Greenock Harbour

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Victorian painting is not popular with some. However I find many excellent works there and this one by John Atkinson Grimshaw is one I like. There are one or two others on this excellent Golden Age Paintings blog, and I recommend it to lovers of fine arts and nice pictures. There are a variety of pictures, and lots of words for those that like that sort of thing, and very good it is too!

 Salthouse Dock - Grimshaw.

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Football Over the Ether

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While twenty two men slug it out in the rain in Kilmarnock a great many people are sitting listening, or watching, in the comfort of their own homes. How wonderful! This game is available via the wireless on Medium Wave, although it may be the 'open all mikes' all in programme only. It can however be heard via the internet thanks to Sportsound's shambolic website,which is how I am listening on tenterhooks, actually I am on a second hand office chair, but as the butcher said when I asked for half a rabbit, "Let's not split hares!" The web has become a marvellous way with which to follow the football. Games worldwide, and sometimes pictures also, can be obtained this way, both legally and not. International fans of the Heart of Midlothian not only have 'Hearts World' struggling to provide an unbiased commentary on the game but they also get live pictures on occasion. 

To me this is amazing!  When I took up residence in the mouse filled condemned slum in London's Finchley Road I discovered that it was well nigh impossible to discover what was happening four hundred miles up the road. Saturday saw football results on the radio (did I have one then? I certainly had no telly) and the Sunday press had all the results. Reports of the games did not exist, with a cup final or old firm game as an exception and nothing was mentioned on the radio or among the population of the city in which I dwelt. Papers were available from the local newsagent. Papers from France, Germany, Italy and several other European nations. The Arabic press were represented, all the major papers from that region, and other from the US and elsewhere could be obtained a day or two after publication. None from Scotland could be obtained, although the Scotsman, then a newspaper, was then available in some areas. Later, once I had moved to a more salubrious basement in Kilburn (or was it when I had finally reached the goal of a back door in Notting Hill?), I discovered the Scottish Press could be obtained from Kings Cross station and the Sundays on a Saturday night before they made their way north. The joy of wandering about Kings Cross on a Saturday night is not one I wish to share with such gentle readers as yourselves! 

Football discussion was often limited amongst the people I worked with. They were either not interested or supported only English sides or, believe it or not, cared for cricket! The sight of working men getting excited about cricket is one I am even yet not sure about. It was of course possible at times to discuss football with those who understood the game, and from as far apart as Montrose and Real Madrid! However this was not relevant to the Heart of Midlothian. However my life had more important things to worry it as I built my 'relationship with Jesus, although he may disagree here, and this included the eight years I did without TV and used books and the radio to develop my incredible intellect. ( Well people always say "Incredible!" when mentioning my intellect!). Today the use of satellite TV and the 'Dirty Diggers' money football coverage has developed greatly. At the same time more newsagents found a market for the sale of Scots papers, a sale which is dying now we all read these grubby papers on the web! Ah well!

I now feel closer to Edinburgh and some members of my family and to my football club than I have ever done in the past thirty five years! The personal computer has been a great benefit in these and many other ways, how did I ever live without it? Unemployment of this period of time with no PC would have seen me dead! Who said "Shame?"  News of the team is available as easily for me as for those in Edinburgh. Pictures are available, and contact with the fans, especially the decent ones, is a great help to understanding what is going on. Incidentally this also enables me to remember Edinburgh words that have sunk deep into the back of my big head, but that's another story. The question now is why are we losing? Do we care when we hear Hibs are losing another cup tie to a very low lying side? Yes! That enables us to keep smiling in the rain soaked circumstances.

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Just as I am

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Just as I am, without one plea,
But that Thy blood was shed for me,
And that Thou bidst me come to Thee,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Just as I am, and waiting not
To rid my soul of one dark blot,
To Thee whose blood can cleanse each spot,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Just as I am, though tossed about
With many a conflict, many a doubt,
Fightings and fears within, without,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Just as I am, poor, wretched, blind;
Sight, riches, healing of the mind,
Yea, all I need in Thee to find,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Just as I am, Thou wilt receive,
Wilt welcome, pardon, cleanse, relieve;
Because Thy promise I believe,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.
Just as I am, Thy love unknown
Hath broken every barrier down;
Now, to be Thine, yea, Thine alone,
O Lamb of God, I come, I come.



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Saturday Recommendation!

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I have just discovered a grand blog called the 'Braw Doocot!'  I recommend this to any Scot with artistic leanings. The authors taste covers architecture, grand houses, Railway posters, one of the best stolen and posted above, sculpture and I suspect a great deal more besides. I enjoyed my little trawl through this and think you will also. James Playfair's 'Egyptian Room' is a fantasy indeed!  'Doocot' by the way refers to the place pigeons were kept in days of yore to supplement the winter food supply. 'Doo's' being the Scots term for pigeons, as in 'Rock Dove's' I suspect. I notice also that there has been no post since April, maybe he will return soon, he is probably just blocked in by snow or the tram works!

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Friday Frivolity

Got an e-mail today from a bored local housewife, 43, who was looking for some hot action! 
So I sent her my ironing. That'll keep the lazy woman busy.

I got invited to a party and was told to dress to kill. Apparently a turban, beard and a backpack wasn't what they had in mind.

After a night of drink, drugs and wild sex, Bill woke up to find himself next to a really ugly woman.
That's when he realised he had made it home safely.

Paddy says to Mick, "Christmas is on Friday this year". 

Mick said, "Let's hope it's not the 13^th then."

Came home today to find all my doors and windows smashed in and everything gone. What sort of sick person does that to someone's Advent calendar.

I've been charged with murder for killing a man with sandpaper. To be honest I only intended to rough him up a bit.

After years of research, scientists have discovered what makes women happy.   Nothing.

A lad comes home from school and excitedly tells his dad that he had a part in the school play and he was playing a man who had been married for 25 years. The dad says, "Never mind son, maybe next year you'll get a speaking part."

Just had my water bill of £175 drop on my mat. That's a lot.  Oxfam can supply a whole African village for just £2 a month: time to change supplier I think.

   

2 women called at my door and asked what bread I ate, when I said white they gave me a lecture on the benefits of brown bread  for 30 minutes. 

I think they were Hovis Witnesses

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Floods

The Huffington Post

The Brisbane floods have left around 40 known dead, and possibly many more to come after the clean up has begun. Rightly this has received a great deal of airtime on TV and radio in the UK. The connection between the UK and Australia is very strong and thinking about this I may well have a few distant relatives suffering from this flood as I had a long dead aunt out that way. I suspect news will filter through slowly from there. Because of the connections and of course the excellent live pictures and audio reporting, we have a great deal of detail to fill the otherwise 'quiet' news room in the early part of the year.


I was struck however by the lack of reporting on the deaths of over 250 people in Brazil! I came across this story only today and wondered why this was not mentioned before?  Silly question, they are only poor Brazilians living in shanty towns on hillsides prone to mudslides. Why should we car? They don't peak English, a great disadvantage, the TV coverage is not so good, and anyway, they are just going to lose any aid we send in some corruption somewhere, let's just pass by on the other side shall we? I am glad the Independent managed to report this tragedy as if this was as important as the Australian one which has cost less deaths but a great deal more money. 


The weather front that has crossed the southern Pacific and brought the heavy rain to Australia has also moved on to other parts of the region. The Philippines also endured heavy rain and this too resulted in many deaths from flood damage. Around a million people, mostly poor, are suffering and at least 40 have died. Not much reporting on this, there again the only mention of the Philippines concerns Islamic terrorism, floods or corruption, so why bother we ask? One nation not much reported now the Tamil Tigers have been all but obliterated is Sri Lanka. When part of the British Empire (are you standing to attention?) this land was known as Ceylon and a producer of much of the tea that we consume. Thirty years of needless conflict have curbed the tourist trade and the last time Sri Lanka received attention concerned the Boxing Day Tsunami of a few years ago. One wonders if that had happened at a busier time if it would have received such attention? Today the damaged area is not much better off, the aid having disappeared and those who suffered receiving less than they ought. Now again the monsoon rains brings flooding, and we know of at least 18 dead and large areas damaged but it does not affect us much so we can pass on regardless. Much more important to know what some celebrity is wearing or where he, she, or it shops isn't it?


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Radio Voices

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Listening to the radio you can tell much about the person speaking. You can recognise their class, if they possess any, their age is often easy to guess and it is possible to even tell their colour and nationality to some extent from their voice. However the picture of the person that comes to mind is never that which exists. When I was a lad, in the days of the BBC Home Service, the early morning news programme 'Today' was led by one Jack De Manio, a man famous in his day, usually for giving out the wrong time and various other gaffes! This highly popular presenter led this programme single handed from 1958 until 1970 when he was joined by a fellow presenter, soon after he left as the situation did not suit him and presented 'Jack de Manio Precisely on Radio 4 in the afternoons.  Although I heard his voice on many occasions as I stuffed toast in my big mouth preparing for the long trek to school and another day of ghastly misery I had an image of this man in my head. One day, much to my shock, I came across a picture of him and discovered he was nothing at all like the image my mind had offered me! Now, a short time since those days, I can no longer remember what my original image happened to be but it was nothing like the man himself. It is strange how we can identify so much about a speaker on the wireless but no matter how much information we gather we cannot tell what they actually look like, they never fit our image of them. Many benefit from this of course, and there are numerous folks who have the face fit for radio walking the streets today.

I popped into the library to get warm some education this afternoon and was seated near a heater browsing a book concerning photojournalism. However not far away there was a line of PC's, all occupied, and one twenty something male was willing to share his music at an annoying level. Had this actually been music it might have been tolerable, however the refrain 'Please stand up,' repeated constantly at various levels was, in my humble view (and humble is the word I am assured), unsuitable for a library. Moving along past the medical problems, masses of books lying to people about how easy it is to repair a car, or create your own business, I was enlightened by two schoolgirls gossiping about boyfriends in the library to study but doing so quite loudly, and I began to wonder why they no longer have signs saying 'SILENCE SOME FOLKS ARE READING YOU IGNORANT LOUTS!' like we used to do? Noise appears to be OK in such places now and this has been made worse by two things, one is the daft idea of closing 'reference libraries' where proper study was possible, and the other the modern design of new buildings which allow all noise to circulate. Our building has a children's library with no doors thus allowing the screaming brats to entertain everybody no matter how far way they are. Considering many events for the kiddies are held there and those deeply studying advanced maths, literary composition or pictures of nudes nature in photographic books find themselves repeating 'Mrs Tiddlywinks went to market' instead of something more useful. Libraries, like most of society, has no consideration for others these days. The purpose of the library, to educate and enlighten, appears these days to be to provide a service for those who wish to read the papers for free, dodge school or keep warm gossip away from schoolfriends. Sorry, but I wish the old days were back. 

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He's Shaking Hands Again!

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Michael Portillo is taking another of his excellent 'Great British Rail Journeys' for the BBC.  Now I enjoy these gentle trips through the UK along rail lines old and new. These days I find more enjoyment from this than from a great many 'popular' programmes, most of which I consider to be rubbish! However as I watch I am annoyed by two things, and it takes a lot to get me annoyed! As the programme begins they waste two minutes and forty eight seconds telling us what is about to happen, and at the end of the programme another minute or so is wasted with what will happen tomorrow - JUST GET ON WITH IT MAN! 

The other thing is the more important one today, his handshakes! Portillo is constantly meeting people, getting off trains, in fields, at stations, in buildings and on each and every occasion he greets them with a handshake as if they had met for the first time, rubbish! Almost, but not always, they have waited for thirty minutes while the cameraman worked out his angles and background, then they march together full of false greetings, STOP IT!!! You are wasting time with false politeness and absurd realism. JUST GET ON WITH IT MAN!

I like this programme and Michael is giving us some good documentaries on both TV and Radio these days but for goodness sake cut the crap man!

I've finished now....

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King James Version

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This year sees the four hundredth anniversary of the publication of the translation of the bible authorised by King James VI & I.  This has become known to most as the 'Authorised Version and to the Americans as the 'King James Version,' as they like the historical side to it. It is interesting to note that this programme, made by non Christians, uses the term 'King James Version.' The BBC is responsible for several programmes mostly concerned with the historic reasons for the translation and the 'poetic' language used therein. None in these programmes appear concerned with the God who breathed it at any time!


1611 saw the 'Union of the Crowns,' when James the Sixth of Scotland also became James the First of England. (Always known by the racist English as James I !) One of his problems concerned the religious strife since the reformation. Different Kings and Queens had gone from Catholic to Protestant and back again, usually without becoming 'Christian' in the process, and this caused much suffering and needless strife throughout Europe. This was amended in England by Elizabeth when she attempted a policy of 'tolerance.' However this met some opposition from Puritans (this term covered many 'types' of Puritan) and the other 'protestants' of various types. Their religion often meant less than the politics of the day and this created many difficulties for the King when he arrived. However in Scotland the highly competent James had already dealt with the Calvinist leftovers and his theological and academic knowledge was considerable. During the many discussions with the clergy concerning the nations future the idea of a new translation arose. James was not keen on the 'Geneva' bible used by many at the time as one phrase appeared to doubt the 'Divine right of Kings!' This helped encourage his desire for a new translation.


This was undertaken by the very best scholars of the day, working alone and in groups, each dedicated to a specific potion of scripture, then checked by others and rechecked and edited later by the 'top dogs' at St Paul's leading eventually to the 'Authorised' bible. When completed all previous versions were banned from use in churches throughout the land. Thus removing any wrong influence from previous versions, although this version took much from them. This was indeed a 'poetic' version of scripture with lines that were easy to read, and who's phrasing aided listening at the time. In the late 18th century the words were 'modernised' and the book was revised again in the 19th century. The words have indeed penetrated to all corners of the world, although the 'British Empire' helped here!


Many people know vaguely about a flood, Noah's ark, Jesus and Paul the apostle. Most know little else beyond this today. One reason is the media's use of the 'Authorised version' when quoting scripture which tends to give the impression the bible is for the past and not for today, most Christians of course have used more readable modern versions for thirty years or more. Society also is no longer forcibly 'nominally church going' so bible knowledge is dying. The majority of people born in the last forty years confronted with the quaint, but attractive, language of this version are put off as it is impossible for them to understand. This is a shame as the reason such books were translated was to bring the 'Word of God' to each individual, as opposed to the Roman Catholic manner of keeping it within the church of Rome. In the years following the publication the majority of the population were better educated by hearing this book than many today after ten years of schooling! Many learned to read, discovered they were important to God in spite of their place in society and as a side issue the language of the nation was altered for ever as this book represented what today we call 'Queens English.'


The BBC programme The King James Bible contains a variety of artists reading portions of this book. Like other programmes in this series there are some explanations along with each programme again concerned mostly with the poetry of the words, the 'literary style' rather than the content thereoff. Still, Jesus speaks through this book to many, as he did to me, and he has never let me down in spite of my self centred life. Maybe he will speak even yet through these readings. They can be heard for seven days although I am not sure if this can only be heard in the UK. The bible is a book, actually a collection of books, that tell us about our relationship with God himself. Actually it is about his desire and longing for his relationship with us, 'we love because he first loved us,' and while used and abused by many it still changes lives for the better!


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Saturday

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The rain that decided to fall somewhat heavily last night left behind thick gray clouds this morning. At least by the time I dragged myself out of the pit of sleep the rain had ended and only the clouds with their occasional glimpses of blue were left. Proper winter has arrived at last, you know, the cold wet winter that we are used to. No snow or horrid stuff like that, we left that in Edinburgh where it belongs, just rain and miserable looking postmen pushing paper mache through the letterbox. However just in case it decided to snow I remained in doors most of the day venturing out only for veg, a losing Lottery ticket and my copy of 'Private Eye.'

Today is 'Cup football' day in Scotland and England so I was able to find myself bored by Arsenal cheating Leeds United out of a victory. I did however have the sniggers when I discovered the Hibs fans distress at their teams performance in the 0-0 draw with Ayr United. How football makes you hurt, although for some of us we are enjoying this season and have every hope of another cup win ourselves. Excuse me while I take up the 'smug' position for a while. To stop smirking I wandered across the park and pictured the bright evening sky provided by the advancing dusk    

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Fat Slob

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As the year has advanced so far I decided it was time for the first bath. I took my self off into the bathroom, blocked up the gaps that allow the cold air to creep in and spoil everything, cleaned the grime from the bath, and turned on the hot tap. This always makes me shudder as when the gas boiler lights the meter turns so quickly it would make anyone but a Conservative minister quake. Add to this the cost of water and watch the shareholders gather outside to applaud my actions. However I kept the light off to save money as I can bathe in the dark, I know where most things are, but was forced by the cold hanging about in the air to use the bar heater! How annoying! The electric, naturally, costs more than any other item used! The stupidity of selling off the nations energy for short term gain may be lost on a wealthy Thatcher but this now means we pay vastly more for a dubious service than we would have done under the crumbling previous system. Still, some folks make money from it, certainly the Conservative MP's and their lackeys, plus all those foreign power owners! In the nineteenth century Joseph Chamberlain,  who became one of the major movers in Empire building, nationalised the various Gas and water companies to benefit the people of Birmingham where he was Mayor. How come Thatcher could not see that as sensible?  How come her small shopkeeper approach put money before need?


The water rose as quickly as my overdraft as I divested myself of my filthy garments, hmmm might be time to use that washing machine, and then placed my lithe 8 stone body onto the scales. Then it was I heard a creaking sound and the platform on which I stood leant over to the left and a bent piece of metal flew out the other side and embedded itself into the cheap hardboard that forms the side of the bath. The dial raced round so fast it came loose. Hmmm I thought, did I overdo the Christmas sweets?  In this state the machine managed to inform me that I was now just over fifteen and a half stone of slob and not what I had been considering myself to be. This was a disappointment and means I must start those exercises I keep beginning and forgetting to finish. In fact lifting a few weights, walking - in a downpour - and running on the spot may well be good for you but doing housework is actually using more muscles. I think dancing to the Beatles early tunes also has beneficial effects - as long as no-one is watching! So that is now what I must attend to, however I think I may well have lunch first, just in case I am too weary to finish...

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How to be an idiot No 48

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Kitchens


For the idiot the kitchen is one of the wonders of the world! Here he will find so many areas in which to make his mark that he may well begin hyperventilating at the thought of what lies before him. Let us notice how an idiot deals with the microwave. He, his spouse or indeed his nurse, has produced some excellent home made soup. All our hero has to do is place this in the microwave oven to reheat the stuff. Simple enough! Well no actually. You see  a suitable dish is required for this job and Mr Idiot has already placed some soup into a china bowl and watched as this cracked apart and flooded the microwave with his dinner. Next he used one of those tinfoil ones that hunks of expensive meat arrive in. This resulted in an electrical storm such as those usually found only in the Serengeti National Park! However after much practice and a few words of advice from the woman in his life (Why isn't she doing this? That's what she is there for!) he chooses a suitable container, sets the time dial and stands back. Several minutes later he anxiously removes his soup and begins eating. This quickly ends as he discovers that he has set the time dial but not the temperature and is now eating tepid soup. He rushes back to the brute and inserts the soup somewhat angrily into the thing and sets both time and temperature correctly! Just to ensure success he adds another minute and retires grumping as he does so. Hunger is beginning to produce some irritability it appears. As the 'ping' sounds he rushes to the oven, grabs the door open and retrieves the soup. He does this in such a manner as to allow his now, 'piping hot' lunch to spill out and cover his the fingers! His screaming of unholy oaths encourages the container to be dropped onto the floor followed quickly by the contents. Standing by the freezer, his hand thrust inside in an effort to lessen the searing pain against the ice, he contemplates both the mess on the floor and his beloveds "Have an accident?" 
"No thanks, I already have one," he mumbles from behind the freezer door.
The red marks on the fingers disappear after a few weeks.


Ah, the freezer! While we have our hand inside it is noticeable that the ice has indeed began to clog the freezer cabinet. This calls for Idiot once more to show his qualities. The idiot looks upon such work as a bit of a nuisance as he has better things to waste his life upon. However to ensure the fridge freezer runs smoothly it must be defrosted every so often, about once every ten years or so, and now is the time to do this! He has in his mind a freezer compartment completely cleared of ice, the contents aligned in a practical order, and the machine running with a smooth gentle burr throughout the day. He of course deludes himself!
Mrs Idiot, not an idiot in herself but daft enough to end up with him, she would tackle this problem in a simple manner, after all that is one of her jobs innit? She who must be obeyed would have ensured the contents of the freezer compartment were allowed to run down before the operation began, she then would switch of the freezer, leave the door open for thirty minutes and then, in a smooth swift manner, remove the ice which has by now gathered on the floor of the compartment. This naturally is too much for an idiot.


His first step is to empty out the many frozen items found within. The second is to run around the floor retrieving the frozen peas that were in the upside down bag at the front, and also put back those garlic bread lumps that she insists on feeding him.  All items are dumped on top of the freezer cabinet in a higgledy piggledy fashion These include that green odd shaped thing  he found in the corner whatever that was! 
Work may now begin.
The idiot, who may or may not have switched the thing off, will grab a knife or some other dangerously sharp object and attack with a will the ice flows sufficient to worry shipping in the north Atlantic that has been allowed to dominate the brute! He cuts and thrusts with this impliment, shaking the cabinet and within minutes the floor is once again covered with frozen peas, hamburgers, and frozen peppers. These escapees will take several days to collect having found the strangest of places to run into, and even then will be discovered many weeks hence, usually sqashed and smelly, under his slippers. The pies which have removed themselves will be returned to, probably, their boxes whether covered with dust or not. With today's shop bought pies this may well make them more nutritious!


The chasing of the peas will not introduce any wisdom into our hero's mind. He will continue to cut and stab at the ice which slowly is beginning to give way, just as the remnants of  contents atop the freezer are also giving way and colapsing around the floor once again. His efforts to catch them as they fall enables the idiot to knock over the bottles at the side, breaking one and allowing the sauce therein to mix well with the floor beneath. While doing this the knife will enter under his left thumb and the red stain may well remain where it lands for some time before noticed. Much, much later, the ice removed, the floor mopped, the freezer is switched on again, that's if it had been off in the first place. The idiot has a large lunch. This is not because he requires one after his exertions but because he has taken so long to do the job that that most of the contents have begun to thaw and must be used immediately! His dealing with indigestion will be dealt with elsewhere!


Shall we regale you with his ability to place plastic items on the electric hob and turn on the wrong switch? Do you wish to know about his desperate opening of windows and doors to remove the acrid taste of plastic from the home? Is there really a need to detail the long and arduous struggle to replace the melted kettle, that bowl he never understood the purpose off, or his scraping the hot plastic from the (new) hob surfaces? I don't think so. Mr Idiot and his beloved, that's her holding a half empty (cheap) vodka bottle in one hand and a golf club in the other, need to be left alone to discuss his desire to be helpful around the house. I think it better we left them alone to do this, don't you?

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The Archers

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Incredible! That's the only word for it Incredible. I don't mean the programme, nor the absurd and meaningless story lines. I mean the fact that the BBC has the 60th anniversary of this tripe mentioned on every programme the BBC produces! I am just amazed it wasn't mentioned on 'Match of the Day!' Especially as they have, for no good reason, a woman doing some of those programmes now.  The news mentions the anniversary, and worse, is going into detail over the latest 'shocking' storyline and debating why it is not 'shocking' at all.


This overload is another sign of the desperation these 'soaps' and their makers for an audience. The 'Coronation Street' anniversary was likewise stupidly put into the ITV news broadcasts I'm told, so the Beeb feels free to copy this and I cannot imagine how bad it will be at the next 'Eastenders' anniversary! 'Eastenders' is of course the programme that above all other events in the last thirty years has done more to destroy the moral fabric of the nation than any thing else. The idea of loud confrontation, so common at all levels today, was allowed free reign with the introduction of this vile programme. Their next anniversary will probably lead to a war of some sort!
Bah! Humbug!

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January 2011

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The first photograph of the year. Taken in the dank, damp evening, while the dark sky above still contained a blue tinge proving that the nights are getting shorter and Spring is coming our way! Today as I rose, slowly and heavy with sleep, I noticed the growing lightness in the sky through the holes in the ragged curtains. Indeed the sun is arriving earlier and now very noticeably, especially when those gray clouds move on over to France, and the light lingers longer in the evenings. This makes the world a better place and the heart sings as I sit here contemplating my navel. That, if you are interested in such things, reflects this place in general, it is full of dust!


Are you suffering the winter bug? Swine Flu has been hitting hard it appears and I am bearing with my usual good nature the bug that has irked me for a few days. Certainly not one of the bad ones that floors people but a right nusciance just the same. Almost as big a nusiance as a spell checker that cannot find the proper spelling of nuisance! It must be American, so I will just have to use one of those British dictionary things again. Once more I need to find a correct spelling but require to know how the word is spelt before I can find the word I need to know how to spell! Life is a game innit!


Ah well on with the year/ Whatever else happens, like the 'e' on this keyboard sticking constantly, the cold weather hanging about still, the bug, the lack of money and little job prospects, (learn a trade kids) I will continue to seek to let God love me and me seek to love him, (Jesus will be surprised to hear that) and I will continue to enjoy the many and wondrous outpourings of my internet friends. Indeed their problems and joys, their wit and knowledge continue to make the dullest day bright! 

Here's to you.

Who's like you?

Gey few,

And their all deid!

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Happy New Year 2011

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A good new year to all my readers.

May this year be everything you wish it to be!

Happy New Year 

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31st December 2010

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Goodbye to that. 

Rotten year. Nothing went right.

Now I look forward to what 2011 brings.....

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What a Gray Day!

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The temperature rises to just above 'bloody cold,' to 'Crivvens, Help ma Boab!' and we spend a day totally  immersed in dull gray mist. Another sign that Spring is on its way!  With the atmosphere being as it is, my inability to change the weather to my way of thinking showing through, I decided to flounder all day. Some rude and needlessly cynical folk have suggested, and you will not believe this, they have suggested I 'flounder' a bit too much. Had this not been true I may well have been cut to the quick, but as it is I am merely 'nursing my wrath to keep it warm!'  I exercised the weakened body, the bug, the lack of vegetables, too much chocolate and nans making it weak this er.. week. This stroll through the heart of the town indicated the majority of the citizenry were hiding indoors, those not queuing at the Argos counter that is, or visiting those family members who they had hoped to ignore but could put off no longer. The market surprisingly had several stalls working, either they were bored, desperate for cash, or wishing to avoid mother-in-laws. None were worth visiting so no change there! The supermarkets were busy however, the car parks full and the dagger filled eyes as folks fought for the better parking spaces glowered everywhere. Happy Christmas to you also! Now I sit with my feet on the radiator, discovering how depressing scouring the job sites can be, and now awaiting tonight's football. 
How exciting my life is, are you jealous yet?




Today's thought to remember:- There's room on this earth for all of God's creatures.... Right next to the mashed potatoes.




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Microwave

Early yesterday morning, having breakfasted on Nan bread left over from Christmas Day,  I slithered my way to Tesco’s on the icy pavements to check out the Microwaves. My aged and somewhat foul machine is falling apart from the inside and desperately required replacing. I noted the prices and observed the cheapest at £32.95 for a basic machine of 700 watts, or 'D' capacity, enough to meet my needs. I headed for Argos and here I purchased, for a couple of pounds less than the Tesco’s price, the same machine under a different name. The last time I ventured into Argos I waited so long I was tempted to lie on the counter and play dead! In the store behind headless chickens ran about while a queue stood expectantly as the disembodied voice cheerily announced "Number two hundred and seventy five to your collection point please," all the while ignoring the fact that number sixty eight was still waiting! The lass at the till that day noticed the people waiting to be served by her, she also noticed those awaiting delivery of their items, which appeared regularly as a headless chicken dumped them on the shelf, and she took immediate action, she disappeared! This time a bright young thing took my money, almost immediately, another stamped the ticket and off I went, within minutes! Wow!

I carried this brute home, a huge distance for one as fit as I, walking on the cleared road to avoid the ice bound pavements. The next few hours were spent struggling to get it out of the box and removing the old one. I then tested the thing with a cup of water. It worked! Hooray! I noted some condensation on the front glass but this appeared to have no effect so placing a bowl of Flanders Soup' inside it ran happily for ten minutes. Shortly thereafter I then placed the small Xmas pudding inside, switched it on and Phut! It said, and died! Ten minutes worth and the guarantee was for a full year! Later I realised, as I ought to have done immediately, that the glass ought not to contain condensation as electric machines do not require it. I later repacked the brute and staggered back to Argos wondering why the thing was heavier once repacked than it had been carrying it home? I dumped it on the counter ans wheezed my complaint only to be told to take it "over there." I left it and wandered 'over there' noticing the lassie had brought the box round for me, smirking at my lying on the floor on all fours attempting to get my breath back. The bright young lass (where do they all come from, they appear to be missing in such shops usually)    convinced me to choose a different version. This in fact turned out to be a cheaper version in stainless steel (we shall soon see how stainless this remains) looks much better! £27.95 I ended up paying, having £2 whole pounds given back to me! Hooray! Once again carrying the thing home was lighter than taking the other back. Why?   

Naturally as I woke this morning I ached all over. Muscles that are usually 'resting' do not like Lactic acid or whatever it is running around inside them. I tend to agree with them at the moment. Why me? Why can I never buy things in a straight forward manner? It's just a good thing that I am not one of those miserable people that complain a lot, for if I did folks would here about it I am sure.

Motor Ward

Top Gear, that excellent BBC programme, took it upon themselves to attempt to recreate the journey of the Magi (that's the three wise men to you) from the East to Bethlehem. It is fair to say that this programme was as biblically accurate as much of the Church of England's preaching, so that gives an indication of how far from known facts they were! However it was once again a programme worth watching. The fear of being shot in Iraq was somewhat exaggerated but an excuse to run around in a fast car chased by a helicopter was typical Clarkson. However the plane failing to land and going round again was a delight to watch. The problems on such trips are always magnified, although James banging his head and being rendered unconscious was not planned, and if nothing else I enjoyed a view of the countries they passed through that is not often given by news coverage. James's bang on the head was worrying for a while, but not as much as three men dressed in Burqas driving into Damascus. Why they were not shot as suspected suicide bombers I cannot tell. Some may well have decided Clarkson was being rude while imitating a cut down Jesus at the Sea of Galilee but I don't. Nor did the final ending upset as I burst out laughing in a way I haven't for some time. This was the usual 'Top Gear' send up, funny and cheeky but not offensive, quite unusual for Clarkson right enough! Possibly you will be able to access the BBC IP site and find the programme 'The Three Wise Men.'  It's worth a look!






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Red Hot Chilli Pipers

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I've just discovered the 'Red Hot Chilli Pipers.' How slow am I?

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Boxing Day

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Boxing Day brings it's own problems, and I don't mean transporting the kids to aunts and grannies to collect more gifts. I mean standing on the weighing machine and wondering why the spring flew out, I mean looking at the collection of dishes filling the sink and wondering why there were so many as, in my case I ate only once and alone! How come that tin of 'Quality Street' looks half empty when it was full to the top last night?  How can I feel that tired when I finished off the apple tart this afternoon, was there too much left over custard on it perhaps? I suppose this is a result of eating in a considerate manner all year and foolishly letting myself  eat slightly more than normal over two days. It is not often I sit wondering why the TV is so poor at nights but find it difficult to get up and switch it off (oh where is that remote?). I did manage to wander across to the church opposite this morning, that's almost 150 yards you know, and then slither my way back home again. Walking on hardened ice is quite tiring and I suspect that walk is why I am tired, not the nan bread and chocs I ate for breakfast.  Ah well, back to the routine tomorrow, after I finish of that tin of chocolates as no-one else has come to eat them......

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