Remembrance 2020, Royals,

Because of the virus a shortened Remembrance event was held today at the War Memorial.  Around 20 or so people attended.  One man led, the piper played, the trumpeter offered the last post and we stood in silence.  Short but respectful, as you would expect.  The several hundred that would normally appear at the Sunday service may well have stood for the two minutes silence in shops, streets or elsewhere today. 

 

 

One wreath was laid today, added to those laid unofficially on Sunday.  This came from a local school who attend each year.  The children, heads bowed and respectful, always add something to such occasions.  I suspect these will know more about the Great War than the many educated via the 'Daily Express' and 'Daily Mail.'  

 

Quietly and respectfully the people dispersed, an occasional ex-serviceman was spotted, army cap and medals showing, and the people drifted away, on with their business.

 

My business took me to Tesco for bread and circus's, hold on, bread and wine, the last being something I forgot.  Plenty of soap however, the girl wondered if I was panic buying or just filthy?  Considering my garb I would have thought the answer obvious myself.

Back home, cleaned up, having posted the pictures on the memorial I rest.  My knees ache from standing around and walking, my head aches from Google Sites new system.  The old system was easy to operate, even if it had limitations.  The new one is not easy, things disappear, squares come and go, understanding what to do when items suddenly shrink or enlarge is not clear, questions are then asked as to the mentality of the geek who originated the blasted thing, and as my views were posted to them several times in the past I could not be bothered passing on my compliments today.  Eventually the two war memorial sites went up, this deserved lunch!

 

Standard

 

I see the royals are making the most of the date.  Kate is pictured chatting to war widows online, though the 'Standard' just notes the blouse costs £79!  I could buy two suits for that!  As she chats secretly in front of the photographers her husband is talking secretly to troops serving around the world.

Now normally this would be part and parcel of being royal, today it is part of the 'Buck House' way of indicating to Harry and Meghan they are 'out of order.'  Willie and Kate always get good press, and that is never something to put your trust in, Harry and Meghan always get a bad press.  The media love this, the royal fan, and there is lots of them, enjoys the soap opera that lives of the nations tax, and this might be the only way some media survive!  Harry and Meghan did visit a war memorial, this is called a 'photo op' by the press, Kate and William's contact however is called 'caring.'  

Do you, like me, have other words for this?

 

Mercury News

Passchendaele, 3rd Ypres

The 10th of November 1917 saw the official end of the 3rd Battle of Ypres, often referred to as 'the Battle of 'Passchendaele.' The difficulties encountered cause this battle to be wrongly identified as typical of the fighting conditions during the war.  It was however a dreadful place to be for both sides.

Admiral Fisher, the First Sea Lord of the Royal Navy complained they were losing transport ships to submarines.  This was because the Royal Navy had refused to instigate the convoy system as yet, this was soon remedied by London.  Fisher implied the war could be lost if the submarine pens at Ostend, from which U-Boats emerged, were not taken.  The only way to accomplish this was to remove the Germans from Passchendale Ridge and send the British and Belgian forces up the coast to Ostend.  A clever strategy which took no account of unusual, never ending, rain storms.  

 

The action began on 31st July 1917 with General Gough's 5th Army at the 'Battle of Pilkem Ridge.' All went well at the beginning and a good advance was made.  Each 'ridge' had to be taken one by one and several individual 'battles' comprised '3rd Ypres.'  At first all went well and then the rain came.  This was not a surprise, at that time of year it often rained and 'Flanders' means 'Flooded Land.'  However, this time the rain did not stop, indeed the rain not only continued but it brought downpours unknown in living memory.  

Without the rain it is possible to surmise that the allies may well have taken the village of Passchendaele long before November.  The rain however ended this hope.  The water table is not far from the surface, streams and irrigation channels ran through the area, heavy constant shelling from both sides led to the break up of these and very quickly the land became a morass of shellholes quickly filling with water.  It must be added that this was no ordinary mud, this was a type of 'Blue Clay' which makes walking difficult and moving weaponry almost impossible.  As time passed the army soon became bogged down.  

 

The battle continued however and General Haig, Commander-in-Chief of British Forces, attacked in the South and then North continuing the battle in spite of the growing difficulty of the conditions.  It became clear that while his generals began to doubt any advance possible Haig considered not just Admiral Fishers fears but also the news that the French Army had gone on strike!  French General Nivelle's failed offensive broke the back of the French Army not the German and in this position Haig was reluctant to cease fire understanding the Germans may be tempted to attack the French. 

His men did not agree!

Wounded men often sheltered in shell holes, these soon filled with water drowning many casualties.  Movement of guns became impossible, aircraft could rarely fly, men could barely walk.  Falling from the duck board pathways often meant being sucked into the mud, few could pull such men out.  Constant firing from distant big guns, machine guns and rifle fire continued at all times.  The German insistance of constant counter-attacking at all times increased the suffering of both sides.  Captured prisoners were often happy to be out of it.

In the end the Canadians, who had been the first Colonial troops to arrive in 1915, finally took the muddy bricks that represented Passchendaele village.  The picture indicates what remained, the church being the only building recognisable, and that a heap of bricks.

The top picture features Canadian machine gunners the day before they started their next phase of attack.  Several men can be seen in various holes which comprised the 'trench.'  Only the man at the machine gun survived to tell his story.  The cost?  About 200,000 men on each side not counting the wounded or those who possessed a memory they would never forget.

Vaccine US Politics

 

Excuse me not joining in the celebrations re the new 'vaccine.' I am of course glad a start has been made but the question is can it be real?  I am sure the people behind it are confident of the worth of the product, I do not doubt their integrity, but even the man from the Health Dept appeared to indicate it was not a cure.  

I remain ignorant of the details, deliberately so, facts have never influenced my opinion anyway, that is a family trait, but the Coronovirus is a highly complicated virus, one man claimed he had found 40 different aspects of the things, and it appears to me this vaccine may be just a beginning, not a cure.  Of course I hope it works, we all do, but Boris and his announcements are always Balloons!  There is nothing this man says that stands up to scrutiny and while there may be merit in the vaccine soon to be on offer I will be wary like many others.  

 

You may not have noticed but this man Biden is now President of the United States.  Or at least almost President.  The cack-handed US political system makes it difficult to become President without several Billionaires backing you, the vote is spread over days, if not weeks, and the US forces serving abroad must be taken in to account also.  Eventually a man appears to win, however the absurd 'Electoral College' then decide who the President ought to be, not the voters.  Once he has been named in November (Surely it will always be a 'He?' Look at the mess women have made of the UK system) he then has to wait until January, in the cold, to take his place.  This year of course the sulking schoolboy will be attempting to remain in place via the courtroom while he himself wanders around a golf course. One day democracy will arrive in the US.   

Remembrance Sunday 2020

 

 

The pandemic, which you may have heard about, has interfered with all aspects of life today.  The annual Remembrance services held around the nation have been affected although the main cenotaph service has gone ahead and people will make their own remembrance in various ways.

It is fair to say that for many years attendance at such services has fallen, this is understandable as those involved begin to fade and the younger generation do not feel the effects of war as slightly more elderly folks do.  It would be wrong however to suggest the youth of today does not have knowledge of the world wars and other conflicts from the past, some schools educate the kids well and they often have more understanding of those conflicts than those who are educated by todays 'popular press.'  There a jingoistic propaganda with little knowledge or understanding is offered, not much good in educating the people on war.  A school near me was so well informed re the Great War that their commemoration service was broadcast on nationwide TV one year, and they knew well the Great War, much better than I.

Possibly half the nation today pay little observance at this time, however, they will appreciate the services if and when they require their help.  There is little opposition to having an army, there was from the unthinking left among us a distaste for military service before the Falklands conflict.  Those who advocated ceasing nuclear weapons while not objecting to the possible enemy having them took the place of the 1930s appeasers.  This one-sided argument can still be found, I suggest its propagators visit China and suggest they cease making such weapons.  After the Falklands a recognition of what joining the army meant was once again in the publics mind.  Even while objecting to wars in Iraq and Afghanistan few grumbled about the men involved, it was the wrong wars at the wrong time most rightly objected to.  Indeed, the use of British troops in those wars, considered the USA's needless wars, led to a fall in recruitment which still hinders the services.  That is not going to change anytime soon. 

Our service was online again, our man did a good job in the circumstances.  I hope you like it. 

German Prisoners

 

When first I saw you in the curious street,
Like some platoon of soldier ghosts in grey,
My mad impulse was all to smite and slay,
To spit upon you – tread you ‘neath my feet.
But when I saw how each sad soul did greet
My gaze with no sign of defiant frown,
How from tired eyes looked spirits broken down,
How each face showed the pale flag of defeat,
And doubt, despair, and disillusionment,
And how were grievous wounds on many a head,
And on your garb red-faced was other red;
And how you stooped as men whose strength was spent,
I knew that we had suffered each as other,
And could have grasped your hand and cried, ‘My brother!’
 

Joseph Lee.  Black Watch
from Work-a-Day Warriors (London: John Murray, 1917)
Scottish Poetry Library

 

 

Books!

 

As you know, the other day I got an email from 'Waterstones' informing me that I could lose my £10 voucher if I did not use it by the end of the month.  This, I consider, a rather sneaky way to entice the stupid book buying public into spending money they cannot afford near Christmas.  I naturally refused to fall for this crude ruse.

Unfotunately, somehow or other the three books at the top became part of this weeks postman problem.  It appears I had ordered them and Chris, the postman, refused to deliver them on Wednesday as he would not ring the bell.  I will ring his on Monday!  

A strange thing about this business is that the books did not come from Waterstones themselves, one came from Hatchards and two from Foyles, or was it the other way around?  Anyway, having reapplied for delivery I also prayed that something would be done, and it was, the reglular postman on Friday was ignored and Zac, the unsmiling van driver, delivered to my door, unsmiling.  I like Zac, he was always good when I worked there but today's management style, the huge number of drops he now has, in an area he must be sick of having been brought up here, and with no option but to continue this employment means he may be tiring of life.  Royal Mail management once was operated by ex-postmen, today'experts,' shrewd in the ways of looking at figures on paper, have arrived and no one is happy.  The managers I knew were quick to take their leave, many experienced men retired, and folk like Zac are now lumbered and the easy life he once enjoyed, easier than mine, has gone.  Instead poor management on the ground, constant change of manager, and lack of comprehension 'upstairs' does not lead to happy people.  I see trouble next year.

You will note my 'To Read' pile has one or two which have been begun.  That shows not only how slow readig has become but also that big words, small font and 700 pages are not encouragement to read.

Is 'Lockdown' affecting concentration?  Could it be I am just a slob?  Answers on a postcard.  I am just glad the charity shops have closed again for LockDown.  Had they remained open I may have found myself accidentally buying books to add to the pile.  In fact I took some books down to one shop the other day and donated them, books I could not use, out of date, and unliked.  My problem is now avoiding buying them back again in December!

 

They still have not finished the count.  Not that the loser will accept it anyway, already he has begun spurious court suits, anti-media propaganda, and generally objecting to everything that he does not like.  The sooner he has gone the better, he leaves the USA in a divided mess however.

 

Let Joy Continue...

 Selfie

It was as I watched a train of 150 or so doubled up containers leave the bridge at Fort Madison, Iowa, last night that I realised something was amiss.  My picture was good but as I tried to log on to other places nothing worked.  All had gone down and the trains soon stopped running past the replica Fort Madison.  Internet connection was lost.  Hmm... Tsk!  Thought I, this is unfortunate.

I then attempted to reconnect to the web, nothing worked.  Three Browsers were tried, nothing worked.  What was wrong?  It appears the 'DNS' was not connecting.  The what?  The DNS.  I stared for a while, but this did not help.  

I connected the old laptop, one as slow as a Boris Johnson thought, and discovered this one connected well enough, indeed I then watched the football on it!  My better one would not however work.  

Having interrupted the football to search for an answer, and several were found but all appeared to me to be in a foreign 'Geek' language, so they were put back to bed, and I then joined them there.

This morning, covered in crumbs, I stumbled about in the laptop, prodding this and that and getting nowhere.  Eventually, by chance, I hit the 'Network' troubleshooter.  This found a fault, not the DNS one, and offered a 'Fix.'  

I took it, and it 'fixed!'  

What did it fix? No idea!  But it now works better than ever.

Old laptop put back, slowly, to bed, and I got on with life.

Great stuff, what could possibly go wrong now?  

 

Step forward Royal Mail!

Or at least Chris, the postman!

The books I ordered from Waterstones were due delivery today.  Strange to say they did not come from Waterstones themselves but one via 'Hatchards' and two via 'Foyles' bookshops.   They have been sitting in a London sorting office for a couple of days, rather than being sent on, and were due delivery today.

I know Chris, I worked with him long enough, ageing as the days pass, arrives around 1:30 each day.  I was here, I was sitting happily awaiting the prizes, I even had the door open to hear, and the bell is close by.

Around 1:35 an email arrived claiming no one was in.

Strapping my Claymore to my side I went downstairs and checked.  Two red cards awaited, one for me, one for next door.  

No bell had rung, Chris had gone and was nowhere in sight.

Grrrrrr!

This is the result of the Virus.  Chris, at his age, is very wary of the virus and has clearly decided not to ring the bell in case he catches it, instead he, like others, taps on the door thus meaning no-one inside can hear him.  He then wastes time scribbling the cards and chucking them through the door when he could be wasting time chatting.  He has not considered that other postmen, couriers etc, may 'tap' the door rather than use the bell thus endangering themselves from one another.  

He may get words next week when he is back on.

My books will be delayed until Friday, not counting sorting office incompetence, no way I can walk down there, and the old boy on Friday will ring the bell. 

Tsh!

Prepare for 'Lock Down.'

The news of a month long 'Lock Down' brought out the people this morning.  I noticed Sainsburys car park busier than usual, the Barbers I reconnoitered all had queues outside or were busy indoors.  This was not good as I was again the owner of a Beethoven like hairstyle and required shearing before 'Lock Down' begins.  An urgent prayer was launched and 'Lo' I passed a Barber I had forgotten about, empty, being swept clean, and no queues.  One slight problem with the job was his comment as I queried the £9:50 charge, 

"You're a pensioner aren't you?" he said.  

'Pensioner!'  Me?  I am 32!!!  

I kept quiet at this as I did nto want the cost increased to £15 and I also did not wish to hear more heartfelt laughter as I said "32."  

I was glad of this however as I need a regular Barber, I fell out with the last one, some people will not take a telling!

Anyway, while the masses crashed around the supermarkets this left 'Iceland' free of crowds.  Being famed for frozen foods they do not stock much of the stuff panic buyers want, therefore this left me free to panic buy what I required to fill the freezer!  So, bar a need to panic buy ground Black Pepper at the moment I have no need to panic, milk and bread can wait till Wednesday.  I will now go to the shops and smugly look down on those rushing around the shelves.  

 

Mars, Books, Twitter

The other night, the clouds having departed, I saw Mars close to the Moon.  Rushing for the camera I wasted timme trying to get a decent shot of both, these two blobs are the best I could manage.  The Moon is the one on the right...

It appears Mars will not be this close for another 15 years or so, I may not get another chance to see it like this.  Since then however rain has stopped play with late night stargazing out the kitchen window late at night, I may be able to resume come April.

On Twitter early today they war anoraks were offering pictures of their bookshelves.  Masses of war books, and someone claimed, Enid Blytons, were to be observed.  My shelf looks puny in comparison, although many more big ones lie elsewhere.  It is interesting to read people who consider books so important.  One man offered a view of his home where several large bookshelves groaned with books, mostly Military ones.  Isn't it funny how we, and by this I mean men, get caught up in something and fill our world with this hobby.  War books, often ex-servicemen or historians, photography, trains, football, cars, motorbikes, cycling, hill walking, and so on, once something gets a grip of you it remains forever.  Of course women can be found here also, especially in the hill walking areas, I will go looking tomorrow, and they can be most helpful as they make the sandwiches.  

I recall the tale of a woman dumping her man, he might starve now, as he filled the house with Manchester United paraphenalia.  The walls were covered, cupboards filled and for reasons unknown she got forgotten in this.  Other women are happy the man has a hobby, whatever it is, as long as it is harmless, and she will probably have one also.  Helpful if they share the attraction.

 

 

I was watching the second Scottish Cup Semi Final on Premier TV this afternoon, another group ripping off Scottish football fans, and found myself getting very annoyed by the faltering picture.  I took to  Twitter, a good idea if you wish to embarrass someone, and yelled at Premier!  Minutes were lost, I missed a goal, and then in one of the papers they had a list of people similarly crying out re lost vision. Eventually all returned and the wrong team one.

Too often I find myself these days shouting at things, there is of course a lot to decry!  Corrupt government, people, wrongs that need righted, but in the end I am becoming Victor Meldrew, and grumble too much, even though, and it must be said, I am right!

So, I will give Twitter a miss to save my blood pressure, few will notice, and I will peacefully spend my days contemplating trains, football, and other lovely things.  Anyone got a spare mirror?

 

Good News and Bad, for Some.

Another Edinburgh Derby, another Derby played at Hampden, another victory for the Heart of Midlothian.  Rain, storm, offside goals and dives for penalties did not cease the onward advance of the men in maroon.  

Indeed it was ever thus, since the first cup final between these two clubs, the Heart of Midlothian winning by 1 - 3 at Logie Green Road, and in all subsequent major semi and finals the Heart of Midlothian succeed.  The last final was in 2012 where the wee team bravely lasted until the end of the game, not counting the one sent off, and lost by 5 goals to 1.  Tee Hee, it is inevitable the Big Team will win such games.

Look at the overall record.

 

1896

 

Since the first meeting between these clubs at the East Meadow in Edinburgh on Christmas Day 1875, which the Heart of Midlothian won by one goal to nil, success has always been with the men in maroon.  So far some 651 game have been played between the sides, the Heart of Midlothian winning 286 Hibs 206, mostly with the help of biased referees.  6 games were abandoned, the Hibs went home when the could not take another beating, or complained it was 'too cold.'   The Hearts have scored some 1100 goals and with the help off dubious penalties and their friendly linesmen Hibs have accrued, what they say, is 924 goals.  Hmmm.  In simple terms what this means is that if Hibernian wish to win as many games as us it could take them 20 years to catch up, but as you realise, that will never happen.

 

The sad news regarding the passing of Sean Connery is not a surprise, he was 90.  However, he is without a doubt the best actor Scotland has produced and will forever be 'James Bond' to one and all. He went from a milk round, horse and cart and all, to 'Dr No' and Ursilla Andress.  Not bad for a milkman.  He delivered in Comley Bank for the 'St Cuthberts Dairy,' my dad did the same round for 'The Edinburgh & Dumfrieshire Dairy,' known as the 'Dummy.'  He went from that to the United Wire Works.'  It does not seen fair...

 

 

I will not mention this, just in case the folks in Taffs Well are listening....

Absent minds...

 

Toon Pool

 

My mind has been elswhere this week, it has as yet failed to return.   

This morning, urgently, I sauntered round to Tesco.  I was congratulating myself on how quickly I was gathering the few needfuls when I realised the manager, and an accolyte, were chatting in front of the chocolate (I need this for my calorie controlled greed).  Without thinking I indicated I wanted in there and helpfully grabbed his arm and pulled him aside as you would do a friend.  His sarcastic answer I did not catch, and only later did I realise what I had done.  Mind you I could have mentioned that he was not just taking up space but failing to wear a mask, I wish I had now!  In fact I think he was teaching a new manager how to cheat, how to lay out goods to entice the unwary, and increase sales, something stores do all the time, that is what increases his opportunities for advancement.  He will be on £30,000 or so I reckon.  

I returned home, gleefully dumping the shelf filling stuff and resting my laurels and planning the next job.  This entailed hobbling to the charity shop which asked for books.  I had gathered a few aged books of no worth and those that I decided I could live without and packed them in a couple of bags.

This was not easy, it is not easy to put books out, especially as in the next 12 months I will probably buy one or two back again!  These books were, it must be said, no longer any use to me.  Funnily enough, Waterstones have indicated I need to buy now or my £10 voucher runs out.  That comes next.

 

 

It was as I left the charity shop, something to do with heart attacks, I realised I had forgotten to buy a Digital timer for the night heater, the old one having died of excess.  So into Tesco I go, upstairs by 

escalator, downstairs by creaking, find what I want and on to queue up alongside large bottles of spirits going cheap to use the self service machines.  This, as you realise is not wise.  Two items and I struggled!  The blasted machine would not let me move on!  I banged it intellectually, thumped the timer on the bag space, and muttered sayings from of old.  Then the young lad came over and indicated I was doing it the wrong way round.  I had put the items in the bag space and was trying to transfer them to the basket space.

I cried.

 

I have spent the rest of the day watching trains to calm down, once I found a railway that had trains running that is.  

Virtual Railways.

 

If you thought my life was too adventurous as it is I have discovered a new line of excitement, live Railways pictures!  What's that you say?  Too exciting for you?  Oh!  That's not what you said...

Anyway, I have had hours of fun watching huge US frieght trains rumble across America! 

Virtual Railfan covers a host of US rail cameras.   Many static, some with operators ensuring close up shots of depots and passing trains as they hoot their way through.  And do they Hoot!  Horns blast all the way, no excuse for being on the line when they arrive.  All stations have their 'anoraks' offering useful information, usually in an unknown language, most also using radios to keep track of the trains.  

I avoid them. 

 

The pictures come off the laptop so are a bit dull.

The train we see here, four 6000 hp (I think they said) engines, pulling 113 trailers.  I was amazed at the number of units pulled along, I counted 175 on one train, and almost all have double deckers units, box cars are at similar height.  Clearly US railroads do not have low bridges to go under and glancing at the passing railcars you get an understanding of the nature of the USA at a glance.  This tells us the land is big!  The size of the train indicates the line was laid before anyone got there to block it.  It also, as History tells us, was pushed through in spite of opposition.  Nothing was to get in the way.  This ensured free passage of trains, even the mountains did not hinder travel.

 

 

Box car number 113 passes by in the rain.

Another thing made clear from these pictures re the huge size of the States is the weather.  Laramie, in Wyoming, was deep in snow and remains that way, California was hours behind and in bright sunshine.  Of course they also have different natural problems, Wyoming is near mountains, California has forest fires endangering the station!  In minutes I can fly from one state to another, and this is almost like seeing several different nations rather than one. There, I suppose, lies the problem.

 

I suppose having been inundated with 'soft propaganda' over the years we already understand the US mentality, however looking at the land we see it is possible to gain a clearer conception of how that mentality came about.  The size of the towns pictured varies widely, the top picture comes from 'Big Sandy' in Texas, a small place, a mixture of good houses and what I might refer to as 'White trash' in the run down streets.  Hardly a blot on the landscape, while up the road more complex cities are found, all with that rigid street pattern inherited from the Romans.  

Even the Heritage line seen here, real coal used in this engine, indicates something of the US mind.  It is easy to imagine the sight of early trains steaming across wide open spaces, chasing Buffallo and scaring resentful Indians (oops, Native Americans).  At a glance we see the incoming migrants, the ones who now oppose migration, removing the locals and transforming the land by sheer hard work.  In only 300 or so years the wide open spaces have been concreted over and a new people emerge.  Quite whether that new people realise they are all Americans is as yet unknown.

Here at Fort Madison, the reconstructed fort is just out of sight to the right, I first saw a train carrying a great number of doubled decker white containers, followed by similar green ones and a variety of other goods.  Much later that day a similar train appeared in another state, although I do not know if it was an adjoining state.  Yesterday the train appeared again and tonight, not that long ago, it passed through Elkhart, Indiana!  Is this the same train I wonder?  Is the driver lost?  Is this one of those Soviet style trains?  You remember, Soviet rail freight ran from 'A' to 'B' even if there was no reason for this, the Plan said it must happen, and no-one questioned the Plan.  Is this train just wandering about?  Could it be a train journeying across the whole of the nation?  If so, how do they know when to drop the containers off?  How do they divide them up?  And if the driver is pulling 150 trucks how do the brakes work?  Are all these trailers brake equipped?  Do they have a wee man in Brake van at the back desperatelly truning the Brake wheel and losing his mind?  Just asking. 

 

Several UK stations now have similar cameras in place.  Crewe has three, but I cannot find number 1, York also and there are others.   It is a similar set up, controlled from somewhere, I as yet know not where, followed by a variety of people, mostly male, who like trains and in some cases have no life. I know how they feel!    

Saturday, Nothing to Say

The rain approaches.  

I see it from the window. 

Today I have been sadly trapped by sleep, Watford v Bournemouth and now Barcalona v Real Madrid. At 6 on BBC Alba I will be forced to watch Killie v Hibs, I think, and then prepare for tomorrow - by sleeping.  

It's a hard life, though I had to venture up to Sainsburys for bread first thing this morning.  I was still not awake by the time I returned.  ZZZZZZZzzzzz

 

 

Wandering Free.

 

Parcelforce arrived before 10 this morning to collect my package with a smile.  He obviously had not read my Twitter feed.  Relieved of the bulk I then proceeded deliberately in an easterly direction towards the Post Office, here I deposited another, smaller, package with the young lady who smiles at me when I visit.  She appeared a bit down this morning for reasons unknown.  I always use this PO as it is better when you get a smile rather than the expression of the ex-Stasi operatives who are employed at the main PO.  They have never employed a human being in that office yet as far as I can see, and it has moved position several times in the past 24 years, to hide from past employees perhaps?  Smiles?  Did Soviet Union Border Guards ever smile?  Neither do that lot.

Having despatched two parcels, with nothing to do but catch up on things undone, with the sun shining to the south and big gray clouds gathering in the west I headed homewards via the parks to see some greenery, thus wasting time and being unable to attend to things undone.  The rusting leaves were annoying one man who was brushing a pile of them out of his driveway onto the council pathway.  It came from their trees I suppose.  Autumn is upon us, though in fact it is Sunday when British Summer Time ends.  I suppose this means the clocks go back.  Church services everywhere, at least where they open, will find at least one person an hour behind! 

I can cope with temperatures in the 50's, neither cold nor warm, but as I hobble along I am warm enough.  People out walking dogs and venturing to and from shops appeared at ease, allowing for masks and social distancing.  The dogs of course just wanted to speak to everybody, social distancing means little to them.  

 

 

Rishi Sunak, known better as 'that chancellor bloke,' has been barred from a pub in Stokelsey, in his constituency.  Also barred are three other Tory MPs in northern constituencies.  This because they voted against feeding needy children over Christmas.  On top of that the prices seen in the Commons 'Tea Rooms' have annoyed many,especially when voting against feeding children.  

It is nice to see free individuals standing up for children, especially this one who, as a publican, may well be losing money in these difficult times.  

Marcu Rashford, the Manchester United footballer who started this campaign, has been supported by many individual cafe's, restaurants, pubs and councils in deciding to feed such children.  I suspect Boris will be too busy this Christmas feeding his own, if he can work out who they are.

 

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 

So I waited in. 

I waited.

I waited.

Eventually I looked at the tracker, it had not worked the last time I looked.

Collection attempted at 10:53.

NO it was NOT! 

I am sitting here at the window, I was packing another package, no bell rang, no sound.

Before 11, I took out the rubbish, no red van in sight.

Sign in and enquire.

Cannot sign in, do not recognise details.

Vitriol is now rising (or was that a type of motor oil?).

Several attempts made, no response, eventually it worked, why I know not.

I rebooked for tomorrow, grudgingly.

I then went onto Twitter and found their site and placed a far from gentle expression of irritation there.

Later an email helped me sign in, no mention of package.

I fumed, griped, declaimed, bemoaned, and expostulated.

I also expressed my annoyance.

I needed to go out, it was now too late, I had another packet to post.

Grrrrrrrrrrr etc was my mood.

 

My irritation worried me.

This year I have spent much time fumong over laptops, Boris, Trump and a variety of things near and far.  This ought not to be.  I am sure I was less keen to express myself before but I think age and Lockdown, tiredness and lack of self discipline are showing results.  Spending too much time alone is not helping, I must get out more.  

I get frustrated when things do not go my way, self importance I suppose, wanting it my way, just like a spoiled PM does.  It's not pretty is it.  I supsect the driver today, if he actually arrived, I saw no van, did not ring the bell, he may have tapped on the door, the drivers do this to avoid touching the bell and risking catching Covid from it!  The fact that all drivers tap the door means the door is less healthy than the bell, but never mind.  Wearing gloves is beyond them.

These things canny be the Good Lord trying to expose the corrupt being inside of me, I am all to well aware of that!  However, it is strange that so many things have gone wrong recently, small things, like laptops.... 

Anyway, next time I will use OPD, much more responsible, but dearer.

 

Last night, by a majority of around 60, the Conservative Party voted against enabling schools to feed hungry children over Christmas.  This to save a few pounds from a government that has wasted Billions this year alone.  Five Tories voted against this bill, one having to resign her position this morning. The rest, including 5 Scots Tory MPs voted for the bill.  One abstained, Cowardly Dougie Ross, the Scots Tory leader.

Here is, what I am informed, an up to date menu from the Commons Tea Room. Here, in similar manner, is the Dinner menu.

Many are asking why those MPs on £70,000 and more a year, not counting their expenses, bits on the side and newspaper writings, why are these individuals getting subsidised meals?  Drinks in the many bars are also subsidised and to end this would create a bad feeling in the House.  Personally I think that may be a good idea and pre Christmas a good time to do this.

 

Wednesday Grump!

 

Yesterday morning I looked through my grubby window at the sun glinting on the rusting leaves opposite.  A short individual hastened by supermarket shopping in mind, dog walkers appeared, the dogs once unleashed racing to meet their friends, tails wagging happily, slowly behind them the owners gossipped about the same gossip as the day before.  Children meanwhile were being dragged unwillingly to school, some ensuring they kicked every fallen leaf, others annoying mum by asking the question "Why?"  As the sun broke through the gray clouds the world appeared a happy place.

This morning no sun appears, instead rain continues to fall, as it has done all night, drenching the park leaves scattered across the paths.  Mums, hidden under umbrellas to protect their hair, urge the children on as they walk to school, concerned less with their education, more with avoiding spoiling the new haircut.  Dogs meet happily, owners less keen.  The 'moderate' breeze (The language used by weathermen requires improvement I say) shakes the raindrops from the branches and takes the loosened leaves with it across the faces of those passing by.  Even the traffic appears slower, rain does not usually slow these drivers down, yet less traffic is heard and that less keen on racing than normal.

Wind and rain, the one condition that postmen fear.  I look forward to paper mache being deposited through the door later today.  

 

                                            Gaurdian
 

 The sulk has done it again.  His bully boy ways, well known in Eton, has seen him offer £60 million - he says - to Manchester to do what he tells them.  The Manchester mayor has told him what he really wants and so Boris has sulked, remember he was roundly abused the last time he went there, and held back nearly £40 million of that as punishment for disobedience.  The inefective pandemic policy that has failed throughout the nation, especially in England, continues with a mixed lockdown in various places, none of which are required by local NHS operators.  Once again Dominics view, supported by mixed scientific advice, encouragement from money men whom no-one knows, and Boris's sheer incompetence rules the day.  Manchester standing up and disagreeing with Boris has sent him into a sulk, this man is Prime Minister!  It must be remembered that Manchester supported Boris in the last election, many up north turned away from the Labour party and voted Tory!  This was to support Brexit and remove the black immigrant from the country, but we are not supposed to say that.  Here we see how much regard Boris has for those voters.

 

Afternoon, the rain still rains, only those who must go out do so.  I remain inside wasting my life.  So far I have downloaded the census returns for the town from 1841 - 1911, we are in fact two towns and the other one's census will be downloaded soon.  Doing this I was struck by the confused manner of census operation and how the town has grown every ten years.  People talk as if in the past the townhad always been the same, they are ignoring the constant changes that have occurred, no town stands still, no town has 'always been like this' until now.  Growth throughout the 19th century and into the 20th, all this ended after the last war when items made here were being produced cheaper in the far east, the town slowly faded at that time.  People here consider life was better when they were young in the 50's and in many ways they are correct, however much of that lies in their personal memories and forgets the many fears and woes of youth.  Those pictures in old photographs looked back to a better day while grumbling that kids today do not know how lucky they are.  It was ever thus, these are the 'Good old days.'