Suffragettes Terrorists

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Suffragette Terrorist Impounded 

Today is 'International Women's Day!' Yet for the life of me I cannot remember an 'International Men's Day?' If I were to sue under the 'Equalities Legislation' would the liberal judges of today allow me to win? We don't have a 'Minister for Men' so why do we require one for women?  'Glass ceilings' appear everywhere holding back women from reaching the top in the workplace, so what is it that stops men reaching the top? Class, age, colour, sexism perhaps? I sometimes wish I was female so I could whine when things go against me. However as a white male, over 50 I can't get away with that. Women (we are not allowed to call them ladies these days) can use their bodies to get jobs, especially in the media, in the entertainment world and we have all come across this in the workplace, yet this appears to be acceptable. I've tried wearing nice perfume and earnings and crossing my legs provocatively but found it did not get me promotion. All I got from that bus garage was thrown on a Number 189 and told, in a somewhat brusque manner to remove myself. Where did I go wrong?

How about just treating people right whoever they are? Would this be a good idea? Maybe not hiding your incompetence behind your sex or age or class would be good?  Maybe these would be a good idea but human nature being what it is we will always face discrimination for one reason or another. That I am afraid is just life! It will always be there and law making will never erode this. Being over 50 (yet still thinking I am 18) I cannot get work, and banning ageism does not help, in fact it makes things worse! Like others I am forced to apply for unsuitable jobs simply because they are not allowed to demand a certain age group. How daft is this? This wastes my time and money and that of potential employers. Those women who get to the very top tend to do so because of talent, not their sex (I obviously don't mean parliament here). Those who fail to make it can always blame a man somewhere and sell their story to a women's magazine.

By the way suffragettes were indeed terrorists. The 'National Union of Women's Suffrage' began by Millicent Fawcet was a peaceful organisation. Impatient with the lack of movement Pankhurst and her followers began a violent demand for the vote. Chaining themselves to railings, disrupting meetings, smashing windows, burning down churches and stupidly throwing themselves under the Kings racehorse were supposed to show that women were intelligent enough to vote! Hmmm I think myself I know one or two that ought to be chained to railings today!

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Bike

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Foolishly I was enticed by the yellow sunshine brightening the green of the grass outside my window, the clear blue sky high above and climbed onto the trusty old bike this morning. Hastening out along the short pavement I turned into the side road and rode at speed straight into a police car leaving the station to begin the mid morning patrol! Well I avoided him of course but he seemed peeved for some reason leaving me similarly peeved that  he glared at me in that special manner a policeman always seem able to sum up. Therefore I hastened on my way before he could consider opening his mouth!
'Hastened' is the word! The bike and my knees worked well today. For some reason all was going well as I headed up the slopes of the old railway at high speed, except when avoiding dog walkers obviously! These had also been drawn out by the sun and there is nothing more delightful to a dog than the many varieties of experience available along this walk. Unfit and unspeakable as I am I had intended to struggle up to the village and make my weary way home. Surprisingly I kept going and cycled round the country lanes to the bigger village further on. Even more surprising was the lack of 'white van man' speeding along this route today. The sight of early crops coming through, crows sauntering about the fields confident in their strength, robins singing brightly for a mate, anybody's mate, in the branches, and the sun filled sky kept me going. The change of scenery, the bright sun and the assortments of colours as Spring begins to spring lightened the heart and made passers-by offer cheery 'hello's' to all who pass. Brightly painted ageing houses, some which have stood their ground for several hundred years, made for interesting viewing. The farms I passed can be found on old maps still with their present name. I wonder how long some of these farms have existed? Since the forests that one covered this area  were cleared this land has been farmland. People have come and gone, fortunes have ebbed and flowed, centuries have passed and the general nature has remained the same. Plague and witch hunts, civil war and changeable governments have risen and fallen and these trees, bushes and the wildlife have continued on their own way following the seasons. 
Since the middle of the 19th century we have mostly been town dwellers in the west. Contact with the land has been lost, unless we are granted a bit of garden to grow our own veg. Allotments, that British area of garden leased from the council, have become more and more desired as time passes. People wish them partly to enable a ready supply of vegetables but also to get in touch with the land, something supermarkets cannot give, and indeed who's prices are an encouragement to such 'self help.      
I suppose it's getting on for five miles or so outwards and when my knees realised how far they had gone they began to rebel! In their opinion my arms were not pulling enough and my arms were more than willing to contest this thought. Hurtling through Bannister Green at six miles an hour, good job that slope was there, I decided it was time to return home by the railway bed. Here I found that not only the chilled wind was against me but at this point the the line began to rise slightly. Typical! This slope was not noticed by those blackened steam engines pulling the local service slowly along but it was clear enough to both my arms and my knees. They commented on this in a manner a bit too full and frank for my liking to be honest.  
I do not worry about aching limbs in the morning however, these have arrived already! I sit aching and totally knackered, merely happy the heart attack did not arrive while on the road home! Too think that once I rode, over several days, from Edinburgh to London and now I struggle after a few miles! There is no doubt that I am unfit but if the weather keeps up I will be out a few more times in days to come. Now where is that ambulance.......

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A Blonde goes to Heaven

Entrance Exam
 A Blonde goes to Heaven 
 
A Blonde (called Dorothy) was sent on her way to Heaven. Upon arrival, a concerned St Peter met her at the Pearly Gates. 'I'm sorry,' St Peter said; 'But Heaven is suffering from an overload of godly souls and we have been forced to put up an Entrance Exam for new arrivals to ease the burden of Heavenly Arrivals.' 

'That's cool' said the Blonde (called Dorothy) , 'What does the
Entrance Exam consist of?'

'Just three questions' said St Peter.

'Which are?' asked the Blonde.

'The first,' said St Peter, 'is, which two days of the week start with the letter 'T' '? The second is 'How many seconds are there in a year?'

The third is 'What was the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?'

'Now,' said St Peter, 'Go away and think about those questions and when I call upon you, I shall expect you to have those answers for me.'

So the Blonde (called Dorothy) went away and gave those three questions some considerable thought (I expect you to do the same).

The following morning, St Peter called upon the Blonde and asked if she had considered the questions, to which she replied, 'I have.'

'Well then,' said St Peter, 'Which two days of the week start with the letter T?'

The Blonde (called Dorothy) said, 'Today and Tomorrow.'

St Peter pondered this answer for some time, and decided that indeed the answer can be applied to the question.

'Well then, could I have your answer to the second of the three
questions?' St Peter went on, 'how many seconds in a year?'

The Blonde (called Dorothy) replied, 'Twelve!'

'Only twelve?' exclaimed St Peter, 'How did you arrive at that figure?'

'Easy,' said the Blonde (called Dorothy) , 'there's the second of
January, the second of February, right through to the second of
December, giving a total of twelve seconds.'

St Peter looked at the Blonde (called Dorothy) and said, 'I need some time to consider your answer before I can give you a decision.' And he walked away shaking his head.

A short time later, St Peter returned to the Blonde (called Dorothy) . 'I'll allow the answer to stand, but you need to get the third and final question absolutely correct to be allowed into Heaven. Now, can you tell me the answer to the name of the swagman in Waltzing Matilda?'

The blonde (called Dorothy) replied: 'Of the three questions, I found this the easiest to answer.'

'Really!' exclaimed St Peter, 'And what is the answer?'

'It's Andy.'

'Andy??'

'Yes, Andy,' said the Blonde (called Dorothy) .

This totally floored St Peter, and he paced this way and that,
deliberating the answer. Finally, he could not stand the suspense any longer, and turning to the blonde, asked 'How in God's name did you arrive at THAT answer?'

'Easy' said the Blonde (called Dorothy) , 'Andy sat, Andy watched, Andy waited till his billy boiled.'

And the Blonde (called Dorothy) entered Heaven...


.... you're singing it now, aren't you?? 
 










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Spring

The other day I managed to find some snowdrops wearily waiting the sun breaking through the gray clouds above. One day it will succeed! The gardens had plenty of buds beginning to open, birds singing and green shoots breaking through the soil in various places. Altogether the hope that springs in Spring was beginning to be seen everywhere. There is no doubt this is the best time of the year. Winter over, summer ahead, albeit with the occasion blizzard, famine and earthquake here and there, but nonetheless the world looks brighter today than it did last week!

Once again I await the letter from the bank. Oh yes, two Direct Debits have not been paid!  Why? I am convinced there was enough money on Friday, how come I am now awaiting  a £20 charge? Now I am not one to complain but I am afraid that when I dropped a note regarding the payment of these DD's, tied to a brick and lobbed through the main window, I may say that my words were somewhat curt! I did not refer to the millions paid out in 'bonus's,' nor did I mention that this bank is mostly owned by the nation and owes 'US' millions, but I might just have made mention of 'robbers,' 'bandits,' 'thieves,' 'highwaymen' and possibly I then said something rude! I expect they will cry into their safes when they read it, and sweep all that glass away.

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Art

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About a dozen years ago a pretty young lass and I wandered around the historical, but by now somewhat grubby port of Harwich. It was possible to tell just how busy this small place had once been by the abundance of public houses! Entertainment was at hand for the Jack Tars of yesteryear. Today however, (and by today I mean yesterday as twelve years ago cannot by any stretch of the imagination be called today can it?) today tourists and some seeking a ferry to somewhere in Europe are more likely to be found than bearded submariners blinking in the unused to daylight. Quite whether the 'unused to' bit is caused by being stuck inside a 'tin fish' or spending too long inside 'The British Flag' I am not sure. Anyway while perusing the sights, such as they are, we came across a small 'art gallery.' We went in, as you do, and observed the offerings. Two ageing poky rooms had been turned into a place to exhibit paintings. We looked, we pondered, we cogitated, that sort of thing is allowed in such gallery's. We perused the offerings, mumbled, hummed and thought "Jings!" Most exhibits were influenced by the sea. Some made us look twice, several made us look away. What made us open mouthed however was the small tickets revealing the prices found on one of the corners of each 'work.'  One that remains in my memory, possibly for ever, was a four foot by four foot (translate into metric for yourself) bright blue array with splashes of white strategically places to resemble boats at sea. Now I give you that to some extent this worked! This clearly was an attempt to portray yachts out on the briny. There is no doubt we both caught this right away and were impressed! We loitered, (no, not like that) we gazed, we almost admired. However we might have been admiring the cheek as opposed to the art as our open mouths were caused by the price tag of £994 that sat in the top right hand corner! Quite how the figure was deduced I know not! She looked at me and grabbed both my arms to stop me racing for the door and heading to the painting and decorating shop around the corner. My eyes filled with pound signs and hers with tears as she reminded me that 'Honesty is the best policy.' In truth it would not have been honest to charge such a price for something that must have taken half an hour to produce - artistically! Even the art displayed along the railings in Bayswater Road in London once a week did not overcharge to that extent. Well, I don't know mind, thinking back I may well be wrong there. Their customers mostly came from foreign tourists or folks too rich to understand the meaning of money, so maybe I just did not enquire of the right people.


Now 'art' is good. There is a great need for it. However it is such an open market that any rubbish can be called art, the Turner prize proves this. Vast sums are paid for rubbish because of two things, stupid people who consider themselves art experts (I cannot spell connoisseurs!) and clever people who know a rich mug when they see one! Hence a sheep in chemical is art, as is an unmade bed! Even worse are those who prattle nonsense about the 'art' in front of them, partly because they 'believe' in it and partly because that is the type of people they mingle with, and therefore must speak their language. Pretentious codswallop! This is indeed a sad world in so many ways! 


But 'art' is necessary! We need it to brighten our homes, our workplaces, our lives. It can be found all around us and we feel better when we participate, whether by drawing a picture for the kids, painting the house or attempting a water colour. Art can also be musical, which many can perform in one form or another, (ABBA does NOT count as music!, writing, poetry, much ignored today, and for some, dance the most impenetrable of art form! Vast differences appear in all these 'arts.'  High and low brow offer something to us all but maybe 'The X-Factor' could be classed as an exception there? However spare me things that spoil the natural world, there is more than sufficient 'art' to be found there. No artist of today can compete with a flower as art once it has bloomed, so why spoil such surroundings with plastic and bent metal? Only the art snob could like this. Ah the art snob! They like to be seen, they have the cash, they usually don't actually work, so artists can live of such folk for many years, and I suspect this will always be the case.


Councillors for reasons that I have never understood like to have 'art' in their towns. Harlow (the 'T' is silent) now proclaims itself a 'Sculpture Town,' having laid out, at great expense, a 'sculpture tour. Those who have visited this 'New Town' created in 1951 reckon that the Luftwaffe would be better brought out of retirement to benefit the townsfolk than this! A friend who serves as a police officer there may well remark about money spent on 'art' when CCTV would be a better idea! Councillors throughout the nation are always buying junk and placing it in towns and cities in spite of the populations condemnation of such activities. The resident does not count it appears. 


Art, in spite of what the experts tell us, does indeed come down to what we like, or appreciate. What is junk today will be popular tomorrow. What was forced on a people once, Hitler's views on art for instance, will be hated for idealogical reasons while Communist art is often praised, although these two men had much in common. Taste moves with the fashion, and fashion is often wrong! I write this because of what I saw the other day, 'junk' praised as art by the middle class trendies. The type of person who think Gormley's absurd men standing in the Pool at Liverpool is 'telling!' In fact it tells us he knows a mug when he sees one, his reputation is advanced as indeed is his bank account. Sadly passing fashion makes one rich and another poor, although who has real talent is often hard to tell. 


I like lots of art, and prefer not to mix with those who 'know.' Ignorance allows me to enjoy all sorts of rubbish, but costs me nothing! I like this.....

  

I came across this forum today and while I have not read all the posts I have looked at the pictures. I think they back up what I am trying to say here.

What the World Needs Now.....

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Films

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I came across this somewhere earlier and thought it a good comment on the hype regarding the film. Now I am not one for films, I prefer reality, but the story is indeed a good one. This King, forced by his renegade brother into his important position, fulfilled his duty as he saw it, in spite of his stutter, his embarrassment, and what it was doing to his family. This shy man found himself head of a nation at war, in what was indeed a war to the death! So shy was he that when taken, by force he would say, to North Africa to review the troops, he refused to leave the tent to inspect them through a combination of shyness and inadequacy. Churchill had to order him, his King, to get in a vehicle and be driven along the troops dutifully lining the desert road. That he did not run away like his brother had, that he did not stand under a falling bomb, that he stood up to his duty under such pressure is a story worth telling! No wonder he smoked himself to death! Now I am not one for Kings and Queens but this man took on this onerous and unwanted responsibility and succeeded! His happy family life was interrupted yet his wife, later known as the Queen Mother, stood by him and famously answered the question, 

"Will the Princesses leave London during the Blitz?" 

with "The Princesses will not leave without me, and I won't leave without the King, and the King won't leave!"

 Such an answer along with the bombing of Buckingham Palace gave the royals a place at the centre of British life. They indeed were at the heart of the British Empire for a while. When his daughter Elizabeth took her place on the throne the nation was agog with wonder at a new 'Elizabethan age.' I need not point out that Scotland had not previously had such an age, but you will of course know this. This position in the nations heart remained the case right up till the time Diana and Fergie's selfishness and lack of responsibility brought this to an end. The Queen still lives her life under the influence of her fathers sense of duty, something that has also influenced Prince Charles. The nation however no longer understands this attitude and this is not helped by a media desperate to make money from the behaviour of royal children! Whether this film sticks to the story or not, and I expect the dramatisation will be excessive as always, this Kings is indeed worth investigating and he is worth respecting for his sense of duty and perseverance in such a time as his.

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Apathy

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As Willie Whitelaw once said, "Harold Wilson is going around the country stirring up apathy.' This has not changed today and I wish to do something to 'take this forward' as they say and have been considering this for some time now. The way I see it.......oh I canny be bothered ...

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Royal Wedding Build Up Post No.3

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Cafe Press

You will be as excited as I to know that in 'Royal Berkshire' (berks for short indeed!) they are now running bus tours around Kate's local area! Yes indeed all aboard for a trip past the church she may well have wandered into, the school she read girls magazines at, the shops the servants used and the very streets she would have trod had daddy not driven her in one of their cars. I know you all want to be there to see where the 'commoner' grew up.

Read, or indeed view it here with the Independent story.  

This Pair

And is this true? Is it true that the Beckhams are on the list of guests for the wedding? I mean 'The Beckhams? He of little football ability bar crosses from the right wing, and she of er, well no ability at all bar posing for the media. These two are to attend the royal wedding amongst kings, queens and other bored VIPs? I suppose they will have to sit on the brides side of the hall, beside the other 'commoners.'  Commoners with most of their millions in foreign bank accounts and a handful of menials to do the work they consider beneath them! The stick insect will feel right at home there...

                                                  

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Royal Wedding Build Up Post No.2

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I suspect that you, like me, are suffering withdrawal symptoms when you hear the sad tale of the 1900 invitations to Harry Willie and Kate's wedding being posted to the chosen recipients, and our name is not among them! This is indeed sad. Just imagine being among the two thousand or so (including servants, police, assassins, hangers on, radio and TV men, and fawning royal press corps) sitting through this wedding. Consider the cost of the outfit you must wear, shabby old suits not allowed, the boasting to acquaintances, the small talk with Kings and Queens (and here I don't mean the staff of Buck House), the long drawn out service, the more thoughtful guests whispering to you "Do you have the result of the 1:30 at Kelso?" and boredom faintly showing through the thin smiles on the faces around you. Do you really wish to be there? Thousands would of course, and they are just the folks the royals do not wish to mix with! 

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Archers

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William Powell Firth. 'English Archers 19th Century'

I laughed when I saw this picture. Here we find three middle class ladies firing a bow and arrow. Now such a hobby is indeed enjoyable, I can think of many targets I would like to use such equipment on, and this is one of those 'sports' that women can participate in happily, unless you are in front of them of course. (Or maybe behind when I think about it....) Here the middle classes of the late 19th century are at play, while the working class are cleaning the house for them during their 14 hour day!  What struck me as funny was the comparison between these ladies and the 'English Longbowmen' of 1346 at places like Crecy or Agincourt!  

The lass in the gray dress, with matching headgear, compares well with a smaller man dressed in tights, ripped of course, a thick quilted short length coat with short sleeves. Sometimes a conical helmet was worn, without the flowers or bows used by the ladies, and I suspect the condition of the archers outfit was somewhat tardy in comparison to these ladies. There again the lassies would have powdered themselves with all the latest overpriced ointments to enhance their chances with the (wealthy) male of the species while the longbow carriers would merely have used mud and body fluids! For some reason this comparison drew laughter from my cruel heart. Oh art, how you reflect society - sometimes!

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Suetonius and Tacitus

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Amazon

Recently I have been indulging my liking of history by reading both Suetonius and Tacitus. Roman history was something I knew about without  having studied properly. So I thought have a read of these two books, which someone else paid for, and I am now more aware of the first twelve emperors from Augustus onwards. At least I now have some idea of the authors opinions of these men and their doings, and as always there is a bias to dig through.

  

Suetonius was one of the high ranking members of Roman society. While Hadrian was Emperor he attained the height of being Secretary of the Imperial Correspondence. Unfortunately in the year 122 Hadrian got the impression Suetonius was being 'over familiar' with Sabina, the Empress, while Hadrian was in Britain, and so dismissed him. Having been Director of the Imperial Libraries we was well able to find his way around the records of past deeds, accurate and mythologised, and from these and other sources he produced his 'Lives of the Twelve Caesars.'    

I really enjoyed this book! Whether it was the vast quantities of cash available to the Emperor, the freedom to invade any nation desired, the ability to make instant decisions with no comeback, and removal of those who upset the rulers will by throwing them to the lions I don't know, but I enjoyed this book! Having all power, not counting the women bitching around you and the fawning courtiers making themselves useful and rich, can be a useful trick. However amongst those willing to flatter you rises a desire to put an end to you also. Reading a list of Roman Emperors from the first three hundred years it is the minority who die in their beds, the vast majority were assassinated  I suspect that the real reason I liked this book was the glimpse into the lives of those who ran Rome. A basic insight certainly, not a history similar to those produced today, but insights into the everyday are seen, and they are not always pleasant for the man in charge. 

Both books start with Augustus and end with Domitian, at least they would had much of Tacitus manuscript not been lost. Sadly his book ends just before Nero gets his comeuppance. We are treated to all the worst, and much of the best, of these rulers. The squabbles between them and their women are shown, although the women ought not to be in powerful positions of course. Tacitus especially indicates how disgraceful it is that a mere woman should attempt to run the Empire! Both men, may well have known one another. Tacitus was a friend of Pliny, Pliny a patron of Suetonius and it is likely one influenced the other as they both came from high class backgrounds. Both wished to indicate how much better life was under their leaders by showing how bad things were in the past. Thus debauchery is often mentioned, much detail by Suetonius, less so by Tacitus. Claudius liked to stay at a distance from Rome and enjoy his sexual pleasures it appears. At times the tales sound like the 'News of the World,' not history. 

One or two major points arise from these books about Rome. One is the deep belief Romans had in their gods. Each day a victim, usually a bird, was killed and the liver examined for indications of how things would be for the Emperor that day. Personally I think killing that bird for that is offal. Rome depended on their gods, Suetonius in particular begins each ruler with a long description of the omens and signs that occurred on the day he was born. Eagles are seen perched on the houses, an earthquake would occur, lightning would strike a major building and so on. There must have been vast numbers of eagles and a dangerous amount of lightening in that part of the world in those days! It also explains why they did not understand the Jews who refused to burn incense to any emperor and did not accept their gods. This was made worse when Christians arrived and the belief was they were cannibals.Did they not eat the body and blood of their God? Both were considered superstitions by those who sought the oracles!

The other major thought was just how viscous a society reigned in Rome. Pax Romanus may well has allowed trade to continue but any crime (and no matter what class you were you could end up as a criminal) could take you to death, and that on a cross or in front of beasts in the arena! Gladiatorial contests were often to the death, and Claudius we read, enjoyed watching the loser die. Criminals could be scourged to death, and Roman citizens lost their heads publicly, an advantage of being a citizen! How thoughtful! People squabbled over seating arrangements, as the better classes wished to have the front seats to show their importance. Emperors and Senate discussed this often as self important men fought for position. Cruelty was part of their make up and if the situation required it an attack on a  fellow senator was used to have an enemy banished or forced to commit suicide. A great many ended this way as lies and deceit filled the rulers household. Rewards for those who informed were often great, although later their sin would find them out. A cruel society, quite happy to slaughter a whole town if they opposed Rome, and if feeling merciful the men would die and women and children sold into slavery! Touching really. 

Both books aid us to understand Roman attitudes, but it is important to also read the younger Pliny as he gives a senators view of life in Rome and incidentally tells us more of everyday life than these books reveal.

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David Cameron

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What is Cameron about? Who is this little rich kid who has wormed his way into the Prime Ministers job?  Educated at Eton and Brasenose College Oxford where he graduated in 1988 with a good degree in Philosophy, Economics and Politics. It worries me when politicians study Philosophy as it is a nothing study. There are no morals in this just words. All is up for grabs and as such gives justification to our amoral MP's.  Apart from a 'gap year' where he travelled and did a little work in the real world 'Dave' as he likes to be known has done little outside politics. Seven successful years as Director of Corporate Affairs for Carlton TV is the only 'real' job he has obtained, and that after much time spent worming his way up the Conservative Party aiding John major with his 'Prime Ministers Question Time' briefings and Norman Lamont when the economy collapsed on 'Black Monday!' He knows about a failed economy all right! 


He left Carton to become MP for 'Witney'' in Oxfordshire, an appropriate seat for what was considered a typical right wing Tory. Being appointed a shadow minister in the Privy Council Office in June 2003, a quick promotion for this bright fellow, he was a deputy to Eric Forth, then Shadow Leader of the House. He then  became a vice-chairman of the Conservative Party in that year. He was appointed as the Opposition front bench local government spokesman in 2004 and entered the shadow cabinet as head of policy co-ordination. For a time he was Shadow Education Secretary.
In December 2005 Cameron became Leader of the Conservative Party and Leader of the Opposition. For the first time the nation could see who he was, and most had never heard of him before his victory. Soon however his rather shady character began to appear. "Dave the Chameleon", the Labour Party called him, and rightly. He appeared to be an 'empty jacket' willing to say anything that would get him elected. Does anyone remember him suggesting that 'Hoodies' needed a 'hug?' Indeed 'Dave' but they also need to be kept under control. Also this quietly disappeared, possibly he realised they were too young to vote. The right wing of the Tory Party denounce him regularly, and their supporters in the 'Daily Mail' can be quite vehement regarding his wishy washy, two faced approach. Why is this? Well many of his promises, I will not go into them, there are too many, many promises have been broken. His real interest is not in creating a successful policy for fixing the nation but simply to obtain enough votes to survive. The right are beginning to revolt and his successful wooing of the Liberal-Democrats into a coalition gave him power but appears to possess so many cracks one wonders how long this will last? 


I wonder what 'Dave' really believes? Does he himself know? He wants to support marriage wet things homosexual marriage is OK also, even though this cannot make sense. He wishes to fix broken Britain he says, yet throws thousands out of work by his drastic cuts, while allowing the banks to take massive bonus's. The city supplies 80% of the Conservative cash and find rewards in tax breaks, how strange! His latest encouragement of the 'Big Society' has fooled nobody as yet. His claim is to get people involved, in a voluntary manner in 'their' communities. No one is fooled 'Dave,' you are just avoiding your responsibilities and cutting back the money you ought to be spending on the nation. The usual Tory policy of not spending money saves money. The usual British response of unemployed everywhere and ten years for the Conservative Party in the wilderness as the nation rejects their hypocrisy! Eighteen millionaires in the present cabinet, including the lackey Nick Clegg, another empty suit. "We are all in this together," says the man in a thousand pound suit, my jeans cost £4 by the way. Some of us are more in it than others, and our number is about to increase.


David Cameron appears to be very confused as to what he wants. He cannot see the nation as it is, just as his friends apparently see it. This is dangerous and opens the way for some awful decisions, like allowing 'gays' to marry in church! What has a church ruling got to do with government anyway? His comprehension of the difficulties, and financially these are indeed great, his comprehension of the answers appear to be nil. All we get is talk of something nobody comprehends, least of all 'Dave' himself. Public Relations and image are all for this man. Content, that is policy that works, does not appear to exist. His party is getting irritated, the Lib-Dems are also impatient, soon something will break, hopefully it will break very soon before we have a society totally out of control. I am worried where all this is leading, and worse than anything  else, there is NO opposition outside of the coalition! Labour are in a worse state, and the House of Lords is not able these days to oppose in the way they did Thatcher. In fact looking at 'Dave' I am beginning to become nostalgic for the mad Baroness, she may have been mentally unbalanced, hard hearted and have no sense of humour or clue as to what was going on but she was far more stable than David Cameron appears to be at the moment.
And that is indeed worrying.


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Egypt

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MidEastWeb

What now for Egypt? President Mubarak takes his leave, moved out by the army it appears. However the army who backed him will not wish to continue in power yet there are no logical political appointees waiting in the wings. Political parties were discouraged, the only organised group being the Muslim Brotherhood and most apparently do not wish for them to rule. Will another dictator arise from the army? Will democratic elections occur? The word 'democracy' is much used and mostly abused in this world. What chance does it have in Egypt tonight? This is the Middle East not the West. People think differently in this part of the world and do not see the world as we do. What happens if such a movement arises in Saudi Arabia? Would this allow bin Laden to return? I doubt it, but it may well lead to a bloodbath in a civil war there. All hangs on a thread, yet nobody knows who controls that thread bar God. A week is a long time in politics and the world this time next week will be a very different place.

Ah the beauty of nature. Spoilt only by a few plastic bags and the occasional bright orange barrier nicked from a workman's site of course. The birds singing in the trees, the early buds appearing on the trees, the gray clouds lowering overhead threatening rain, just right for this time of year. I thought this, somewhat light, picture of the country was better than the passport picture of myself I had to obtain today. £5 for five from a small booth in the town centre. £5 I thought, I could fly to Barcelona for than on 'Easyjet!' The things we are forced to do. Still, I reckon I have kept my handsome feature very well, and I don't look more than 25. Some things, beauty for instance, never change.   

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The Bike

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The weather was a bit dreich, gray clouds lay overhead most of the day, but I managed to get the bike purring all the way up the old railway to the village. That time of the morning, around ten, usually has some folks walking the dog. I maybe would be better saying 'following the dog,' as those beasts enjoy this pathway more than the people do. Whether they appreciate the sights as much as the smells I would not care to say but there were a few four legged creatures sniffing along. 
People round here usually make some sort of greeting as they pass during the week days but on the weekends the attitudes are often different. I wonder if this could be because at the weekend it is those commuters into far off London breathing fresh air but carrying the London offhand approach? Those who have lived there will know the sort of thing, if you die in front of them they will not see you! When I regularly met such folks on a weekend I made a point of a cheery greeting, just to annoy them! They rarely reply!
I was a bit peeved that the wildlife folk had been out with the hatchets and cut back lots of the greenery in preparation for the year. No doubt they know what they are doing but it was a bit disappointing to see so many gaps in the verges. This old railway line is indeed well cared for and is always worth a visit no matter what time of year. I reckon that having spent so many years amongst London's concrete I appreciate the vista more than those brought up out here.
I stopped at the stagnant pond to stop my knees yelling at me, the creaking sound was beginning to annoy me, and sat there for a few moments listening to the typical country sounds. There were robins and tits chirping in the hedges and trees. A squirrel or two passed by, somewhere along the path a dog barked, and over all of this the thunder of the by-pass a hundred yards away drowned out every sound more than five feet from my wax filled ears. Ah the quiet country life, it doesn't exist!


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Now I'm Not One to Complain, But..

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Recently I have settled down at 6:30 to watch Michael Portillo's travels around the UK rail network. A delightful little programme that took us away from the stress of life and showed us some interesting and attractive parts of the UK. Last Friday was the last in the present series of this programme. Yesterday I awaited with baited breath the replacement offering, anxious to know if it could match Portillo's offering. I was not pleased. Indeed pleased I was not! After such an enjoyable programme one wishes the quality to continue, and while I was aware that this series involved a chap driving around the nation in his ageing Voltswagon Camper van I was not too pleased to discover he was another cook! Yes another cookery show! Why? There are chefs and cooks on motor bikes, in kitchens, black ones, drunk ones, sexy ones and even fusty ones, now we have yet another one who's gimmick is an old van! Touring the land he looks for material which 'just happens' to be there and then cooks it, woopee! At times like this I understand why Americans carry guns! Soap operas, dramas that are soap operas, and cooks! That sums up the telly these days. Enough of this pap, give us back proper programmes! 


At least the sun shone today and I got the bike out and trundled around the back streets for half an hour. Later my exercise regime continued with a walk along the old railway and tomorrow, if the rain holds off I will cycle much more. How much better life feels when the sun shines and the sky is blue. Chilly it may have been but we are creatures of light and respond to the sun. If only I had an escape in the Mediterranean!


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TV Football

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Amazon

After watching those parts of 'Match of the Day' that I did not miss by lying in my kip, I later spent much of the day watching football. At one of the clock we suffered the dreary Swansea versus Cardiff City derby that was supposed to be a humdinger of a game. It was rotten! Typical English (and Wales is merely a county of England isn't it?) football, over rated and dreary. A damp squib. Before it finished I logged in to the BBC online to watch proper football, the Scottish Cup tie between lowly Aberdeen and even lower Dunfermline. It was rotten also! This game was dreary and made worse by the Dons gaining a 'jammy' goal in the very last minute. Sickener! The TV coverage from Aberdeen was much better than that from Swansea mind. Down south it appears that constantly showing close up's of every player became a real drag. There was far too little of the game and far too much backs of players heads for my liking. I loudly informed the director of his mistake but he appeared not to listen. At least the BBC in Scotland watched the game and not the 'celebrities' involved. (I use the word 'celebrities' wit a large pinch of salt in Aberdeen!). Still it could be worse, I could have been there and paid money! Even worse it could have been what some call a 'Super Bowl!' No thanks to that!

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Ozymandias

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Ramses II

Ozymandias 

I met a traveller from an antique land

Who said: `Two vast and trunkless legs of stone

Stand in the desert. Near them, on the sand,

Half sunk, a shattered visage lies, whose frown,

And wrinkled lip, and sneer of cold command,

Tell that its sculptor well those passions read

Which yet survive, stamped on these lifeless things,

The hand that mocked them and the heart that fed.

And on the pedestal these words appear --

"My name is Ozymandias, King of Kings:

Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!"

Nothing beside remains. Round the decay

Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare

The lone and level sands stretch far away.'

Percy Bysshe Shelley




Poem Hunter
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Egypt

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Independent

Egypt, one of the most important nations in the Middle East, is usually just ignored in the UK. Since Suez in 1956 Egypt has gone it's own way and under Mubarak has been a stable friend of the west for thirty years. The plight of half the nation being under twenty five and having no prospects meant nothing to us in the UK, it was just another 'far away nation about which we know nothing,' so to speak. Robert Fisk in the 'Independent is one of the few who regularly give a worthwhile read on Middle East tales of woe and his books are well worth a look for those who wish to understand this area. While trade continued and thousands travelled up the Nile to be ripped off by vendors while catching sunburn in ancient temples the life of the majority in Egypt just passed us by. Rarely did it get a mention on TV news or indeed anywhere else. Ancient Egypt may have appeared on occasion but the present citizens meant nothing to us. Today however we are all apparently involved in siding with the people as they shake themselves free from Mubarak's repression and seek 'democracy!'  Oh yes? We care so much about that, or do we just like watching the riots? Nothing pleases the left wing middle class than a 'revolution' of the people, and nothing pleases the media more than such a revolution producing gunshots and violence. It makes such good pictures for the press and allows the 'Guardian' reader to take sides, albeit at a safe distance!

However where is all this leading? Removing Mubarak may be a victory but then what? The people of Egypt do not know and the removal of this man is less important than other parts of their daily lives. For a start there are too many of them. About half are under twenty five and where do they get jobs, wives and a future? Bread prices have soared and 40% of the wheat stock has been thrown away because of infestation thus increasing prices even more. Political change here as ever is less to do with 'politics' as much as obtaining our 'daily bread.' Few Egyptians I suspect care if the president remains. The majority would accept anyone who provides for their daily bread, creates jobs and ensures a peaceful society. A leaderless revolution always has someone ready to step in and lead, and such people are not always caring folk. The Muslim Brotherhood are often noted as leading opponents, however no other political movements have been allowed to develop in recent times. Men will arise to lead if there is change, can they be trusted by the people, or indeed the west?

A change of leadership has so many repercussions for us in the UK, the politics of the middle east always have an effect on us, the danger of all out war is ever present, vast numbers visit the country each year to boast of their wealth and adventure (What adventure sitting by the Red Sea getting pissed in the sun happens to be I don't understand myself. Why not visit the sights you ignorant slobs?) and if the US is involved they will wish the UK to do their dirty work for them again, as always. Will 'Dave' continue his 'Tony Blair lookalike' image into bowing down before Obama and the American military desires?  You betcha!

What off the people? Mubarak will go eventually, a new man will arise, politics will whitewash those who killed during the rioting, and life will go on. Repression will continue, although it may change its hue, prices will always rise, some will become rich and the rest will muddle along as always. History teaches us one thing, human nature never changes! We might however see more news about Egypt on our TV's for a while, then drop it for some other 'important' story.

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Maldon Estuary

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Rotten Week

It's been a rotten week so far. The bug has taken what little energy and the even smaller amount of sense that I had and gave me that drained feeling. I was supposed to call a place re a job but what with lack off oomph and the fact that I am not fit enough to work 40 hours again has combined to make me feel lousy. It is amazing how quickly fitness leaves and how hard it is to recover. Wednesday saw me determined to develop stamina again by walking. Two long walks in the cold wind, followed  by another yesterday and amazingly I even got the bike out for a while! However all I have are blisters on the feet and aches everywhere else. Since the snow started I have not been able to get the bike out. Follow that with the bug that never leaves and I have done so little exercise it is only the blubber in front of me that stops me blowing away in the wind! At the back of my head a voice is calling, "Get of your backside and DO something you fat slob!" I am glad it is being subtle! However nothing appears to arrive. The job market for an lazy good for nothing unskilled male almost at 60 is quite small these days. Honestly I have used my whole intellect in this fruitless search and....hold on, I think that may be part of the problem! What now? I just don't know and am quite fed up with this directionless life.

This decrepit looking building dates back into the mists of time. They say it was around in the 14th century, probably the last time it saw a lick of paint, and now serves as a small, character filled (which means what I ask?) hotel. Once a large manor house, and now almost unnoticed at the end of the High Street, it is only around the back does the true age of the building show. How often it has been rebuilt or renovated I could not say however it does seem sad that such a character is hidden away from general view and espied (lovely word) merely from the back end of the multi story car park. Several building round here are like this. The front may be Georgian but round the back a more Medieval side can be glimpsed. Chimneys, roofs and 'Gants,' passageways between buildings, reveal the Netherlands influence from the days of the weavers a few hundred years ago. Pairs of cottages renovated into one expensive house show traces of the farm labourers of yesterday, the occasional 'Big Hoose' reveals just how much money could be made from weaving!  Streets built by speculative builders working together spread out from the centre of town. 

In the 19th century a joiner say, alongside a  bricklayer and possibly a plumber, would join together and buy three plots of land in a newly laid out street. Together they would erect three houses, without architects help, and each would sell one and put the profit to his family and then buying more land to repeat the process. By this method much of England's housing stock was built. The 'Feu duty' in Scotland hindered this approach and anyone building went upwards, hence so many tenements. The Scots are much more egalitarian than the stand offish English and such dwellings grew out of the old 'Closes' and 'Stairs' of past times. Naturally the lower down the social order the worse the building, but that happens everywhere, and still does! The Victorians were not ones to dwell on the past. Buildings that stood in the way of progress were demolished. Just look for Berwick Castle and be disappointed. Robert Stephenson tore it down to build his railway station, and used the stones in doing so! Only the 'keep' of Newcastle itself was 'kept!' The train just misses this as it passes by.  Without listing orders on buildings, often a pain to some, many buildings today would be lost to our heritage. It is not possible to keep all old buildings but so many are worth noting that care is required. After all if every 'old thing' was to be replaced what would become of us?

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