Googling Maps...

I find it surprising how often I refer to Google Maps.  This device to keep track of my movements, send advertisers to my laptop and keep the FBI aware of my activities has been a boon in so many other ways.  It is not just the local police who can follow me around if they so choose.  These maps enable me to find my way around and I use them daily these days.

During recent months I recall searching out the many places wherein I was once employed, you note I do not use the word 'worked,' this took me back to 1966, too far back for any of you to remember, where I noticed the dim dark fire hazard dwelling that housed my first employment remained dim and dark but in an amended and hopefully less hazardous condition.  Almost all others since then have disappeared and were now housing blocks of flats or small housing estates, the one in North Finchley asking around half a million for a house where I once lugged 15,000 bricks of the back of a lorry by hand, not by myself I may add. Whether anyone realises or cares that under their feet once stood a tank containing petrol for the council vans possibly does not really matter.  The only time that mattered was when the delivery man put diesel in the petrol or was it petrol in the diesel tanks, that mattered a lot to the stream of small vans that died before they left the depot. 

Google maps allows me a remarkably close view on how the world has changed since those days where managers would cheerfully smile while slapping something down on the desk muttering “These are for you.” The days of those insurance cards have thankfully ended.

Google maps are great if you wish to visit somewhere new.  A glance tells you transport links, items of interest and places to avoid.  In the days before such marvels the tourist could wander around a town missing all the good bits and find themselves wallowing in the midst of dank depressing lower-class Britain from where they originated and wish to escape from, at least in my case.  Google saves you that.  With hand held expensive phones in direct contact with both the US and Chinese security systems this makes wandering around much easier than in the days of aper maps.  This system allows you to pick the spots worth visiting, allowing for the Google cameraman only visiting places when the sun shone, and hoping he choose to wander down all the streets you fancy. 

Those house buying would find the maps a great boon also.  Do you remember the lovely cottage on sale by the sea near Dymchurch a couple of years ago?  The pebble beach, the small flowers, the sea, the distance from everyone else, the condition of the house, large rooms, well maintained, all one could possibly wish in such an area.  It was therefore unfortunate that the photographer forgot to include the nearby Nuclear Power Station situated about a mile behind the house.  This may have influenced buyers.  Google maps helped in such circumstances, power stations, roads, railways, scrap yards, petrol stations, schools and other unwelcome happenings are often missed by estate agents for reasons unclear, the maps aid the unwary here.

I found the maps particularly useful when reading about ancient Eridu, the oldest settlement in Sumer.  The map of Iraq, if you work hard at it, shows all those old settlements along with more recent ones such as Nineveh or Babylon.  Fantastic to see such sites from the desk here, especially when rain hits the window and temperatures drop, at that moment watching a dry hot desert under 120 degrees of sunshine can be enthralling. 

Those who take time to study such maps can find themselves lost as I often am staring at out of the way places such as St Helena and wonder why on earth people live there?  There again the world is full of strange and inhospitable places often teeming with life, how do folks end up there and why do they stay?  Why indeed do they fight savagely to keep it to themselves I wonder? 

The way the maps attempt to display the land at the bottom of the sea is also quite extraordinary.  Lines run across the bottom indicating the clash of plates below and the huge number of volcanoes and potential earthquakes especially in the Pacific region.

Similarly watching rivers run down mountains catches the eye.  Mountainous Costa Rico looks high and lush but there was a man in a wheelchair, surrounded by dogs and sheep, bossing people around at one area I noticed.  The USA was a wonder, it intrigues how people could cross such a landmass, plains, hills, deserts and survive yet alone create what some call ‘civilisation’ on that vast acreage.  Nice of the civilisers to keep ‘reservations for the Indians’ even yet.  Apart from those Trump has run oil pipes over of course.  Tucson, Arizona, offers an aircraft boneyard.  Here military aircraft are laid out for observation from above and to lie ready for use sometime in the future.  B52’s and the like sit there burning in the sun’s dry heat.

Early man trekked vast distances, sometimes through the need for food or shelter sometimes just to see what was over the hill.  When you study the size of the world it is amazing how he moved so far in a relatively short time.  Of course so little evidence has been found and many conclusions jumped to that we really don’t know much about how he spread, nor how he managed to change colour to so many different hues.  We were informed at primary school this was because we were black but lost the colour as we moved north into cold regions.  Hmmm I wondered then how Indians were brown and Chinese yellow?  The equator runs across many of them also. 

A TV programme offered a trip on a train into the north of Siberia, the furthest north you can travel that way.  Some of the workers when challenged about the cold just shrugged their shoulders and laughed that anyone would query working there.  They were used to it.  Siberian troops were brought by Stalin from the Japanese border to defend Moscow in 1942 and they thought fighting in minus 8 degrees was warm!  They had experienced minus 40 regularly.  Excuse me while I huddle the heater.

You might be surprised to note that I have made use of Google while searching for Great War sites.  To view Ypres or Mons from the air and to compare with old maps or photographs is an interesting waste of time.  I especially like looking for remnants of old trench lines which have not yet been obliterated by the plough.  It is amazing what remains as well as what is now no longer visible.  

This adventure can take a lot of my busy time sadly. 

Monday Blues

I spent some time this morning standing at the window waving my coffee cup at those trudging up the road towards their employment.
Some of them waved back but not I fear in the correct manner.
I commented to one or two regarding how blue the sky was and how lovely to see the sun reflecting off the green stalks of the coming Daffodils, how unfortunate they would be to remain indoors on such a day, these too gave somewhat unloving responses and pulled their coats tighter around them.  Quite why women with short skirts tighten their coats while allowing their legs to freeze beats me but fashion does not make allowances for weather I suppose.
I joined them, some time later, and waltzed around Sainsburys coughing my way to the 'Strepsils' counter.  Then carrying my bag, heavy with Brexit stockpile, I made my way home in the sun past the unsmiling shoppers.  All those retired men pushing trolleys for their wives, bored, lost and deciding day time TV is not as bad as they once thought were filling the alleyways blocking folks like me carrying a wee basket, always quicker, and knowing for the most part where everything was.  This of course did not stop me from getting home where I remembered the things I had forgotten - again!

I enjoy much of what I hear on Radio 3, especially late at night but there are times the pretentious nature of 'art' discussions gets up ones nose.  Is there any subject in which nonsense is aired in such a grandiose manner?  Books, theatre, films, pictures, anything which pretends to be 'art' is discussed as if it were of some importance, I am here to tell you, and anyone who listens, that it is not!  
'Art' in all its forms has a place, pompous nonsense re art has not.  Those who consider a piece of string with a black ball on the end hanging as 'art' are not seeing a 'new way of viewing' they are just talking baloney.  This is worse if someone actually pays for it.  'Art' costs money, big money, so I suggest any artist, or rather any art lover out there who wishes to purchase my two photogra art works can do so if they have lots of ready cash.  One is called 'Freedom' and the other is a 'Reflection on Divided Society.'  No checks, used notes only please.

p.s, My photos are just dust particles hovering about in the sunlight but don't tell anyone.

Lunch, Football Books and Doves.

As one of the near million or more who opened a can of beans today I began to cogitate on the worth of this fine food, a food that was is so important to our health that during the war it was declared an 'essential foodstuff.'  It has been essential in my house for many years.
Somehow beans grown in South America made it to Europe during the 1500's, possibly by being swiped from Spanish and French ships by English pirates, and bean stew became popular world wide, the world being Europe and the Americas and the rest did not matter much.  Haricot, also known as 'Navy' beans for some reason are covered in tomato sauce and make a complete dinner for many in the UK.  This tells us much about them!   
Heinz, who sell the most, and probably many 'own brand' types also, claim that around 50,000 tonnes of beans arrive annually for their Wigan factory from the Americas, a fact which might change come Brexit!  Their sauce is based on a US model which originally contained pieces of pork (pork & beans still on sale somewhere)  first produced in the UK by Heinz in 1928.  The beans had first been sold as an expensive foreign import in 1901 by Fortnum & Mason at 9d a tin.  Considering some earned around £1 a week then (with 240d to a £) you see how pricey it was.  Today Heinz and other charge considerably more but wise folks like me buy own brand beans, considerably cheaper and if you don't like the sauce ad a bit of imitation Lee & Perrin's sauce to spice it up a bit.   Even the English queen likes the beans and has given Heinz a Royal Warrant, she always has some on order, probably for Philip.
Pie and beans, meaning a Scotch mutton pie, was a staple of my diet in Edinburgh, in this wilderness these pies are unobtainable and the English mince pie is frankly disgusting!  Therefore my diet suffers.  Being cheap and flexible they cover a lot of mistakes leaving me feeling fed even though no restaurant would remain open if they offered what I ate.  I however suppose it is possible to live on a diet of beans?  If this is cheap I may give it a try.

Someone indicated a book might be missing from my collection.  This usually means they have nicked it so I had a quick check and all the appropriate books are in their rightful place.  It may be someone did not look close enough....

Someone was watching me with the tins of beans muttering "I'm game for dinner" and when I looked he had hopped it.  I wonder if he had obtained the wrong idea?  He ought to know we don't eat birds like him these days...usually...

Thirsty Thursday

Christmas time saw the wine cupboard overflowing.  I had almost a third of a bottle of 'Laphroaig' whisky sitting there as it had been for several years 'Laphroaig' being one of those whiskies you take occasionally.  Beside it sat a near empty bottle of 'Highland Park' that arrived at Christmas last, also a half bottle of cheap French Brandy that took my fancy one day.  Today this is all that survives!
I drink rarely and sparingly yet since Christmas a few weeks ago all has gone including this years  'Highland Park' which has only a small drop left.  This thanks to Man Flu!  
Tomorrow when I reach Tesco, if indeed I make it, I will have to spend money to refit as the cough remains alongside other unwelcome symptoms.  This one takes a while to go and I am right fed up with it.  It is costing me a fortune!

I'm right fed up with this bint pretending she is doing something in Europe when it is all games to her.  The 'Black money' behind Brexit will win, she is most likely part of it, and soon this mess will reach fruition without something sensible happening and the UK will soon be defunct.

This is not a good negotiating position to be in yet that is all she can offer.  With big business heading for Holland or Slovakia, Paris and Berlin the tax haven she and her dodgy peers seek will enable the elite to prosper while we suffer, and that under US authority, it is what Brexit is all about - their wallets and serfdom for the rest. 

Weary Busy Tuesday

Tired and weary as I was I threw aside the ageing army blankets (what does 'WD' stand for?), clambered out of bed and headed to the museum.  Once there, when they eventually opened the door, I found I was to be confronted with 90 children in the shop (not all at once).  This usually requires two people but my friend and colleague was taken from me and replaced with another, a wrong other!  I was not pleased.  Some folks you find difficult, when tired, busy and not in the mood I was not best pleased to be lumbered today.  
Then of course when we tried to use the till it would not work!  Nothing moved it, nothing made it let us ring up items.  The first ten kids stood there somewhat confused but sort of content.  Good job they could not hear me when underneath the desk.  Eventually after scrambling abut underneath I pulled the plug out and then replaced it, a very old tactic which worked!  
By leave time I had seen off 60 kids with teachers most of whom were very good indeed.  One small group of 10 year old boys did look as if they were trouble and they did not have a proper teacher accompanying them just a 'helper.'  After they ran off to have lunch I found the taps in the boys loo left on running at full volume.  I wonder what else they managed before they left?  I suspect they nicked something also but not sure enough to mention it.
So irked I slept and now wish to sleep again while watching football again.
  

Boring Sunday

This has been my view for much of the day.
French or German football for me as I have no SKY and no interest in what they were showing anyway.  I also did nothing of any sort worth noting, even the papers were more empty than normal, and I cared nothing for anything but sleeping again, which I managed somehow.
It began to feel a little bit like this Hancock show from 1958.
If that does not work this might...

 

Man Flu Survivor!

We Man Flu survivors normally take great pleasure in fulfilling the daily duties glad just to be moving around normally once again.  I had hoped today would see that scenario come into being but unfortunately several things went wrong.  For a start the idea of shopping at 8 am went out the window as I did not rise till well after that time, then the weather, claiming to be 3% was in fact much colder as the wind bowled it along at a merry pace round here.  Instead I cleaned myself and the dwelling up and ate what was left for breakfast.  It was half 12 before I actually got out and with the sun high in the sky, partly obscured by clouds, the temperature reached a mighty minus a lot!  
Walking into the freezing wind I hurried to Sainsburys and instead of a slow meander as hoped I once again fought the battle of the Little Big Horn to push past the hordes of trolley wielding folk each determined to be first and having no consideration for the other.  In my mood I fear I was at times tempted to join in.  Gratefully I paid over the top (as you do at Sainsburys) and ran back home for the warmth of the gas boiler.  
How lovely to be out.  How lovely to see the sky and watch the world pass by.  How lovely to be almost normal again and then get home and remember all the things I forgot to buy in my hurry.  At least I can now wait until Monday without adding starvation to my ailments.  The world is a better place when the mind is clearer and the streaming stops.  Headaches which lessen in power also save money as paracetamol remains lying there gathering dust.  It amazes me when people spend money on 'Nostrums peddled in the market place' as one Doctor called them when most cold cures are one of four over the counter remedies with added lemon or whatever and all costing a fortune.  Own Brand and lemon drink are cheaper and work just as well unless there is a reason specific tablets are required.  When working in Maida Vale the nurse gave me paracetamol and a small bottle of 'Hospital whisky.'  This was a concentrated whisky, just add hot water, and take three tablets every four hours, it worked!    Now when energy returns life will return to normal grumblings.  

Man Flu

Also available in female versions!

Snow

Late last night as I coughed and sneezed I read online that snow had arrived.  Sure enough from the kitchen window I had a good view of falling snow, snow thick enough to begin to lie.  I had not noticed as falling snow is always quite unlike rain that likes to patter or beat against the window.  The field opposite began to gather the horrid stuff and I was not too keen.  I suspect drivers were not too keen either as around here are lots of back roads that get ignored while the main drives are kept open.  The dips and bends gather snow and frozen water which make life hazardous.  I suspect few cyclists will be ought late last night.

This morning most had withered away.  The fields retained a covering of white and areas of the roads and pavements had white frosted parts with some frozen water in the many dips in the car park as I passed.  I passed at a few minutes past seven this morning desperate to get in and out as quick as possible!  I was in no mood for the crowds that come later on a Wednesday but the fridge was empty and eating is a requirement I am loath to miss.  So in spite of temperatures below zero and noting few others out as yet I hurried up, grabbed a basketful of needed grub and hurried back in to enjoy the Man Flu before anyone noticed me.  Sadly I was too early to buy whisky as the law says wait until 8 am, even if it is your breakfast!  I care not as I was just wanting enough for a couple of days.  Now I sit while the wee chicken slowly cooks behind me.  This was chosen as it saves thought and will last a day or two.  
Several friends have this cold also, a bug that goes on for weeks rather than days.  It has been making me tired for a week or two and those other sufferers were far from happy when they bore it. However this has happened to me so much in recent years I understand how it works however it is something I can do without.  This however will leave soon but others I know suffer extreme pain from infection on their metal hips or undiagnosed problems causing weakness and pain, I have it lucky really.

  

Sympathy? Brexit? Whisky?

Sympathy?  Not a bit!  Only women muttering "Wimp" and "We just have to get on with it" and all the while not getting on with it.  I fixed them today however, I stayed at home and let them 'get on with it' while I suffered the slings and arrows (coughs & sneeze & ludicrous tiredness) all day long.  At least what passes for a brain cleared a bit although no longer adding whisky to my tea probably had a part to pay in that.  However I remain indoors avoiding the cold wind and bright sun while reading about snow falling and leaving drifts across road and rail.  Possibly tonight we might get this horrid white stuff just in time for me to visit Sainsburys for more Brexit stock.

 SKY

While the world goes about its business Theresa and the 650 gather in the House each with a smile on the face and a knife in hand to stab in someone's back, just who as yet they are not too sure but it will happen. 
Brexit again on the agenda, again it is life or death, again speculation mounts, again nobody knows what is going on.  On all sides the chattering continues but in the House each MP is looking to his future.  The eyes are on their hoped for promotion, they follow the man (surely not another woman) who will lead the Tories while on the other side they all hope Jeremy suffers a sudden failure and is carted of to hospital allowing a leader to take over. 
It is difficult to believe this is happening.  Can this really be the state of government of a leading nation?  Can all this be the fault of a small group of Eton toffs fighting for the top job?  Tory Brexiteers have always been there sniping away from the south east, filling their tabloids with stories of lazy unemployed, cheating sick and of course millions of immigrants taking over and every one an Islamic terrorist who will cut your throat as you sleep!
So the sheep vote for Brexit and those more thoughtful who did also find that whatever they expected will not be happening.  Promises will not be kept, trade deals will not happen and while the Hedge Fund managers, all Brexiteers it appears, will be making a killing the millions who voted Leave will be out of work and losing their homes, their families and their NHS (bought by US cash).
I may go back to bed while they 'debate' in the House.  Watching it all day might lead to a brick through the screen.

It's no good, the bug made me sit and watch Parliament this afternoon and the low nature of the debate drove me to drink.  l now sit here in bed suffering Man Flu while coughing loud enough to keep the neighbours awake.  Whisky for warmth then as the weather man again promises snow, rain, wind and horror, he might even mean it this time.  As my work colleagues refused to send a nurse to aid me  tomorrow will find me early up at the shops filling the empty store cupboard as I have already promised.  Whether I can be bothered is another thing especially after the Brexit vote...

Saturday Whisky...

The wee bug that has hung around for weeks decided to hang around my throat last night and remove what energy I had from me.  This I counteracted with whisky to no effect, well except more drowsiness.  However in spite of remaining horizontal all morning the sapped energy did not return.  This was awkward as I had to be at the museum for one o'clock having promised to cover the Saturday man.  

 
Blearily I sauntered in wishing to be back in my bed.  It became obvious the girls thought in similar fashion, they wished me away again.  However I remained and took my place at the till where we welcomed the guests to the opening of the new exhibition.  The high heid yins were there, including the Member of Parliament, photo ops important at such a time when folks question his allegiance to the area, and all went swimmingly as far as I could see.
Crittalls the window people were very good to their staff.  A sports club, good conditions, good money and in the 20's one of them built the village of Silver End equipped for all requirements of the time for his employees.  It was obvious that a company that people were happy to work for, some for over fifty years, would bring a  decent few people to the museum and so it proved.  They came to see portraits of the workers!  
During the 20's someone decided to organise oil painting off those who had served the company well, usually those who had served many years.  Thus there were a collection of paintings of workers high and low on offer and today we gathered the majority of them together for the first time in 90 years.
Many were donated by the locals, their grandfather posing happily or not as the case may be, and naturally at the beginning there were queries as to whether the information was correct.  Being the people we at the till were we passed the buck to the curator and moved away.
Running home as soon as I could I have sat here watching football ever since longing for the final whistle so I can sleep.  Tomorrow I will also watch football and remain indoors out of the rain, wind and cold while I sup whisky for medicinal reasons.  I might require to do this also on Monday...

 

Research

With a strange weariness hanging over me, the weather offering frozen ground in the morning and no desperate requirement of leaving the house this meant I needed something to occupy my mind that did not require much thought, normal business as it were 
So I poked my freezing fingers into the laptop and once again returned to may family history which has lain dormant for a while.  Much of this has been done and questions asked and answered but I decided to check it out and clean things up.  
When I say family history I refer not to my family but my grandfathers first family, he remarried when a widow and I descend from the second wife not the first.  This point is important as the first wife had problems and there may have been a combination of this that led to her ending up in Dundee Lunatic asylum!  
With feet pressed against the radiator I dug out what had been found, tidied the paperwork and then somewhat foolishly decided to print off what I had found.  Grandfather and his wife had seven children in 18 years, four girls and three boys.  In spite of the age only one child died, Mary expired from pneumonia aged one year and two day in 1902.  In sorting things out I placed the printed matter in individual plastic files, all very neat, however I forgot how long it would take to print things off.  There were birth details, census's, death notices and a summary page along with individual items from each.  It also required chasing about on ancestry and the Scotland's people site going from one to another before not always finding what I was looking for.  However it did cross my mind that rather than struggle through my life with the rubbish jobs that once fed me doing something like this was more interesting and I wish I had found a way in years ago. 
It is interesting what can be found.  The British Newspaper Archive is a great help with newspapers from long ago.  This can be frustrating however when the paper you want is there but not the year you need to search!  Umpteen millions of pages but not all are as yet online.  However I did find an explanation regarding the tale of two sisters who married the same man.  One parried this insurance accountant in 1904, she died however in 1928 and then in 1933, a suitable expanse of time, her sister moved in.  This was helped by copies of the death notices in the 'Scotsman' the paper men of his ilk would have been reading at the time.  His wealth was clear as he lived up Liberton Brae, expensive middle class then as now.  Thanks to Google Maps I could also find the houses they lived in!  How strange to be excited finding info about someone I never met!  The other sister had already married well.  The behaviour of the mother might be involved here as this one lived in Newcastle and not with the family.  This before she was 13 at that.  
Another interesting insight into the mother was that two years after his marriage granddad places an ad in the local paper telling the world he is not responsible for her debts!  Something was amiss.
I got so involved in all this I ran out of black ink and had to venture out to Tesco to pay for more, £18 a go!  
The brothers were easier to sort out, at least two of them were.  One spent time in Birkenhead where his eldest sister loved with him for a while, then he is found in the 'Manitoba Rifles' fighting for the Canadian Army, aged 35, and disappearing into the chalk on the 5th July 1916.  I must look them up sometime.  William however was in the RNVR and spent the war on small 'sloops' supporting the war effort.  The details on his discharge papers are hard to decipher without a knowledge of Naval terms but he appears to have done all right.  He died in a house in East London in 1936, his probate went to his sister.
Robert however adds mystery to this.  He is 16 and a drapers assistant while at home in Edinburgh but does not appear anywhere again.  I canny find a death certificate, (there are hundreds with his name and it appears the family always had a Robert somewhere) he is not on a census, and has disappeared.  Add to this my aged aunt one time mentioned a tale of that family concerning a son taking poison and then another doing the same which makes me wonder.  In 1891 they are all at home, dad working as a steam engine driver, but in 1901 he is elsewhere along with two sisters and one son.  He remains married and one son is England but where are the rest and why is the engine driver now a general labourer at 55?  Mary has died, has son killed himself, has mother gone over the top as she is now in the lunatic asylum, and yet no info anywhere regarding this.  I need to keep digging.
That is how I have spent two cold days, filling my head with such things, all meaning little in the end but I find it interesting and it keeps me off the streets.