Dangerous Snow!

Now I am not one to complain, but when I threw off the duffel coat, removed the anorak, dumped the three pullovers, two rugby shirts and two pair of hikers trousers, along with the four pair of socks and the pair of army boots, I then climbed out of bed to be greeted with several inches of snow! After rubbing myself down with whale blubber I donned the several layers required to stay alive while sitting at the PC and chipped the ice of the window so I could see out. All night the gales had been blowing leaving a blanket of the white stuff across the region. Cars have been stranded, trains delayed airports closed and several husky teams have passed by. Polar explorers aiming for the Antarctic and a flock of penguins were seen in the High Street! This of course has led to headlines about 'CHAOS,' and 'End of the world!' Not that the papers ever exaggerate!


However as I ventured out this morning, without ski's, I was aware of how icy the pavements and roads are. The main roads are cleared of course but the side roads remain treacherous, and few venture over 20 miles an hour there. Kids were happily throwing snowballs at helpless old women and breaking the windows of passing cars, white van drivers were out to prove that they were not intellectuals by speeding along side streets, and doom merchant turkeys are wandering about the farms crying "The end is nigh!"

As the sun shone and the blue sky glimmered above, and a few birds braved the cold to find lunch I, naturally, was busy falling flat on my backside while crossing the road! It is always a dangerous corner so I went for it and soon found myself in the gutter. 'Home Sweet Home' a passer-by muttered as he passered-by. Now my wrist is slightly aching and in the morning will be as stiff as a Taliban after the PWRR have passed by.

Now I am not a killjoy but finding my great niece is so keen on this snow stuff, and just as well according to what is going to hit them tomorrow, finding her enjoying this horrid weather and praying for more irks me! While I lay under seven feet of blankets last night she was busy in the back yard as the horrid stuff fell!



Looks like her dad right enough!

Sniper One

'Sniper One' at Amazon (link to the right!)

After the invasion of Iraq there was a huge role for the occupying forces to establish a stable government. The incompetence of Bush and his mates meant an ongoing war between many factions made this difficult. The British Armed forces were given the task, among others, of stabilising Al Amarah a town in the southern Shia area. This area, the cradle of civilisation with Ur of the Chaldea's and Uruk just two of the ancient cities going back five millennia or so. Al Amarah did not have that sort of heritage. 'Sniper One,' by Sergeant Dan Mills, tells the story of the 1st Battalion Princess of Wales Royal Regiments (PWRR) tour there in 2004. The story concentrates on the Sniper Platoon, giving an insight into their operation and importance to the army. Expecting this to be a quiet 'tree hugging' tour, escorting those involved in rebuilding the country, with patrols and happy smiles for the locals, the tour became one of the great British operations of recent years.

Al Amarah turned out to be a stinking Arab town. Stinking because of the breakdown of the sewerage system with no effort being made to repair it. The dusty roads, the great heat and opposition of many of the locals did not make the place welcoming. At this time also trouble was brewing in Najaf where the US were confronting Moqtada Al-Sadr, the most powerful Shia leader, in Najaf Old City where he took refuge with his followers in the Imam Ali Mosque. Imam Ali is the man from whom Shia Islam descends and when this most holy place to Shiites was damaged by US action Moqtada ensured Al Jazeera TV was on hand to advertise the assault to all the Middle East. The resulting tumult ensured all Shia, including those who had favoured the coalition forces, joined together in attacking them at any opportunity. US use of tact one of their less known abilities.

Al Amarah was also full of black shirted OMS men. Their chance to meet the local OMS men occurred on the first patrol, innocently stopping at a Police station to greet the police and discovering this was the OMS headquarters. It took several warrior trucks and aid from a passing company of Argyles to extract them, severely hurt, from the fight. There was not going to be much 'tree hugging' on this tour.

The battle group endured daily incoming fire of various degrees and as the Najaf standoff continued the OMS responded accordingly. An arrest by night of leading opponents brought much opposition, and that at a time a resupply column had to enter the town! During this confrontation several warrior vehicles came under severe fire. Private Johnson Beharry drove his badly damaged warrior through the fight and into safety, his head exposed to save his comrades. Much later he was to do similar again. On this occasion after the warrior had been hit by an RPG and injuring him severely, he continued to drive the vehicle, in reverse, until it took his comrades out of danger. He was later awarded the Victoria Cross!

After the US had damaged the Imam Ali Mosque and Al Jazeera TV covered the action Iraq took the side of Moqtada! This put the situation of the men in CIMIC under great duress. There followed a month long siege during which hundreds of mortars fell by day and night. Thousands of rounds were exchanged between the sides, and even an attempt at seizing the building had to be repulsed. One man thought it was like the 'Alamo,' it was more like 'Zulu!' No one informed him that those at the Alamo were wiped out!

The action in the book reaches a crescendo during the month long defence of the compound. The longest continuous action by the British army since the Korean war, and the lengthiest defence since WW2! The troops, and the book centres on the Sniper Platoon on the roof, endured the battle while the compound was devastated by mortar and raked by RPG and rifle fire. In spite of injury and lack of provisions they decided to hang on in there rather than evacuate. The belief was that they could win this conflict, and they had no intentions of losing control of the town, in spite of the siege.and they did!

When the troops were eventually relieved, after a peace agreement had been achieved by the leading Shia Imam, the accounts were totalled. The battle group had two dead and 48 seriously wounded. The opposition dead must have run into hundreds, possibly thousands! One Victoria Cross was awarded to the battle group, Two Conspicuous Gallantry Crosses, (one down from the VC.) There were many other medals including a 'Mention in Dispatches' for the leader of the Sniper platoon, 'Sniper One himself, Sergeant Dan Mills.

We are left with a better understanding of what the Iraq war meant to the troops, good information of how they fought and what the war meant to the ordinary soldier, and an unforgettable experience of 'being there with them.' Books such as this show the army for what it is and bring home to us the reality of war, both the heroics and the routine. It is wise to read this and understand better the experience of war that the media cannot bring us. The rights and wrongs of the war cannot be dealt with by such books, soldiers ask questions much later if at all. However what it means and how it affects men can be gleamed by this honest appraisal of the action.

Snow is Horrid!

The freezing, gray clouds above me are arriving from the far northern reaches of Russia are bringing cold white lumps of horribleness that are falling everywhere. Snow! Snow that horrible white stuff that brings nothing but cold, wet, misery everywhere.The roads get blocked, trains stop running, aircraft fall from the sky as their wings freeze, and on the ground some nutter is running around saying "Isn't it lovely?"And dancing around in the stuff. Well NO It's NOT actually! It's horrid!!!And I hope you catch pneumonia!

Opposite me the gentle falling white flakes have landed, lying thickly on the ground, but nowhere near as thick as the people who like this stuff and are walking about gleefully slipping over and breaking bits of themselves. These flakes are still landing as I write, and while I write I wear three vests, four shirts, two pullovers, two pairs of trousers, four socks on each foot, my ex army boots, a woolly hat and gloves with the fingers cut out to avoid frostbite! Gallons of hot drinks are poured down my throat but the chill remains, and the cause is Russian snow! Through 'Jack Frost' on the window I can see the park gardeners completing the igloo they will use to survive until going home time. Around them teams of huskies pull people home from Christmas shopping, icicles hanging from frozen blue noses. I am sure I saw David Attenborough chasing a polar bear or a walrus a minute ago. Across the country folk are moving about on ski's and having what they call 'fun?' Are these folk mental?

Cars will be crashing all day, insurance companies rubbing their hands as they refuse to pay out, "Act of God, mate, out of our hands the weather like," they will lie while pocketing a bonus. TV will carry pictures of broken cars, skidding ambulances, grounded rescue helicopters and of course some nutter in a red suit with reindeer in the High Street. SANTA DOESN'T EXIST YOU PLONKER! It's just a Coca Cola advert! On top of this the 'Daily Mail' reader will be complaining the gritters are not out, their road is always last, and it's all the governments fault and they should lower our taxes! Personally I cannot be doing with these Moaning Minnie's. Just get on with it I say!

In Copenhagen the masses are arguing about money halting global warming while they ought to be developing ways of sharing out all that sunshine that is wasted on Africans! Why should the Sahara need all that sunshine when the rest of us are freezing in our homes! How come the Mediterranean gets hours of sunshine day by day and we live under a gray cloud half the time? It's just not fair and it is time those attending (at great expense) Copenhagen's 'Jolly' got their lazy heads around sharing out the sunshine in a more fair manner, e.g. by giving it to us!

Right, until this horrid snow clears up I am going back to bed, If I can thaw out the blankets.

Freezing Cold!

It's too cold to post here in this freezing place.
So here is a picture of somewhere warm where I ought to be!

Joy!

Joy indeed. I had to attend an interview I did not want to go to and was quite down about this. Some things are forced upon us and I was going to go through with it as all options otherwise failed. Joy of joys! Someone had been stealing the copper wire used in railway signals and set fire to a station on the line! There was no way I could reach my destination! Hallelujah! Phoning the contact I discovered there was no other dates as this was the last! So, sadly, that job has gone and I am back to looking for something that I can actually do! Whatever that is?
Who says prayer does not get answered?


Today in1911 Norwegian explorer Roald Amundsen became the first man to reach the South Pole. Quite what made him do this in wintertime is beyond me. Why didn't he wait until summer when it would be warmer and the journey so much easier? I have never understood why anyone would wish to spend an enormous amount of time and energy crossing vast acres of ice in subzero temperatures. Just what is the joy in having your toes frozen off? Give me sunshine and warmth every time I say.
Anyway Roald made the journey with the usual Norwegian efficiency. He used dogs rather than the horse which I believe Scott used, and prepared solely for an attempt on the Pole, rather than a scientific exploration. He reached the pole a month before Scott, leading the British effort. Scott was of course regarded as a hero,but the more I hear of him the less I find this to be the case. Shackleton made an effort on the Pole also but turned back as he was unwilling to lose his men. Indeed at one time he left many men on the continents edge and bravely sallied forth on a desperate journey to South Georgia to find a ship with which to rescue his men. Scott's determination to get to the Pole first left him careless of both his life and his men's. Amundsen, on the other hand, was Norwegian, and as such better prepared I guess to make such a journey.
The Norwegians are an underestimated people.
Sad people with an ice fetish can find out more here on Cool Antarctica.
Though why these folk need to refer to it as 'cool' is beyond me, the place is freezing surely?

Sunday

Tiger Woods
Please shut up about this man!
He always had to much publicity, he is just a golfer, and being a top golfer who is black may sell papers but I don't want him in my face daily.
Men who are rich and famous will always draw attention from women on the make, especially when they trek the world leaving their wives behind them. So the temptation will always be there, and many other men will be found giving in to similar temptations.
However it is strange how Tiger is seen as the bad one and the girls involved are found rushing to the media to tell their tale, for a lot of cash I imagine. I wonder how much the one paid a million to keep quiet will get after telling the press about that?
It happens, and we have no idea what his relationship to the woman who married multi millionaire famous golfer Woods actually is. It is none of our business!
So please get it off the screen, and send the gold diggers involved to Afghanistan to do some good for the troops there! That'll teach 'em!





The other day Prime minister Gordon Brown held a get together for Christian leaders at Downing Street "intended to ‘celebrate Christmas and the contribution of Britain’s churches’" apparently. Well over a hundred attended, standing around holding a wine glass and wondering who most of the others were and what was the PM up to? A choral group, 'All The King’s Men' sang carols and the PM, son of a Church of Scotland minister, attempted to pretend he still cared about God, although some would feel any faith he had has been eroded by political ambition. There is no doubt his fathers ministry led Gordon's way into social caring, and at the back of his mind this is still his thing, although I see it as having long since faded away.

Shock horror however, in the middle of all this Nicky Gumbel, founder of the Alpha Course, suggested a moment's prayer! According to the 'Daily Mail' report this caused consternation for some!

One who was there said: ‘It was quite bizarre. Suddenly Nicky Gumbel was up in front of everybody urging them to pray for Gordon Brown and for the success of the Copenhagen summit.‘Everybody there had some connection with Christian churches and maybe some members of the more evangelical, Pentecostal churches were comfortable with it. But a lot of traditional church people found it deeply awkward and inappropriate.’

Guests included Roman Catholic Cardinal Cormac Murphy-O’Connor and the Bishop of Southwark, Tom Butler. Southwark is the centre of the liberal, 'gay,' wing of the Church of England. Just imagine them forced to watch someone, with support from several others, praying to Jesus as Lord? I love the fact that some found it 'deeply awkward and inappropriate!'

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Tired

Saturday

.

Wahing Machine

My new machine arrived today, and I happily encouraged the chaps as the took the very heavy old one down the awkward, difficult stairs, and then brought the heavy new one up the awkward, difficult stairs again. I gave them 20 as a tip, I thought they deserved it. I just hope it doesn't stick in any vending machine they use.

To install I undid the screws as instructed, then put them back as I had taken the back of and not the three screws holding the spacers! I inserted the water inlet pipe in place, then reinserted the inlet pipe and ensured it was tightened properly this time, and shoved the drain hose into place in the standpipe.

Following instructions I set it going, carefully selecting the appropriate setting for the first trial wash to clear any gunge that had developed doing construction. I then stood nonplussed until I realised the electric plug was not switched on. Once I had moved it out once again and flicked the switch (what numpty put the plug there?) and waited. It worked!

It was so quiet! The previous old machine was like a steam roller when it got going and then much more when the spinning started! The whole building shook! My neighbours were not always pleased at this. This one was amazingly quiet. Even when the spin cycle was working. However as always my luck was, well, my luck. Suddenly there was a splashing sound as the drain hose had left the standpipe and was emptying out all over the floor! This was a nuisance I thought. Tsk! However by making use of the sink I managed to overcome this problem but still cannot work out how to ensure the standpipe takes the water away without having to stand over the sink ensuring the hose does not drown the building. Naturally I am working in a confined space and have already pulled three muscles, bruised several body parts and await the stiffness in the morning.
Labour saving devices are great are they not?

Shift

So I decided to fix the gears. It has been a while since they fell apart and now I have chanced upon some cash, (playing a mouth organ outside the shops helped a lot. I was given £5 from each shop I stopped at and told to **** off and quick!) so I ran off and bought a new shift gear change. Yesterday I attempted to install this device. having glanced at the paperwork and comments in books from 'experts' it was clearly a simple thing to do.
As you will be aware major operations are stalled by small objects. A massive engineering project by 'Green protesters,' a proposed new township by 'Nimbys, (Not in my back yard!) and watching football by the wife! So it was that when I placed the shift on the handlebars it stuck halfway! No amount of pressure would shift the shift! I struggled, twisted it, pushed it, prayed over it and cursed it, but it remained half way. Losing pounds by exertion I stopped to breathe again when suddenly I realised there was a screw on the bottom to tighten the brute. I reached for the Allen Keys to loosen it. There was no one small enough! Grrrr noises began to fill the air. But I managed to remember that I was not one to complain and continued in a long suffering manner. It was too late last night to do anything about this latest calamity so early this morning I trooped around the shops before the women could get in the way. A set eventually was found at a cost of £2.99. Home I trooped triumphant.
It made no difference!
Loosened screw or not the brute still stuck solidly.
I returned to sweating and swearing, which worked to a satisfactory degree in that the shifter almost reached its allotted place. The rest of the day has been spent dirtying my hands with oil and mud, fitting the cable, refitting the cable, looking for the black bit, then looking for the silver bit, taking them back out as it didn't work, fiddling about, and then looking for the black bit again! All I wanted was someone to knock at the door and say "Merry Christmas! just once! The cable is now on, the black and silver bits connected, possibly in the right order and the dérailleur mechanism proudly, and somewhat smugly, does not work! I have taken my oil engrained hands away for the night. Other urgent needs take priority.

Tuesday or Wednesday?

I rose at my usual time, half an hour after throwing the alarm through the window, and headed for the coffee. Today I was careful to be less dozy after yesterday's disaster. Starting the morning as I was to continue the day I filled the cafetiere (that's your actual French that is) with coffee, fiddled about in the kitchen and knocked the cafetiere onto the floor, smashing it and burning a one inch hole in my foot with the hot beverage!
"Goodness gracious," I said as I stared dumbly at the floor, "I didn't want to do that."
The floor, by now coloured a deep brown and speckled with best Colombian coffee, as indeed was the oven, the wall, the ceiling and the pigeon outside that had been sitting on next doors roof! Somehow I knew it would not be my day.
As an aside I must explain the phrase 'Fiddled about.' This does not mean I was in fact fiddling, as I have neither a) a fiddle, or b) talent! I 'fiddled about by moving plates and cups (unwashed) to clear space for what laughingly was to pass for breakfast! Just how stale can bread be?

This morning I made my coffee in the new 'Tesco' supplied cafetiere and managed to drink it before I began putting my foot into anything. I then finished the Christmas cards, and how long does this take? I did the usual thing, having saved the cards received last year I 'Tippexed' out the signatures thereon and re-used them. I call this 'Going green!' I learned some things while passing through Aberdeen you know!
After this I wrapped the few parcels, last years unwanted presents, and affixed the stamps. You see, recycling is good! I decided to follow the advice of two sweet ladies of my acquaintance and avoid putting stamps on the packet, I just put four little dabs of glue and fool the postman into thinking the stamps have fallen off. There is a possibility these two may have passed through 'Doric Land' also. Not that I have many stamps anyway, and last year one sorting office realised the King (God Bless 'im) was dead and returned three cards to me! I have avoided putting a return address on the cards this year.


Later, after waiting half an aeon in the Post Office to post the valuable items, (Why does everybody have to pay for a Tax Disc at the same time I ask? I wandered through the town. I was dumbfounded to find the market up and running on a Tuesday and could not understand why this ought to be so. Maybe it is because of the Christmas shopping needs I thought and continued in my confused state for some time until it dawned on me this was indeed Wednesday! I am in several minds as to whether not having a proper routine is to blame or whether I am just barking? Answers on a postcard please! Anyway Matron said I must have a chaperon next time I go out and where have all the steak knives disappeared to?


I do remember meeting the pretty young lass, and they are all pretty young to me, to discuss the work situation yesterday and I remembered that this event did indeed occur on Tuesday. This left me with much homework to attend to, and I will eventually, and also led to far too much time on this here PC. Now my eye strain is back again and I have lots of letters to write and many things to read. It does not matter what folks do, in the end no-one will employ me because I am unfit, ignorant of what they require, and glaiket! I need a Lottery win urgently! Do you have any lottery system that works? I wonder how those folks that bought all those books offering Lottery winning systems got on? Do you reckon anybody ever won after using them? No, I doubt it also.

Ah well, I am off to lie in a darkened room until my mind returns! "Matron! Come and put me to bed!"

St Andrews Day

One day in the distant past it is said that a chap arrived in a small craft off the coast of Fife. he was greeted by the locals and educated them regarding Christianity. It is possible they were already influenced by this as he then persuaded them he had the bones of St Andrew (Peters brother) in a bag! At this place the town of St Andrews, now more famous for its golf course than anything else, including the University and the strange need of the students to wear that red cloak.

Whatever, Andrew became Scotland's patron saint until the reformation thankfully removed the idea of praying to dead people from the church. Since that time few in the UK have bothered about saints, although the Irish made a big thing of it, although mostly for the party I guess. Some now suggest St Andrews day in Scotland, and St Georges in England and St David's in Wales, ought to become a holiday. I doubt it ever will, who wants a holiday in November?


Still no reply from blogcatalog. I suspect that folk often have virus of some sort hanging around and have not realised this. It may well get a connection when they log on. Also there are always wee geeks sitting in their back bedrooms attempting to break into large organisations websites and leave 'Trojans' just for fun. Criminals also throw them out. Still, this annoys me as I now avoid logging in. Even if the bug is not really dangerous I still don't like it.

However I have been grateful that so many others have noticed this and have replied to the comments.

Sportingo

I came across this site recently and there are one or two very well written articles in here. Real fans writing intelligently about the game they love. Unlike the miserable, badly spelt stuff that is found in most newspapers these days. This is a particularly good one that is worth a read and possibly a comment from the intelligent reader. (No I didn't write it, it makes sense!)

Blog Catalog Problems

On Saturday morn I attempted to log in to Blog Catalog. As I did so my 'Avast' anti virus indicated there was a 'JS Downloader' virus associated with the page linked to:-
http://triplopak.com/documents/?s=576.
I attempted to log in this morning and found another similar warning, this time linked to :-
http://maranack.com/documents/?s=576

On both occasions I e-mailed Blogcatalog and warned them of this.
I just wonder if any other have found this warning?
Avast is quite good and indicates a lot more virii than other anti virus I have found, but I wonder if others have come across this?

Saturday Night

Yesterday I walked across the park and snapped the sky above. Today was similar, until the rain started! Chilly and sunny, somewhat like Antarctica I would say. Spoiled only by my need to shop, watch Scotland lose and rugby, and fall over the pavement in the middle of the market in front of everybody. My goalkeeping skills came to the fore as I rolled as I fell and hit the road on my shoulder, rolled over and rose as gracefully as an idiot falling in a public place can be. I was impressed by the way the crowds offered to rescue me, muttering, "What a shame no bus was passing,2 and "He is missing his Zimmer frame." Why was the sun shining at this time I ask?

Hero's

Cynic that I am I was sent pondering this afternoon about our 'Hero's,' or at least our use of the term, for our soldier boys. There are myriad US websites, blogs, and what have you, all dedicated to their 'Hero' soldiers, 'Fighting the good fight.' Whether they, or indeed the men fighting, actually understand why they were sent to Iraq to search for a man situated deep in the Pakistan hills is doubtful. However the desire to support the loved one in a dangerous situation is to be lauded.

I am a little bit concerned we are falling into this trap also in the UK. A short while ago the media was full of politicians and generals informing us that we need to 'support the troops.' What they really meant was we need to 'support the war,' but this did not fool many. For why? Well there was no animosity towards the 'troops,' in any way shape or form. Even the Guardian and other left leading papers, mags and blogs, did not attack the troops. In fact they gave the safety of the troops as one reason to bring them home from an unnecessary conflict. The 'Hero's' were not being attacked, the war was!

We however are in danger of adopting the schmaltzy Yank manner of dealing with this. Soldiers, indeed policemen who die when washed away in storms, are not 'Hero's' in a slushy sense. They are, brave, dedicated, and never rewarded adequately certainly, but not comic book 'hero's,' and ought not to be used in this fashion. This attitude feeds the platitudes of politicians and Hack newsmen, along with some of the relatives, but as a nation we do not respond so well to the schmaltz.
Anyway, thinking of the conversation with a sergeant in 3 Para where we mentioned this poem which sums up much of the truth about folks approach to soldiers. It says it all as human nature never changes!

TOMMY

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
  O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
  But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
  The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
  O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
  For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
  But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
  The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
  O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
  Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
  But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
  The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
  O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
  While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
  But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
  There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
  O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
  For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
  But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
  An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
  An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

Rudyard Kipling Complete Collection Poems

The 'eyes' have it!

National Eye Inst

My eyes hurt, My knees tremble, my fitness is equal to that of a ninety year old who has just fallen all the way down Mont Blanc! Otherwise all is well, except for the stink in this place, the debts, the rain clouds outside and in, the dole hassling me to take work that isn't there, and the funny looks women give me when I follow then through the park.
Otherwise all is well.
So I am not on the PC much as it hurts my eyes after five minutes, and I write this on a gray background to lessen the impact on me, plus I have already dimmed the bright screen so I cannot see what I am writing. Not that this would make much difference.

I am bereft without the PC! I attend to those things left idling but compose words for the PC as I do this but to no effect. I do find that age old problem that compositions made in the mind are very different when put down in writing! How come?

The eye is a masterful creation. Have you looked into them recently, no dear, not like that! So small inside, so complicated, and yet so marvellous. And they say it was just evolution! Ha! What fools we are.

Ban Christmas Adverts

Ban Christmas Adverts!
The telly is full of falsely jolly people bouncing out of shops, grinning inanely at one another, happily stuffing themselves, and encouraging us to rush out and join in.
STOP IT!!!!!!!!!!!!!
These people made these adverts months ago, earned stupidly large amounts of cash for them, and on top of this the chances of them spending this cash in the shops they advertise is extremely low!
Reality brings crowded shops, unhappy people, overpriced gash, and short tempers and hate!
Those who stuff themselves end up steaming, arguing and fighting with one another. Peace on earth does not exist in such homes. Where love exists it is found with its head down the lavvy pan late at night or lying with a bad head in the morning. The question, "What did I do?" goes through many heads.
I am sick of Christmas already! Did you notice?

Maldon

Yesterday a friend (yes I do have them) and I wandered down to the Blackwater Estuary at Maldon, eventually. It was an excellent place to be for a short time. The sun shone, the sky was blue and he cameras found one or two items to picture. The estuary lays host to a wide selection of vessels. mostly yachts of those rich enough to afford one. We did wonder if they ever got to use them or just sat there, Riviera style, and boasted of their wealth to their neighbours. There were also a number of Thames barges lined up, now used for tourist trips and special events. These were once found carrying the cargo of the day up and down the Thames, reaching up the East Anglian coast. Similar vessels, called 'Wherries,' worked the same route from places like Yarmouth in similar fashion. Few remain now and what was once a hard life of slog and little reward now is seen as fun and relaxation, if you pay for it that is!

Maldon makes sea salt further down. For centuries they have taken the sea, dried it, and left behind natural salt. Now, I hope in a cleaner environment, this trade is carried on with much success. Each year the mud, seen by the boat in the picture, is where the great 'Maldon Mud Race' takes place. A suitable part of the estuary is chosen at low tide and the cheery nutters volunteers, dressed in a wide variety of outfits, attempt to race from one side to the other through the mud. Only in this country could such events take place! I have not volunteered.


In spite of the estuary, and all those round about, being filled with yachts of all sizes and the Thames barges further along, I found this the best vessel there. Somehow this rust bucket tug, no doubt having seen much good service, appealed much more to me than all the other sailing vessels. This somewhat tarnished when the over friendly tug boat cat got under my feet in an attempt to find friends and attempted to hurl me into the Blackwater itself. I suppose it is all the hard work, tacking, rope pulling and such like that puts me off. Just switch on the engine and go, or shout at the engineer down below until she does, that's more my style.

Painted Church

On the way there we first visited this little church at Faistead famous for their wall paintings. Some of these, seen in the link, were done in the 13th century and covered over during the reformation. One large on hangs over the nave, and other small ones are found elsewhere. They were uncovered in 1890 during a renovation and renovated in the thirties. The church contains lots of Roman bricks which show an old villa once stood here, and it always leaves me wondering just how many people have passed through this building, and whatever went before. The people who 'worshipped, some willingly, and the difficulties encountered by the leaders during the reigns of kings and queens who changed from catholic to protestants and back again. Churches are never the peaceful places of myth.

Not only did I enjoy dragging my unfit fat body around, and why do they built towns on hilltops anyway? But I also journeyed with a man who has been a very good friend, and for little return, over many years. It made the day out all the better, especially when he insisted on stopping off for his latest craze, visiting a tea shop! So we sat in the Waterside Tea Rooms and stuffed ourselves with coffee and scone. I recommend this place!

Eye Info

Being a weary soul much of the time these days is bad enough, but at the weekend my eye decided to play up. I thought it was just strain caused by using the PC in poor light, and when natural daylight disappears it always causes a strain for my eyes. However the ache increased on Saturday and I began to see bright crescents where I had not before, and on Sunday a new type of 'floater' appeared across the eye, a dark spidery like thing that was not there before. But
naturally I searched the web, studied carefully all I found but cried myself to sleep handled the situation bravely until I saw the quack doctor this morning. He listened, all the while pinning a notice to his wall,
"Feel free to waste my valuable time"
it read, and he investigated by shining that little light into my eye blinding me as he did so. he muttered and silently fussed, asking relevant questions and refused to doubt my story even though he could see no fault. "Typical," I thought,"I've discovered a new disease!" However he typed away on the PC and gave me a list of hospitals to choose from and fix up an appointment with an opthim, othimp, optham, an eye doctor in December. It least it is not something obviously bad, just some loose matter in the jelly like substance in the eye. A real nuisance when reading as light backgrounds show it up, and I read a lot.

Good job I am not one to complain, or I would rant about it.

Burley Sacked

George Burley (Telegraph)

There is no shock that George Burley has been sacked as coach of the Scottish Football team. There is some surprise that it happened so quickly but on the other hand the Glasgow Mafia have wanted rid of him for some time. Already they are on Sky Sports putting forward Walter Smith as 'stand in manager.' How surprising is that? Nothing has been said by the OF journalists ( a word used with great care where they are concerned) regarding George Peat resigning however. The suits will always make sure they keep their jobs. So who is next? Big names will not take it, why should they leave comfortable EPL or Championship clubs where the potential is greater than that provided by being the whipping boy of an OF led press corps? Craig Levein, who would stand up to the press and sulky players, the man Clarke, working at West Ham, Eric Black I think was mentioned, but there again the list of probables is endless. Ah well, there will be no quick coronation, not until the money is sorted out anyway!

Cape Kennedy

Watching the launch of the latest space shuttle I was less impressed with the machine reaching 2000 miles per hour in one and a half minutes than I was with the idea of actually seeing this happen live! We forget that the wonders of technology allow us to observe from a position on the outside of the craft as she heads towards the Mir space station. Cameras on the ground follow the craft as she reaches 13 miles high and we take this for granted, as a right, to see this! Just a few years ago I can remember the first 'Telstar' signal coming in from the US. A gray black & white picture on a rolling screen gave us an indication of the future and we were astounded. Today we watch similar on our PCs and complain only about the cost of the ISP. How lucky we are to live at such a time. However all the labour saving devices, all the technological marvels that make life so much better do not appear to make us any happier. There is more to life than possessions and the technological wonders around us, and how often we forget this and grumble.
I am just glad I am not one to complain.......