Thomas Telford

On this day in 1757 Thomas Telford, canal, road and bridge builder, entered the world at Gelndinning, a rural farm in Dumfriesshire.  His shepherd father died soon after he was born and poverty suffused his early life.  At 14 he was apprenticed to a stonemason later working in Edinburgh before making his way to London in 1782.  Self taught for the most part he was a natural engineer and through William Pulteney he obtained the post of Surveyor of Public Works in Shropshire.  While there he not only renovated many public buildings he also began to erect some forty bridges in Shropshire alone as part of his daily duties.  

In 1793 Telford designed and built the Ellsmere Canal linking Wrexham, Ellsmere and Chester with the Mersey.  This included erecting the Pontcysyllte Aqueduct 126 feet over the River Dee. This engineering marvel is still in regular use today by canal boats.  As Telford's reputation grew his opinion was requested in many spheres, Liverpool water, London Bridge and a twenty year job building the Caledonian Canal to improve communication by sea in the heart of the highlands.  This involved a thousand miles of new roads, another thousand bridges, improvements to harbours at ports throughout Scotland as well as the development of the canal itself.  All this at a time when the Navvy, armed with pick and shovel, completed the work by the sweat of his brow.  The death toll from accident as well as overwork must be enormous.  Alongside all this Telford erected 32 new churches and developed almost 200 miles of road in the south west of Scotland.  This at a time when muddy roads were the norm and transport consisted of foot, horse or coach.  Thomas improved on the development of MacAdam roads, changing the material used to strengthen the road surface.  The churches were paid for by parliament and erected in areas devoid of a place of worship.  £1500 was allowed for each building and Telford's design skillfully reduced the cost to a mere £750.  I wonder how many still exist, possibly as expensive homes today.

Telford constructed roads throughout England and Wales all with their accompanying bridges including the Menai Bridge.  The face of Britain was changed completely when his roads were completed.  Canals, roads, bridges and this was soon followed by the entrance of the Railway age, changing the nation once again in a different manner.  Telford's roads and many bridges however are still in use, many now expanded, improved, but still following the original way. When he was referred to as "The Colossus of Roads," by his friend the poet Robert Southey few would have disagreed!   Late in life he completed St Katherine's Dock next to Tower Bridge in London, a place still full of boats today, tunnels, canals and roads were still in his mind when he died in 1834.  Telford was 77 when he died and had never married.  He left no blood relation and had he married and became surrounded by a family would he ever have completed so many great public works?     

Thomas Telford was so great an engineer that many roads, including one near my home area in Edinburgh, were named after him.  However in Shropshire the new town was called 'Telford' in commemoration of the great man.  Few of us will ever have that accolade!

He was a Scot you know, did I mention this?

Thomas Telford  Caledonian Canal  Ellsmere Canal  Thomas Telford Salopian

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"Each did what was right in his own eyes."

The ancient Hebrews moved into what they called the 'promised land' and once dominance had been secured they settled down into their clan, tribes and family areas.  Years passed and when the grandchildren were reaching maturity the social substance that held them together was beginning to fail.   Those that had fought the fight had gone, the next generation became busy with settling in and the youth had, as usual, their own ideas, the history of arrival taught but less important possibly than daily life.  With leadership failing, the priests failed to ensure the Law was made known and the Levites failed to teach it, each looked after his own interests, soon being drawn into the gods and ways of the remaining Canaanites.  Confusion soon reigned.  Neighbouring nations took over the land until the people realised their mistake and God sent a deliverer.  Several times this occurred but after each deliverance the people resorted to doing their own thing.  The third generation would go the way of their forebears time after time, morals degenerated, crops failed, invaders arrived, social cohesion drifted.

A similar situation ensues today in the west.  Morals today depend on the loudest voice not agreed principles, 'common sense,' an agreed understanding of how to deal with any situation in an obvious manner, is no longer regarded as trustworthy, and while individuality is encouraged 'community' an awful meaningless word much heard of in the media actually lessens as we look after number one. People today can also hide behind colour, sex, age or any other excuse, and take advantage of the political correctness that ruins our life.  There is no agreed 'principle,' each does what is right in their own eyes,' or follows unthinkingly what they have been taught in school.  Same sex marriage would not have been contemplated 30 years ago yet today it is almost compulsory.  Street preachers, once ignored by passersby, are now confronted by the gay lobby name calling and having such folks arrested!  Abortion is used as a contraceptive by some 'for the woman's sake' it appears!  'Rights,' and 'equality,' are demanded no matter how absurd these calls may be, and certainly no regard is paid to how others 'rights' and 'equality,' is affected.  What was once called 'banter' is no regarded as 'hate crimes,' even when there is clearly no hate whatsoever.  How the world has changed, and the mess hurts the nation.  

The 'silly season' encourages such attitudes to new heights.  Real news is hard to find so any nonsense is presented as a major story while ordinarily it would be ignored.  Take the screaming press coverage of 'Twitter abuse,' for an example.  Several louts abused a couple of women and this becomes a major news story.  One who led a campaign to put Jane Austen on the next £10 note claims to have suffered 'vile tweets' since her name became known.  Others suddenly appear in the papers informing the world of their personal abuse statistics.  Now not only can I not remember the girls name, it matters not as we speak in generalities, such abuse has been common since time began, why is it newsworthy now?  Anyone in the public eye gets abuse. Speak on TV, write in the press, be a footballer or actor, write a blog and letters will fall through the door, comments fill the page and e-mails and Tweets arrive offering love or abuse.  That is life and how she is lived I'm afraid, and we all participate in this, including those on the receiving end this week.  Attention seeking women will of course receive comments they dislike, they love those!  These they will shout about to ensure attention and of course encourage their own misandry won't they?  It amazes me that while men get such abuse no paper makes a fuss about this, why?  Sexism perhaps?   We all know the real reason why, 'women power!'  We live in a world where men are bad and women are good in spite of the reality in front of us.  Middle class women who have grown up with more opportunities than ever whine about their hard life.  Clearly they have never worked a s a bus conductor or docker, miner or navvy.  Those sort of jobs, done by women in many countries, would be seen as beneath them.  Indeed they would never be seen as a mere shop worker, tsk, the very thought!  Such as this have twisted society to such an extent that their tilting at their misandrist windmills has brought politicians running to their door rather than doing the right thing.  So we must see men regarded as bad in all things and women as untouchable and good.  

Look at how this situation has been handled.  A man has sex with a girl who is said to be 13 years old.  Normally we would regard this as a straight jail sentence but on closer inspection things are not what they seem.  Here we read of a girl who looked and acted older and 'was looking for it' as they used to say before such terms were outlawed.  The women's groups are outraged although they, like us, do not know the facts of the case, they have no idea what the lass is like, but they do know he is guilty because he is male!  In one sense they are right, he should not have been there, and what sort of man chases a 16 year old anyway?  What is important here is the refusal to accept this girl could be in any way responsible for her actions.  Such an approach shows limited understanding of human nature.  Such 'jail bait' was in action around here only a few years ago and one young man almost got jailed for his folly.  Anyone who considers 13 year old girls incapable of being 'predatory' has no experience of life and fails to understand human nature.  Women that age have been bonking away willingly since time began. Whether it is a good thing in this 'day and age' is debatable obviously but in times past when life was short this was not an unusual situation.  Mary the mother of Jesus may even have been that young, but don't tell anyone will you?  Actually one English king had a mother aged 12 if I remember right.  These days we can allow children to mature at a better pace with clearer instructions regarding life and hopefully with parents both educating and controlling their offspring.   Need I mention that all the papers referring to this case fill their pages with sex articles of one form or another, or would that be a hypocrisy to obvious?   The specific case is best left up to the judge, although now pressure has been applied and only judges who follow women's groups orders will be allowed to sit on such cases.  How disgraceful!  Fixing judges is the governments job, not the medias!  Where is the girl?  In care, wandering the streets, selling herself?  Does anyone know or indeed really care about her?

An experienced careful cyclist in Nottingham uses correct judgement to move across the road after a funeral cortege has passed.   Indicating carefully he watches the traffic as he maneuvers. A car behind blows his horn and failing to react catches the cyclist as he passes and the driver stops to berate him for being there.  His female passenger joins in while the cyclist recovers his bike and composure.  The outcome leaves the driver facing an 'awareness course,' the passenger cautioned, and the rider receives a letter from the police almost blaming him for not knowing the following car was with the funeral and therefore keen not to lose place.  How many cyclists are killed on the roads and here we see the police blaming a careful cyclist for an accident caused by another?   Guardian

'Bongo Bongo land,' is a term that has been used to refer to Africa for decades, however when used by a member of the European Parliament, a man representing the UKIP party, the white middle class 'Guardian' socialists were outraged.  'Racism' they cried when it wasn't really.  The remaining politicians not sunning themselves on a free holiday somewhere joined in the clamour.  This man, unheard of until now, fills acres of newspaper even though a great many Conservative members and those supporting other parties also agree that 'too much aid is given to 'Bongo Bongo' land and goes into the hands of a few, not the people,' but you are not supposed to say it.  Certainly not when being recorded and the media are looking for an excuse to rubbish you and support their particular party.  Of course Africa is full of 'graft,' so is the UK but that's 'different.'  Of course much aid is wasted but it doesn't mean it should be ended.  This is just another case of hypocrisy where 'racism' is used but no-one really cares about those who suffer 'real racism,' and we have all met some of those!      

A woman wished to breastfeed in a jobcentre and the clerk behind the counter, a woman, refused to allow this.  Naturally mum appears in the 'Daily Mail' whining and looking for a few bob.  The class of women who demand to breastfeed anywhere they choose suffer no opposition and harangue any who disagree.  Now I have seen women breast feed discreetly in such places, few have noticed and none would complain however I suspect the mum involved her was less than discreet and certainly cared nothing for the thoughts of others.  As such in my view she is not fit to be a mother, the child is less important than her!  However hundreds of bitter thoughtless women support this one, each for their own selfish reasons.  Being a mother is the most important job after being a father, however others have 'rights' too and these should not take second place.

The media are specialising in 'online dating' to fill space also these days.  This appears frequently on quiet days, usually accompanied by a picture of a bruised lass who has been battered or robbed, treated 'shamefully' or left in the lurch.  Terrible suffering all because of what she thought was 'the right man' for her.  The internet dating sites are blamed for not checking on the men, it is the internet, that dangerous world that is to blame, and something ought to be done! Any idea of personal responsibility, for instance 'thinking,' appear to be pushed aside.   Of course many more women meet men in pubs, clubs, workplaces, shops, on the streets and at many other gatherings but when it all goes wrong they cannot whine to the press about this.  Only internet dating sites are dangerous, the public house where alcohol flows is a perfectly safe rendezvous.   However have you noticed there is no mention of the men who suffer beatings, robbery, 'shameful treatment' from such dating sites, or indeed from girls met in pubs, clubs and all the rest?  Maybe men don't count or indeed sell papers.  Ah there we have it!  Men don't spend all day telling the world of their emotional problems, nor do they wish to read about them in the press.  Men are just left to 'get on with it,' and expected to suffer and all to often, pay up!  

So many of these situation can be easily dealt with by a simple use of common sense.  An accepted way of looking at the world has been eroded since 1945 by the ending of nominal religion, the increase of wealth, liberal attitudes offering 'if it feels good do it,' with no thought for the results long or short term, even an erosion of the genders so that it is impossible to have anything 'male only' without females demanding entrance, the same females that want 'women only train coaches at that!  The world is awash with wealth, confused people, increased suicide, and many confused with what life is all about.  Misery lies under much of the world we live in, and the liberal society is to blame.  Soon it will provoke a reaction.         

Fit?

As the weather man decided he would offer torrential rain all day I took advantage of the early morning sunlight to wander around to the shop.  Clever me knew that the weather man is always right!  I returned home knowing the rain was about to commence and planned a day of action!  I began by doing the exercising my pot belly reflected in shop windows told me about.  This half hour of all action ("cough") was directed at tightening muscles and losing the pot.  After the heart attack I returned to mundane things such as ironing a shirt or two, no woman offering to do what she was made for.  By this time the morning was over, lunch was served, and the rain had still not arrived.  One siesta later, disturbed by the museum desperate for my attendance tomorrow, not because of me but because almost everyone else is off somewhere, I managed to push aside the weather forecast as clearly the clouds above showed no sign of offering rain.  One lass did have a brolly but that is not always a sign that it is actually raining.  I stepped outside, and it rained!  By now I was committed to popping into the museum and strolled past a woman resting her pushchair under a tree in the forlorn hope the rain would soon ease, we both laughed, and I moved on in the increasing rain to find the museum closed.  Monday is a closed day but someone ought to be there working, they had phoned not long before!  I got home just as the monsoon ended.  How I laughed.  That woman under the tree might still have been there! 

How I ache all over now, I canny walk.......

   

He had the right idea!

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Trauma!

Trauma!  That's the only word.  Happy as Larry (who he?) I skipped cheerily across the park, speaking to white butterflies as they bitterflied by, smiling at passersby (which stops them hanging around near you) and wallowing in the bright sun when it popped its smiling head out between the clouds.  
Then it happened!
I put my hand in my pocket and realised I had left my wee camera behind!
Shock!
It has been so long since I obtained this wee camera and I carry it always.  Now however it was not there, the pocket was empty, the camera snuggled in my jacket pocket, the very ageing jacket I was not wearing.  I stopped, I stared, sweat, cold and eerie, rolled of my forehead.  There was, I knew, nothing to photograph, I have done this town a hundred times, but I needed the camera in my pocket or I was naked, and that is not a sight to admire. My hands began to tremble, dizziness swung me this way and that, my heart beat awfully fast, spiders crawled across my vision my vision. 
I began to sob.
The decision had to be made, do I continue my journey or return all the way back home, just under a hundred yards away?  There was no choice but to return.  I turned, the trembling and sobbing died away, my head cleared, the perspiration eased  and I walked into a spiders web. How sticky is that stuff!
Armed and content, with my wee camera rubbing against my life savings off 32 pence I smiled once again and headed into the bustling town.  I was bustled back and forth as I toured the charity shops, checking the jackets on offer.  One almost fitted, but as usual these shops only stock jackets that are just exactly the wrong size for me.  The nice woman in the shop agreed rather too keenly that my body may be the wrong size.  Hmmm.

As expected nothing happened.  There were no photo opportunities to speak off, all had been seen before, I need to move elsewhere, to a different town, and so I returned just in time to listen into the Scottish football on the Glasgow based 'Sportsound.'  Yes indeed the season has opened once again, with an excellent game last night between Partick Thistle and Dundee United, and once again I find myself involved with such games much more than I could be with the costly English game.  If it didn't rain so much I might go back there!

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Quandry

After the hot sunshine of yesterday it was no surprise to spend the morning inside dodging the thunder and lightning.  Clouds rolled over and the thunder rolled through it all morning.  The rain came down like stair rods and the poor postie must have been saturated before he got very far.  I told him not to worry, I was alright!  I didn't catch what he said.  However when the lightning was at its height I discovered an old pair of boots, missing for a very long time.  It is amazing what you see when lying prone, breathing dust under the bed.

When all had passed by I promenaded through the town wondering if anyone had missed me. None spoke.  Not even those who had quickly secured their seats outside the pub, and how much had they consumed in a short time, bothered to glare in my direction.  I crossed the park, which was almost deserted bar a woman with several kids on a bench in the distance.  A child of about three rode a bike, she rode it somewhat directionless I thought before realising she was riding it directly at me.  She stopped in front of me and looked, kids often do and I sort of panicked.  The mother was at a large distance and the thought I may be seen as a paedophile talking to her kid crossed my mind, so I moved on.  Now normally I would speak to such children, normally I would not react like this, normally I would treat the brat as they deserve but on this occasion, possibly because so few were about, I moved on feeling guilty I may have bemused the child.  Here I am worried I may find a short haired, dangly earringed harridan chasing me!  What sort of neurotic world do I find myself in?  Is it just me?  Children of that age I look upon as a granddad would, except I keep the cash in my pocket, and I would prefer to react normally and chat like I feel we should.  The kids may be OK but too many mothers are not these days.  Some fathers, when they exist, are worse!

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Vandal in Fountain

As I sat resting my beer belly I noticed the kid squeezing the fish to get all the water out of it.  No doubt this is an Essex pastime but it is not one I grew up with.  The sun was hot, very hot, it was just above 80% indoors today, and reached higher outside (32 degrees to you foreign types in Aussieland).  However while the blue sky was good to see it was blotted out by the sun so I thought I'd try a 'sepia' colour to see what happened.  I had hoped to catch the water splashing but that failed miserably.  At least the yobs have not put washing up liquid in the water again, the suds take ages to remove!  

Shanty housing used to stand here, slum dwellings for the poorer of the land.  In the 30's these were torn down as they were unacceptable even then an the fountain erected to leave a clear view of the church, and therefore a better image of the town.  It worked I suppose but I am not keen on the design chosen.  There were a lot of poor housing around this area removed about that time.  The town was on the up between the wars and image was important.  Opposite alms houses were built, now empty after years of other use and probably not acceptable as housing today.  Also a nurses home, now used for 'homeless' youths.  All paid for by the Courtauld family as they continued their 'social policy' of helping improve the town in every way, their way that is. Such were common in the nineteenth century and early twentieth but less so today.  The religious motive that lay behind this has died in many (Courtaulds were Unitarians) and civic pride also.  Millionaires abound in the UK today yet while some benefit the world around them it appears the majority merely pile it up and let the rest go by.  Certainly hospitals and schools, doctors and such like are available in a way unimaginable a hundred years ago but housing is still in a mess and the richest one hundred could indeed do something about that!  Maybe it will change as the economy collapses around us and what really is important replaces the Mercedes and power boats of the wealthy, perhaps not.              

Too Slothful to Post, so.....

Here is a picture of a pretty girl by a window. (1862)

She is reading a book while waiting for the carpet fitter to arrive!

The Silly Season is Well Under Way

With the politicians on holiday, most likely claiming expenses for the trip, the newsworthy items that dominate the papers drops away.  The media desperately fill their pages with dross, sometimes interesting, mostly dross. Today we read of the contents of a footballers suitcase, the charges Amazon is adding, expensive houses or boats and as many sex stories and deaths as they can find.  Holiday reading indeed!  

This of course limits the excuses to rant about unfairness, bad government and other nasty goings on that would not occur if people made me the nations favourite tyrant.  Sadly that position has not yet been offered to me, but I live in hope.

So I am digging out the old photos, that one above taken along the coast near Mallaig in 1985 I reckon, and reading some of the booklets I brought back from the museum today.  I had them on the desk in front of me to read but people kept coming in!  I had no chance to read, if it wasn't kids doing the Medieval week it was folks phoning to book for a future workshop.  Tsk!  Some folks don't care do they?  The kids however love what they do, and that's really good.  

I have also spent much of the last few days attempting to remove an unwelcome visitor, 'webcake.'  This, and several others, came in when I downloaded a supposedly virus free item from 'CNET.'  I failed to read the 'terms and conditions,' who does read them, and there CNET insist you accept webcake.  This horrid brute offers you pop-up ads, blocks the connection on browsers to the proxy connection and takes ages to remove.  In the end, having run malwares, Avast, Spybot, I used this advice and by using 'ADW' and 'JRT,' i managed to remove most.  It may well be I have lost other things also but so far not much has gone wrong.  Oh yes, a bit remained even so and I left the machine on overnight as 'Windows Defender' ran through everything, taking ELEVEN HOURS to complete the job, but the last nasty left.  Or at least I hope so.  It is not a Virus, but Adware, Malware possibly, and it slows the machine, annoys you if 'ADBlockPlus' is not used and should be banned I say.  That's the last time I use CNET.  On one of my email accounts I have suddenly began to receive 60-100 spam a day offering me 'enlargement!' Tsk! With that account it is difficult to hinder spam, but I am getting rid of that slowly.  

Always wise to run checks on the PC weekly, especially after adding software.

Pill Box

Being forced to remain indoors by my most beautiful and intelligent niece.  A Radio 4 play (yawn) was occurring and the musical genius was playing the piano in appropriate places.  She I must say was magnificent!  Displaying the talent, intelligent understanding of the role, and sheer ability that left me wondering if indeed her dad really was my brother.  However the play concerned a famous ballet choreographer, her men, and the Queen Mother.  I confess I preferred the piano to the old queens.  'Drama,' never reflects real life, and the characters of the characters offered made me puke wish to turn off and listen to a woman talking about her baby!   The old queens I've worked with always appeared decent enough folks for the most part, those at the top of their profession however always give me the impression that folks fawning around them has turned their head somewhat.   That will not happen to my favourite pianist, her mother informs me!

But I digress, I began by attempting to inform you (those still awake) that I had spent that 45 minutes radio listening by wondering through the old albums.  There I found this picture of a disused pill box.  This was one of many installed across south east England in 1940, the intention being to hinder a Nazi advance.  The policy was in fact erroneous, the better tactic, and one Rommel attempted in 1944 was to stop a bridgehead being built on the landing beaches.  Once that is secured the day is lost, which is what happened in June '44.  However these pill boxes were built in many spots considered able to defend any advance.  Many still exist in back gardens, overseeing railway lines and river crossings, and here in the fold of a hill.  Quite why this one is here, somewhere in the north of Essex or the south of Suffolk I cannot remember, but some general of sorts considered something worth defending here, most probably the roadway, or railway, now removed.

These small concrete emplacements would have held two or three men and a couple of machine guns.  Their chances of survival under a real invasion would have been slim, although the enemy would not have been kindly disposed towards them I suspect.  These low doors, often you have to crawl to enter, now find use as storehouses or play area s for children.  Some are preserved as memorials others rot slowly and the vast majority have been removed.  The effects of war remain for many years, some notable, many unseen, all enabling us to be grateful the invasion never occurred.

Interesting Scotia Happenings

gCaptain

'Gardyloo,' as you well know, was the exclamation shouted from old Edinburgh tenements when someone wished to empty their 'pisspot' into the gutter that ran down the middle of the narrow close.  Such a load offered from several floors above, some buildings reaching ten stories, was not the most pleasant part of Edinburgh past.  Walking through it on the way ho,e from the tavern would not have been a barrel of laughs either I suspect.  Hygiene was not much improved anywhere in what is laughingly referred to as the 'United Kingdom' until the middle of the nineteenth century.  Then Ministers of Health were to be found in most cities and sewerage, slum clearance, clean water and soap brought much needed improvements.  Edinburgh, not surprisingly, produced some of the best and most inventive doctors in the world!  They had a lot to go on, as it were.  

During the twentieth century, which some of you may be old enough to remember, Scotland's capital still had problems with sewage.  By this time pipes ran way out into the Firth of Forth depositing unwanted material into the waters where it would be passed on into the north Sea. This is the same same North Sea where our Haddock came from and they kindly recycled the stuff back to us through the many 'chippies.'  I recall the early 70's when Edinburgh streets were in upheaval as a new sewage works arrived down Portobello way at Seafield.  Normally this seaside 'resort,' I use that word sparingly, contained the youthful Hibernian players and their fans idling the day's away while bigger clubs participated in European competition, however during this decade the contents of the sewage pipes had failed to reach the Haddock in the North Sea and instead arrived unwelcome on Porty beach.  Some folks still swam!  Leith people eh?  The council swiftly moved into action, once a backhander had arrived, allegedly, thousands of tons of new, clean sand was deposited, the new sewage works opened  and people removed the clothes pegs from their noses.

This was not without mishap of course.   While working in the infirmary one chap (English of course) arrived in the ward, both hands tied to a rack keeping his arms in the air.  Behind him came a nurse carrying a small bowl containing several of his fingers, or bits of his fingers.  He then had Professor James sew them back on again.  I spent the next two weeks looking after him, doing all those things you wish you could do yourself, until he was considered fit enough to return home.  I wonder how his hands are now?   Possibly the shaving cuts have healed also?  He was a warning that when fixing a large industrial fan, make sure it will not swing round swiftly when your hands are inside!

The fitters work at the Seafield plant may have been good, at least up till someone switched the fan on, but Edinburgh still had an excess of waste to deal with, this is where the 'Bovril Boats' come in!  'Bovril' itself as you know was an invention of an Edinburgh Butcher, John Lawson Johnson.  He later moved to Canada (because Edinburgh was too warm?) where his 'beef glaze' was developed into 'Bovril' as we know it today.  This he sold to Napoleon's army and made his name and his money!  However the substance also gave its name to the 'sludge boats.'  To remove the contents of the sewers boats collected from sewage farms as much as they could contain and sailed into recognised areas at sea and dumped the lot for the tides to disperse. From 1978, while I existed on a pittance in a hole in a wall in Notting Hill the M.V. Gardyloo operating from Leith Docks, took up to half a million metric  tonnes of 'sludge' from the people of Edinburgh, and headed of to St Abbs Head or the 'Bell Rock' to release its contents there.  For twenty years this interesting operation continued.  However while the dumping ground was carefully chosen, and the ship 'ponged' a wee bit the interesting thing was the passengers!  At no charge twelve passengers were entertained on the short trip and were given breakfast, coffee and biscuits, lunch and even their tea while they inspect the sea life on the islands in the Forth, especially the Bass Rock I suspect.  In between using binoculars on nesting seabirds or examining the wheelhouse the ship would dump its load on unsuspecting Cod.  Their opinion has not been recorded.  A very good day out this seems to me and I wish I had known of its existence at the time.  I would have been aboard at a shot!  Sadly EU regulations forbade such dumping in 1998 and these boats curtailed their employment and were passed on to others for less exciting work. The 'Gardyloo' now transports 'fresh water' for Azerbaijan!  The Seafield Water Treatment Works, a nice way to say 'sewage,' continues the work, although much attention is required concerning the 'odour' that local citizens may notice from time to time.  Some £50 million may have to be spent to deal with that.  The boat was cheaper!

BBC

From 1950 until 1953 the United Nations fought its first war, this took place in Korea.  The 'Cold War' had begun and used third world countries as battlefields.  Our fifty years of peace were fifty years of war for Africa, South East Asia and Central and South America, among others.  Fifty to a hundred million died, still, we were doing OK so that's alright then.  The Japanese had dominated Korea for around a hundred years and when removed in 1945 a political decision meant the nation was divided between the Soviets to the north and the USA to the south.  The two nations began to develop along different lines and in June 1950 the Communist North invaded the South making the UN rush into action - eventually.  An army comprising twenty nations, with almost 90% being American, arrived under 'Mad Boy' MacArthur.  The United Kingdom, still devastated after the defeat of Hitler, sent a large number of troops to this war, much against public opinion!  Two major wars in fifty years, a depression and now with rationing still ongoing few cared about a nation they had never heard off.   However a force built from the Commonwealth was sent.  The British Commonwealth Forces Korea (BCFK) comprised Australian, New Zealand, Indian, Canadian and British  forces and numbered 100,000 men and this was always led by an Australian. For the most part however these men have been forgotten!  The British units involved are named here.  

Allowing for the lack of news at the time, TV was in its beginning after the war and the Radio and newspapers appeared to play down the war itself.  Indeed one returning soldier stepped of a train in Edinburgh's Waverly Station where a friend greeted him.  When asked where he had been he replied "Korea," and his friend had no idea what he was talking about!  The war was so badly reported because no-one wished to know.  The Britain of the early fifties was rebuilding after the war, houses were in desperately short supply, wages were low, the ravages of war and the building of families and a new life took precedence.  The men who served, and suffered greatly, were forgotten.  As indeed were those in Britain's other small wars, the 'End of Empire' wars.  

Now however this new enlarged memorial has been opened to remember those Scots who served before they all pass away.  Situated in  West Lothian, of a Korean design, surrounded by Scots and Korean trees to represent the dead, the hills also suggest Korea to those who were there.  Many died there, many were traumatised, as any 19 year old on National Service would be!  Forgotten on their return, ignored at the time, these men endured for their country as did those from the other conflicts since that time.  It is good that something is done to remember their actions. 

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Char

I need a char, I really do.  Once again in site of my heavy workload I had to spend much of the day cleaning this place, and I only cleaned it a few weeks ago.  The rubbish bins were full, the sink greasy and I cannot mention the windows which were cleaned only last September!  Hmmm that reminds me about the fridge.... Let's not go there, I'm sure that green stuff was there when I bought it.  Also when I went out today I had no shirt to put upon my scrawny fifteen something stone body, the ironing needs done and I know no ironic woman.  The noise from the hoover (which isn't a hoover as I bought it from Tesco but you know what I mean) does my head in and the smell of bleach is not good for me I'm sure.  On top of this the bike needs cleaned again, all that dusty old railway stuff, and the hours just fly by when I'm watching telly working on projects.  I can tell you I was fair worn out by lunchtime and have been quite puggled ever since.  

On top of this I had to chat up that nice lady at the Sainsbury checkout at seven thirty after I had put the bike away, shopping early (not for Christmas) is the way to avoid crowds.  Then I had to carry the large bag home all by my weak self, and the shop is at least 200 yards away.  (Which brings to mind a robber in a small town.  He robbed a shop he used regularly, then hopped off home at high speed, home lay 100 yards from the shop.  The police found him quite quickly. That was one of last years fun stories.) So much to do and so little time to do it.  I do not know how I survive.  Actually all this dust I raised makes it hard to see the screen....

It would be unfair of me to mention Hibernian's unfortunate seven nil defeat at the hands of Swedish side Malmo last night, (9-0 on aggregate over two games) so I will say nothing about that.  I like to be kind!  Hibs in truth were doing OK for the first 20 minutes, and the fans for once (the prices were lowered) came out to support them.  However once the Swedes took the lead their nerves disappeared and when relaxed they cut Hibs to pieces. A funny game football, had Hibs scored first it may well have been Malmo who collapsed and today we might be shocked by a Hibernian success.  Sadly that did not happen and the knives are out.  Football is like that.  Is Pat up to the job as manager?  Could it be the players are just rubbish?  St Johnstone, with a smaller budget beat Norway's Rosenburg who have a much larger amount of cash to spend, so Scottish football is not all bad.

Ah well, the real work starts soon, and we will see if the Hibs players have what it takes in the real world, I canny wait, I'm laughing already!

  

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Listening to the Football Tonight.

Haunting History

The word Haunting put me off when I first noticed this, however it is used in a non ghost manner, more or less.  This week the kids are expected to look around and investigate the ancient world, both locally and abroad.  The Celtic tribes, Romans and Egypt kept them going this morning.  I spent a while watching them while discussing local history with a chap who came into the museum to see one particular aspect, when I found him in a dark corner he had not got around to the bit he was looking for, he was so involved with his own past he discovered in front of him!  That was really good!  This museum adventure was good today.  I only upset one fellow who was a wee bit full of himself, and got on well with all the folks I spoke to.  

Now that's news!  

One poor kid decided to be sick during the Kite Making session, so while the tutor instructed the others in flying kites I was sloshing about with a mop and bucket!  I was like a janitor in school!

The mums in attendance were all used to such events, it goes with having kids.

I really enjoyed finding out how the kids liked the things on offer.  One or two are brats but the majority today were interested, and many are returning for other activities.  How unusual, a successful day, in spite of thunderstorms and pouring rain!  

No other news in the UK today I see....... 

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Royal Baby Free Zone!

After considerable effort I found the only decent escape from that baby, radio!  TV News only had one subject, the 'Daily Mail' as expected has billions of badly spelt lines concerning the benefit takers baby, and the rest of the multi layer choice is pap!  So radio it is.  Radio 3 at lunchtime offered me Krzysztof Klabon as part of the Prom season.  I love this, you will hate it! Now I am listening to Hancock's half Hour once again.  Now this is comedy!  OK 'TalkSport' this morning is not everyone's cup of tea, not usually mine either, but in between adverts there is an occasional glimpse of quali....well let's not go to far.  Admittedly Radio 4 is too much middle aged, middle class women stuff but by using the schedule it is possible to dig around for some good items.

Another alternative to the goggle box infatuation can be found here on E-Bay.  Here I obtained two books on the cheap, including postage, which are bargain second hand tomes.  There are many complaints re E-bay but it is indeed worth a look.  Now I have found a couple of bookshops that send me books at charity shop prices I will be making use of them more, when I can afford it.

Aaaaaand when the sun shines what do you do in the afternoon to avoid the baby news?  This!

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All I want for Christmas.....

I passed the 'Seat' shop early this morning, before any of you were up, and decided that this would be an ideal Christmas present, for me!  There were two reasons for this, one the colour yellow is the safest on UK roads it appears, and two, it was the cheapest car in the pound.  A mere £5999, a snip for the rich amongst us.  When I got home I checked the £2;34 in the savings account and at 0.001% a year I may soon be able to but this car myself, what?...oh.

I learned to drive in a Seat Ibiza and very nice it was too.  A nice tight 'feel' to it, although the driving instructor did keep in it tip top condition, not counting the time yon lassie rammed it against the left hand side and scattered them across the road of course!  He thinks of that still!

On the way I passed the setting up of a 'Boot sale.'  You will all be aware of this, people driving, paying the man in charge a £5 note, setting up a small table or blanket, and selling all the junk in the house they wish to lose.  I am told there are many bargains to be had but when I passed nothing had begun and I had no cash.  Why these boot sales always occur early on a Sunday morning when I have other things to do I know not.  Why not use a Saturday I ask?  It would suit me and my piggy bank better?   People are so selfish I find.

My Sunday ended in here, the first time I have been inside.  I should say I took the picture earlier when the heat of the day had returned, chased away the mist and made the heart glad.  These English churches fascinate me, it is very different in Scotland you see.  Places like this go back hundreds of years and many bear traces of the events history has wrought on them.  This was possibly began as a Saxon church and was developed as the town grew once the market began in 1199.  Roman brick can be seen in places and the graveyard may well have been used by them and Saxons, though not at the same time!   An unusual Anglican church this one, they appear to believe in God!  Pews, arches, interesting things in corners I would have liked to look into, and as I sat pondering I pondered on the Victorians sitting stiffly in these pews, each in their place, the unwilling dissenters from the years of the reformation forced to attend unwillingly, the vicars who canny men that they were led the people wisely, the vicars from distant times who may not, and who may not even have been able to read that much!  Pilgrims passing through, beadles using sticks to control 'rowdy youths,' a panoply of a thousand years of the towns history.  As I was having difficulty following the sermon, acoustics not as good as I hoped and his speech a slight hindrance, I mused instead.  Nice to be in such a place, in spite of the Anglican way of doing things. 

Oh yes, and for collectors of doors we have this narrow item.  I suppose this is used by those wishing to climb into the ancient tower, and those who each Monday practice ringing the bells.  There is not much point in being a campanologist if you are too fat, says he taking his stomach of the table.  

I told the vicar and he tolled the bell mate.

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Silly Season

I blame the 'silly season' and the sun!  Nothing much is running through my head these days. Nothing new anyway.  The sun (how I love it!) has shone continuously until today and burned the brain cells, hindered sleep at night (not that the sun shines here at night) and left an undercurrent of weary brain.  Not that this makes much of a change you say, but add to this the end of parliament throughout the western world for the holidays and major news stories tend to die away as the politicians holiday with either families, girlfriends or those who will line their pockets or improve their parliamentary careers.  The papers fill this with tales of islands, boats, houses and the like up for sale.  This is to make the reader jealous of how multi millionaires live. This will encourage them to buy lottery tickets in the vain hope of emulating the rich, several lotteries are advertised on TV these days alongside the National Lottery.  If jealousy or celebs divorces do not provide enough 'bread and circus' for the masses the media will offer health advice, even if dubious, and lots of stories of women's sufferings, trauma and pain.  All to keep the people docile.

Everything appears a little flat round here, even the shows were not very busy, the local market unexciting and daily routine is the order of the day.  The TV is of course rubbish, although watching the 'Tour de France' had its moments.  Another 'Brit' as the press insist on calling him, will win it tomorrow.  That's two years running, although it was a different man last year.  The Golf is continuing in the usual ponderous golf manner, the commentators just want to mention Tiger Woods or any 'Brit,' as usual.  Any controversy however will be exaggerated into a major story, as they do.  Never been that keen on golf, another rich mans sport in spite of being Scottish in origin.   Yet while the first signs of the new football season have sprung up I am far from excited.  The close season is to short for me these days, I long for a three month break to make the mind desperate for a return to life on the pitch.  We are back too soon and even worse, the season ahead will be a long hard one for us.  Success is assured, but struggle will ensue.  And I am too keen on more hot weather to consider rain drenched football!

Maybe I need a holiday?  Texas, Singapore, Maldives or India.  Possibly Portugal or Argentina beckon.  Hmm, I think I will just look out the bus pass instead........

Oh and a word re the Liquorice Allsorts, I have chipped a tooth, I think they weakened it......  

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It Takes Allsorts

Sadly, I'm hooked!  

Yes indeed!  I bought a packet of these to share with the girls on Tuesday, but have discovered I need to keep eating them myself.  For some strange reason these small sweets have taken over and I must eat them, in spite of the damage they are doing to my teeth!   

The sad thing is the pink ones which surround the black liquorice, and the little square layered ones appear to need me eating them.  You will understand I hate to disappoint.  Also as this lovely hot weather is making eating a lazy thing I am forced to eat 'Allsorts' just to keep me alive because cooking is hot and uses energy that I cannot spare.

I am looking for an answer to this problem.  If you discover one, keep it to yourself!  

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The Shows!

Ah the 'Shows.' the funfair to you, has arrived.  Dodgems, Ghost rides, and burger Bars have already begun to set up shop.  Shortly afterwards the overpriced smaller stall will offer us the chance to be robbed blind.  I know things will be charged too high as the posters all around inform the victims that 'All Rides Half Price!.'   Half price?  What price were they before then?  Now I have no problem with this lot, they have been here before, and the chances of me going on any of the offerings is zero, however if there is opportunity to whine and complain I see no reason to give it a miss!  
However what I remember of the 'Shows' when they arrived in Edinburgh all those years ago was then bright lights in the dark night and the tremendous noise given off by the huge growling lorries that supplied power for the attractions.  'ERF,' 'AEC,' and other large lorries going back to the thirties I suspect rumbled away all night, the cables offering huge opportunities to break necks as we passed by.  The modern ERF appears too clean and nice in comparison with the growling engines of the fifties.  The noise and pollution is less, but only just, but the atmosphere offered in those dark far off days (oh how far off) is better than what we have tonight.

These two stuffed dummies offer up the local news programme on the BBC, 'Look East.'  I rarely watch it, especially as the ITV version usually has real people on offer, but the local news anywhere is always dreary.  It appears to me nothing happens often, so often that 'Look Eats' fills the programme with visits to the NHS.  Almost every night they are pounding the corridors of a hospital looking for a sob story (how difficult is that?)or possibly a GP or local health unit, maybe a woman suffering some illness, anything related to health to fill the programme.  Tonight I switched this on, they offer unsafe hospitals,  woman with a disease and... I then switched off!  How do these folks get away with this?  It is time to reduce such programmes to ten or fifteen minutes and put on something worthwhile, and not anything to do with Health!    

Meet Fred

This is Fred.  For the past few days the wonderful, enjoyable, sizzling heat, which will no doubt cause all sorts of pains later, has led me to keep all the windows open to some extent.  How lovely that is you rich folks in warm climes will never comprehend.  However with such benefits as heat the open window sees many bluebottles pass through in the mistaken belief that herein lies a MacDonald's, Indian takeaway or council rubbish tip.  They may be near the mark with the last one mind.  These beasties usually seek the quickest way out when approached, fly's however, called walks if you tear their legs off I suppose, hover around the lamp dangling in the middle of the room for ever and ever I find.  Quite why they follow such irregular patters in flight I know not but I certainly do know they avoid rolled up newspapers very expertly indeed.  

Fred however comes into a different category.  For one I have no idea what he, although intellectual he aint, and for two it may not be him, it may be lots of him, about that I am not sure.  Let me explain.  

The kitchen window opens from the bottom, day by day I have found Fred trapped inside the window, when open, without the wherewithal to sink down two inches and fly away.  Instead he rushes around getting frustrated by his inability to get through thin air which is so hard beneath him.  His mum never explained glass to him.  Daily I have been using my hand, or a small piece of paper, to guide him down about two inches to the freedom of the skies.  Sometimes I do this several times yet he never appears to learn.  Constantly he returns, constantly I help him out.  he will never meet a Mrs Beastie like this!   I canny understand why he does not avoid the window, indeed I am not sure where he comes from.  Maybe there is a nest of these just below my line of sight under the window?  Maybe he is not Fred but lots of Freds?  There is no doubt they are all daft if that is the case.

In the Democratic Congo folks are killing one another, Syria sees hundreds die daily, Egypt is in a ferment, Christians in Vietnam, North Korea, all the nations with 'Khan' in their name and in the middle east are being tortured or persecuted, hospitals fill with the sick waiting for aid, accidents occur or roads daily, economic plight keeps millions awake, yet I worry about Fred?  

Sometimes I wonder about me, I really do....... 

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The Quiet Early Morning

At 6:30 the morning is very quiet, especially on a Sunday.  Rattling along on the bike I could listen to the birds singing as I headed up the Matterhorn like incline at three miles an hour.  Someone, slightly fitter than me raced past at five miles an hour, giving a grudging nod in my direction as he did so.  I noticed how he slumped down to three miles an hour further up however.  There is something blissful in such an early morn.  The silence, even the by-pass was relatively quiet, the birds singing or chasing one another through the trees, the lack of people, especially brats, the warmth of the sun as it climbs high and brightens the world.  All such a change from the vehicles outside my door, the numpty with 'Rap' blasting out his open window as he passes, people stopping to converse at my window enthralling me no end with tales of the sore feet and liver troubles,  the helicopters that must pass over my house and now I turn the telly on I am confronted by another bloody cook and to avoid this I meet with adverts!!!  Now I am not one to complain as you know, but really does my weekend need ruined by such as this, especially when there is no football?  

I apologise for keeping you waiting and I apologise for using so many words!!!!!