Life Goes On.....

So, deciding that the laptop needed replacing I considered my options. Dig out the old PC that lies gathering dust awaiting repair maybe? Well I asked my postman mate who is famed for his ability at fixing PCs to fix it for me, and when I mentioned the fault his eyes widened, he mumbled some excuse and avoided me for weeks. I saw him recently and informed him I needed this PC fixed urgently and, as you might expect, one week later I heard he had obtained a transfer to the Shetland Isles! Whether this was because of his personal life, his desire for a closer look at the 'Northern Lights,' or his unwillingness to tend to my needs I am unsure.

The second option entailed the computer shops around here. One being a small dingy place run by what I guess is an old lag who learned about computers during his time inside. No doubt he would do a good job, but what would this cost, and where is my watch gone anyway? Along the road lies a more reliable company, well established and growing in size, however I may be cheaper buying a new BMW Series 7 like the owners rather than pay what they will charge. So, without complaining I obtained a PC on E-Bay for £140. At last a superior machine which will help in so many ways to make my life worthwhile.

Naturally it has failed to work properly!

I set the thing up and immediately it worked. I happily added those things that took up so much needless space on the old machine and sat back to enjoy – except for the floppy disk that would not work. It keep saying 'insert disk in 'A,' ' after I had inserted disk in 'A.' I have a lot of floppy disks and I want to know what is on them! At this moment I am still being held in suspense! A few days later I played a disk on the CD-Rom and it stopped for no reason. However I did download some stuff onto disk and all seemed well again. The PC mind is clearly female! Then while playing Simon and Garfunkel the CD-Rom stopped playing a second time and promptly disappeared! Maybe it was the wrong CD?

However the service chap has been helpful, and among other things has sent an installation disk for me to reinstall XP pro. Not having a clue I just stuck it in and let it run and hoped. To my surprise the CD worked, and it installed, I thought. It made no difference, except the CD reappeared – and the sound disappeared! The floppy remains dead. No doubt the proper tech engineer would uninstall the XP first and reinstall properly, but I am wavering about this as my tech ability is akin to Britney Spears ability to keep out of the news, none whatsoever! I now sit here downloading billions of different views in the 'Easy way to fix it' type message. I cannot say I am encouraged.

On top of this my exercise programme, cycling, stretching, walking and complaining is now hindered by the rain which has escaped from the north of Scotland and is depositing itself down here in England's driest county. The farmers who have desired rain for the crops growth will no doubt appear on telly tomorrow complaining the rain has damaged the farms. As a professional complainer one must admire farmers who can complain far more resolutely than even a taxi drivers can!

Now this weather is not too much of a hazard as I am knackered from walking too far after too little exercise and that is not a good idea. However, encouraged by some famous pop star, of whom I had never heard, speaking of coming down from 15 ½ stone to 13 ½ like I want to, I am encouraged to continue. Tomorrow, if dry enough, I will attempt to cycle up the old railway, then continue the fruitless job search. Ah the job search, how do you find work for a 56 year old, no-nothing idiot? The folk at the job shop have given up! The lottery fails me, and God is not indicating anything obvious – except get up and look, but where boss? Hmmmm, I think I need my lunch, then I will consider this again – unless I fall asleep.

I Hate You Moo-Dog!

In my little mind I have always seen Moo-Dog as a blogger slightly above the common pack. Articulate, witty and divesting the day to day struggles of that much downtrodden member of the species – man! This, I always considered, a man who bravely faces the adversary that fate decrees for him with wisdom and humour. In short a man to respect and esteem! No longer!
Underneath that kindly witty exterior lies a black Irish heart! This has been well hidden through his blog so far but at last what lies beneath has leaked out. In spite of my endless support (well, abuse on his comments maybe) he has reached deep into the pit of mischievousness and Tagged me!

It is at times like this I cry like Ian Paisley cry 'Never!' Never!' 'Never!'
But I do it anyway.....

He says,'Share 7 random and/or weird facts about yourself.'
and
'Tag 7 random people at the end of your post, and include links to their blogs.'

Seven! Where will I find seven folk? Three would be enough for tagging surely? This must have begun with a woman, no man has that much to say.......

Fact 1. In 1974 I worked as an orderly in the 'Trauma' ward of the Royal Infirmary.
Eight patients died that year..

Fact 2. While walking along Westbourne Grove some years ago I had Eric Claptons 'Pretending' running through my mind. At that moment I confronted Eric Clapton! He looked at me, realised at a distance I was was dreaming I was he, and escaped into the '7Eleven' nearby.

Fact 3. I detest and loath and hate and despise and disdain and scorn and snort at Soap Operas!

Fact 4. I once stood in the enclosure at Celtic Park and shouted 'GOAL!' when we scored.
This was the one and only time this occurred......

Fact 5. The first single I ever bought, for 6s.8d, was Tom Jones, 'Green Green Grass of Home.'
'Stupid boy!'

Fact 6. I bought a 'Bullworker' in 1969. Had I used it for '7 minutes a day' as advertised, I would now be a muscle-bound oaf! I am not muscle-bound.

Fact 7. I don't know seven bloggers who would let me tag them without reviling me.
Ah well, no change there then!

The Chosen Few :-

Mulled Vine. Because he would do this to me!

Scottish Diary. Because they have so many interesting facts that need to be revealed.

Channel of Healing. Because there is humour there!

Sicarii. Because he also would do this to me!

Oddness Because this man also has great humour and a wonderful blog.

Auld Reekie Rants. Spite!

Lance. Because he is a good man, and will not be nasty to me like the rest will!

Paul Raymond

Paul Raymond found fame with his 'Raymond Revue Bars. In 1958 he discovered a loophole in the law that allowed him to open a 'private club' thus allowing male and female 'strippers' to entertain the customers. They became popular, especially with the rich and famous! In spite of opposition from officialdom business boomed and Raymond built an extensive property chain in the centre of London, eventually owning 60 of Soho's 87 acres. He also bought the 'Windmill Theatre,' famous for it's nude 'performers,' and comedians during and just after the war. Many of these became the stable of British comedy for the next thirty years, the comedians that is, not the nudes. Later Raymond added famous magazines such as 'Men Only,' and 'Razzle,' which became became top sellers. I used to buy mine for the gardening tips you know.

During the great heatwave of 1976 I ran about the city on a Suzuki GT185, like I worked for 'Hari Kari' motorbike messengers. Quite how I survived I will never know. Our job was to deliver photographic material to a wide variety of, mostly pig ignorant, customers. Among them the magazines just mentioned. To deliver these meant entering the 'Windmill Theatre' stage door, the place now having become 'The Raymond Revue Bar,' and climb endlessly to the top floor editorial suite. Here in a windowless large room I expected to see a stream of buxom beauties being photographed, I was disappointed. The nearest thing was a scatter brained blonde who having failed to measure up for the photographer was forced to work, it looked as if the whole enterprise was beyond her, I wondered how she kept the job? The 'revue' downstairs consisted of naked male and female dancers romping over the stage to the delight of the audience, or so the 'Evening Standard' would have me believe, I never went myself. Package delivered I returned down the twisting stairs, passed the group of male dancing boys who clearly would not be in danger of troubling the lassies, unless they pinched their clobber for a night out. I would squeeze past and ignore them, hoping they wouldn't come too close!

A few years later again I came across Mr Raymond. This time a once only trip to his penthouse to deliver the groceries! This expensive St James block, just behind the 'Ritz,' where he never offered to take me to tea, was graced with a marble floor at the entrance and both I and the driver, it takes two to deliver when you expect to meet gorgeous dumb blonds, stood expectantly at the door. It was opened by an ageing Spanish woman with a hair lip and poor English! How disappointed were we? Very! All men, even porn merchants, realise that looks are not everything, and when it comes to keeping the house a dumb blonde is of no use whatsoever!

Raymond's personal life was not a success, he had a son by his partner in a previous stage act, for whom he paid £1 a week in maintenance, and his wife bore him a son and a daughter. He became estranged for his son, his wife divorced him after one of his longer affairs and his daughter, the heir to his empire, died of an accidental drug overdose. Something he never got over, some believing he blamed himself for her death.

In recent years he rarely ventured from his penthouse, his ex wife claiming he had said 'He felt people only wanted to know him because of his money,' his property business alone thought to be worth £650 million. Paul Raymond's life had started in impoverished Liverpool but ended in an expensive penthouse alone and embittered. Here was a man who had everything but a life! It just left me so sad that there are so many more out there just like him, filthy rich, and powerful. Men who consider themselves the movers and shakers of the world, but in the end they all to often end up like Paul Raymond, alone.

What a waste of a life.

The Telegraph

Edinburgh or Auld Reekie to you!

Reading Serizys blog earlier I was reminded of this mans excellent writing about 'Auld Reekie,' or Edinburgh, pronounced 'Edinburra.'
The foto she included gave an image of this fine city as a pace of gray skies and drizzle. There is much truth in this! Even here, in England's driest county, we started the day in fine Edinburgh fashion, gray, drizzle turning to rain, and a chill seeping through to the string vest.

The temperature is always slightly higher down here, and the constant wind blowing from the West is not missed! In days of yore we would spend some time attending 'The Goblet,' a hostelry in Rose Street frequented at that time by the friends of Gordon Brown when a student. It is not outside the bounds of possibility that the man himself would leave aside his studies, and he studied hard, to spend an evening amongst us lower orders. If only I had a camera at Hogmany!!! Alas I never had, but I could make a fortune out of the 'Daily Mail' today if I had. When leaving this place of refreshment we would saunter down to Princes Street and turn right straight into a howling freezing wind that came from the North Atlantic via Paisley. We knew it came from Paisley because of all the badly written hoax begging letters the wind carried along with it. Couple the icy wind with drizzle and we have a form of sleet unknown in Siberia! I miss it....

Of course Mike Smith reminds me of these good days in his blog, although I doubt the famous Mrs Smith would let him ever go to 'The Goblet,' and certainly not with us! However, if you wish to read the writings of a man famous for his notable tome 'Follow The Hearts,' I think you will find this author a worthwhile use of your time. Keep up to date with 'Auld Reekie,' without advertisements for house renting, here.

Israeli Shooting

Another day another shooting in Israel. Of course this one involved Israelis so there are lots of cameras to be found at the scene. This picture one of many in the 'Telegraph' today. World leaders join in the cry of 'outrage' and speak of 'the need for a peaceful solution,' and sympathy, rightly, is offered to the relatives. How often this happens, in the past from suicide bombers, the other night from an individual working alone.

The outrage is clear, the cry for revenge fills the air, mourners speak of 'animals,' and many ask the simple question 'Why? Little has been said so far of the Israelis killing over a hundred Palestinians last week!
There is far less 'outrage' over the Israelis killing of Arabs, 'Why?' For far too many people, Christians included, there is a foolhardy temptation to say one side is 'good' and the other 'bad!' In one of his excellent books Robert Fisk pointed out that in the Middle East there is NO good side, they are all bad, and he is right!

For Christians there is the temptation to support Israel because they believe God has brought his people back to the 'promised land.' Whether this is true or not, God does not give Israel the right to treat Arabs, many of whom are Christian, badly. At no point does any scripture instigate a policy of genocide in today's world! Outrages, such as this one, must be condemned, but so must the abuse, and there great abuse, of Palestinians. The leadership of Israel has always been non religious, and if Jews wish to follow God in returning to their land this must be done in a manner God can approve of, quoting Old Testament stories does not overrule the words of the Messiah!

Yes it is a hard situation, and no, you and I do not have a clue what to do about it, even though a great many, mostly American, like to pretend they do. God is in Christ working his providence out, and his plans will come to pass. But not by driving tanks through Gaza, and not by ignoring Hamas. Time for honesty from Israeli leaders, time for a laying down of guns and rockets by Arabs. Time for a change of ways from all concerned.

Spend,Spend, Spend, what you don't have....

“Life! Don't ask me about life!” So said the depressed robot in “the Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy.” I know what he meant. The laptop has been slowly falling apart in recent times, just like me, and last week I decided something had to be done. The old PC that has been lying here, deceased, for some time could be repaired, but that would cost near £150 or so, what with parts and labour.' The choices around here are slim and the postie who repaired PCs has had himself transferred to the Shetland Isles! All that just to avoid fixing the PC! So last week I came to a decision, I either had the old one fixed and spent money I did not in fact possess, or I bought a new one, hopefully cheaper, with money I did not possess. To the latter I sped like a man heading for his execution! I landed up on E-Bay and after a few days pondering spent £140
( plus P&P) on a new PC. Gulp!

Since Monday I have been striving to fill the thing with all the necessary bits, not an easy task, especially when I have forgotten so many of them, and now the installation of the programmes was harder than I remembered! However most things, bar the 'floppy' drive actually work, and the other wrongs will work themselves out – maybe. I did e-mail the chaps at the other end and fixed one wee problem, however when I mailed asking about the floppy drive I have, as yet, received no reply. Typical! However once again I can waste time spewing my spleen on the blog, send unwanted e-mails to others, (just leave your address and my junk will follow) and even look for work! I managed to transport several things over from old machine but the links have not arrived. Thousands of them, gathered over time, full of important info – gone! Never mind eh? Not the greatest PC you will find but hopefully will do the job! If only I could do a job also....

One important announcement however.

There are reports of a lorry carrying cheese overturning on the M6 and shedding its load…

Police are warning motorists to drive Caerphilly

Las Vegas

THIS MAY COME AS A SURPRISE TO THOSE OF YOU NOT LIVING IN LAS VEGAS, BUT THERE ARE MORE CATHOLIC CHURCHES THAN CASINOS.
NOT SURPRISINGLY, SOME WORSHIPPERS AT SUNDAY SERVICES WILL GIVE CASINO CHIPS RATHER THAN CASH WHEN THE BASKET IS PASSED.
SINCE THEY GET CHIPS FROM MANY DIFFERENT CASINOS, THE CHURCHES HAVE DEVISED A METHOD TO COLLECT THE OFFERINGS.
THE CHURCHES SEND ALL THEIR COLLECTED CHIPS TO A NEARBY FRANCISCAN MONASTERY FOR SORTING AND THEN THE CHIPS ARE TAKEN TO THE CASINOS Of ORIGIN AND CASHED IN.

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THIS IS DONE BY THE CHIP MONKS...!

YOU DIDN'T EVEN SEE IT COMING DID YOU ?

GOTCHA !!

Cowboy Movies

Every time I change the channel there is a 'Cowboy Film' showing! For a while all I was finding was yet another episode of 'Friends,' and who watches that anyway? Women of a certain age I would guess. But Cowboy films? Who watches them these days? They are all the same, follow the same script and have as much relation to the actual American West as I have to a nuclear scientist!

Now when I was a kid I loved 'Wagon Train' on the telly, but I was only five or six when I came across it and since then I have watched several million 'westerns' and discovered just how unrealistic - and boring they are! if they are not firing 'six shooters' which appear to contain five hundred rounds, they are fighting bad men who want to steal their ranch. Always and ever there is a woman, usually one who is extremely well proportioned for a lass chasing cattle around a ranch hundreds of miles in size. Their hair never appears out of place which must be a miracle in such circumstances. Of course there will be a scene in which they cross the river, Indians fall off horses when shot by a 'six shooter' at a hundred yards range, and there is always a fight between the hero and the baddie. No one ever gets fingers in the eyes or kicked in the cobs during such actions, every thing is done fair and square - and a nasty man is always punched hard enough to fall over the bar and break the mirror!

Dross! Unmitigated dross!

John Wayne made a name for himself masquerading as what some call the 'All American hero,' and we call a complete doughnut! You may recall John Fords answer when asked 'How did you make Wayne a star?' He said, 'I give him as few words as possible!' No wonder. Yet his image has made him the 'typical' cowboy, and he was nothing like the real thing. He also played the war hero, spending his time film making in Hollywood when others were fighting Germans and Japanese. Jimmy Stewart flew a bomber over Germany on at least a dozen missions, John Wayne made poor quality films and became a star.

The Buffalo Bill Circus at the turn of the century went a long way to create the myth of the west that was encouraged by the silent movies of the day. Tom Mix and others developed this story line in spite of the facts being available to them, if they cared to look. But I suppose reality in movies would make them either too boring or too awful to show to the public. So we get the 'bread and Circuses' from Hollywood instead. Ignore facts and give the people cut down, bland or distorted truths as it is easier to cope with. But please stop showing this rubbish on telly after the kids programmes have finished!

Feel Fat Ladies?

Bet you don't now!

I keep saying it, we are too fat as a nation! I am striving to lose weight, eating better and walking more, cycling and generally going through a 'get fitter' regime.

I seem to have lost interest in other things mind....

Indian Christians

In 1947 when India and Pakistan freed themselves from the English yoke, India declared itself a 'Secular State.' This was in contrast to Pakistan a nation created as a Muslim nation.
With a large minority of Muslims, Buddhists and Christians and numbers of other smaller faiths found in the huge land mass that is India it is easy to understand why 'secular' was stressed at the nations relaunch.

However, in spite of the good intentions at the beginning India is dominated by Hinduism. This is a faith that is also representative of a nation also in that Indians are a proud people with an ancient history and proud heritage, therefore there is resistance to religions such as Islam and Christianity as 'foreign' incomers. Many in the UK would understand their feeling here, but it is doubtful those same people would feel any guilt for the Empire taking others land!

Christians have for many years operated in the Indian subcontinent, in many places they have established schools and medical centres and churches have been established in the major towns and cities for many years. However persecution has grown apace, especially in recent times, and even more so, in my opinion, for home grown Christians. Churches have been attacked and vandalised, even burnt down, individuals face persecution and churches, especially in village locations, face intimidation and assault, some people have even been killed on occasion. The local State and city authorities, the police included, instead of supporting the 'Secular State' are very often the ones behind the persecution of Christians. Personal gain, position or bribes are all involved. This leads to difficult times for those who are charged with declaring the Good News of Jesus Christ.

Two friends, Yash and Monica, have for some time been working in their homeland, alongside several friends they have seen several thousand people come to a knowledge of Christ Jesus and have been busy teaching and building these people into a new life. On many occasions they have been obstructed by the local police and now face trumped up charges, the intention being to take them away from their duty to God and kill their churches.

Yash has recently been arrested and jailed awaiting trial. With a blanket and a concrete floor for a bed he has relied on his God to see him through while Monica and others struggled to obtain bail. This was eventually obtained, with great difficulty and at much cost, yet both face the danger of trial and subsequent jail terms. This for preaching the Good News! The experience of an Indian jail is something I hope we never endure and Yash has discovered his friend Jesus did not leave him while there, but I hope we can pray he, and Monica, do not have to endure this again.

The experience of suffering is not new for Indian Christians, the knowledge of what they endure can lift us, certainly me, out of self pity! Pray for them.

I've Done it Again!

I've done it again!
After climbing out of my bed, washing my face and this time remembering to take my glasses of first I wandered through to the west wing and made what passes for a 'healthy breakfast.'

After this mound of 'Bran Flakes' covered in raisins and oats I dumped the bowl alongside the rest of the weeks used crockery and made the tea. The kettle (£4:98 from Tesco) came shaking and steaming to the boil, I poured the water over the milk and tea bag (Half price Somerfields) and brewed the concoction with the aid of a dirty spoon (Charity shop 5p). Job done, as well as possible, I returned to my post at the broken laptop (Crooked second hand dealership) and placed the mug in its rightful place.

It was then I realised I had done it again!
I already had a mug of stewed tea sitting there quietly awaiting me spilling it all down my ageing fleece! What is going on in this mind? I forget things like this all the time. I would say it is the beginning of Althez...altezhi, altzleh..going gaga if it was not for the fact this habit has been with me always. I am scared to open that storage cupboard now, just in case a body falls out, someone I forgot I accidentally locked in. Which reminds me, there was a thump thump sound a wee while back that I don't hear nowadays.......

Victory V

I handed a spool into the chemist to have it developed today and saw these sweets on the counter. I have not seen these around for years and here they were in probably the only shop to stock them these days.

As a kid we were given these occasionally and suffered the heat they gave off with good grace and much noise! I found today that they were not anything like as strong as I remember and I wonder if that is just because I am somewhat larger today or if they have altered the recipe in some way.

It would not be the first time an alteration has taken place, in the nineteenth century the sweets contained chloroform! It was not possible to buy more than a quarter pound of them because people took too many and passed out! While this is no longer the case many folks found them far too strong for their taste and only 'real men' ever ate more than one at a time. Of course they suffered and folks kept well away from their breath for good reason!

They are widely available online from The Sugar Boy and elsewhere.

This is Brilliant!

The men who made this deserve all the credit they get!
This is brilliant.
Their page is found HERE.

Public Gardens

After visiting the dole office to discuss my plight with the pretty young lass from the 'Workstep' programme, I wandered around town allowing my stiff knees to stretch themselves. The excitement of walking through this centre has long since worn of for me, but it passes the time. I drifted towards the public gardens. To my little mind just sitting there, under a blue sky preferably, listening to the birds and watching the flora and fauna around me is very enjoyable. How come I didn't notice this before? A robin fluffed himself up into a ball and sat not far from me singing his lovely wee song. Ignoring me he called out to his mate, or someone else's mate Robins being what they are, or maybe he was just warning others off his patch. I don't know which it was but it sounded fabulous! Such a small bird yet his song rang loud and must have been audible for some distance, especially as the traffic noise is suppressed by the trees around us. A simple joy that makes me long for Spring to appear.

Adverts

While wondering what illegal drug some young flash Harry in the advertising office had been shoving up his nose I watched his latest car ad on the telly. Car ads, as you know, tell you nothing about the car, but lots about the small willy possessed by the man who is looking to buy! The car is hoisted on balloons, or melts like mercury across the screen, maybe it drives across the Nevada desert and is driven by handsome (white) well heeled males who are going places. Soon hopefully! The cretin, pushing his baseball cap to the back of his head and tossing a banana peel out the window, has watched those ads and now while trudging along in the fog at six miles an hour, alongside the many similar oiks, dreams he is in Nevada somewhere. The advert has satisfied his mind and taken from him all reality.

It was ever thus! Adverts are not there to tell the truth, they of course only want to sell! This Guinness one certainly did, the slogan supposedly coming from a man who answered the question,"Why do you drink it?" With the answer "Because it is good for me." His wife, seeing him carried home and dumped in the front garden, had other ideas I bet, especially when his liver gave out and he passed on leaving her "£7.10 shillings in insurance money. (If that happened of course....) In recent years the ad was dropped because the law was tightened up, and not before time, to end much of the deceit practised on us by advertisers. There being no proof that Guinness actually is 'Good for you,' the slogan was dropped. A shame as no-one really believed that anyway. Well apart form several million Irish drunks of course. Today Guinness ads make no sense whatsoever as they strive to replace the old generation of drinkers with a new younger set more used to the feeble lager and invented alcohol products designed by Mammon loving brewers and sought after by dunderheads.

I like the old poster adverts, they always appear to me to be better drawn and more enticing, even if I remain unconvinced about spending my coppers on the product offered. We think we are not motivated by them yet, years later, we remember the slogans or tunes that accompany telly adverts, and the posters remain deep within our memory.

"You'll wonder where the yellow went,
when you brush your teeth with 'Pepsodent."

I often wondered where 'Pepsodent' went myself. Nobody as ever told me. The sound has remained with me, and we did buy the stuff when I was still finding difficulty in beginning the joined up writing at school. Mind you I was 34 by then.

The change in the law, I think I am right in saying it was the '196o Trades Description Act,' but I am willing to be proved wrong stopped many a false advert from ripping of the gullible. One trick was to advertise "Cup Final Seats," in the classifieds, and folk would send of their ten shillings expecting a ticket for the Cup Final, a great day out for the Englishman in the fifties. They would be somewhat nonplussed to receive a small stool with "Cup Final," written on it. But it was a 'Cup Final Seat'! For a year or two I worked (Ha!) for the Advertising Standards Authority, an organisation that to some extent reduces the misleading nature of many adverts but is in truth is a waste of space. Complaints arrive once the ads have appeared, and by the time an adjudication is arrived at the ad has run its course, profits have been made and a mere warning is issued. In theory individuals can be barred from placing adverts but the organisation does not go to court to fight such people, leaving that up to the Trading Standards folk, so it is in many respects useless! Most of the girls were nice mind you, young, attractive and intelligent, just how I like them! However, possibly a point connected to their intelligence, they did not like me as I am! How insensitive of them I say. I do dislike it when young lassies refer to me as 'Dad' or 'Uncle!'

Now What?

I empathise with whoever produced this poster. The fact that it has the address 'Despair.com' on the bottom helps to gladden my heart! Where better to go when life treats you in its own merry way?

Consider the situation.
The washing machine does not work,
The VCR only plays on 'fast forward,'
The PC died suddenly,
This laptop's screen failed, the dial up modem fails and the CD fails,
The stereo does not obey,
The Freeview often stops for no reason, and only by swapping to another (identical) remote will it work,
The aerial is inadequate and the picture shakes every time a car passes, TV programmes are dumbed down garbage and there is nothing to watch,
Radio programmes are slightly better but remain poor nevertheless,
The press is full of half truths and lies, and rarely informative,
Now the printer will not work because I need to reinstall the disk,
This cannot be done as the CD does not work as I deleted the relevant folder by mistake,
Therefore I cannot enquire about work as I cannot print the letters and CV's,
My cash flow has reached a balanced level - nil,
Now someone has sent me a leaflet saying 'Mothers Day approaches and suggesting I spend masses of cash with them so I can 'Spoil my mum,' I know what I'd like to spoil,
The Heart of Midlothian have had a rotten season - even for us,
Work is not seen, age and dodgy knees and professional idiocy hinder - but not in that order,
The police have, once again, informed me I cannot go around beheading women in Tesco's even if they take all day to pack their bags, and I cannot exterminate the adolescents who gather over the road with rat poison either, add to that their latest visit re the 'clocking' of the cheery evangelist who knocked on my door this morning and foolishly said 'Rejoice' and you understand my mood has not lightened any,
Neither has looking in the mirror and seeing my reflection still there,
Memories of the failures keep returning, and there is a lot,
The virii that has plagued me since 1987 keeps returning and interrupting my life, 'Who will rid me of this turbulent bug?'


Now what? I cannot tell you how excited I am about the future.
How much is a paupers grave anyway?
Rejoice? All I need now is for this machine to fa

Three Men in a Boat

This slim little volume, published in 1889, has become an eternal favourite. No wonder! The gentle humour, the descriptions of the river and the history that lies all around it, the impression of middle class leisure and incidental attitudes of the day combine with our identification of the people that pass by. They could be ourselves! Jerome K Jerome writes not about class, and does not spend much time on the major social ills of the day directly, instead he writes about the trip and the people that come to his mind. That gives us an echo of the world of the day.

Jerome is a kindly human, his humour is gentle and boating down the Thames was an occupation many enjoyed. Therefore the early editions must have found many a man identifying with the situations retold here. How many had struggled to erect the canvas, how many found difficulty with the passing steamboats, and then found the skiffs troublesome when they were using such boats? The author actually wanted to write a topographical book concerning the Thames I have been informed, and ended up with a classic instead! He does give information on the world around and his meditations reveal a thoughtful and intelligent man.

For those who wish a light comic trip down the Thames this is a must. Many have, like myself, ached to travel up the Thames in the sun, stopping on the bank to camp, and several TV programmes and the odd film or two have been made by those inspired this way. Just how many books I cannot say. However there is a website dedicated to the author and I recommend a browse for more info, and even pictures of the three hero's of the trip that inspired the book themselves. The Jerome K Jerome Society

Valentines Day

For all the attractive young lassies who pass by (on their way to another Blog) this small bouquet of roses are for you. They would be real ones but you failed to leave your address - you left just a glass slipper......

Old Joke

An elderly man lay dying in his bed. While suffering the agonies of impending death, he suddenly smelled the aroma of his favourite scones wafting up the stairs.

He gathered his remaining strength, and lifted himself from the bed. Leaning on the wall, he slowly made his way out of the bedroom, and with even greater effort, gripping the railing with both hands, he crawled downstairs.

With laboured breath, he leaned against the door-frame, gazing into the kitchen. Were it not for death's agony, he would have thought himself already in heaven, for there, spread out upon the kitchen table were literally hundreds of his favourite scones.

Was it heaven? Or was it one final act of love from his devoted Irish wife of sixty years, seeing to it that he left this world a happy man?

Mustering one great final effort, he threw himself towards the table, landing on his knees in rumpled posture. His aged and withered hand trembled towards a scone at the edge of the table, when it was suddenly smacked by his wife with a wooden spoon.



'Hands off' she said,'they're for the funeral.'

Healthy Eating

I am all for healthy eating! Being, what my doctor described as a "Fat slob," I understand the need for care in the diet. However this word crossed my path a short time ago, 'Tunnocks Caramel Log!' Immediately I was transported back to my youth a few short years ago. The very good remembrance of caramel logs being stuffed in my fat gob has never left me. Tunnocks, as some may well know, are responsible for more tooth decay in Scotland than any other company! Their wide range of products are chomped on worldwide, and many a dentist has grown rich on his patients love of the Uddingston giants.

All Scots kids develop the sweet tooth by beginning on a Tea Cake or two as a treat, brought out when visitors are in, and progress onto Caramel Wafers and Caramel logs, often suffering the Snowballs on they way. Oh let me suffer mother!!!! It is possible to buy these lovely products worldwide, especially now the internet has changed shopping habits. Several companies at home and abroad make vast profits from the exiled Scots nostalgia for trips to the NHS dentist. I remember the needle being inserted while the dentist muttered, "This will not hurt a bit, be a good soldier." I assure you he lied! Tunnocks were of course not the only people to cash in on the sweet tooth. I once took to a cheap chewing gum and happily received seven fillings because of this disgusting habit! Now all chewing gums and many soft drinks, use Aspartame, a substance with a dubious record, instead of sugar, the products often advertised as 'sugar free.'
I recommend a web search on this product as it is used by so many products and little information regarding the possible problems comes to our attention. I would rather have sugar myself!

The Scots childs love of sweets and the adults love of drink and chips helps make the nation one of the unhealthiest in the world! I suppose having such dreich weather does not help. The idea of cold mackerel and salad while the dark gray clouds unleash heavy drops of cold rain rarely appeals as much as spam fritters and chips, with a whisky follower! Not that I would know of course, I am only going of what others tell me here. However when I left Edinburgh's gray skies in 1975, the sun shone that day and I, grasping the money collected for me by my work colleagues - enough for a one way trip to London - I left a society in which red and green peppers were considered 'exotic. Such things really were unknown outside of the middle class shops we could never afford (start playing the violins now). Until the Patels came flooding in from West Africa in 1973 Edinburgh shops still worked a simple routine. They opened at 9, closed from 12 - 1 and closed sharp at 5 p.m. like it or not! The Pakis, as we then called them (well except Mr Khayam, "I'm an Indian, not a bloody Paki!" and being 6'2" and a very good customer in the cash & carry I worked, we submitted to his will) opened their shops from 8 a.m. and did not close till 6 in the evening, one staying open until 7. This small change in the approach revolutionised Edinburgh and it has never looked back. We owe such Pa...Asians, a great deal! However, in spite of tropical fruits and veg, Scots are just as fat as everybody else.

But while I agree with a better 'Veg filled' diet, honest, I have to say that as long as Caramel Logs exist, I will want to eat them! Bring them on I say!