Awesome,' is the combined intellect of far too many citizens of the US of A!
Awesome man.....

How Blogger disappoints

Blogger is a great idea! The chance to see discover so many blogs from so many parts of the world is fantastic, and something I appreciate. The fact that nobody ever comes across mine, and the world is left bereft of my cogitation is of course to be mourned. However there are many interesting, and sometimes really useful, blogs to uncover. There is great satisfaction to be found in using the 'Next Blog' button and coming across a blog, from near or far, that entertains or informs, or just takes you out of yourself and into a world you might never otherwise come across.
Blogger is to be congratulated for this.

There is an increasingly annoying down side to all this however. Far too many are not genuine blogs at all, merely adverts, and dubious adverts at that. Far too many are porn sites, and Blogger seems to make no effort to remove either of these. Are we to suppose that so many of these sites are paying Blogger to post? How much does Blogger make from porn, and is this legal I ask? Now we all like to look at naked women at times, but when every other blog the 'Next Button' brings is porn in one guise or other it gets a bit wearing! There is a time and a place and surely Blogger is not one of them.

Those sites advertising would be similarly tolerable if there was not so many! Blogger must be raking it in from the 10% the get! But I find it irritating on two counts. First, there is far to many, to often, and obviously linked. Too many are also just fronts for more porn. Also many do not have the 'Next Blog' button and it is a hassle moving to the next. Why are these blogs allowed to be posted? How much do Blogger rake in from them?

Surely it is not beyond Blogger to ensure porn never reaches the posting stage? How come the 'Next' button is removable and not compulsory? If it's part of the site, why remove it?
Blogger is a great idea, although folks pics of their new baby can be as wearing as anything known to man, and the selection of blogs obtainable through the 'Next' button appears very limited at any time.

Time Blogger cleaned up its act as it is a service worth using.

What I believe

What I believe and what I live are not necessarily the same thing. I believe in Jesus Christ, I know he has spoken to me and wants me to be surrendered fully to him. I believe he loves me and died for me, I believe all this in my head, usually. However, when I live, I just scrape through the day! Why? Because what I believe is hidden behind the things that I face daily. I forget Jesus promises, I ignore his love, I live for my self, I …note the use of the word, ‘I,’. I live for myself, not God. Those who love the Lord, obey him, they do wonderful things, because he works through them. This I believe, and forget daily. I look at the problem, not the solution. I expect the world to change to suit me, and this does not happen for any of us. I do not ‘believe’ and expect Jesus to work in all situations – but in his time!

So, what to do? Believe my beliefs. If Jesus is God, if Jesus died for me, if Jesus is totally committed to me I ought to be rejoicing! However, in truth I am sitting worried. Worried about my job, my health, my life….. Therefore, I must now believe that if God has done this for me, I can stand with him. I must remember his many answers to prayer, his call through others, his presence on many occasions. I can trust him and believe him, even if I do not see him, not in ‘blind faith,’ but in the fact of his interference in my life.

My GOD LOVES ME! He cares, and he leads. Can I remember this through the daily grind? Can it last the day, even the hour? I will soon find out.

Ten Years Ago

10 years ago
I was in a similar position to that which faces me today. Unemployed, concerned about the knee, too few job opportunities, and no skills to offer bar humping things about. Some things don't change. Some things were different however. Christine had around this time given me money to buy a bike. This enabled me to waddle outside of town and gave me a new lease of life. I discovered the old railway to Rayne and started often to wander up that way, and it is up by the way! At the far end I would come round via Pods Lane and stop off at the farm gate half way down to stare over the fields towards the west and wonder what am I doing, and what is God going to do? I got no answer. But I was sort of healthy anyway.
Spiritually I filled the time by holding back from God as always. Wondering why I could not just let him in. I tried the Baptist church on evening and made a fool of myself in conversing with the pastor. I never went back. The message had said give yourself to God and I just sat there... I visited the local school, now demolished although that was nothing to do with us 'bringing the house down,' where a breakaway church met. They were having a children's day, this was unfortunate and the last time I went there. Not sure if they existed long after that. I think I tried the Elim also at that time. But nowhere left me feeling wanted.
However I at least had a sofa, from Argos, although the delivery man was not keen to bring it up stairs. One helped the other grumpily dumped the mattress on the level. It has to be said it was, and is, heavy. I think this was also the year I obtained my first, much wanted, Personal Computer! I bought this from a company that soon went bust, I had to return it once, but they made a pigs ear of it, and later I was to suffer the blue screen of death, a few days after they disappeared from view. However, now I can't live without a PC! How did we manage before they were produced? Ten years ago I knew little about the goings on at Tynecastle. Info was limited to what little English television allowed, and the occasional reference or Radio 5 or the world service. How times change! Now, because of the internet and the web in general I am well informed and up to date with the action. I also see the games via the PC! Then I was 46, almost healthy, just running out of money, hence Christine's loan, although she charged 25% interest! I was far too strict in many ways, had not discovered how to be human, was too much living in 'law.' Soon that was to be knocked out of me.
5 years ago
I was unemployed! I had just walked out of Rosetti after the treatment I received there. I was 'in between jobs' as they say. The landlord installed central heating to all our delights, although the cowboy filled my room with brick dust, failed to install the other flats heating satisfactorily, and was generally a pest. However, Nina left at this time. I was broken hearted, my life had come to an end! She had found another, and was off to France. I had put everything into her, although God had not wanted this, and I had given myself over to her. She had not done the same to me. We knew it would end, and it could not work. But she is the only woman I have proposed to. She changed my attitudes. I lost the primness, and loosened up. I also thought I had lost God for good (again). Life was hard, afraid God had gone, Nina had gone, and money nonexistent. Was this the time I dried driving, and failed? It was sometime in the past I can't remember when. Christine my sister was sick around this time. She was to die in 2005. How I miss her, and even her grumbling! Not a good time.
1 year ago
I was about to leave work. I had been forced to give up the enjoyable, but tiring, Postman's job. I had been happy there, but was frequently suffering anger problems. My knees hurt, I was afflicted by something. laziness perhaps, or just tired of work, and was wasting money. I liked the folks, well, most of them, and was accepted by most, sort off. Since then no work has been forthcoming. My knees have limited the work I can do, the doctor informing me arthritis set in. However Jesus in his mercy has sent his Spirit to call me by this time. One worry disappeared. As time went by I realised more and more of his love by reading the Old Testament. I want him!
1month ago
I was unemployed. Stupidity, know nothingness, and lack of skill has been a problem. But while ten years ago I wanted to work, now I am happy not to. is this laziness, age, or the overweight and reaction to the last job? The thought of the same type of routine, while that's the way it is, is not heartwarming. I am still not physically happy. Far too many bugs and virus have affected me this past year. I don't want a temp job s the ones on offer are to physical, and no one will give me a sit down job as I'm dumb. I must work soon, not just for money, it is OK to take the dole when you need it, but this week I feel a bit healthier and need to get back to work like everyone else. But I am not cheered by the prospect of more dire work.
1 week ago
I can't remember. My memory fails me all to often these days, and I suspect that all I would have done is copy today. Visit the market, fail to win the lottery, and bed early as there was nothing else to do. I also get tired by nine, and rise around 5.30!
1 day ago
I am closer to God this week. I am looking for answers and listening for his response. This is what I live for! But indoors, when all goes well I believe. What do I do when real life interrupts? Why this! Yesterday I spoke to myself of Gods love and was soon was tested by being scared by an opponent. It has taken 24 hours to find an answer. And that is one that is difficult to put into practise. Loving others they way Jesus did this is far from easy! But I will.
1 hour ago
I was writing this!

Prayer

Prayer changes things. Spending time talking to the living God has an effect on my life. I sometimes wonder why I don't do it more often. I suppose one reason is that I might be expected to get up and change something myself. Indeed, I might have to change myself! Dearie me, I don't mind indicating to others how they must change, I'm not so keen on it myself mind!

I sat down to offer up feeble prayers a few minutes ago, and into my mind came an event from over twenty five years ago. A small group meeting and one or two things were said to me that night. So I pondered on this, and wondered how I had messed up so badly after all he has said and done for me. Well, I know why. I would not let myself go and trust him. Yet here he is once again standing by me. Psalm 136 repeats 'His love endures forever.' I just realised that he has had to 'endure' with his love, he has not enjoyed it. Yet I remain self serving and still withhold myself. If I was someone else I would condemn me so much.

Come Jesus, help me let go of my miserable self, and find life!

The Sun is Shining

This can only mean one thing, it's going to rain! I can tell, although in this country that is not hard! Still, it is better here than up in the highlands and Islands I suppose. When signing on yesterday (Still signing on after all this time!) the lass told me of her holiday in Fort William, it rained daily! She, being of Spanish derivation, was somewhat surprised! Well she knows now I suppose. But in spite of the sunshine I note the trees are swaying like billy-oh. Blue sky and puffy clouds will soon be replaced by howling gales and dirty big gray clouds. You can tell it's July.

However, I am supposed to be out there indulging in my walk exercising today also. Exercising? Yep, this is the latest idea to get fit by the end of next week. Oh yes I will! maybe. Anyway, I must go out and walk several times a day, in an attempt to increase stamina and get fit for any job that may turn up. As if! Still, a walk, then some effort with the heavy weights - well, maybe some stretches then, and we will be on the way.

But if you have a brain jobs are available. Blackberry Juniper decided to get a job and walked into one straight away. How come? She has a brain! That is where I fall down! Had I decided to have a brain like hers I would be up there among the high heid ones these days. Instead I find myself lingering here on the ground floor among the beasties. She of course is to bright for her job. But is content to earn cash to stay alive. One day she will be happy enough to have a picture of her happy smiling face seen on these boards - if she sends me the picture of course. But for now, while I flog myself to death her on this keyboard, she sits moping at work, clock watching and nail filing, like thousands of other lassies, while the men do all the work. She ought to do her nails as it is Friday, ad I expect her man wants to take her out, wine and dine her, show her the town, and ensure her troubles are left behind.

While they enjoy the Friday evening pleasures, I will be curled up with P.G.Wodehouse and 'Wodehouse on Wodehouse.' Good job I'm not one to complain.

Radio

I have discovered one of the joys of the Internet, the 'Listen Again' feature of BBC Radio. Not only do we find old comedies, like 'Hancock' and the 'Goons' on 'Radio 7,' but the same feature on 'Radio 4' is very useful also. The programmes only last for a week or so usually, but I have spent an inordinate amount of time listening today for enjoyable stuff. Much better than having to ensure you set the timer on the recorder, oh yes, I believe in cassettes myself, but programmes I would not listen out for I can pick and choose. Great stuff I say. Late at night when sitting here pretending I can spell I listen into say, 'Late Junction' on 'Radio 3.' Their strange collection of sounds fit well at night or when a relaxing background is needed - well usually! They do have some, er, 'eclectic' noises also.

Web Radio is a great idea. I find I listen into CHRI from Ottawa quite often, and that is a good station I must say. It is interesting to hear the news from another country's point of view. There is a world out there worth shoving our nose into. Of course it helps if they speak an understandable language, like English or Scots, and it is even more helpful if the link works. Some fail, and some are difficult to find on their web pages.

In days of yore I used to spend a lot of time listening to short wave radio from Eastern Europe. Once communism fell I also fell, out of the habit of tuning in. Most of the stations underwent a tremendous change of course, as did the news they reported. I always thought The East German radio from Berlin was worth a listen, as was the couple from Bulgaria (or was it Romania?) who attempted a routine similar to that seen on countless mediocre TV and Radio stations in the west. One would read one line, always scripted, and in a staccato, manner the other would respond. It was all so badly done, and they tried their best, mind you, if they were in Romania they would have to try their best, or else! their stations may still broadcast in English, but I wonder if they have improved their technique?
One day I will seek if they are available online in English.

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.