Bike

So I eventually get around to fixing the puncture.

I struggle to turn the nut to release the wheel, always the back wheel of course, and, covered in filth, bring it upstairs. The tyre lever has disappeared. A silver tool fails to release the tyre. Neither does that strange shaped thing in the tool box, nor does a screwdriver, nor a combination of several tools! Scrambling for something in the rubble I find the tyre lever, (how did it get there?) and with a great deal of effort move the tyre sufficiently to remove, with a struggle, the inner tube. I shove it, by now willingly, into water and note the hole. Removing it from the water I lose the place and struggle through pumping and drowning the thing again, this time having some way of marking the tiny hole that causes the grief. 
Another search in the tool box for the box of patches. Plenty of those, lots of those white chalk bits, some emery paper scraps, a few yellow crayons and NO rubber solution!
I clean my filthy hands and soon afterwards make for the dole office where a nice young lass signs me on amid smiles and encouragement. Clearly she does not know how to do her job! I wander about looking for things connected to the Great War history of the town that I have been studying, and arrive home, hot, sweaty, and flushed. As I pass the bike remember I have forgotten the new puncture outfit! I leave it till later! Just before five I rush to the shops and find one in an overpriced shop dealing in motor items/ bike stuff. This is run by guys who smile at you while lifting your wallet. You know the smart ass type in such shops, not allowed to sell used cars as used car salesmen don't trust them, that sort. I find myself paying £2:99 for this small box! £2:99! I was expecting to pay 99p! Stunned, and determined never to return, I head home.
So stunned the thing is still sitting here beside me. At least the rubber solution is a decent size this time, although there is not much else in there, bar the small bit of emery paper and a couple of patches. 
£2:99, and they say Dick Turpin lived around here? I believe them!

Cumbernauld

Chris Upson

Cumbernauld

Should it be bulldozed?

Punctured!

With the dawn already risen I rode out at 5:15 the other morning to enjoy the quiet before the day starts. Being up that early meant I passed the postmen going into work and the early bird catching the worm. (I do not refer to postmen when mentioning 'worm.') I sauntered around in what was a warm sun at that time and thoroughly enjoyed the time. Later, as I took my stiffening knees out to the shops, I noticed the tyre was flat. "Strange," I thought wondering why this should be? Later I pumped air into the tyre, the rear tyre as all punctures have to be there, and watched as the worn rubber slowly deflated again. On the journey I had run over some minute object which had done the deed.   


This means I am on my knocked knees wandering the streets instead of trolling through the countryside enjoying the damp weather. This is somewhat of a blow, especially as I am too lazy to fix the puncture. The problem is the back wheel. This has to come off, the gears moved, the grease, dirt and oil has to be spread all over the wall, the carpet and even the ceiling if last time is anything to go by. Hours later the tyre has to be replaced, and inflated. Now I don't know about you but in my experience when this happens, the wheel tightened, the gears replaced, and all is well, then by the next morning it is flat again! So the ten minute job, according to those who write books, takes three or four days before it is finished! The idea of riding the brute after that loses all interest as the fear of another puncture fills the oil covered mind. 


Tomorrow I begin the operation. If it is finished by Friday I will be very surprised! 

.

A Very Random Sense Poem

Black Cat

   A Very Random Sense Poem


I saw a black cat as black as the ocean at night
I saw a young man as mad as a hatter
I saw a puppy as fierce as a lion


I heard the wind as fierce as the sun's blaze
I heard a faint cry from a man as poor as a church mouse
I heard her voice as clear as a whistle 
I heard the girl sing as sweet as honey from a hive


I felt the ghost's cold touch as cold as frostbite
I felt the warm coat as warm as wool
I felt the dog's ears as soft as silk


I smelt the gas as strong as a horse
I smelt a rose as red as blood
I smelt the smoke as bold as brass
I smelt a daffodil as yellow as a banana


I tasted a peach as good as gold
I tasted a lemon as bitter as vinegar
I tasted a strawberry as red as a rose
I tasted a banana as yellow as a chick




Rhiaan




.

Sir John de Stricheley

This story interested me the other day, an archaeological reconstruction of a face from a skull discovered at Stirling Castle in 1997.  Nine skeletons were discovered under the stones of what once was a royal chapel in the castle once long lost through many reconstructions over the years. A team from the University of Dundee (yes it does have a proper University) led by forensic anthropologist Professor Sue Black have put a face to one of the dead. This turned out to be a man with the body of a professional rugby player, in his mid twenties and one who had suffered serious injuries in previous battles. Unusually documentary materials survive from the time of his death and evidence from his bones indicate he was from the south of England, that explains the thuggish looks I suppose. Putting these together it is now believed, but I suppose can never be conclusively proved, to be Sir John de Stricheley, a knight who was killed there in 1341. At that time the English dominated the castle and the peace loving Scots were requesting, through peaceable means, the Sassenachs to go back from where they came from. During one of these negotiations it is likely this invader managed to catch one of the Scots arrows, peacefully offered as an incentive to depart, with part of his body and, as you do, perished from the earth.  As Mark Twain out it, "I didn't attend the funeral, but I sent a nice letter saying that I approved of it." 


If this is indeed he, then it is clear that coming from a 'noble' background he would naturally be involved with the fighting way of life. Politicians today back-stab while smiling, in the 14th century one whipped out a sword or club and took ones opponents head off. It saved all that bother with voting papers I suppose. You had to be tough to get to the top, and Kings no less than knights fought in ferocious battles. Indeed it was said of the 'Black Douglas' that when he arrived in Spain to fight in the Crusades (not all Crusaders went to the Middle East, many fought the Moors in Spain) others remarked on his handsome features! They were all battle scarred veterans of many conflicts, often with each other, while he had managed to keep his good looks. Well I suppose he was only fighting Englishmen anyway.  


Among the dead were the remains of a female, unnamed, who had had her face smashed in with a heavy club. The mind boggles at the fighting and how this incident occurred. The idea of gentle women is often put forward by pushy feminists, however human nature shows them often in the roughest places, and a castle under siege is extremely rough! Unless she had an extremely high rank it is unlikely she will have been mentioned in any document and will probably forever remain nameless. One day all the relevant details of the skeletons will be known although the chances of linking them to a name appears slight.. 


Another interesting point is that the forensic anthropologist is a woman. have you noticed just how many woman get involved in such study. Thinking back to my NHS days I realise now just how many females worked in the path lab, some I was told were 'brilliant!' The person in charge was a female (she said!) although any similarities to the creature who fought crime in a puerile TV drama ends when you consider she spent more time sitting beside us gossiping, when she appeared, and then ran off elsewhere! Women do appear to find science, and this type in particular, fascinating.

Useful Scots Words

This picture is 'acquired' from Graham Stewart's blog on the BBC Site using the Scots language. 

It is dated from last year but worth a read - if you can cope with the Scots language!

Language is a flowing medium. Words used in one era are unacceptable today. 'Peculiar' for instance, once implied you stood out from the crowd, as in 'a peculiar people,' which would possibly be rendered, 'an exclusive people,' today. Similarly words used in one part of Scotland are not used in another. Anyone called 'George' in Edinburgh is often referred to as 'Dode!' Why I do not know, I can only tell you that it is so! I am unaware of this happening anywhere else in Scotland but remain open to contradiction.  


Here are some words I occasionally use down here in the English wilderness and I must confess wish I could use more often. How ever the mind responds to those around us and they rarely come to mind here. Funnily enough crossing the border enables Scots words to rise to the surface of the mind. For instance on one occasion I was flying into Edinburgh airport (I was in a plane) and as we flew over the darkened Firth of Forth, the lights of Kirckaldy on one side and similar lights from Leith glimmering on the left, the plane shuddered in the air flow. "Gey shoogly," I thought to myself, and realised immediately that had I been approaching Stansted I would have remarked "A lot of turbulence around tonight."  Scots words are indeed more homely, and in that case more appropriate!


Here are some I like.The come from the 'First Foot Dictionary,' which is a must read! 


Barry  Splendid, good, wonderful

Clatty  Actually this is Clarty in Edinburgh. 

               Adj-- meaning dirty,unkempt as in-- He could dae wae a guid wash!

Dreich  ADJ.Description of the usual Scottish weather viz:Damp, dreary, overcast, drizzling, threatening to pish doon, looks like it will stay like this for weeks.......

      

Drookit  Soaked to the skin.

               Ah'll need tae get hame an dry aff,that rains got me drookit.

Galoot  An idiot.  A wonderful word, and often put into use near me, er hold on.....
             Yah big galoot ye, yuv let the aligator oot.


Glaikit  Another of my favourite words! Much used in my family!
ADJ. Stupid, foolish, thoughtless, vacant. As in "Awa, yi glaikit bastirt!" 
           Often used of gadgies, minkers and schemies.


numptie moron.  This is the snob way of spelling this. 


Numpty (Numb tea). A useless individual.See that Hugh Keevins?
               He's a right numpty, see that Chick Youngl? He's a real numpty.


Nyaff (Kneeyaff). Annoying wee bugger, especially applicable to a politician. 
               See you ya wee nyaff if ye dinnae bugger aff yer gettin' a bash in yer mooth


Peelly wally  Unwell, extremely pale and tired - usually referred to children (and me) when unwell


Teuchter   Anyone living outside the central belt of Scotland. Actually it is the folks north of the central  belt the highlanders! To the Lowlanders they are indeed Teuchters!


Toerag A scamp, scallywag, mild form of bastirt. (from forces slang "Tuareg"-an Arab)


Radge Adj. Crazy person, madman. What you looking at me for? 
               Verb. To do something crazy

Bank Holiday

Today was a 'Bank Holiday' in the UK. It was possible to know this because a) the banks were closed, b) most shops were closed and c) the sun disappeared! Although the weather is joked about in every part of the nation one joke is almost always right, if it is a holiday the clouds will arrive! The British Isles, as opposed to Britain, is situated to the east of the Atlantic Ocean. This means that anything affecting the sea affects the land. Any disturbance, a hurricane in the Gulf of Mexico, or the wind changing direction over the sea, creates a change in the weather patters here, almost always bringing rain clouds! Luckily the weather often changes direction and winds blow from the east. This you will be pleased to hear does not bring horrid rain, however as it begins in the Arctic Circle and passes over Russia, Poland and several refrigerator factories it brings only    freezing cold winds and snow drifts. If it arrives from the north it brings the same cold result, with the occasional Icelandic volcano thrown in to upset the airline people. I have noted wind coming from the south on occasions,the wind from the Sahara that rushes across Spain occasionally brings warmth to this land, although it leaves the sand in the Spaniards homes thankfully.  


The weather does bring benefits of course. One English king, his name escapes me but they are all the same butchering, imperialist type, chased a Scottish army one summer in another failed attempt to dominate there. The Scots withdrew and withdrew into the hills and the king doggedly followed after them. Unfortunately for him it was raining heavily at the time and his army and their stores suffered badly. Living off the land was impossible and after three weeks, yes three weeks, of the constant rain his troops began to rebel and he went home disappointed!  


The doom mongers were telling us recently that the UK would gain a Mediterranean climate under 'global warming' which some tell us will heat the planet and it's all our fault (always man's fault, never woman's you will note), others tell us that 'global warming' does not exist and it's all man's fault. I am rather annoyed that we will not be sitting under our own fig tree and drinking home made wine. Tea and toast do not have the same elegance I reckon.


  

Sunday Evening

This afternoon I had the delight of watching Engerland playing their last friendly match against Japan. It was a delight to me! Japan are not the mediocre side of the past, however they are still not world beaters as yet. England had most of the play and yet did not dominate their hard working opponents, indeed they went behind to a nicely worked goal early on. Cue cheering from me! The second half saw a better England side, even the commentators had begun to realise their boys were not doing very well in the first half! Yes it was that bad! A silly penalty from naive Jap defending ought to have given the equaliser to Frank Lampard. I could see from here where the ball was going (goalkeepers instinct never die) but I did not expect the goalie to save it and he did! Laugh, what me? Oh yes! Sadly as the home side desperately attempted to sort themselves out the unfortunate defenders twice put the ball into their own net! This game revealed to almost everyone the nature of England's footballing record. Not organised or capable, yet get lucky penalties and even luckier goals. This makes them think they are world beaters! In a few days they will be playing for real. I look forward to how they deal with the top sides opposing them, oh hold on they have the easy group once again! Indeed they have, USA, Algeria & Slovenia! Now I must say the USA now have a quite powerful side and the contest will be between these two, and I am looking out my USA flag for that game! Algeria are poor and Slovenia I am not sure about at all just now. Still, in a couple of weeks we the hype reaches its zenith and then comes the fall! Wooppee!

A nice picture for a Sunday evening. Unfortunately I cannot remember where I got this nor who the artist is. However I like pictures of this type and will find out the answers soon enough. Good innit?

In today's Telegraph we find Ken Clark, the only Tory I have any time for, defending David Laws after the ex- Treasury minister stepped down. This is loyalty and understandable but what does this situation tell us about government today?

Laws, who made his money in the city and became a millionaire by the time he was 22 I heard, had been claiming expenses for a flat used by his boyfriend. Claiming they were not 'in a relationship' so I suppose they were just friends who played with one another?  What irks me is not their private life, which always ought to remain private, but that a multi millionaire, demanding vast cuts in government departments which may lead to thousands of job cuts, is using tax payers money (@ 'Daily Mail') to the tune of £40,000 to pay for his weekends away! Resigning this morning he continues to imply he has 'done nothing wrong' and cannot see how this financial misuse is unacceptable? Do these people not live in the real world? I suppose he never has, his background and work life are not similar to one cleaning office floors or sitting on a checkout getting bored.

Ken Clark, who ought to be the leader of the Conservative Party in my view, is right in saying this man may well reappear in a year or so, and I suspect this will be right, however parliament needs to realise just how out of touch many of them are!

Summertime

You can tell it's summertime by the rain!

This picture was published in the 'Daily Mail' this morning. In between the many (far too many) articles demanding benefit claimants are hanged, drawn and quartered, and that all MP's are grasping thieves, they occasionally offer something interesting or, as in this case, 'sweet!'  Here we find eleven young Long Tailed Tits sitting on a branch being fed by mum. For some reason she looks a bit worn, I wonder why? I did read somewhere that Blue Tits catch around 18,000 caterpillar beasties for their young. I wonder how hard this mum and dad have been working in recent days? The harsh winter has badly affected small birds this year, so many less around here in comparison to last summer, but at least these residing in the RSPB reserve in Yorkshire will be supported in their new life.

You may remember the story of 'Half Hangit Maggie' from a while back. The lass who was hanged and considered dead, yet revived on the way to her burial. An e-book, "The Hanging of Margaret Dickson" by Alison. J Butler, is now available on Amazon.com, price 99 cents. .

Friday Evening Musings

I really like the wee blue flowers that pepper the area just now and no matter how hard I try I just cannot get a decent picture of them. The fact that most of them are two feet off the ground at most does not help! This feeble effort, hindered and not helped by the flash being on when I thought it was off, is the best of today's effort! Shameful innit?  I understand yellow flowers abound at this time of year to attract insects, why do so many blue ones appear also? I do like them and Susan has some in her garden, and a few better pictures than my talent camera can obtain.   

I had some dumb spammer, or his PC, send a dozen unreadable spam messages onto my comments today. Most went to items going back yonks. What is the point in sending out spam that nobody can read? I suspect it originated in China or somewhere in the far east as my PC is not set up to translate their doodles but I am not sure. It just wastes my time deleting the stuff and their millisecond sending it out. If you must spam, spam in English, then at least most folk will know what kind of porn you are offering.

What me? Cynical? Never!

Craig Levein hopes England will win the World Cup? He claims this will improve football in England, and Scots players earning large sums of cash there. Or is he just following the Rangers backed SFA line, which is 'support our team in spite of a thousand years of English oppression as it keeps the Ulster folks happy?' If this turns out to be the case then Craig can go now. He has already brought back self obsessed Rangers players, on his 'own decision' he claims. he is willing to play anyone with a tin of shortbread willing to be called 'Scots' even though this is not necessary in my view, nor is it right! The future makeup of 'Scotland' is being altered out of our control by suits and people on the make!

Dunkirk 70 Years On.

Little Ships Commemoration 

There are so many anniversaries commemorating events from the second world war these days. Each one with less veterans of the event with each passing year. Usually they commemorate victory, Dunkirk celebrates defeat! Hitler's army had smashed its way through France with one man noted that he drove over the Somme  battlefield in one day while his forefathers had spent four years there. (The 'Battle of the Somme' in 1916 lasted from July 1st until late November.) British and French forces, armed with inferior weaponry, were forced into withdrawal. Eventually they gathered on the beach at Dunkirk and disaster loomed. 


Meanwhile Goering had persuaded the Fuhrer that his Luftwaffe would destroy the trapped armies on the beach. Hitler ordered his Panzers to stop and gave the tired Brits an opportunity. With the nation only too aware of the Nazi danger a call went out for boats to help, they came in their the hundreds! Crossing the Channel they picked up men from the beach and took them to the destroyers and larger ships waiting to return them to Blighty. The cost was tremendous! Many ships were destroyed by strafing and bombing, a great many volunteer sailors suffered alongside the men they were attempting to rescue. 


Back home it was announced like a victory! Over three hundred thousand British and French were rescued from captivity and while they themselves came home ashamed at their retreat they were greeted as hero's who had escaped the enemy. In his postscript programme which was broadcast right after the news on the BBC that evening J.B. Priestley spoke of the little boats in such terms that the 'myth' of the action sunk deep into the British conscientiousness. Here was a nation now fully aware of the danger and power of the Nazi force and yet they had rescued their men from under the nose of the enemy and now were becoming bound together in their desire to stand up and oppose the foe. This was the nation that had defeated a German army twenty years ago and they were determined to do the same again. A retreat it certainly was, fear of the enemy  invading filled the land certainly, but the desire to stand and fight grew in the British people. All because of a few small boats that crossed the Channel.

The Opening of Parliament and the Queens Speech

Watching this example of 'Pomp & Circumstance' at its best I was becoming very depressed by the time 'Black Rod' entered the House of Commons. The usual, and somewhat tiring, quip from Dennis Skinner (aka 'The Beast of Bolsover') and the laughter from a small group of left leaning 12 year olds around him, the saddening sight of those who lead the United Kingdom parliament, and the despair that whoever the nation votes for we get whoever eventually manages to squeeze over the finish line and take power. Two losers on the government side, smug in their position of power, and one unbalanced woman, rejoicing in her moment of glory as leader of the opposition, today represented power in the United Kingdom. Three sad power hungry losers! 
I am just depressed by this. 


Many rejoice in the compromise coalition government and expect great things, I cannot see how? Those who believe the voting system will change from 'First past the post' to Proportional representation,' will I fear be sadly disappointed. 'Dave' will dump his boyfriend 'Nick' at the first opportunity that comes along. The backbenchers on the Conservative side will push for this at all times, and the Lib-Dem men will demand changes that rile the suits on the right. Sitting alongside his new 'partner' the Prime Minister will watch carefully his enemies on all sides, (and they will be, as always, on all sides of the house), but he will observe especially the weakness of party opposite him as they decide which smug grin will lead them forward. It is to be expected that yet another middle class, 'Saville Row' suited graduate, with no experience of the real world, will by the Autumn become the leader of what will is termed the 'opposition.' Those who can identify differences between the three men are asked to write these on a postcard and inform the rest of the world!


So many love the pomp of such occasions, however absurd much of it appears. There is nothing inherently wrong in this and all nations have their own version of historical pomp. However the power games that lie behind this homage to tradition leave me flat. Michael Portillo has just finished a run of three programmes for Radio 4 questioning what 'Democracy' actually is, how it works and asks if it is working. Well it certainly remains the best of a bad lot of systems but has one sad failing throughout, the human nature that runs it. As the leaders of the parties gathered in the door of the house of Lords to hear the Queen's speech I thought of those many similar men who had stood there, devious, twisted by jealousy and resentment, full of ambition, occasional greed for personal gain, often with an ideology more important than an understanding of what is best for the nation, many different backgrounds but in the end only one aim, to have their own way come what may! Sour as this sounds I am aware many had desires to do what was best and many advances were made which benefited the nation, however it may just be looking at the slimy faces that stood there today that narks. Personal ambition brought about a government built on a desire to grab power, not a desire to improve the world. I feel very uncomfortable about this, and within a year or two it will all be over and a single party, the Conservative Party, will regain power, until then I just wonder........ 

All Saints Cressing

I came across this magnificent Celtic cross at All Saints Church Cressing very early this morning. It belongs to a man called Colonel Sir John Page Wood, a 2nd Baronet at that! (Do you know or care what 'Baronet' means? Neither do I if truth be told!) I made the mistake of not noting down all the info and now I can find no trace of this man on the web. I recall he died in 1908 but that is all the info I can remember. I may have to search a bit more diligently for that. A Page Wood was the vicar of this small church and it is clear this family were people of substance and importance in the area. Not important enough for folks to write about them once they had departed it appears!


All Saints is an Anglo Catholic Church situated at the end of the small village of Cressing. However it is fair to say that what is described as 'Cressing' also includes several small hamlets round about. For many years the main occupation must have been agricultural I suspect. The village has seen occupation since the Iron Age and an archaeological 'dig' uncovered many finds from before Roman days to the East of the church building. Also a small number of houses were burnt down, possibly around the time of Boudica's revolt. While the church itself was begun just before 1200 evidence has discovered previous church building posts going back to the 9th century. Burial finds indicate this may well have been an area used for pagan worship for years before this.


Today the church, and village, appear quiet, the headstones around the building surrounded by Spring growth allowed to prosper to aid the cultivation of the insect wildlife which suffers deprivation these days. It is interesting to contemplate the number of people who dwelt in this village during the past two and a half thousand years. Tilling the fields at whatever period of time would have caused each to grumble at the weather and their ceaseless toil. Most would have been subject to the ruling Lord of the time, we forget just how 'free' we are today, something our predecessors would never have understood. Travellers from distant parts, even from over the far away sea, would have brought trade even here. Roman life was settled enough for large villas to be built in the district, many churches contain Roman brick, and religious life would alter slowly, in spite of whatever the rulers of the time insisted upon. Life would be dictated by the seasons, opportunities limited for much of the time, and in time of war the men would be expected to leave everything and join up. Nineteen names are found on the Great War memorial, with only one added from WWII. Like all such hamlets the house prices would shock those original inhabitants if the could come back today. A smart residence can be obtained from between £279,000 and just under half a million!   


Just a pity that the light fingered of today leads to such places being locked at all times. The history to be found inside an aged church is always worth considering. The styles of worship, the smell of the people who considered washing irrelevant, flowers left on the floor to dull the odour, reformation leading to changes, priests who could not read in times past, and those who don't know their God today, nominal churchgoers, those worshipping to keep their jobs, the rich who attend to lord it over their people, hundreds possibly thousands of souls who have walked along the path and ventured inside. History is always interesting.

Wednesday

These Ivy leaves are more interesting than what is showing on my TV. With the digital set refusing to switch on I am now missing many of the channels U have become used to. At the moment, and until fortune favours me once again, I am limited to five channels on terrestrial TV. I did not realise just how much I enjoyed 24 news channels! All day long a cocktail of house improvement programmes, antique type shows and bloody chefs fill the screen. These are interspersed by aged black and white, and occasionally, colour films or chat shows full of females and their trauma. As Groucho Marx said, "When the TV comes on I reach for a book!"

Ah Sunshine! Consonum Ensemble and US Geography

Ah Sunshine! Is not an expression used by a member of her majesties constabulary as I approach, bag full of copper wire under my arm, him in the middle of the night, it is in fact my thoughts as I looked at the picture above. Indeed sunshine has arrived this week, hidden behind periods of what I take to be volcanic ash, if the reports in the media are to be believed that is. What a difference sunshine makes to the world! OK the chill wind bringing the volcanic ash in our direction is of course leaving the Arctic Circle, crossing Iceland and running in through the cracks in the window ledge, but at least there is sufficient brightness to watch the clouds flying by high overhead.


Encouraged by the bright sky I tossed aside the ageing army blankets and leapt slowly out of bed. Slamming the radio alarm clock against the wall out of habit I breakfasted on stale bread and staler coffee and headed up the road. Taking the old Roman road west I flew down the hill like John Surtees of old and struggled up the other side like John Surtees today would on my bike. That was a slow couple of miles, and against the breeze powerful wind at that. Turning into the old railway I stopped to enjoy the early morning. The sun shone, the ponies in the field flicked their tails at flies, birds flitted from branch to branch, as did the squirrels and the wee beasties flitted over the stagnant pond, now bare of the ducks who obviously couldn't stand it any more. The sound from the bypass to my right informed the dog walkers and myself of those racing to their employment, dropping the kids of at the better schools or ending their long weary night trip from far off lands such as Birmingham and Cardiff. Guilt once again crossed my mind and I find this hard to keep away. (When I returned home another employer showed no such guilt by rejecting my advances to him, just like all the rest.) So nothing left to do but enjoy it while I can so passing the smiling dogs, and unsmiling owners, I made my way down the slope. This is of course the good bit! Having struggled up the roadway to get here I required a downward slope or a defibrillator! I used to cycle further than this you know! Anyway past the horses and the natural world around I continued homewards in contemplative mood. Happy with my efforts at attempting fitness I began the climb up the minor road near home when I was overtaken by a cyclist going up the slope at high speed. "Good Morning," she spat spitefully as she saw me struggling for it was indeed a she on the bike! "Bitch!" I thought, "Just you wait until you want a jar opened!"  As I began the last leg I noticed her heading towards the industrial estate, hopefully a forty ton lorry will mistake her for a rat and run her over! (in love obviously) 

I stole this from the excellent Ben Lomand Free Press 

a website you need to visit!

Look carefully at this picture from a US Sports broadcast!

For those of you in the Surbiton area I suggest you need to visit this 

excellent programme from the Consonum Ensemble

An excellent musical treat in store here.

Shop Fronts

I came across this shop doorway in Harwich when a beautiful woman drove me there hoping to push me into the harbour. This very small town, now somewhat run down, was abounding in public houses, probably because of the historical harbour, and certainly because the Royal Navy based the submarines there during the Greta War. However this shop doorway caught our attention and no wonder. It was closed, and appeared to have been that way for a while, and whatever product Mr Smith retailed to his clientèle was not obvious to our eyes. 

 

However the wonderful tiled picture portrays a nattily dressed male collecting fruit of some sort, possibly apples, and passing them down to his lady, also overdressed for working in the fields. There are no large superstores in the town as far as I could see but there must be one a short drive away. Such stores were the death nell for small shops and while many complain about the closure of the High Street few are willing to pay the higher prices that are charged there. 

Modern shops are not as well presented as this one, and this is a pity. Plastic and large glass panes, often with lurid lighting and lettering, now deface many otherwise attractive buildings. Many ancient tenements are ignored by the passer by however a few minutes observance will reveal the talent that went into their construction. Scotland has of course many such buildings. Scots egalitarianism was aided by the need of Edinburgh's citizens to live in close proximity on the High Street leading up to the castle. It also bred many famous diseases and this in turn led to many famous doctors learning their trade and discovering their cures simply by existing in such squalor. Life is far better today and the buildings now feature all the most modern appliances, however, as Stephen Sweeney's photo of this Glasgow example reveals, they could sometimes do with a bit of cleaning!

  

Note the pinkish sandstone much used in Glasgow, the windows, and the decoration. The quality of the work is outstanding. Compare this with the Pink shop doorway further up and wonder! 

Funny Old World

"It's a funny old world," the man said, though actually he didn't, someone having put words into his mouth. Now imagine trying to do that to a woman? However the thought was right enough as this world can be very funny at times. Many tales are heard from the United States for instance of people suing successfully for injuries received by their action. Take the man who attempted suicide by jumping in front of a train. He failed to die, suffered horrendous injuries, sued the rail company and won millions! Or the woman who sued a burger joint because she slipped on coffee spilt on the floor. Coffee spilt by her badly behaved and uncontrolled child! It happens here also, a while back a burglar fell through a glass roof of the house he was attempting to enter illegally and successfully sued the householder for his many injuries. Legally then it is indeed a 'funny old world.' 


Meaningless thoughts like this often cross my mind as I wander around town looking for something to complain about. I often creep about the supermarket car park as there is always a vehicle to grumble at, badly parked, the driver maybe throwing rubbish out of the window, or just being the wrong colour. I hate that!  If it's just grumbling I wish to fill my time with then wandering into the supermarket itself does this easily enough. Here for instance is a trick all the shops use, an exclamation mark means 'LOOK HERE! THIS IS A BARGAIN' but in fact the price has actually increased and dafties like me come along and buy twice as many as we require. Shops own beans are another good example of the funny world of ours. These were selling happily at 9p until the recession hit. Up jumped the price to 29p and the supermarkets encouraged us to buy the 'Shops own' labels. This we all promptly began to do, convinced we were getting a bargain and shovelling large handfuls of cash into the directors coffers! No wonder their profits are greater than many countries Gross National Product!  Worse than banker these folk may be however they are not worse than the women who shop therein. If there is a child screaming somewhere it will be accompanied by a deaf mother. If there is a hold up at the checkout a woman will be slowly, ever so slowly, searching for her cash, which she will pay one coin at a time. If there is a clear aisle to be found one woman plus one trolley will shortly be filling it and making the whole place grind to a halt. Men of course do not act in this manner. Men always know what they want, obtain this quickly and leave in an orderly manner, unless of course they have retired and have all day to swan about in shops. Such men take all day, chatting to everyone, forgetting what they came in for, and indulging in hour long conversations with the bored lass at the checkout. Some shops have little cards advertising local businesses near the exits. It is quite fun to take one of the cards from a local funeral director and slip it into the pockets of these men, as a hint like. Consider this, they say there are more deaths caused by arguments in kitchens, because that is where the sharp stuff happens to be, but I suspect supermarkets may lead to more deaths than people expect. You will notice there are no sharp or heavy blunt items placed near the checkouts.


This years election has of course produced some funny goings on. The absurd TV debates brought the almost totally ignored Liberal-Democrat leader Nick Clegg to the fore. Sky News had demanded the 'Leaders Debate' because they realised David Cameron's personality would outshine the dour Scot Gordon Brown. This did not happen as Clegg outshone both and suddenly the Conservative victory disappeared from sight. That made me laugh anyway! Now that no single party obtained the right to govern we have a shambles. Political skulduggery, back scratching, threats and yet behind it all are three losers who are attempting to form a government! If that is not something funny I do not know what is! They should all be out on their ear. The 24 hour TV coverage has sapped my telly so much the thing no longer works, and I cannot blame it. While the story is important do we really need such over the top coverage on 24 hour News Channels? Does nothing else happen in this world?
Ha! After I mused on that the man Clegg has seen fit to put the man 'Dave' into a position of responsibility. David Cameron Prime Minister! Is he our version of Bush? The two 'toffs' have stitched this up as they are so eager to grab a piece of the action. While I understand this I wander how things will turn out. A poor election, a poor result, and a poor government in front of us, this all augurs badly for the immediate future. I have never known an election like this! 


This week will see along queue of desperate people lining up to obtain their Lotto tickets. The roll over on Wednesday is worth £10 million and that would pay even my credit card bill. On Friday the 'Euro' Lottery offers some £87 million as a prize. It is no wonder people buy the tickets. I watched a queue last week and was put off somewhat buy the desperation in the eyes. The idea that this money, only £57 million last Friday, would end all their problems is of course a dream, but still we try. Most would be happy with enough to pay all the debts, look after the family, and possibly to retire, buy the house or take that 'special' holiday. How many of us could really cope with so much money? Could we actually spend that much? I could, but only a small portion on myself. The things that could be done to improve life in a million small ways, the smiles that could be produced by careful use of the cash, and still plenty for the self, that most evil of all creatures. However money does not bring peace an security. Illness cares nought for cash, not does misfortune or Lady Luck. What we worship we become and so many spend so much time with money they only wish to have more. Millions are never enough. There is something missing within us when we are so desperate to win that Lottery. I know it every time I find myself day dreaming of what I could do with all that lucre. Hmm is that the time. Time I put my mince and tatties on to cook..... 


My luck with technology continues. As I mentioned in passing my TV has died. It was working perfectly well earlier but when I switched it on nothing happened, a little bit like opening my wallet these days. Naturally I changed the fuse, and then blew one myself as it made no difference. I suspect this state of affairs may continue for a while now. I could make an effort to search the web for info regarding fixing the brute but the last time I made to mend electrical equipment my then neighbours stood there making fire engine noises and that made me change my mind. Life without a TV, some folks could not exist this way. In 1978 I gave up the telly, and missed many programmes people told me were 'classics.' I did miss the football, and the news pictures, but my news came from the BBC World Service on the radio and I read lots of books, and of course worked shifts at the time and I did not return to TV possession until 1986. That of course was World Cup year and it was time for a change. The absence of the box sharpened my appreciation of the programmes offered and is one reason I despise almost all on offer today! Mind boggling 'pap' is the majority and until this years World Cup begins there will be little on view to change my opinion. It's a funny old world that changed in the early fifties when TV became available in almost every house. This screen educated, entertained, and brought a new world into many lives at that time. It was indeed an exciting adventure. However the face glued to the box killed some conversation and did it have a detrimental effect on family life? Not really sure if that is true, if not watching the box the family would be involved in their own affairs anyway, that is how it is.


Books however do change lives and in my view for the better! Standing in a bookshop some time back it crossed my mind just how useful, or destructive books can be. While they can entertain, educate and enthral it is possible for them also to fill the mind with propaganda of a vile sort. Books which aim at the lowest common denominator, in any subject, often sell more than books with a high ideal! Books, unlike a TV company, can cover any subject and reflect the life of the day in a way impossible for a programme that really has first of all to sell itself with reference to TV ratings before anything else. A book can be thrown aside and forgotten only to be picked up, possibly years later, and still change an individual and even the world! 
We learn through books, no school can do without them no matter how many PC screens are in the classroom, skills are developed by study of books on almost any subject under the sun, the world is explained by books, sometimes correctly, and also entertained in a way TV cannot accomplish.  God reveals himself through a book he has caused to be written, commuters ignore fellow travellers by hiding their face in a book, soaking up the sun on holiday the tourist occupies their mind through books, illness which brings limited movement is often eased by reading books. How can we live without them? I confess a bias as I read constantly, although not when walking down the road. At least not since the incident at the grocers. The bathroom contains several books that I am working through, according to my mood, the bedroom has many lined up there (Yes Mike two of yours are there) and around five hundred fill spaces here and there. The one thing I fear if I won large amounts of cash would be walking into a bookshop. This could be dangerous! 
Yet in my family few read much. An occasional paper, and a few 'coffee table' books can be found, but the TV and gossip supplies most of their needs it appears, and unlike me these folk are quite bright. One nephew has always got his face in books, and books I have no time for, novels! What a waste of time these are. Write a novel and it will be regarded as something of importance when in fact it is just a story, such books may as well begin, "Once upon a time..." It is funny how folks get so hot under the collar about their novels importance and the intellectuals demand such books are regarded, not  as stories but, 'novels,' something that changes the world. 
Sorry pal, they don't.