Nothing to Say

Nothing happened again today.  I mean things happened, the world turned, people did things, events took place, but nothing happened.  I tried to make things happen.  I hoovered the floor, bought new hoover bags as that one appears to be a bit full, I don't know why as I change it annually, done the washing, and I even had a bath in spite of it not being Sunday.  But nothing happened.  I wandered around the market looking for fallen veg, but nasty folks had already nicked it all, and went into the museum (not as an exhibit) to avoid the rain, and view the Great War improvements, (I don't mean improvements to the Great War, it's finished, I mean the display).   The display has a few things, now well presented, and the curator deserves her praise.  However she offered me a list of information regarding the men who served that had been compiled a while back by another.  I had not been informed of this and it covered all the ground I had been slowly researching. Bah!  Typical.  However I have now got my hands on this and hope to discover whoever it was compiled the list for a chat.  His info will be used that's for sure, some is much better than mine!   

But nothing happened otherwise, sigh......  

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Tired & Weary

Around three thirty this morning someone decided to thump on a door with their fist three times!  I awoke wondering who was clambering about at this time.  No further sound was heard. No door slammed, no cry of "Gerrrrroutofit," was heard.  Nothing.  Not even the Blackbirds had decided to squawk at that hour.  But I could not fall asleep again.  I drifted in and out of a half sleep until the news came on at five, then dozed and found myself rising at quarter to seven.  Tired and weary I have failed to recover since.  Even forty winks at lunch did not cover the loss of sleep.  Ruined my while day this has.  I had things planned, I had good intentions, and I had a poor lunch. Forgetting the heat was on high I burned the mince, but that has become standard in here now, I drank tea not realising the milk was off, I know now mind, and continually I failed to achieve anything once again. However I am aware that tomorrow all will be forgotten and life will be better.


Sleep is a funny thing. Insufficient ruins our life, as indeed does too much. Sleep deprivation makes us angry, irritable, and ruins health. Yet most of us have too little. Seven to nine hours is normal for an adult, that's one third of your life! A clear sign if we need it to prove we are not god, we have to sleep. Sleep, a state of unconsciousness in which the body rebuilds itself, sets the mind straight, and heals diseases - some of them anyway. What a fantastic thing sleep is! Naturally having worries, children, noisy neighbours, and a cat in the house can ruin this sleep pattern. It is no surprise we fail to rise refreshed when we have had to get up and let the cat out/in, feed the bairn, worry about our next payday and stop No 19 playing his big drum at two in the morning by shooting him, such things leave our sleep disrupted.




I think I need to practice this more often, and so should you, but not if you are driving....




Sleep

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Time Catches up on us All

One of the better class of rock groups 'Deep Purple' were excellent at their job!  This was one of the albums I obtained and attempted to wear out, and at 36 shillings and 8 pence I was taking a chance!  Rock groups today often have a good musician or two but often appear to me at least to be a bit 'plastic,' a wee bit made up if you like.  Deep Purple were the real deal!  Today however time caught up with 71 year old John Lord the classically trained keyboard player and one of the two founder members of the band.  He died after suffering an awful illness but leaves behind a good few memories.   BBC John Lord  

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Adull's Sunday Night Pub Quiz.

All right it's not much of a quiz, but there again it's not much of a pub!  In fact had it not been reduced for quick sale it would have been the 'Tea Garden Quiz!'  Six simple questions, requiring six simple answers just so someone who will be nameless (but lives in Mexico) can get them all right without cheating.

1) The first British 'Prime Minister,' what was his name?

2) Name Australia's capital city?

3) Who was it that first discovered how to make 'frozen food?'


4)  In what town was Leonardo da Vinci born?


5)  George Best was a famous footballer.  With which team did he make his name?


6)  Who starred in Hitchcock's 'North by Northwest?'   


Six simple questions to test your intellectual strength.




Answers later.
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He He He!

Two Things

Actually three.
This evening the internet shuddered and the radio programme I was listening to stopped.  Soon it returned but it appeared I had been momentarily cut off, although the correct lights were flashing to indicate it still worked. Hmmm.
Later I noticed I had to sign in again to Blogger and Yahoo but all else was OK.  Blogger will not allow me to post pictures tonight, although it would allow me to post a video!  For spite I refused to post it!
Hmmm strange indeed.


The two points however were totally removed from this.
First John terry.
This man is not a well liked footballer.  
He has many enemies in the game and more in the tabloid press.  The press hate anyone who stands up to them and when he obtained a court order keeping his misdemeanours a secret they were very upset!  His family are to say the least a bit rough.  He has also behaved on the rough side on several occasions and obtained a reputation.  Recently a spat between him and a black player (we are no longer allowed to say 'coloured' say the language Nazi's) during a football match ended up with him in court on a 'racist' charge.  Today he was found 'Not Guilty.'
Now few know what actually happened, most have made their ignorance known anyway.  The court result says something at least and ought to bring the matter to an end.
But what was the real cause?  Racism?  Really?
I am unconvinced racism was at fault.  I suggest Mr Terry, once England captain and regular team member, has many enemies within the England camp and football in general.  His opponent in court has a brother who plays alongside Terry for England and I suspect does not like him.  he may well have good reason for this.  It seems to me this case was overblown and exaggerated merely to have a go at the man himself.  It failed.
Abuse flows through football.  Some players will do and say the most awful things to upset an opponent, racism does appear, rarely in the UK  these days, but on occasion. (It certainly comes in the other direction but we cannot go into that here)  I suggest that here we had a spat during a game when words were passed by both needlessly and political correctness and spite took over.  Sadly the police these days fail to judge such things properly.  Where once a caution and words of warning were offered we now have court cases.  A man yelled abuse at a station ticket collector and called him a Welsh something or other and ended up charged with racism.  A needless court case followed while a caution would have sufficed. I say the Terry case was similar!  However the police were too afraid not to charge him, the media demanded this, many fans demanded this also, and the only way out was for the jury to decide.  usually when players behave like this wise words behind the scenes take care of things.  Nobody appears to have tried!  Maybe too many wished harm to this man.  Some would say who can blame them?


Point two features another unsavoury group of men.  Those who run Scottish football. These short sighted biased people have done their utmost to ensure Rangers (under the new name Servo) play in the Scottish premier League in spite of their many crimes against that league, the tax man and society in general.  The other clubs of the SPL were forced by their fans to oppose this and today the lower league body, The Scottish Football league, resisted immense pressure from outside to place Servo in Division 1.  Division 3 was the choice, by 25 -5 votes!  Pressure from the Scottish Football Association, others behind the scene and the Rangers media (all Glasgow based media is totally behind Rangers as they support the club and make their money there) were ignored by the courage of the chairmen of these lower division clubs.  


Does this mean we can get on with the game now?  
No!  There will follow more dirty deeds, especially at the next SPL meeting on Monday, possibly to attempt an SPL2 as has been suggested already.  Maybe another devious attempt will spring up.  Whatever, the sooner those behind such deals are removed from the game the better.  The leaders of these organisations have shown themselves to consider Rangers, under any name, more important than anyone else.  Shortsightedness, failed planning, bad negotiations have led to this awful time.  Heads may have to roll, new ideas need implanting, but a breath of fresh air may well be approaching Scottish football when Servo take the field in Division 3.  I hope they remain there!  

Blue Sky Thinking

I took this picture of the town hall clock tower not because it was special but because the sky was blue. Read that again - BLUE! Yes indeed for much of the day the sun shone and made us smile, well not the lass in Tesco's obviously. Last time she smiled she was off sick for a week. The sun has made the tower a bit brighter than it was in real life, the clock handles ought to be 'golder' in colour, but my laptop does not enable that to show sadly. However the blue is what I want to see, and lots of it. The golden creature on the top, just what is that supposed to be, and what is it doing? In a week or two I am going on a private tour, with a hundred others, of this 1926 town hall and may be able to catch a couple of pictures. It is very noble inside, with interesting murals and doors, staircases and such like. A reflection of town pride and the pride of the man who paid for it so generously. Of course paying a shilling a week more to his workers might have created a better society but he didn't think of that.

The town hall stands where the town market once stood.  Jokes about cattle and Councillor's can be inserted here.  To the modern mind, who often complain about lack of car park spaces, the idea that cattle, sheep, pigs and the like could be driven through the streets a mere ninety odd years is outlandish.  Yet the market square would buzz with the farmers selling their wares and drinking their health in 'The Bull' and other watering houses.  People on strike for that extra shilling that built the town hall also gathered around here because they felt they were treated in similar fashion to the beasts.  They had a point!  before the Great War strikes were common.  In the year 1912 the railways, the builders, many major industries were all on strike.  Conditions were awful in many places, train drivers and their firemen often driving for the whole day and then forced to do another journey after that.  Long hours, short pay, easy sackings, no compensation.  Life was tough for many in those days.  Then came the war!  Well that's a relief, that helped sort the industrial troubles, apart from the strikes obviously.  Did you know women munitions workers could make a pound a week working a twelve hour shift?  No wonder they took to lipstick, cigarettes and local pubs!  Soldiers got one shilling and twopence a day basic, that's eight shillings a week at twenty shillings to the pound!

We still treat soldiers badly.  The pay is better, some after care has improved, but the failure of the private company to recruit and train sufficient security staff for the Olympics has meant a further several thousand troops must be brought in for security duties.  Three million unemployed, many in the London region, yet they have several thousand staff short?  This organisation lacks a wee bit of organisation I think.  There again after having received £280 million to provide a service and offer the minimum wage for hard conditions I suspect I can see where their problem may lie.

Digitaldreamdoor.com

It is fifty years ago today that the Rolling Stones made their debut at the Marque Club in Soho.  While the line up was to change somewhat in the days following before the 'famous five' pictured above became famous, that's how it is with musicians, nevertheless that was the first time this band performed. Fifty years ago? Some of these boys now touch 70, who would have thunk it? One of the great rock and roll Rhythm and Blues bands of our time. This is one of the tracks all aspiring Rhythm and Blues bands played in those days:-

'Scuse me while I reminisce....

Two Pics

One picture spoofs the famous, by now, Second World War poster.  For bloggers it is indeed good advice.  Keeping the mouth shut and listening to what is going on around you can produce openings for items to blog about, and also not yelling a multitude of rude words at the keyboard helps concentration when things go wrong, like spellings, disobedient computer software, and family and friends offering advice. The proof reading, something you will note I fail to do, can stop folks asking if all the schools were on strike when you grew up? Satire is not dead it seems.

Someone passed this onto me, and while I do not know where it came from (Was it one of you lot?) I do think it a fantastic picture.  Someone is a very sharp shot with a camera.

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Desperate Abstract

Desperate to find a photo worth taking today.  Weather didn't help, having too much work to do didn't help, having no talent didn't help.  So I gathered together the pencils and produced this!  Long ago in a photo mag I read that pictures are all around you!  Open your eyes and see them.  This is true but it is not always possible to see them.  Coming from Edinburgh, the most beautiful city in the world, I found that for the first few years living in London I could not 'see' any pictures when I returned to Edinburgh.  The problem was the castle, the buildings, the surroundings were all part of growing up and I just took them for granted.  I could not 'see' pictures for a few years.  There again who wishes to see pictures of wet buildings, ancient or not?  


Tomorrow the kitchen!

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Danger Day

Maybe it's the ever present tiredness that never seems to leave me, maybe it's just being cack-handed, or there again it may just be my luck but today did not go well.  


It started late, I awoke at ten past five, closed my eyes as the 'shipping forecast' was read on the wireless and next thing I knew it was seven!  I stumbled into the kitchen fried tomatoes and the mushrooms that were growing on them and microwaved an omlette.  This took forever as I had forgotten to turn the cooker on.  Eventually my cold toast finished and crumbs filling every crack in this laptop, the phone rang.  For some strange reasom nine o'clock had arrived before I was ready and some spammer was already attempting to sell me something.  I ignored them and let the ansafone take care of it, no message was the reply.  I dialed 1471 to get their number and trace the call but they did not leave one, a spammer!  However I noticed some marks on the phone, the handset batteries were leaking like a tap!   Considerable time later the mess was cleaned up, on the phone, the desk,the laptop - me!  At least the desk is considerably cleaner, although things now fall through the hole.   


As I had to go into the walled city for no good reason I prepared carefully my duties so as to have as little time there as possible.  Naturally this was not to be.  Having managed to stay awake sufficiently to leave the train at my stop, rather than end in down by the coast where I would rather be, although being in Clacton on Sea would not be my first choice of coastal town to reside in (ankle chains and white stiletto's, and that's just the men!), I trooped off via the park and watched life slowly traipse by in the gloom.  At least the rain only threatened, then stopped and this summers gray cloud cheered us no end.  As I made for my destination a man walking the other way grumbled about the papers strewn all over and around a park bench, although I was not sure what I should do about it.  I noticed that he grumbled about those responsible but made no effort to collect the stuff and put it in the bin himself.  Hmmm.


Forced to huddle in a side room with a hundred other layabouts until the lovely Alison sorted things out I was then presented with a PC that suffered much!  The screen resolution was so small I could only see it by leaning right up against it, the window light reflected blocking what I could see, and it would not work!  My neighbour had his working, up to a point, but at least he could read his!  Once we managed to get started the printer would not print.  Both of us, and several others, sent much to the printer and nothing arrived.  The PC's were set to a differing machine.  Somewhere in that building hundreds of wasted sheets of paper are at this minute piling up on the floor.  What were we doing there?  Almost all of us claimed we do more at home.  All of us thought we were wasting time here, and that it cost this company cash it would be better advised spending on an upgrade of the computer system. However these 'Work' programmes are running into a problem. They make money when the 'client' gets a job he keeps for six months. There are three million unemployed and 400,000 vacancies. Most on this programme are the ones nobody wants. Like me some are unfit, some old, some unskilled and some ex-prisoners, not the first you would choose when employing someone from several hundred applications. The course is meant to help but there are just too few jobs, now this programme are getting worried. Conned by this government they are losing cash like water flooding folks houses and there is no improvement in sight. I wasted my time there, got out as quick as I could, and made it home without falling asleep onto the tracks.




I put the chips in the oven as I couldn't be fagged to do anything else and forgot the frying pan and oil therein was lying on the bottom of the oven. I type this with a thin haze all around, the windows open to clear the air, an unfortunate aroma clinging to everything, and suspect that as the night is young still more can go wrong.




I'm off to bed......




Oh good, the kids opposite have their music on, 'Rap' (with a capital 'C') or that dum dum dum stuff I wonder? That's the advantage the States has in such situations, guns! Bah!







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Dead Sunday

Nothing to say.  The papers are full of Andy Murray, a Scotsman, being the first British tennis player in the final at Wimbledon for yonks.  The 'Daily Mail' reader hates him because he  unwisely stated he wanted the England football team to lose, as all sensible, decent Scots do.  Having been imperialists by nature they have turned against him in their usual English way by supporting his opponent.  The facts of history are ignored, and reading the 'Daily Mail' they will remain hidden from them.  Do I car? No.  Tennis means little to me, although I have watched some of it, and naturally in between the camera focusing on the 'B' celebs who must be seen there Murray has held his own reasonably well.  I suspect he will lose as Hibs folk usually do and Federer is a step above most players, not just Murray.  The rain has stopped play as it always does and the roof that cost millions to install has not yet been closed. I am amazed at the dafties who organise such events! 

So now I look for something to blog. My tired mind remains unfocused, the rain inhibits wandering about with the camera, forgetting to eat limits walking about also! The papers have nothing to say except Murray this and Murray that, although they are more interested in the celebs who watch. Meanwhile the rain keeps falling here, flooding some folks and yet parched lands are missing their share elsewhere. Climate change, disbelieved by some, affects those who look up, although preferably under a brolly today!

Does it mean the end of the world? Yes, but that could take a hundred years yet. Does it mean man has damaged the world he was meant to protect? Yes, but volcanoes and other natural events have not helped either, just ask the cows in the nearest field what they give the fresh air around them! This year has been very damp, but warm at least. I am supposed to be out in this at the walled city tomorrow, I bet it lashes down then!

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Corruption?

BBC

Another day, another fiddle in the 'Rangers' saga.


What began with tax fiddling and grew with dubious new owners develops each day into a soap opera of a dimension so strange that no scriptwriter would dare attempt it.  The 'Rangers Football Club' has proved unsaveable and will pass into liquidation (when?) and the latest owner, who may or may not have the money, has attempted to force his way int Scotland's top division (the Scottish premier League) and failed.  He has then attempted to enter the Scottish Football League (the lower division in Scotland) and his friends (one Mr Regan) in the Scottish Football Association (the governing body) and The Scottish premier League (one Mr Donaldson) 
are doing his work for him there.


Various threats have been issued, and those connected with the Ibrox club have issued many threats this year, threats have been issued to the SF: members that refusal  to obey the wishes of those in charge could see millions lost to the game as SKY TV pull out (Sky deny they will pull out)
and several SPL clubs failing and dying.  Loss of cash will affect the lower divisions leaving many of them to go to the wall also.  Clubs are worried, rightly, and annoyed at the threatening manner in which this debacle takes place.


On Friday the SFL clubs meet to decide the new 'Rangers' fate.  This club has no accounts, no players, and a dubious owner.  Whether he has the cash to keep his 'newco' afloat is unclear, his long term intentions are just as unclear.  The clubs today discovered a new twist in the corruption within Scotland's football.  The SFL leaders now wish tod ecide by themselves where this club plays.  Clearly most wish them to begin at the bottom, Division 3, but this idea will simply place them into Division 1 so, they say, to stop money being lost to the game!  This is a disgrace and hopefully the smaller clubs will stand up to this!  Disgraceful!  


There can be little sympathy anywhere for any Ibrox club today.  The bullying gerrymandering of Regan, Donaldson and others reveals the depth of corruption and desperation to keep a sinking ship afloat.  I begin to think dumping 'Rangers' out of the game altogether is the only way forward, followed by the personnel responsible for this mess.  It is time for UEFA and FIFA to step in.  Their rules have been broken, Rangers did go to the Scottish courts to overturn a lenient punishment (which as yet has not been reheard), the shambles behind the scene to keep this club afloat shows the bias within Hampden, and to save the game, with the season less than a month away, someone has to take control NOW!  


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Red Sky at Night...

Sadly the picture cannot convey the sky form one end to the other covered in a deep pink hue.  Oh to live higher up and get a clear picture! What a wonderful sight this was, and well past ten O'clock at that! Wonderful evening, the rhodur... rhodand.... the big bush over the road filling the air with fragrance and setting the scene nicely.

Red sky at night, 

Shepherds delight!

Since the back of two this morning the rain has been coming down constantly!  The papers, radio  and TV are full of scare stories.  A months rain in 24 hours is expected today, floods, disasters, catastrophes and would you believe that when the storm eased this morning as I went to Tesco's   I saw a man in sailors uniform!  It was that bad they have called out the navy!  

The Daily Mail Scream Loud Story

If you see any shepherd's while out today, run them over!

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Proper Comedian

A sad loss today was the passing of the great comedian and script writer Eric Sykes.   For those of us of a certain age Sykes was an institution all our lives.  From small beginnings in the forties Sykes, like many other ex-servicemen, began a career in show business that was to make him an institution.  His influence was everywhere, or radio, TV, stage and films.  Both acting and directing, his film without words 'The Plank,' was a great hit when it appeared in 1967.  He wrote for Frankie Howard, Britain's highest paid comic at the time, for 'The Goon Show,' an institution in itself, and wrote and acted with Hattie Jacques as brother and sister in a long running sitcom.


Sykes comedy was gentle, clever fun.  His was not the cynical comedy so popular today, although he could laugh at any powerful soul if need be.  He was one who laughed with you, not at you.  Comedy arose from any situation and Eric knew how to put a funny slant on it.  This success made him Britain's vest paid writer in due course, which must have pleased his family, and came in spite of going deaf.  He wore glasses which contained no glass, instead they conveyed sound vibrations to his ears so he could see.  With them he continued to act, even appearing in a 17th century comedy play wearing them!  His eyesight also failed but he continued to appear as often as possible.  A great wit, a great comedian and a great actor.  he gavce the impression of being a great man also.  His comedy will be much missed.

  

BBC

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As we have avoided pics of the park

As we have avoided pics of the park for a while I thought I would cease your anxious wait by allowing a peep at the gray, dreich, damp weather that in the UK we call 'summer.'  I would have preferred to leave the house around six and picture the sun rising slowly over the trees, however reality sank in and I stayed in bed until seven.  The rain, continuous and heavy, stopped about lunchtime.  Only then did I consider wandering out.  Having considered I waited until I was sure the rain would stay off.  After three I left the house and by ten minutes past it was raining again!

As I crossed the road back to my condominium I pondered on the history of the road I crossed.  For several thousand years people have trod this way.  Long before the Romans arrived I suspect a path through the woods which covered the area was formed by the feet of travellers.  With the early Britons established in what is now Colchester a firm trail must have led this way.  Roman engineers then remodelled the road according to their engineering principles and thus earning the way the term 'Stane Street.'  

Roman troops marching he fifteen miles probably encamped at this spot where the road from London to Lincolnshire crossed heading north.  Hence the beginning of a hamlet on this spot.  Later development around 1200 under Church auspices saw great growth for the market.  The number of animals brought along this road to market, the number of troops, the individual travellers over the years interest me.  Thousands, millions of journeys have been made over the years.  

I suspect most of them grumbled about the summer rain!

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Maudlin Monday

With the football season ending last night I am now able to concentrate on blog writing.  Isn't that good?  What?... oh.  


Anyway as the season has now ended this means there is no football until the new season begins again.  Luckily for you and me training began this morning at Tynecastle Park and the Scottish Cup Winners (5-1 over Hibernian you remember) will soon be up and running and ready for the new season.  Rejoice!


However this does leave a gap in the TV schedules.  Filling it with pap may suit some folks but not me.  The wireless offers more hope, especially a careful use of the BBC iplayer, which sadly is not available outside the UK I think.  In spite of the absurd renovation of the website, huge empty pages, large ugly picture of some unknown, and little content, rather like the person who designed it I fancy, the programmes do sometimes offer thirty minutes worth listening to.  Today I found a little to listen to as I busily scribbled down names from a  film made by a one time local cinema in 1919.  Two films in fact, each containing still pictures of men who were serving in the armed services at the time.  I found them fascinating!  Many names were new to me, indicating they survived the war, and several were the men I have been searching for!  Fantastic and indeed stunning to be honest, to see an actual photo of a man who's grave I have stood beside.  Suddenly the names on the memorial are that bit deeper and more relevant!  Sadly only a handful can be positively identified as yet, however others are likely our men, and hopefully we can bring this together before long.
if you are interested in two short silent films, six minutes long, they are found here and here.

After scrutinising the films, adding the names, and contemplating life the universe and everything I spent some time cogitating on my life so far.  Today I reached 61 years.  Again, as I think this the sky darkens, rain falls, a heavy weight comes upon me.  I took that heavy weight down to the pond in the gardens this morning and holding it tightly leapt in!

Two rather needlessly gruff gardeners pulled me out again, muttering about by-laws and the pond only being two feet six inches deep. How disappointing! They through me out and flung the weight after me.

Add to this the arrival of the 'Winter Fuel Payment' forms cheered me no end as this also tells me I am officially old. 

Rejoice, rejoice.....

Normal Service

Will be resumed as soon as the European Championships are over!

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Password

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This Means Trouble

On the 28th of June 1914 Gavrilo Princip, along with several others, attempted to assassinate Archduke Franz Ferdinand.  Princip succeeded where the others had failed, shooting both the Archduke and his wife.  As Ferdinand was heir to the throne of the Austro-Hungarian Empire, and Princip a member of 'Young Bosnia,' a group supported by the Serbian 'Black Hand,' organisation, this meant trouble, and trouble in a big way.
Europe had been creating empires for some time.  These spent their time being wary and jealous of one another, fighting over land stolen from the peoples of Africa, India, South East Asia and wherever material gain was to be found.  Military alliances arose in order to prevent their empires destruction by other military alliances.  Pride, patriotism, selfishness and arrogance mixed well, but careful forethought was ignored.  How the spirit of the air laughed!
By 1914 the generals of all armies at least knew a war was inevitable, human nature being what it is, they also knew that if a war of movement was not won quickly a stalemate would lead to a situation they could not predict.  Millions of men were armed and ready for war, whether regulars, conscripts or reserves, millions were being spent on enlarging the navies, diplomatic sabres were rattling everywhere and a small blue fuse was all that was required to ignite a full scale, and welcomed by everybody, war. So it was in 1914. The death of the Archduke led Austria to demand 'satisfaction.' Serbia was invaded as Austria led her forces in a war to gain revenge, the blue fuse was lit.

While the British parliament urgently debated the 'Irish question,' fearing a civil war in that land, Earl Grey the foreign Minister interrupted their discussion to mention the death of the Archduke.  He added that this could be serious, they concurred but thoughtfully did nothing.  What could they do but wait?
Within days of the Austrian invasion (and defeat in the first battle!) Russia mobilised, Germany therefore mobilised, France mobilised, and suddenly Europe was at war!  Tsar & Kaiser, Emperor and King, politicians from all sides, had lost control of a situation.  A few stoutly preached peace, most raced willingly or unwillingly for war, caught up in forces out of their control.  
By the fourth of August, unexpectedly, Britain was at war!  Seven days from the assassination of a man in a nation most thought little of even if they knew of its existence a war that would cost ten million lives began amid much cheering!  This war was to leave a legacy that still resides with us, a war that changed the world for ever!


A week is indeed a long time in politics.  That shot meant trouble indeed!


Franz Ferdinand   Gavrilo Princip  The IWM Podcast refers to opinions from that time, listen in!

This means trouble also!  This is the dead PC that caused me so much grief.  This occurred when the engine, seen in the top left hand corner, began to smoke.  I soon realised this ought not to happen and switched off.  A new engine, or power unit if you wish to be fussy, arrived and has, after much blood, sweat and tears been placed in the proper place.  It works!  The fan goes round, the chip fan goes around, the hard drive fan goeth around!  The motherboard does not switch on.

Grrrrrrr!  I lay on the floor crying "Why me, why me..." for some time - before being thrown out of Sainsburys.  I think things may be getting to me.

Good job I am not one to complain.......


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Exercise

This building here houses one of those gyms so popular today with certain types.  Behind the darkened glass running along the length of the building, on the right of the picture, it is just possible to make out figures exercising.  These folks are using running machines, weight machines, stretching and straining and then returning to their cars to rush home and sit on the couch. As I passed, on my bike, I wondered if leaving the car at home and walking to the gym would be a better idea?  Maybe walking more, sitting less, and dumping the TV might be beneficial for the body and cheaper on the wallet?  Spending time at a  desk, in a car, on a couch I can assure you does the figure no good whatsoever.  I say this as  a lithe ten stone muscular chap myself  (pictures available for cash) but observing the people in this town shows me I am right.  The idea of paying money, and a lot of money at that, to exercise after a week of sloth might seem a good one, but is it really?  Do the girls who use the gym do so for health reasons or for their looks?  Are the men thinking a muscular body will bring the lassies rolling in, I have never found so myself, personality tends to be better I find, or not in my case.  Looks attract but many lovely girls are just poison, and muscle bound males are often as thick as their biceps.  I confess it is good to feel healthy, we all benefit from that, but less sloth leads to health cheaply.  Men digging holes in the road have cardiac responses of athletes, can we be surprised while working at such a job?  Builders must be of similar health, yet a muscle bound clot in a suit may be more trustworthy to some because of his outfit.    For me it's time to be healthy and I once again attempt to exercise.  I done five minutes yesterday, walked around the block, and went back to bed.  Today I left out the walk.....




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