Tonight it Begins.....

The World Cup begins tonight, you may not see me for some time.......

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Harold MacMillan

Having nothing else to do with my time I read a book.  'Harold MacMillan by Charles Williams, just in case you did not see the picture above.  All too often books about politicians can be heavy going.  The chapters veer from one in-depth investigation into this bill and that boring the pants of everyone bar trainee lawyers.  This one however avoids the nitty gritty of parliament and rushes through the 478 pages.

MacMillan made a lot off his humble Scots background but by the time he arrived the family was definitely 'upper middle class,' wishing to be 'lower upper class!'  'Supermac.' as the cartoonists dubbed him, liked to give the impression he came from the latter, regarding the workers as 'servants' rather than staff. His paternal grandfather began the MacMillan publishing company and in time Harold found his way there.  His extremely pushy American mother pushed his education which led to him eventually reaching Eton, where too many of Britain's leading politicians have come from.  Sickness however forced an early removal and home tutoring.  One tutor was Ronald Knox who later became a leading Catholic theologian.  This left Mac with a very High Anglicanism which remained throughout his life.  

His time at Balliol College Oxford was interrupted by the Great War.  He served in the 4th battalion Grenadier Guards, later also in the 2nd Battalion, being wounded three times, the bullet in the hip at the Somme being the most serious.  Like Captains in all regiments he remained in a slit trench suffering while reading a copy of Aeschylus, as you do!  His wounds took years to heal and the shuffle and weak handshake never left him.  Indeed his main relaxation was shooting grouse which was conducted using the left hand as the right no longer had the grasp required.  

During 1920 MacMillan married Lady Dorothy Cavendish.  She the daughter of the Duke of Devonshire, he someone in 'trade.  The family considered him below them, she an nineteen year old outgoing horse lover, he academic, withdrawn and twenty six.  It was never going to work!  It didn't!  In spite of the children who arrived she soon discovered the outgoing Bob Boothby more interesting and spent her time playing with him.  A later remark by Mac regarding the works of Anthony Trollope which he adored was interesting. "It's good to go to bed with a Trollope," he said, and he did!  The fourth child was in Harold's eyes likely to be Boothby's but now we cannot be sure. 

Much influenced by Liberal politicians Macmillan's politics were centrist, or even left of centre.  This was magnified not only by contact with working men during the war but by being elected to Stockton on Tees as MP in 1924.  This deprived area in the working class north east brought home to him the reality of lower order life.  he may not have been an angel in disguise but like Churchill before him he wished to be an aristocrat but did not wish to let the servants die of starvation.  His first book, 'The Middle Way,' with its centrist policies was a turgid read, as were his speeches at the time, and his ideas pushed him well away from the Conservatove leaders of the day, Stanley Baldwin and then Neville Chamberlain.

The second world war did allow Mac the opportunity to show his administrative talents.  He worked under Lord Beaverbrook to some success, which in itself was not easy, and in 1942 became 'Under Secretary of State for the Colonies.' (By 1942 this no longer included the USA or Australia) During this time he began pushing the idea of a Commonwealth of nations working together for the good of all.  Not popular with Empire builders like Churchill.  He reached cabinet ranked when sent to the middle east as liaison between Eisenhower and Churchill.  This allowed him direct access to the PM avoiding Anthony Eden then Foreign Secretary, which annoyed Eden! Although nearly killed in a plane crash and much time spent dealing with De Gaulle, his talents showed through.  The biggest question mark of his time included the forced return, probably to their deaths of Russian POWs and their families.  He never forgot this but found himself in an awkward situation.  Many hard decisions were taken during 1945.

After 11945 the Labour Party were given a mandate to build a new nation which they did.  The National Health Service being their greatest success.  However the Conservatives returned in 1951 and now seated in Bromley, very much more Tory than Stockton, Mac was given the job of building three hundred thousand homes each year.  He succeeded and I grew up in one of them! These were not high quality housing but they did the job and were perfectly acceptable, especially to those coming out of tenements like we did or slums like far too many others did!

His work gained him respect, and enemies within the party.  Ambition is a terrible thing and anyone who has watched 'Yes Minister' will see politicians pushing one another aside to succeed. It has been seen in action this week in Westminster where Teresa May and that nice Mr Gove have been knifing one another in the back publicly.  

MacMillan became Chancellor in 1955, a very high rank indeed.  During the Suez crisis of 1956, when an allied force invaded Egypt and Eisenhower, afraid of losing the upcoming election, forced them to withdraw, it is thought the Chancellors warnings of impending monetary doom caused the cabinet to harden their stance against Eden, leading in the end to his inevitable resignation.  Harold MacMillan then became prime Minister.    

His first few years were a success.  Many African nations became independent, South Africa was told to change the apartheid policy in a straight forward speech, and the economy at home grew. Indeed we 'never had it so good,' as he said.  Actually we never had it at all!!!

One 'trouble' was the monetarist policy of the treasury.  Looking around the north east Mac knew this would cause hardship there, that would lead to less votes and so opposed their tight fisted policy.  he would oppose austerity today also for the same reason!  The resignation of the Treasury team was dismissed as 'a little local difficulty.'  Mac's success was establishing the UK as a nuclear state, aiding arms negotiations, using British troops in the middle east and Malaya to oppose Soviet aggression.  He failed by aImost getting into the Common market and rushing work at Windscale reactor that almost cost us all dear! 

After his success in the 1959 election he ought to have retired.  His determination to stop Rab Butler becoming leader however and his self importance in world affairs kept him in place.  Then it all went wrong.  His incomes policy caused great resentment and while Africans were finding their independence the UK began to wilt.  The dismissal of several. mostly junior ministers was called 'the night of the long knives,' and the public perception was that of panic.  "Greater love has no man than he lays down his friends for his life," said Jeremy Thorpe.  The election of John Kennedy changed US-UK relations.  No longer were the Americans friends from the war, here was something completely new and from a different age.  The Profumo affair, in which a cabinet member was involved with Christine Keeler at the same time as a Russian Naval attache!  This did serious damage to a sinking ship and being diagnosed wrongly with cancer he retired.

He retired to his publishing once again reinvigorating the work there.  Family owned companies can be ideal to work for, or they can be unbearable.  There were those who saw both sides under Harold.  He continued to travel widely, his marriage improved but a gulf remained, he played golf constantly, and shot innocent creatures for fun.  He occasionally spoke in the House and eventually became the 'Earl of Stockton.'  Possibly that area still meant something to him, maybe he used it for effect.  he was of course an actor, all politicians are, our present lot are just bad actors.  Mac learned much during his time, to act as a leader, to speak well, to use humour to deflate an enemy, and act like he was in control, unflappable.  He appeared in the early 60's as an Edwardian in a modern age, his shuffle, his upper class pretensions, his high class associates, but he was indeed a canny political animal.

This book is written by a man who married Rab Butlers daughter.  He might reveal a certain bile but of so he keeps it under control.  He writes smoothly making the book easy to read, boring bits are avoided and summarised well, and we are left with an image of a powerful politician who had some care for a decent society, although quite why may be harder to understand.  Was it a godly care, or a political game?  We might never know.  I like Mac, had I met him I might well change my mind however.  One thing remains.  His dislike of Thatcher's privatisation policies was well known.  During the Falklands conflict Thatcher called him into her office in the Houses of Parliament, a place he knew well.  At that time it was being redecorated and most of the furniture had been removed.  As he entered he looked around at the almost empty room and asked, "Have you sold it all?"

  

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Hi Doll!

The museum is holding an art exhibition, paintings, drawings, and 'dolls,' run by the council as part of a community art thingy.  Personally art may be OK in its right place but a museum is for history, not art I say.  There again it is all part of being a 'community,' that meaningless word.  Why can't they say 'town?' However I notice the opinion of the esteemed viewer appears to be an exhibition of a very high standard, several visitors have remarked so.  Many have already been sold and gratified artists will be collecting their cash at the end of the display.  
One individual, I did not catch the name, has created these dolls, which have attracted notice. There are several on display but not being a doll collector I am not sure what you may think of them.  I cannot recall if any have sold as I forgot to look, they are however interesting and remind me of one of my nieces in that she looks like them!  I have just found a name, 'Fantasia Textiles.'  This may be the work of more than one individual, although they do have a similarity don't they?  
Difficult to photograph through the glass case however.

No doubt the artist would not refer to her 'work' as 'dolls,' but I am a simple individual and like to keep life that way.  None of the many visitors today mentioned these as they left, and I always seek their opinion if possible.  One was delighted to see her excellent drawings of flowers had been sold (£15 was cheap for two examples of her talent I thought) and one not so happy as she collected her 'failed effort.' Her entry was rejected by the judges which was a shame. 

It was a delightful warm day again and this I think brought people out of doors and straight into the museum.  Some even bought things, quite a lot of money came from a very happy couple from Brisbane, wherever that is!  One nice lady gave me info on her Great War relations and another fellow may well provide more in the days to come if his gran can remember the details.  While I scribble this I ought to be writing these folks up so I am off to do that now while you talk among yourselves.

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Blue Skies & Sunshine.

The Bee's are busy, the sky is blue, white clouds float past, and a hot sun burns the skin if you sit in it for too long.  Tonight such weather will bring rain, probably with thunder and lightning, but by the time I head for work the sun will have his hat on and have come out for the day!  

Most of the day I was trapped indoors doing women's work.  There were NO shirts ironed!  Not one and I need one for tomorrow.  It's a disgrace.  I had to rush out to the shops before the crowds gathered as the fridge was empty also, it's a disgrace the way I am treated here.  

This is what I need, a woman who does!  here we see Mrs Blackbird getting in the shopping, and rightly so.  He of course can be heard in the distance singing happily while chasing away other interlopers from his patch.  Then he will sit down to watch the football while awaiting lunch.  It's a jolly good life for him!

A Wee Trip!

Derek Hoskins 

Watch on full screen!

7 videos of John Cameron's A4 loco 60009 Union of South Africa filmed on its two SRPS organised trips around Fife on 21/4/2013. The morning trip was 1Z29 Linlithgow - Dalmeny & the afternoon trip 1Z30 Dalmeny - Inverkeithing. Both trips were via the Forth Bridge - Kirkcaldy - Dunfermline - Alloa - Stirling - Falkirk Grahamston.

1) 1Z29 crosses the Forth Bridge in poor conditions.
2) 1Z29 is seen climbing towards Cowdenbeath around the back of Lumphinnans.
3) With no improvement in the weather, 60009 struggles to keep her feet as she climbs through a TSR to Kilbagie on the SAK line with 1Z29.
4) Nearing the end of the first trip, 1Z29 climbs off of Polmont Junction and through Polmont station..
5) With weather considerably improved for the afternoon run, 1Z30 accelarates out of the restrictive curves at Burntisland and climbs towards Kinghorn as 1E23 13:47 Aberdeen - Kings Cross passes in the opposite direction.
6) 1Z30 coasts down the branch towards its water stop at Newmills on the banks of the Forth.
7) After a well deserved break, 60009 gets back into her stride along the wall at Culross towards Alloa and Stirling.


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Hot Saturday

The local Carnival sped slowly past the museum door this afternoon.  This poor wee lass was forced into the Honey Bee costume and sauntered out giving hugs and leaflets to wee kids.  The kids loved it! 

Well, most of them!  This one just hid while mum took a picture of the others around the Bee.

Our desks, bell and headmasters robe, managed to get themselves aboard this float.  I hope they collected a lot of cash.  Torrential rain fell for about twenty minutes in the morning.  The wind blew, dark clouds gathered, rain hammered on the roof and windows, lightning flashed and thunder roared.  By the time of the first float the weather was hot, too hot for the Bee, but the kids loved every minute of it.  

Too hot?  I don't remember saying that before!

The 70th.

It may well be that you have had your fill of D-Day commemorations.   I had the TV on since early morn watching  the BBC's coverage of the events in France.  There can be no doubt that this British led operation was a historic event.  Had it failed, and it could have cost 40,000 lives, not 9000, it would have taken another few years before a second attempt could be made.  By that time Stalin may well have been in Paris!  General Bernard Montgomery, given little prominence today, was the man responsible for the operation.  This was the last great operation of the British during the war.  A second plan, at Arnhem, might well have shortened the war but that failed!  However this one worked, a beachhead was established, Canadian, British, American troops all took the beaches in front of them, in spite of some determined resistance in areas, and the difficulties many endured.  Also arriving were smaller contingents of Dutch, Polish and other nations who were determined to defeat an evil empire. How strange I always find it that people will spend money to watch Hollywood pap in which an evil force is defeated yet will not read about real situations in which a really evil force is opposed.  Fantasy horror is better than reality.  
My father was not involved in this event, although he crossed the Rhine some time later but only after waiting two days while the armour went over! However on our local memorial we find Flight Sergeant Dennis J Sims of 234 Squadron did not return while on low flying duties over the enemy coast.  Gunner Kenneth Puttick fighting alongside No 6 Commando is recorded as dying on the 7th. He is buried at Ranville Cemetery, Ranville being the first village liberated after 'Pegasus Bridge' was held. Nearby lies Private Arthur Graham attached to the 7th Paras.  His date of death is given as the tenth and he like many others died in the intense fighting that followed D-Day.  Few realise that more people were killed during the last year of the war than in the four previous years.
Watching the dignitaries gathering, some with military experience, some who endured the war, I appreciated the need for formality and organisation, not least of all security, but found the clean, smart people, cheery and happy all around somewhat at variance with the clips of war film shown.  The young men running up the beach had thoughts very different from those of us watching from the comfort of home.  We often sentimentalise such men rather than treat them as human beings.  We always refer to them as 'brave,' 'heroes,' and identify them as different from ourselves.  To some extent this is true, however they are men, not all were 'heroes,' few were 'brave,' all were under military orders, some would not be people we would want living next door.  Without this invasion however the world would not be rid of Hitler and his crazy gang.  The Nazi hordes enslaved their own people and such slavery can be found worldwide today in many nations.  Sadly all too often we do not see it!
Those men interviewed on TV today looked happy.  Many were happy to be there as such a gathering cannot occur again, the organisation behind it ceases to exist as the aged soldiers fade away.  Ordinary men from everyday homes did extraordinary things and freed the world of a tyranny.  We cannot forget this, and our prosperity today has a great deal to do with their action in the air, on the sea and on land that day 70 years ago.   

Hole in the Ground

There was he, digging this 'ole....
A small crack appeared in a pipe, not that I could see the crack, and 'Anglian Water' were alerted. There it was a fortnight later, still seeping out so I calls them on the email and gets informed they are a comin out when the lights is a ready.  The 'lights' are portable traffic lights required for this position as we are a main road.  (Which as you will know is also known as 'Stane Street' after the Romans improved the muddy track that ran past my door to Camulodunam.) This little imposition did annoy the traffic somewhat but appeared to have been worked quite well.  Not that I looked out to watch being very busy with my studies.  Well not that busy but I gave up when the info received did not fit the facts found. Some things I came across were interesting. In 1914 a Red Cross hospital opened in a wing of the Workhouse, soon this became a Voluntary Aid Detachment Hospital with 26 beds full of wounded soldiers.  The info comes from a marvellous book that originated in the diaries of one Andre Clark, a local rector, 'Echoes of the Great War.'  

Monday, 24 January 1916.

1p.m. Miss Eliza Vaughan called.  She is on the staff of the VAD hospital, Braintree:  Some of the patients are Scots, or at least of Scots regiments.  Miss Vaughan told us a hospital story, of a man who was brought in unconscious.  When he came to himself he found himself in bandages, head and foot.  She explained he had a vinegar head-swathe because of his fever; a mustard-plaster on his chest because of his lungs; and salt bags on his feet because of frost-bite.  ‘Then, Miss, I think you ought to bring some pepper, and I’ll be the complete cruet.’  

Saturday, 12 August 1916.  

Braintree VAD hospital notes.  There has been sedition among the VAD hospital patients on the question of religion.  Last Sunday those who were officially returned as Church of England were appointed to go to church with miss Leila Vaughan of Braintree, and elderly, staid VAD Nurse;  while the Nonconformists were appointed to go to Chapel with Miss Ennersley, another VAD Nurse, apparently young and frivolous.  Before Service time the CoE men said they were really strict Chapel-men.  They had each their story pat.  In the end the gay Miss Ennersley conducted a great band to the Chapel; and Miss L. Vaughan escorted the one faithful C of E man to Church.  Tomorrow, if the nurses in the Hospital get their way, Miss L. Vaughan is to have charge of the party that goes to Chapel!   

By the time my after dinner snooze arrived the workmen decided to use the digger to disturb my sleep. This failed!  However I was impressed by their speed.  Once they got going it only took a couple of hours to find, repair the pipe and refill the hole.  The traffic hold ups did not produce heavy horn blowing and dangerous driving, the size of the man in charge helped here, and soon all was back as normal. This did not help my search for words for the stuff I was supposed to be writing.  All this detailed information but it will not form into a meaningful few words.  I blame the coffee, I should have had some! 

  
They claim millions of gallons are lost this way every year and round the corner there was another burst pipe offering a wee fountain last week, I hope that was fixed quicker!  
You see how little excitement there is in this part of the world?   A hole in the ground causes me interest, which is more than the bank account does.  If things get any more exciting I may have to move to Frinton!

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Nothing to Report, again.....

So here is a picture of a cat!

My brain has been overworked in recent days so I wandered about ending up in the shopping centre. Here I purchased t-shirts from a miserable woman, and shortly before that a book and a couple of DVDs for a sick man from an efficient unfriendly woman.  What is it about folks in shops that friendliness is lacking? At the museum we insist on a friendly approach, otherwise folks do not return. Surely even efficiency cannot be enough?  A bit of pretend friendliness helps. The book shop women was helpful but we need to see life!  The other lass will not be employed long.  I wonder if any keep their jobs for long in that centre? The atmosphere is a bit well, yeuchy.  On top of that I saw a decent dark brown cord jacket that I want, at a price I would pay, and naturally enough, they don't have one that fits me!  Bah! Isn't it always the way?

                                                                                                            

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Tuesday Laffs

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Research Day

One of my bosses made me drag my weary and clearly far from awake body down to the museum by 9 am this morning as we were off to the Essex Record Office for a rake through the files.  She naturally was late!  However we eventually got going and withing thirty or so minutes we were confronted with the 'You canny do that here!' rules.  Having obtained our ticket without which research is not allowed we proceeded to dump our jackets, our cameras, any food, any water, all bags, in the lockers provided. Signing in we were allowed through the locked doors and instructed by the capable, knowledgeable and indeed friendly staff.  The only problem we found, apart from my ignorance, was a technical glitch which made many of the computers used for searching go doolally!  

We found a couple of diaries written during the Great War, the idea being to discover local information. The one I read, written during 1916, revealed the middle class small village lifestyle. That is when we could read the writing!  A nice woman who appeared to spend her time going 'into town' (there is only two streets there) or visiting Mrs this and that, spending time at the 'Red X' (but what did she do?), occasionally feeding poor children or discussing collecting coal for the poor, or taking a Turkish Bath (where?).  In between visiting the vicarage for tea an occasional mention of the war passes by.  The Battle of the Somme is referred to as 'Great news of the British offensive' obviously this was announced during church on the Sunday morning.  Apart from a Mr Low worried about his wounded son no other reference appears.  I'm told the other diary, for 1918, was similar.  This woman went on with her life, hindered by an occasional Zeppelin passing by, but not considering the war important enough to mention in her diary.  Was this 'stiff upper lip' or upper class living I wonder?  I can tell you that by the time I reached the 31st of December I was glad to dump her!  I don't even remember her name.  

We trawled through one or two other things but I think we are heading in the wrong direction.  I certainly did deciding that one bundle of letters were irrelevant to our search, naturally once we returned them we realised how wrong I was!  Bah!  Now I know how the thing works I will go back and read the old newspapers and the bits of info between the lies and propaganda.

Unable to take pictures inside the building I was glad the canal/river outside offered a small taste of countryside.  Admittedly behind me stood a car park laid out on the remnants of what once was most probably a warehouse of some sort. Dereliction abounds as the town improves itself, however it will be some time before the car park is lost I reckon.  I'm glad as I suspect the newer housing nearby will replace whatever stood here thus bringing crowds flocking along the riverside, ruining the peace!  Bah! Lovely to have a day out doing something useful, next time I am reduced to utilising the bus pass!  Bah!   

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Zonked

Zonk City today.  Up early and soon back in bed.  Being unfit and old is no fun. Later this week, once I am over my running around, I will restart again the exercise programme that failed after a few days last time.  Maybe..... 
Anyway I heard a clip-clop outside the window today, and you don't get too many of those around here, and discovered a Gypsy Caravan being pulled by a tough wee pony.  Most unusual this, although the area has always had many Gypsies (or 'Travellers') as they are called these days.  Twp camps lie a mile or so outside the town.  However this beaut was not the common means of travel. 

The reason became clear much later when I dragged my emaciated body out into the sunshine.  There is a Catholic Church round the corner and most Gypsies here tend to be Irish Catholic.  They have some sort of confirmation ceremony for the girls where they dress up as brides.  This caravan was obviously used to make a day for the young lass posing on the drivers seat in the photo.  It was not easy to get a better shot of the caravan with the kids milling around and the sun directly behind (Hot sun even today!) so I have made the best of it I could.  I could not decide if the pony was bored or happy with his lot. There again he looks well fed and the adults were copying him by heading to the pub, all in their Sunday best as was the pony. 
I dragged myself home and eat a substantial dinner, one suitable for those who have no taste, no finesse, no energy and canny be bothered.  Tomorrow the Essex Record Office to look for I know not what.  Can I not just stay in bed? This volunteering bit is worse than work!   

Saturday Music

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An Old Bird

I met this old bird in town today, he didn't say anything and was not all that keen on his visitors. As the dear kiddies are off school this week for yet another holiday (teachers have such an easy life don't they?) the shopping centre in town puts on events.  Yesterday a couple of shetland ponies from a rescue centre ignored the kids and today a menagerie appeared.  White ducks, rabbits, a bored dog, sheep, chickens and a goat or two, oh and a bored pony.  Small pens kept the beasts from the animals (yes that is the right way round) and it reminded me of the old pictures of the town when market day really was a market.  Similar stalls stood in front of the pubs while folks sold sheep, pigs, horses and cattle. The pubs did a roaring trade as they fed and watered those coming a distance to market.  The Victorian way was everybody around one big table and eating when the landlord got things ready.  I think such a scene happened in one of Dickens books but I may be wrong. 

     
Goats and horses are always happy together I am informed by those who know, this pair prove that. Possibly bored, possibly just weary they made it difficult to obtain a picture when both had eyes open. The little pony and his mate were content however and the pony happily rested on his mate. Interesting how these two creatures get along so well.  

The other big chick was not much more impressed than his friend.  I suppose as I was discussing preparing 'Cock-a-leekie' soup with a woman he was offended. I had to be careful with the explanation of the soup also, English women are not very bright at times.  Still he was a beauty of a bird and both have been well prepared for their day out.  I suspect they both have practiced that suspicious expression of theirs for some time as it was very wary.  I was surprised at just how big two these birds were however, this is not how I imagined them up close.   

I always considered such beasties as wee birds, or at least not this size! Possibly they are shown at er, shows, as well as paraded around for the kids.  I am quite glad they chose not to show us just how loud they could be however.  Every so often a news report indicates newcomers into the country have complained to the local council re the noise of such birds crowing early in the morning.  Some have been known to grumble, which I never do, about cows 'mooing' too loudly in the fields nearby.  Not that long ago a young couple objected to a town clock that insisted on chiming every 15 minutes and clanging away on the hour!  Now if you retire to the country for peace and quiet you might well find it but if you don't do the homework a council, on some occasions a judge, will tell you to move back into town if you can't stand chickens or cows.  They make noise, that is what animals do!  A clock that has rung continually for a couple of hundred years will not cease because you are a spoilt brat either.

That said I am glad to have found the beasties. It brightened up a poor day. The brain is not quite functioning yet as the bug still leaves my mind weary and I have written and rewritten the intro to the war for the museum exhibition booklet around a hundred times, and that only this morning!  That was the reason I went out, to oxygenate my brain.  It failed.  I'm going back to bed.

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Austin

Austin, it's not in Texas, it's here, in the rain!

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Busy Tuesday, Art, Georgia and Kids.

I watched, from a safe distance, as they prepared the 'Open Art' exhibition at the museum this morning. As part of what they refer to as 'Community Involvement,' using that meaningless word 'Community,' we do this each year. The art is often local amateurs although some folks make good money from this type of event.  Last year some of it as always made no sense and still other items were excellent and deserved a good sale.  I mention this as I had come across this story in the 'Daily Mail,' this morning. What Tracey Emin called her 'confessional self portrait' is being sold by owner Charles Satchi and is expected to go for around £1.2 million.  Satchi of course is renown for spending squllions of pounds on modern art.  As I looked at the art being piled together awaiting hanging I compared it to Emin's efforts and noted once again how false the art world is.  Art at the expensive end is not based on talent but on what sells.  All sorts of muck can masquerade as 'art,' if the 'artist' places it before a dumb enough 'desperate to be accepted by the chattering classes' rich guy.  Russian friends of that nice Mr Putin appear keen to put their (well, Russia's) money into art and will pay millions for anything that is modern and available. To expect them to actually appreciate art may be filling the wrong samovar.  Her money grasping friend Damien Hurst I note has gold plated, well his staff have gold plated, a skeleton of a dead beastie, canny mind what, which will grace the art world and make trillions from some mindless sap with too much off other folks cash to launder.  This is not art, this is taking sweeties from babies.

Now I accept that what I call art and what you call art are different.  We are different people, our cultures are different, our backgrounds vary, our life experience cannot be the same and this means we see what is presented as 'art' through our own eyes.  I accept that a mess on a wall might be an expression of an artists emotions, however the stuff I drew at school, all abstract and going nowhere, might have been an expression of my inner soul, but it may possibly be that I am just unbalanced. Quiet at the back!  Anyway one was placed on the school wall, so the teacher either liked it, appreciated my effort or fancied me.  He certainly fancied that curly haired teacher in the class next door.  The janitor probably dumped my esteemed artwork in the bin later.  Had I been less scrupulous and more determined to alter the world through art I might have been rich!   

Anyway I blame Thatcher!  It was her idea of closing all the psychiatric hospitals to save a few pennies that allowed all these 'artists' to walk the streets when they could be inside out of harms way getting the treatment they desperately require.

In a month or two the Tour de France takes its usual deviation out of France and passes close to the town.  Two miles up the road preparations are under way for the mass influx of people who will venture out to watch the bikes flash past at thirty miles an hour and disappear over the bridge and never be seen again.  That's it! Up here they will not race just stick together as they cover the miles, sorry kilometers!  It is later, down near London itself, that the action hots up. Here we will see little and to find a spot to observe this will be very difficult. However the kids today were entranced by making masks featuring bikes, and good masks they were too.  The kids were pleased with their efforts and mum was happy as it was free plus by escaping out the back door they avoided the kids entering the shop and spending their cash. Bah!

  

We had several visitors, Gran and Granddads bringing kids dumped on them for the day, others reminiscing about their local past and a couple from Georgia who know Stone Mountain.  All these it must be said paid only the concession rate!  Most were cheery but one attempted to question why Scotland should be independent, even being silly enough to believe the papers that 'England pays for Scotland.'  I soon put him right on that.  The English cannot conceive Scots attitudes.  To them we are all the same but they have not been treated as second class.  This area of course is far from Scotland and very much a backwater in some respects.  Scotland could be Greenland as far as some here know, but money is important to them and the feeling that they pay for Scots benefits hurts, even though it is a lie!  

The Georgia couple were not very friendly.  Usually the Americans come to see their ancestors or the old airfields they were once based.  I am not sure what this couple wanted but he was very offhand.  She did the buying postcards bit and I managed to force a book on her suggest a suitable book of old photos that might help.  The house they believe their ancestor lived in they had identified and that pleased them but I refrained from suggesting a walk round the cemetery to find a suitable grave as the weather is dreich and he might have suggested putting me there.  He's an American so probably was carrying a gun! Still I got just over £10 out of them but wish I could have cheered them up somewhat.  Possibly the weather pout them off, possibly tiredness possibly the town itself.  The town is not the greatest place to visit in the rain or even in the sunshine! At least I know one Georgian lass who would enjoy it here whatever the weather.  

  

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Dreich Bank Holiday

Bank Holiday usually indicates dull clouds and wet streets, this bank holiday has therefore not disappointed as it is gray, wet and dreich.  Not that I care as the virus has left me looking for sleep most of the time.  Sunday was a bright day but I watched it from my bed, except when I left to watch the football.  The brute of a virus hangs around today also and tomorrow the kids will fill the museum. I'll get them some time off school the week after if I cough enough.  I ventured as far as the bins this afternoon suddenly realising how many adverts are found on the shop wall next door.  It reminded me of those Victorian photos when such advertising abounded everywhere, clearly uncontrolled at the time. It makes me wonder if the council notice, or care to notice, whether this breaks some by-law.  I hope they do not notice as he is a good man struggling to make his business work.  Without the ads it is possible the town could not operate properly.  

The good book says we should not rejoice when our enemy falls, that is not the heart of God in action, however I allowed myself a moment or two of giggling. You see Hibernian, who I may have mentioned before, played their 'play-off' game against Hamilton Accies on Sunday and were in an unbeatable position. It was impossible for them to lose their two goal advantage against a team from the lower division.  Yet they did!  Worse, they went on to lose a penalty shoot out and all this after laughing out loud at our relegation, caused as we all admit by mismanagement leading to administration. Hibernian's talented players have by sheer willpower crawled from Fifth place in the league to the lower relegation! Oh how we laughed!  Now I am not one to taunt the Hibbys when they are down - but I managed it! It fair cheered me up and wore me out! They are not speaking to me today, it's a giggle innit?  

So here is the victor of the moment, posed appropriately in front of English flags, enjoying his breakfast I presume.  He will sleep well tonight content with the fear running through Westminster.  The Conservative Party have watched their voters run to Farage and Labour watched their voters stay at home.  Half a million people in this region voted for UKIP, and ten thousand in Edinburgh voted that way and that is a surprise to me!  This area is dominated by wealthy Conservative types but there is also a large working class Tory vote and they have gone for UKIP in a big way.  Whatever happens in the next few weeks I know not but Scotland must go for independence, England will be dominated by the right of centre for the next few years.  Some of those are so far to the right they think Thatcher was a Communist!  If you have never prayed - start now!  

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The Saturday Night Movie

Boring Tired Post

Nigel Helps Police with their Enquires

There is no doubt UKIP can rejoice in their success in last nights poll.  They have touched the heart of England, and I mean 'England,' in similar vein to the Scottish National Party in Scotland. In many an Englishman's heart their concerns have been pushed aside for immigrants arriving on these shores, for which the indigenous population have been called 'racist,' their dislike of same sex marriage has been ignored in spite of so many objections, and 'Human Rights' being abused by thugs and murderers and Islamic preachers has been a bone of contention often raised but ignored also.  In the eyes of the English voter he is a stranger in his own land.  He sees the Scots given preferential treatment, the 'Daily Mail' says so, benefits cheats abounding while his work is underpaid.  On top of this the EU costs him cash and the politicians spend more time shoveling cash to their friends rather than dealing with the Englishman's needs.

He knows all this is true because the right wing media, the one he reads, tells him so!

Daily he reads of millions of Romanian, Bulgarian, Polish, African, Afghans amongst the many arriving, here receiving payouts greater than his wage, houses better than his and if he objects he is called 'Racist.'  The paper speaks daily of EU waste, fiddling MP's and local authorities and makes clear he is the one paying for it all.  The Englishman, who sees his home as his castle is frightened by this. 

The media intended him to vote Conservative by peddling all this misinformation, half truths and downright lies.  Instead along comes an everday bloke like Farange who speaks their mind, drinks a pint, smokes, and tells the EU what he thinks of them.  "He is one of us!" they cry!  

Of course he isn't.  Farage is another well educated rich man who knows how to play the system, a rebelrouser who shouts the Englishman's wishes.  Those wishes are for fair treatment and a government that listens to them.  That does not exist today.

The Scots cannot understand Nigel and his party because it is an English party, not a UK one. Scots have a more egalitarian approach to life, this comes from the hardship of past years.  The use of utilities for the whole nation not just a few shareholders goes down well up north, aiding the needy is a part of society. The Scots are more left of centre than the English they are predominately right of centre.  Add to this politicians from well to do backgrounds, with Oxbridge accents, no life experience to speak off, people full of ambition to be number one or make the most out of the job and we have a parliament out of touch with the real world.

No wonder desperate people, lied to daily, see Nigel Farage as a man who can speak for them.   

UKIP, that should in my view be EIP, have shaken the parties, especially the Conservatives.  There is every chance Nigel and his men could be in the House of Commons in a years time and that will be fun.  The response of the various parties after a result in which they have been hammered is always the same, no matter how good or bad the spokesmen always tell how well their party has done and just how much support there is for their policies.  I am reminded of the leader of the Scottish Communist party appearing on TV in 1968.  That year the Scottish National Party made a huge breakthrough by winning something like 325 seats at the local elections in Scotland.  The Communists had one man elected in somewhere far to the north, Inverness I think.  The Communist leader took this opportunity to read into the election of one man as a sign that "The Scottish people are turning to us as they realise Communism is the way to go." The 325 or so SNP seats were ignored.

The party spokesmen have been floundering today, blame has been sent around and only one thing remain the same, the media accept no blame for anything at any time!  The media, desperate for money and supporters of the Conservative Party have inflamed the English nation. This has hurt their party dearly.  From tomorrow the papers will do their best to sell to the UKIP support while not hurting Cameron's chances in 2015, such two faced action is not beyond them.

Will Farage really change the nation?  Time alone will tell, but as Scotland will vote for independence in September only England, an Wales and Northern Ireland need worry. 

Did I vote for Nigel?  Don't be silly!

Democracy in Action

The voting paper had two folds in it, opened out it was over a foot long, all the major parties and quite a few loony's were on offer.  "Right," said I as the young ladies at the desk proffered the paper and gave instructions on its use,"Where is the Scottish Nationalist?"  One of the girls sighed quietly.  I fear she believed me.  The choice entered with a big 'X' in the usual manner of a Hibernian footballer signing his name I vacated the premises.  Voting takes place in the Museum Hall and my Big Boss who is in charge of the operation informed me the day had been light (about ten thirty) and no-one ventured over the door until half an hour had passed.  Rather unusual for here even allowing for the increasing number of postal votes.  The EU election does not go down well.

The main parties were all represented and I did not want any off them. However a vote for UKIP, racists in suits, does influence government policy as the Conservatives are terrified they will lose out to them. Indeed the right-wing media has spent the last weeks attacking UKIP at every opportunity but offering absolutely no Tory policies!  That tells you the fear at Conservative HQ.  A while back I wrote to the local member of parliament and in the middle of the letter I mentioned "..it was brave of you to vote for the 'Bedroom tax' when UKIP as so strong in this area..."  he did not reply!  Personally I think we should vote for UKIP, I believe in England for the English!  The best thing for them to do would be to give £250,000 to everyone else and send them back to their own country, but wait until after September.

Is it not funny how in Afghanistan people queued for hours to vote, knowing that bombs could explode at any time, rifle fire could break out and death was minutes away yet in the UK such an important vote leaves us bored or disinterested.  People died in various parts of the British Isles over many years to get us the right to select which lying rogue will represent us, or here put their nose in the trough, yet we stay at home.   Always vote, but I would like a 'None of the above' added at the bottom.

Possibly the insistence of the Police helicopter to hover over my head when I was sleeping working had some connection to the crowds waiting patiently to vote.  It could be spite on the pilots part as I have yelled at him to sling it before now as these brutes are noisy.  It looks like he is watching us but more likely his cameras are aimed a mile or so further down the main road, away from us and towards some drug dealing types who are moving into the area. These are not welcomed here especially as a recent murder was caused by this. Rarely do the constabulary explain why they make such a fuss, not that I am nosey,  but I do ask!  
Ha! Acting suspiciously.  Here is the reason and naturally he deafens us while watching something a mile away, typical!  Nobody arrested and thousands spent.  Is it cheaper to put police on the ground I wonder?