There is Less to Say Today...

If yesterday was boring you will find it much, much worse today.
The main delight was to do the 'washing.'  This is interesting in that round here they call it 'laundry,' and do not understand what you mean.  Just as in Edinburgh women, for that is what they were made for, will go for the 'messages,' but in these parts they say 'shopping,' or 'Supermarket,' or 'I have a woman to do that sort of thing.'  When I lived in Edinburgh there were many phrases I took for granted but which cause puzzlement in these parts.  A woman asked the time, 'The back of three o'clock' I said.  She stared at me blankly.  She, it must be said, was indeed reared on a farm.  'Do you mean,' she enquired nervously, 'After three o'clock?'  I stared blankly.  What else could I have meant I thought.  Only then it struck me how everyday expressions we grow up with at fixed to a locale.  Just as many words are found only in certain areas phrases and expressions are similarly found in limited locales.  
Of course round here they all speak with the same accent, acceptable but not one to boast about.  When an individual from Lancashire or Wales or Scotland appears I always enjoy the improvement.  Such accents are delightful, while a 'Scouse' one, named after a type of stew, is not so endearing. 

I picked this book up again, I found it under a pile of detritus, and luckily it was open at an interesting bit.  Here MacFarlane walks around in the West Bank with an Arab walker to guide him.  In a another chapter he was walking with a man who picked up odd bits he found as he walked, made a small 'book' enclosing his finds, over a thousand such books in his possession, and his left me wondering about what goes on behind peoples front doors.  The Arab, Raja is his name, had walked many Wadi's in the West Bank and made maps of his walks, not something to carry about with you when soldiers or settlers might be met.  MacFarlane describes in his usual, normal, current, regular, customary, familiar overblown style as he walks.  On occasion this can be interesting, sadly not often enough.  However they walk up and down the slopes, ensuring they cannot be seen by Israeli or settler guards as the area is technically out of bounds.  The word 'technically' means they get shot if seen, US style, no questions asked.
For such hardened walkers this is great fun.  The author walks along investigating the limestone rocks and describing the rivulets where water has over the centuries run down into the Wadi.  Such men enjoy the toil, even with a heavy backpack, possibly considering that this makes them appear 'real men.'  Walking across parts of Israel crossed by many feet over thousands of years in indeed intriguing but while these two considered the stones I would be considering where the nearest Falafel takeaway joint was to be found.  They trudge along wary of figures on the horizon while rain begins to fall.  This, as is the way in such places soon turns the area into clinging yellowish mud as the rivulets allow water to run down.  This is what done for Sisera all those years before.  Arriving with all his trained charioteers he found Barak at the foot of Mount Tabor.  To him this was an easy victory but the rain came and that area was full of streams.  Soon his chariots were stuck in mud and his men, trained to fight on the move, were no match for the 'Infantry' of Barak, especially when they were aroused.  Sisera himself managed to escape the carnage hiding with the Kenites, he saw them as friendly locals, and was lulled to sleep by a milky drink given by the woman Jael.  He may not have known the Kenites were descended from Moses father-in-law and Jael, when she saw he was asleep, did the decent thing and put a tent peg through his scull.  Never trust a woman I say!  Never trust a woman who lulls you to sleep with a milky drink!
My head hurts now.
Those ancient hills in the West Bank must have seen many a confrontation over thousands of years. The chances of peace in that area now is still slim.  
Anyway that is the sort of area MacFarlane is walking over in this chapter, his style has not changed, the people he meets appear regular walkers, I am talking about walking across Spain, or France or some such, just for the adventure.  These are his type of people.  I am left wondering about them myself. What makes people take off into the wild, possibly living alone far from humanity, possibly in rough areas in the hills or by the sea, obsessed with the world around them, oblivious to the rest?  Why do they do this?  I suspect we have all met them, sometimes envious of them, as they head out into adventure.  But these are not all young people, some have done this for decades.  As I said, when you go into someone's house you never know what you may meet.  I found this in the 80s when delivering in London, normal houses may be done up like castles downstairs, just for decoration, other rather run down properties were a wonder inside, this was the dream house for someone.  Another was an ex-sailor, very aged, with dozens of large models of Royal Navy ships, most of these were ships in which he had served during the Great War.  Poor old man was lonely and wished to talk about them but I had to rush on.  I regret not being able to remain for a while, both for him and for me!
Anyway, I might finish this book yet, depending on the nutter individual found in later chapters...

There is Nothing to Say

There is nothing to say, as Lock Down continues, I am following that Sturgeon woman not Boris, I find little to excite my writing fingers.  Wednesday followed Tuesday and little changed between them, except that I realised early on it was Wednesday by looking at the calendar.  Otherwise the grey clouds have obscured much of the sky with glimpses of sun shining through.  The northern wind has whistled through the cracks in my window frames happily freezing my fingers.  The wind has also limited the numbers who would otherwise be filling the park opposite today, Boris allowing them out encouraging them to flock to such places.  The traffic certainly appeared busier today, though it is Market Day, and the English being patriotic enough when crowded around a VE Day celebration are also stupid enough to crowd into a Market even if only three stalls will be there.  I suspect 'social distancing' was only observed by the queues at Supermarkets, the Post Office and the Banks.  

  
On Saturday I noticed some ignoring the 'advice' by settling down in the park, imagine what that would have been like today?  The Blackbirds, the Thrush's, Wood pigeons and the Crows would be happy for them to all remain indoors, only the lack of left over 'takeaways' would upset the Crows as that has become an important part of their diet.  
The council men cut the grass the other day leaving behind that sweet aroma that enlivens a sunny day.  Quite why cut grass has such a fragrance I know not but there is little beat it.  There was a plant, name unknown, that stood across from me that also offered sweet fragrance but the council took that away earlier this year, clearly something was amiss there.  It has as yet not been replaced which is a pity. 

Routines here can be boring to outsiders, rise slowly, breakfast and then study scripture to my own satisfaction, except that is when it tells me to change my ways or do something.  At my pace that brings me to 11 am at least!  Thus it is too late to start doing those urgent 'Big Jobs' and too early to look at the small ones.  So, let us gaze at the joggers slowly crossing the park, some getting much faster than they were a week or too ago.  Interesting to watch old men, unknown until now, who regularly wander the park paths.  These men have not exercised before but being trapped indoors has brought them out to their own benefit.  Naturally they ignore one another!  

   
With long queues at the big shops the man on the corner has made the most of the time.  Offering foodstuffs eggs, tins and whatever he can obtain, he has made a killing, mostly on the plants he sells. Business has been god, queues as long as the ones at the big shops can be found daily.  They park their cars at our door and care not about the locals, however I did manage to obtain a tray of eggs, 30 for £6 a go.  This of course means far too many cheese omelettes early in the day and I suspect before long I will die of cholesterol poisoning!  The price works out about normal round here.  Had I been using the bike there are many houses just outside the town which sell eggs, often on an honesty basis, take and pay in box.  Some do Honey also this way.  There has it appears been a rise in the sale of chickens in recent days so it may be urban houses may soon do similar.

Today I managed to avoid both the 'Big Jobs' as well as the small ones, then I realised the milk would not last so now I am preparing to visit Sainsburys at 7:30, the best time to go there. 
A friend has been told, by doctors letter, to remain indoors until June.  She is allowed out in a car however and he and her will take advantage of this and drive into the country for a change of scenery.  The country being five minutes drive from their door that will be easy.  
The change of scenery from indoors to out is great when it happens rarely.  I have been watching those 'Cab Rides' videos from the drivers seat in railway engines and wandering about the country.  Today I crossed the Forth Bridge, bringing back memories, and then the Tay Bridge also.  The video may be ten years old but it was a bright interlude in the day.  For the men driving such engines it must make their day when they can cross such constructions and get paid for this.  A skilled job, good pay and being outside with any troubles being the problem for the guard and not yourself is a great thing.  While delays occur rarely are drivers to blame and always they have the luxury of the view.  Much better than an office life. 
Having broken my leg in 1986 I was moved into an office.  One thing that bugged me was the constant dream of being outside in the van once again delivering across the city.  The nearest I got to this was being a Postman.  Half the day indoors the rest wandering the streets.  An enjoyable job when I began, not so enjoyable now.  Too busy, bad management and too many drops for each man.

Another quick wander about a near deserted Sainsburys.  Few about, mostly male, mostly buying beer, wine an spirits plus bacon and bread.  Clearly getting the breakfast stuff in!  A quick chat to all the attractive young ladies, why do they call me 'Granddad?'  Then saunter home in the chill breeze, blue sky appearing between puffy clouds, a Crow half way up the Police Radio Mast and a silent town lying round about.
Then I realised there were no Starlings on the mast.  In times past there have been thousands of the things.  Possibly they are Murmuring somewhere but at this time there is usually a host to be seen.  The Crow is not enough to put them off, I wonder if the numbers have dwindled?  Only one or two Swifts seen so far also.  I could go on Twitter and er, 'Tweet' about this...?

     

Medieval Little Richard

When I was a lad my sister, eleven years older than I, would bring home records, those large black 78s' that once sent us all wild.  A huge pile eventually appeared in the house, mostly Rock and Roll, featuring all the favourites of the time.  Among them was one 45' that had four tracks upon it, these were songs by the fabulous Little Richard.  This was excellent and even as a stupid kid I really enjoyed 'Lucille' and 'The Girl Can't Help it' even if I understood nothing at the time.
His showmanship and rowdy performances really led Rock and Roll front.  To say he influenced music that followed is putting it mildly.  Most groups of the 60s were influenced by him, Paul McCartney was taught vocalisation by Richard when the Beatles fronted his UK tour.
His life became one of many ups and down, these were not to his benefit.  Having in recent years suffered stokes, heart problems and various other problems died today at the age of 87.
His music will remain for a long time.

This is a good book.  The author takes you through all the relevant bits, what to wear, where to stay, how to conduct yourself before authority and keep your head on, etc.  All very good stuff for anyone interested in England during the 14th century.  The author claims many things changed during this time, good things like the death of the brutal English King Edward I which brought joy to Scotland and Wales, and not so good thing like the plague, or the Peasants revolt, many peasants came from this district it must be said.  Some things do not change.  Fashions changed and Kings changed and 'English' became a language common to all, allowing for dialects, accents and local words and preferences for French.  All in all it is a good readable book.
However I gave up a third of the way through.  This is because that while readable it is not readable as a book, the make up of the book makes it readable as a reference book.  That is, if I was studying this period I would certainly have this book on my shelf, as a reference book to be 'dipped into' on a 'need' basis it is excellent, I will retain it myself for that purpose, however this book is not designed for the reader to 'read through.'  A shame, but if you are interested in the century Scotland got Robert the Bruce as King, Scotland of course is ignored alongside Wales except when appropriate by this book, or desire to know the background in which life existed, then this book is definitely for you.

V.E. Day Braintree 1945

Outside the Town Hall (Chelmsford Chronicle)

Since September 1939 the people of Braintree and Bocking had endured almost seven years of Blackout darkness and now, on Tuesday 8^th May 1945 as Victory in Europe Day was celebrated, they intended to rejoice in the light, filled with hope for a better future.

The town had seen a great many changes since 1939.  War production had once again employed many women in the foundries, Crittalls and Lake & Elliott producing Bailey Bridges and vehicle Jacks for army use.  Vast numbers of foreign servicemen came through the town and during 1942 there were many air bases filled, with US servicemen both black and white, erected close to the town. 

Having entertained many soldiers in the ‘Last Lot’ the town was well able to cope with an influx of newcomers.  Such men were soon welcomed in all the tea rooms, pubs, dance halls and houses in the area.  It is very tempting to make VE Day a ‘British’ celebration but the presence of so many allied servicemen in the town on this day indicates how many nations were enlisted to win this ‘world war.’

As expected, the war was to bring damage to the town and lives were to be lost.  Over 90 men and one woman were to die in service.  Two major bomb incidents and several smaller ones plus one visit from a ‘Doodlebug,’ the ‘V1’ flying rocket, led to loss of life and damage to property.  Passing German aircraft patrolling the region would also machine gun and bomb individual targets.  Also

many airmen flying from the local air bases lodged with families in the town, these were often mourned as family with information as to their loss often scarce.

While all rejoiced on VE Day others were conscious of the ongoing war in the Far East.  Men from this town had been participating in action there.  Many men, possibly from this region, were struggling to survive in Japanese Prison of War camps, suffering torment and disease.

Victory in Europe, V.E. Day, was therefore welcomed by all but there would be few who would remain unchanged by the previous seven long years.

V.E. Day Celebration

Tuesday evening May 8^th saw Braintree Market Square awash with light.  The ‘Blackout’ darkness had gone.  No more rushing to close the curtains, no more Wardens rapping on the door crying “Put that light out!” Tonight, the shops, houses, churches and public houses lit up all their lamps and the Market Place itself was lit by three ‘one thousand candle-power electric lamps’ for the occasion.  Such brightness at night must have been ‘illuminating’ for many townspeople.  Flags flew from the masts at Crittalls foundry as they did all over the town, bunting and flags were everywhere. 

A service of thanksgiving was held at St Michaels at night, at such times people wish to say thanks to someone even if they are not true believers.  The churches responded; they too had lost men during this conflict.

That evening there was no band available to play for the crowds instead, from the Town Hall balcony, gramophone music was played to the girls dancing below with the sailors, soldiers and airmen of many nations.  ‘Coloured lights’ and ‘bombs’ were fired, crammed public houses with extended licences strove to satisfy the crowds and ‘hilarity’ was all around as celebrations continued well into Wednesday morning.

By one o’clock that morning, one soldier made to show the people what he was made off by climbing on the lantern in the fountain and beginning a strip tease act.  This did not reach completion however as he, not unexpectedly, fell into the crowd below.  The night ended following this with a ‘water battle’ making use of the plentiful supply in the fountain.  The crowds then dispersed and ‘no harm was done,’ claimed the Essex Newsman of May 11^th 1945.

Next morning, at the Wednesday Market Day, only two stalls were to be seen although ‘Balls & Balls’ held their ‘Fat Stock market’ just the same.

Victory Parade

On Sunday afternoon servicemen paraded through the town to the Market Square.  Some 500 American Soldiers, similar numbers of US airmen from the nearby bases, and a female contingent from the American Hospital joined men from the RAF to parade.  Joining the uniformed services were Braintree’s Home Guard under Captain H. Smith making their final appearance.  Also on parade were the Police under Superintendent Phillibrown, High School Cadets (Captain A.M. Dell), Braintree Sea Cadets (Commander A.H. Freeman), Boy Scouts, Girl Guides, Girls Corps, N.F.S and Civil Defence units as they marched around the town to the Market Square.   Mr E.A. Parish marshalled the event.

When the crowds had gathered in the Market Square a service of thanksgiving was held, the vicar Rev. Hartley S. Brook officiating.  The Baptist Minister the Rev. T. Herbert Davies, who had seen his manse destroyed by the Land Mine that landed during 1941 gave the address, surprising common convention by speaking in his shirtsleeves, the day being warm.  The Dean, the Very Rev. Edgar Rogers O.B.E. gave the benediction at the finale. 

The Dean had been accidentally omitted from the order of proceedings but once allotted his spot he arrived early and dressed in his regalia joined the Town Chairman Mr Frank Dance, wearing his chain of office, and led the march along the two miles around the town at the head of the parade.  This amazed the clergy assembled on the platform, the Dean being well past his ‘allotted span.’ 

Captain Alice Howard of the American Army Hospital hoisted the Victory Flag over Braintree Church.   

Missing Town Band

There was one discordant ‘note’ in the proceedings.  At the beginning of the Great War the Towns bands had marched along playing jingoistic tunes.  In 1918 the remaining members were assembled and accompanied the marchers as they paraded around the town.  In 1945 no band was available to play; the Town Band had disappeared. 

Somewhat disgruntled with their treatment by the town the band had agreed to play at Halstead on V.E. Day, an agreement made some 6 months previously.  This did not please the towns-folks as the only band remaining were the young Sea Cadets band, a band not quite up to the marching and playing as yet. 

However, for the Sunday Victory parade Frank Dance made a late-night plea for the Town Band to appear and was under the impression a deal had been struck; yet they were again not to be seen.  This time they were playing for Saffron Walden rather than Braintree, their home town.  The grumbles filled the local media and no doubt caused mutterings amongst the band’s friends for some time.

However, no matter how annoying that may have been the locals were upset to see two B 17’s from the US air force come together over Braintree on Thursday morning May the 10th.  The craft had been flying over Germany allowing ground crew to see the results of their work over the previous few years.  How sad that while one damaged aircraft managed to land the second came down in Bocking near the Convent killing all on board.  Sad to say these were not the only men who had survived years of action then died in accidents in the weeks after the end of the war.      

The people rejoiced, the people then began to build a new nation, better housing, health and education opportunities high on the list.   Did they succeed? 

Haig, the Good Soldier

Books regarding Field Marshall the Earl Haig tend to be either all for him or all out against him, few are objective.  Gary Mead in 'The Good Soldier' claims to come at his subject from a point of view of ignorance of the man and therefore objective.  He makes a decent attempt at objectivity it must be said.  At first I thought he was going to be a faithful acolyte but by the end he is clear on the faults in the man as well as his strengths.
Douglas Haig was born on the 19th June 1861 in Charlotte Square Edinburgh.  The address alone indicating the family money!  His father John came from a family of distillers and opened a whisky distillery in Fife, then spent his life drinking much of it!  This in spite of the family being respectable Presbyterian's and his mother keen to ensure bible knowledge and prayers were part of the family life.  How this squared with the distillery is not made clear.  However Haigs religion was not that of a fervent believer.  One General remarked after an Episcopalian service that Haig preferred a service that said 'God is with you' rather than anything else.  His religious influence was deep but not evangelical.  He was devoted to his sister Henrietta all his life, something which rubbed his wife Doris up the wrong way.  Henrietta had a habit of visiting seances and telling her brother that various people, long dead, were on his side, Napoleon was one of them!  How much credence Douglas put into these 'messages' is not clear but he listened to his sister.  No Christian would accept such 'messages.'
Not the greatest intellect Douglas struggled at educating himself.  he was not a 'swot' even 'crammers' did not do much for him and he failed to make much intellectually though he did get into Oxford.  It was not Latin, Greek or maths that appealed, it was action, sports, games and horse riding.  
Cramming and swotting were required when he sought entrance into the army however.  He just made it into Sandhurst but his sheer doggedness and determination saw him end up as top student!  It was the doggedness, the steadfastness shown here that was to be reflected during his army career.  Men of high intellect often surrounded him but the man of action, who could respond to the changing situation was the one who succeeded.
Joining the 7th Hussars, a cavalry regiment with many connections to those at the top and thus influence which could aid his career was a wise move.  Similar knowledge of those he met at army colleges were also the men he later served among.
His active service started under General Kitchener in the Sudan.  Here he was recognised as a talent and later moved to South Africa for the Boer War.  His talent for organisation was later used during the army reorganisation in 1905 when Haig worked alongside those modernising the army.  Such understanding of the needs of the army was a strong point in his favour.
By steadily climbing the ranks of the army bu the Great War Douglas Haig was in command of I Corps (the army was divided into two Corps and one Cavalry Brigade) and endured the retreat from Mons, an inauspicious beginning where his life was endangered on occasion.
Gary Mead does not go into the details of the fighting during the war, he does instead concentrate on Haig at this time.  At the battle of Loos, under Sir John French, and then at the Somme where he himself was commander in chief, the British army fought battles it did not wish to fight.  Both were ordered by the French and on both occasions the British government bowed to what they considered the better army.  They were wrong.
Haig and sir John French when commander in Chief both had the choice to refuse to fight these battles as they would waste men's lives, both continued to obey orders.  Why?  Had they refused they would have been removed and another would certainly have obeyed and taken the blame, both men would have been dumped by the politicians and their careers at an end.  Both men fought the wrong battles either through loyal obedience expected from a 'Good Soldier' but both knew lives would be lost.  It must be said that while the 'Somme' is seen as a disaster more lives were lost at a higher rate at the Battle of Arras, that battle is never mentioned by anyone.    
1917 saw the Battle of 3rd Ypres, Passchendaele!  Starting well and looking on for success the rains came.  It normally rains at that time of year but on this occasion rainfall not seen in a lifetime fell.  The ground became a waste of mud full of holes and wounded men drowned there as the rain fell.  This was not a glorious episode.  There is no doubt Haig knew the conditions, understood the situation yet continued the fight.
Had the rains not arrived as they did it was likely the battle would ave been successful, the high ground taken and a possible advance towards Ostend and the submarine pens achieved.  The mud ended this yet Haig persisted.  
At the beginning of the year Haig made clear to the cabinet the way the war would probably turn out, he was right!  He expected a 'German Push' after which we could shove back at the enemy and return his home.  He knew this was likely but still planned for war into 1919.
The German attack in March that year failed to break the thin British lines.  Pushed back for miles the line held and the German attack ran out of energy.  From then on the exhausted enemy was on the run and the armistice was signed in November 1918.  Haig had won the war, however that was not how he would see it, his army, and allies had won the war, though he would be a very happy man indeed.
Throughout the war, and afterwards, Haigs greatest enemy was Lloyd George the Prime Minister.  His constant interference, his refusal to free reserves, his many attempts to remove the General, all which failed as Haig was the only man fit for the job as all Lloyd Georges men could confirm.  
After the war, Douglas Haig refused rewards until Lloyd George had guaranteed pensions for his men, off al ranks.  Only Haigs insistence on this brought that pension about.  Until his death in 1928 Haig spent his time aiding ex-servicemen, many of whom could not get work as they were disabled.
They had won the war but got little reward.
This book goes into much detail regarding the Field Marshall and I found it tedious at times.  However it gives a good honest objective insight into a strong willed man with vast army experience who obeyed the call and behaved as a 'good soldier.'  Not a charismatic leader, his stability was his strength, especially in dark times.  It is interesting to note that after Lloyd Georges memoirs arrived Haig lost popularity, the media friends of the PM publishing his side of the story.  Haig took the blame for the war dead, yet German generals, French and Italian generals who lost more men, often more incompetently, never received such abuse.  One man alone is responsible for blackening Haigs name and that is the lying, self seeking Prime Minister who shifted responsibility to this general.
Read this book.

  

Sunday Suffering...

 

Dismal weekend so far.

Weather grey, occasional rain, yet Saturday traffic very busy.  Some folks are getting bored with being inside I reckon.  Many are now taking to the roads for a bit of 'exercise.'  Sunday returned to the quiet however, the grey clouds limiting the most eager jogger.  

There was little for it but to read a book.  This however is not possible all day, some form of outside entertainment is required just to allow the mind to breathe.  Now many question whether my mind has breathed at any time, these people follow from a long line of teachers that I have known, but after reading three chapters we need refreshment.  

There is none to be had on TV, none found outside in the mirk, even less found looking inside my head.  I could of course have restarted all those many books that I have been writing, I have dozens, some of which even reach page two, but the muse has left on all of these and it may be they will join the myriad other ventures that I have toyed with and watch go down the drain.  Which reminds me the sinks require cleaning and a bottle of that smelly stuff dropped down them, just in case.  That is something to do tomorrow.  I could clean the bike in preparation for the sunshine that will surely come this way soon.  My knees may not like it but I would like to get out on it again.    

I may prefer to read books...

I could have continued the research on the local police force that I began years ago.  This did not get far.  The latest police station, the previous two, one with attached Magistrates Court all now housing, and the 'Lock Up,' known locally as 'The Cage,' where drunks were place in one of two small cells to keep the populace safe until sobriety returned.  These gentlemen would remember such actions well.  

I started this when the aged locals were fussing about too few police and 'it was better when I was young,' and I discovered the town had an enormous police force, not untypical of similar towns of the day.  Most of these 'local Bobbies' would probably have had to walk miles around the local villages as well as patrol the town.  I hope they were supplied with bicycles!  The village postman had to walk many miles each day, six days a week, I suspect these men did similar.  

The point is that while many look back to the days when things were better they forget they were actually the same as today.  We were better, younger with a keen outlook to traverse the world and see bright shiny things everywhere.  We forget the fears, problems and difficulties and keep in our minds only the good things. We certainly remember the good things when in the 'Cage' for the night.

 

May Day with Clouds and Scattered Showers...

Being May Day I looked out for the marching workers, red banners waving, storming the capitalist fortresses and freeing the workers.  Unfortunately the police had sent them back home, telling them to 'remain indoors and wash hands.'  The rich will continue to sleep safely in their beds tonight, unless a burglar passes through.  
I love these Soviet posters.  Always the people smile, always they are advancing, always the sun shines on the red flags waving as they parade.  Always missing are the millions of dead Stalin removed because he stubbed his toe against the door when he awoke in the morning.  The removing off the Tsar to aid the people sounds great, however when the Bolsheviks took over they replaced the Tsar with themselves, and Stalin soon removed them one by one.  This, in my view, is not what makes a sensible economy nor a decent society.  From the standpoint of aiding the poor Communism sounds great, human nature however always ensures some rise to the top, when there they wish to keep control irrespective of the wishes of others, equal to themselves.  'Equality' does not exist, we are all different.  A decent society aids and helps those without to have a chance to progress, it does not enrich the richest and have soup kitchens for the poorest.  When trying times came biblical kings stripped the temples and their palaces of gold to feed the needy, today the richest fail to do this, yet the richer get richer even during a pandemic!  No wonder some were attracted to Communism.  

I opened a new page on Facebook.  This is not because I am trying to hide from some people on facebook, no, no, not at all, however I am trying to avoid one or two...  In doing so I discovered I had another page, one I had made many years ago and for some reason forgotten about.  This I have adapted and made use off.  Now I have to collect the better class of people to my new page.  
All this is a result of the Lock Down.  A few days ago it affected me somewhat and I have still not quite recovered my equilibrium from that.  It will pass as will the showers that hammer down and soon become sun filled pastures.  
May Day is a Friday, that means tomorrow is Saturday a time for letting the hair down and having a good time.  I may just go out and buy some face masks instead...
Did you notice Sturgeon said Scots ought to wear face masks on public transport.  The Westminster unionists and press grumbled loudly that this was a disgraceful thing to say.  The next day Boris agreed and said it might be compulsory,the media immediately claimed this a wise move and bravo Boris.  Don't you just love having a 'Free Press?'

A Paper Dies...

Twitter is a great place to gain news of what is going on in the world.  The news is often wrong, deliberately fake, and often just as slanted one way or the other by the publisher.  That said one thing that has become obvious is the decline of some newspapers, the Guardian in particular.
Once a famous Liberal paper, noted for the left of centre stance, good journalism, and objective writing now it has dissolved into a middle class women's mag in which news is less important than the daily whine of a wee girl about her hard life, even though she has never done a days work in her life.  The online version is over filled with the virus, understandably to some extent, but still too much.  The pandemic means less income for struggling papers and now the female editor, who had gained some cash from readers, watches her sales drop and lowers the quality in a desperate down market lunge.  Twitter is filled with Guardian stories often good ones, surrounded by items like the one above.  "Birx's ever-changing scarves captivate the internet."  I have not added the comments found below this item, mostly from men, but the general idea is that 'this is not news.'  Sometimes it appears the 'Guardian' wishes to be the 'Daily Mail!'  This follows the general trend of the media in which journalism is replaced by a down market approach, see the dramatic failure at the 'Daily Telegraph' which now sells less than the 'Times.'  Murdoch's press is actually improving with changes at the 'Times' and 'Sunday Times,' and a willingness to use journalism, even though as yet they do not upset Rupert.  The 'Times' sales are steady it appears.