King of Scots

 

There was a time when I could take a picture of the moon and, with a few strokes on 'Photo' make it legible. This is a talent I have lost. I need to fix something in the camera but my ailing mind canny mind what to do.  First world problems.  

A further problem is waking up early, wondering what Sunday will bring, and two hours later realising it is Monday.  Then I make out a list of things to do, do some, and spend the rest of the afternoon ignoring the list while watching the King in Edinburgh. 

 

 

How lovely to see the Crown of Scotland, designed by James V. a couple of years before his demise.  Note the lack of stolen diamonds upon it!  James was the last Monarch to die in Scotland until Liz.  This shows how often they returned here!

Charles will become a 'King of Scots.'  Note, he does not become 'King of Scotland.'

He does not own the land as the King of England does.  Scots are far more democratic than their neighbours.  If the King fails then he is democratically removed, usually with a sword.    

How boring is the BBC coverage?  Huw Edwards pratling on, put in his place by a Scottish historian regarding invasions and he quickly changed the subject BBC style.  I wanted to see pictures, not gabbing people so made use of the Live TV on the 'Mail Online.'  This, thanks to the internet wonders, was only camera shots, with no commentator.  How lovely!  Also, it was a few minutes ahead of the BBC by the same internet wonders.  I must say, asking a 73 year old King to walk slowly up the Royal Mile was dangerous.  This could have led to another funeral!  That is a steep slope and a slow walk, not one for me.  I spent much time looking for my family, who may have been there, and wondering about the crowds gathered on the High Street.  

The wall to wall coverage must die down now.  A trip to northern Ireland, and then Wales, before the end of the week.  Charlie must be fit to keep going.

 

 

Proclamation

The Proclamation of King Charles III at Braintree.

In days of yore an 'Accession Council' was quickly called together. The new King was announced, 'God save the King' cried and oaths of allegiance accepted. This done with speed to prevent others laying claim to the throne. 

The 'City of London' then proclaimed the King within a few hours next, as in the past the City wished to acknowledge it was not 'owned' by the monarch. 

Heralds would then proclaim this news in every town and village with speed throughout the land.  All done to ensure everyone knew who was in charge, and to ensure no other made a claim.

Today we see the modern version.  We have had a live TV 'Accession Council,' where 200 of the council attended to confirm the new monarch.  Live coverage then moved to watch the ceremony from the City, with trumpets, parade of dignitaries, military bands and watching citizens (though Britons are actually 'subjects').

Today, at 1:30 pm Council Chairmen or County Lieutenant's in all towns, villages and cities, read out the proclamation to local citizens, in a manner followed for many centuries.  The proclamation in Edinburgh and London appears to be written on parchment, while local areas used a less expensive paper.

Pomp and ceremony, once an important Historical device to keep the people informed, and under control, replaced today with mass communication via TV, radio and the internet.  Once Accession Council met in secret, today the entire world could, if it wished, watch on TV.  This is good and to be welcomed.

The late queens coffin has been transported to Edinburgh where she will lie in state tomorrow so her Scottish subjects can, if they so wish, file past and pay respects.  As she arrived one lass waving a 'No Monarchy' placard was arrested by police, some Booed as the cortège arrived, and comments were exchanged.  It seems to me that you, like many, can disagree with a monarchy, you can desire a republic and you can make your opinions known.  However, if you do so at a funeral many will consider you are not the type of person they would wish to see running a republic.  Better to do what most have done and make you opinions known on Twitter. 

The King, Ukraine and Boris

Guardian

 

I watched the 'Accession Council' in full this morning.  The Historical side attracts me, as indeed does the 'event' side.  It was good to see 200 members of the Accession Council confer with one another.  Some amicable to those from all sides of government, others no doubt keeping well apart from past or present foes.  Gordon Brown talking keenly to a Boris Johnson who was as uninterested as if he was being instructed by his advisors.  He was keen to chat to the official photographer however.  

Many today grumble about the fancy dress, the pomp and circumstance of the day.  However, this does reflect centuries of tradition and need not be thrown away altogether, all nations follow such pomp, some from recent foundations as well as those from a distant past.  The fact that History is not well taught to the public via the daily press or TV means the man in the street cannot always understand what the fancy dress is for.  Interesting to note the Accession Council were in lounge suits  mostly, the fancy garb, including tights, of past years has gone.  There is a place still for pomp, though sometimes I wonder about it.  I wonder more about the people who sycophantically follow the royals, buy all the vast pull-outs published this weekend, and worship the royals as if they were something other than human.  Clearly today showed they are human.  Just what they actually think of the media I do not know, but I doubt they enjoy the bull they have to read.

Interesting just how much time was given over to protecting the Church of Scotland and Scotland's rights during this event.  I could not help thinking that if the Westminster government gave similar attention Scotland's life would be better.

So, another event is over, Edinburgh for the next one, a 'Scottish lying in state,' then down to London, and funeral on Monday 19th.  I imagine that within 20 years things will have been changed, simplified, when Charles himself goes.  While proper administrative, public, handovers are required I expect changes in the next few days.  

In other news, the Russians are running away in parts of the Crimea.  Russian info has admitted this, but what excuse are they giving?  Their army, badly equipped, badly led, and with a minority of trained soldiers, has continued to cause offence to the world while moving backwards.  Will the Ukrainian army finally clear them out of the whole of Crimea?  Will Putin remain in charge?  Will more military leaders fall from high windows around Moscow?  The world waits.

From Twitter:-

TheBossRoss 

@BettinaSRoss1

The German edition of Saturday Night Live has this:

"During her reign, Queen Elizabeth II, received 11 male prime ministers, 

3 female prime ministers, and Boris Johnson."

A Departed Queen, A New King

 

Mirror

I watched some of the sycophantic bile that follows from the death of a royal, especially one as genuinely popular as Queen Liz, however, I could only take so much.  

I began with parliament where the MPs gather to express their condolences and remembrances of the queen, some of which are genuinely funny.  I gave up after the PM, Keith, Boris (desperately wishing she had died when he was PM) and the SNPs Ian Blackford had all had a go.  After them came Harriet Harman who instead of reminiscing began to spout her 'chip on the shoulder' middle class feminism, I left then. 

I noted the crowds gathering, some weeping, while the media fills the screen with platitudes and videos going back to 1952 and beyond.  Flowers are left, something I have never liked and find creepy, and online condolence books appear.  The press meanwhile are hard at work publishing the reams of guff that will be 'Free Pullout' over the weekend.  Written possibly years ago, they will milk this for all it's worth.

In between some offer an alternative viewpoint, Commonwealth citizens demand reparations for colonial rule, a comedian indicates lots of other 'old women' will die this year, probably from cold, and a drunk chip shop owner who rejoiced at her death is hounded by a threatening crowd.  Free speech is not popular if it goes against the mob. 

I am not a royalist but I think Liz did the job of queen quite well.  She has appeared human at times and the story told by her one time police guard of meeting an American couple while walking near Balmoral is well worth listening to if you can get it.  The yank did not know who she was and the two of them played along with the tourists who never realised she was queen.  Her sense of humour was not always seen while on duty but appeared in small crowds.

Respect may well be due to a woman who played the queen well over the years but it must be kept relaxed these days, bowing before royalty is no more.  However, as Otto English indicates in a thoughtful item no-one really knows the actual woman herself.  She has played the queen but kept herself to herself.

A queen dies, the nation must mourn, and proper reverence kept.  However, shops remain open, cricket, it appears continues, while football is postponed.  Some ask why?  This is especially relevant in Scotland where the monarch is less popular than in England.

Listening to Charles first chat a King we see him playing the King role very well.  The question as to whether we need one will develop and how he handles things will be interesting.  He intends, so we are told, to cut the running costs, which is bothering Andrew, especially as he is now out.  How Charles deals with those, mostly women, who hate him because they lived their lives through Diana will be interesting also, though personally I would tell them to lump it.   Anyway, I wish him well, and hope he manages to cope with the hostile media and grasping family.  No doubt he will visit Scotland at one time once crowned. 

Just think, the 'Elizabethan Age' has ended, and the 'Age of Charles' has begun.  The nation is now full of 'Charlies...'

Jailed Believers

The world today.  

The reverend Dr Bernard Randall was fired by Trent College, a private CoE school, for refusing to endorse the 'Equalities project' that is, promote gay lifestyles.  This is of course against the Christian teaching he adheres to, yet he was sacked.  He offered a sermon in response to students questions in which he put forward one man, one woman marriage as God intended.  This caused outrage from the gay lobby at the school and in the end he was dismissed.  His appeal against unjust sacking goes ahead today.  The local Bishop, a woman, The Right Reverend Libby Lane has refused to support him.  This, in my view, reflects Anglican teaching today.

In the Republic of Ireland, one Enoch Burke, a teacher at a school, also refused to support such teachings as this went against his Christian beliefs.   The school objected and demanded he stayed away from the school.  This he refused to do as he wished to continue teaching.  The school took him to court and had him temporarily legally banned, he returned to the school and is now in jail!  The reason, he opposed gay teachings.

The gay lobby now run all western nations.  For years some have been indicating this.  Police, Fire, local and national governments, big business, even church denominations have become subject to the gay rulers.  Gays, trans, diversity folks and anyone who differs from the norm now rule.  

Satan of course works from within churches, he preaches 'love' in such a way that many believe him rather than straight talking scripture.  Churches always die from within, rarely from without.  

The new morality, which changes as time passes, has led to much confusion but has been coming for 60 years.  Unisex, gay marriage, trans, and a series of other ;diversity projects has removed common morality, based often on scripture and hard work from individuals, unions, and many politicians seeking the best, is no more.  Diversity rules, LGBT or whatever comes first. normality comes second.

The bible believing church will be soon the only opposition, apart from those keeping silent, to this movement.  Many more will be jailed for refusing to surrender to such lies.  Few governments will be strong enough to oppose the mob rule of the new rulers.

On the other hand, young people are investigating 'spirituality,' and bible based churches are growing.  There will come a backlash to this mess one day, if we are allowed to see it.

Liz Truss, PMQs and European Football

Politics Home

 

I gave PMQs a go at lunchtime, especially as I wanted to see how Keith would deal with Liz.  I did not watch for long.  Starmer was short, to the point, and making it clear Liz stood for the rich, as she more or less admitted, and Labour stood for the poor.  He wasted no time on congratulating her, he just got on with it.  She, as expected, made promises, claimed to be doing it for the nation, and said nothing, as expected on the first date.  It is clear they do not like one another.

After Keith I listened for a short while but it was clear nothing was going to be said.  Questions were asked, no answers given, yet we all know who will benefit from this short term government.  The opportunities for satire are clear, but the opportunities for the less well paid, and here I refer to Police, Fire and NHS staff as well as those in badly paid work, and I know about those, are non existent.  I note the Firemen have been offered 2%.  Inflation at around 10%.  More strikes, more trouble, the rich still taxed less.

A quick look at the 'Daily Mail' shows the readers are not impressed.  Her bots try to defend her but the people understand she is still working for 'Shell.'

 

 

I watched the Celtic game on the mobile last night.  Lying happily in my bed, on my side, straining my eyes to see the small screen, while Celtic pretended they

were a top side, only to lose to a proper top side by three goals to nil.  It could have been so different, but it wasn't.

Today they cry 'unfair,' because Real Madrid have £700 million more than Celtic have.  'The rich clubs beat us, we have no chance.'  Considering they have similar benefits over the likes of St Mirren I see no reason for such whining.  Whining which will be repeated after Rangers are humbled by Ajax in Amsterdam tonight.

However, good news!  I think I have found a way to watch the humbling on the laptop.  Such a device is available at BTSport/Watch.  As long as I have the correct log in I will be OK.  I am convinced nothing will go wrong...

Log in Woes

The success of the Heart of Midlothian in qualifying for the 'Euro Conference League' (No, I had never heard of it either) meant that I now had to spend more money from under the bed by acquiring BTSport.

This was something I did not wish to do as I had enough of boring Euro matches and did not wish to spend cash.  However, to see the team play I must enlist.  

So, through 'Plusnet' I acquired BTSport for £10 a month (until they charge me £17:50 in a few months time) and began to fill in all the requirements.

First mistake was to download the Ap.  

The mistake being I downloaded it onto the phone.  I meant to use the laptop but went ahead in the thought it would be easy to add one there also.  It is not easy, it appears impossible!

However, I went ahead with the application, filled out the details, and wrote them down as clever people do.

Later, I tried to Log in.  

Wrong password.

Password changed.

Wrong password.

Grrrrrr!

Then I realised I had to wait 24 hours before logging in.

Fool!

Today I tried again.

Wrong password!

Eventually, after much teeth grinding and sulking I realised the faults.

This concerned the auto name on the address, they automatically used the wrong one.

This I amended, the password also was amended after logging in to the 'forgotten everything idiot' dept at BT, and after much tears I was able to log in, on the phone.

Now I await the Chelsea game, though I will also watch Celtic being humbled by Real Madrid later, if the phone or my eyes do not pack up! 

This however, will not do my eyes any good.  I must work out how to get the ap into the laptop.

One day all football will be on one channel... 

 

Storm Liz

 

Summer is still here.  

I realised that at about 3 am when a tremendous clap of thunder brought me to life.  This was followed by the usual downpour hissing across the area.  At first I thought someone had fallen down the stairs, it was that sort of elongated rumble.  However, my interest peaked at this point and I closed my eyes as lightning flashed once again and I retuned to slumber.

I wondered if this storm could be a precursor to the announcement regarding one Liz Truss becoming Prime Minister.  I shall repeat that, 'Liz Truss has been announced as Prime Minister of the United Kingdom!'  Yes, the 0.34 of the population, or those unknowns living overseas who joined the Party just to vote for her, have given us Liz as PM.  

According to Suetonius in his 'Lives of the Twelve Caesars,' it struck me as interesting that when ever an Emperor was born an eagle was seen flying over Rome, lightning struck the Temple of Mars, and a woman gave birth to a horse with three heads.  I wonder if the lightning arrived last night in such a manner?  There has been no reports of eagles and less about strange creatures born to woman, until now at least, but it is worth keeping this in mind.

I noticed a sign on the 'Citizens Advice' centre door, 'Liz Truss PM : EMIGRATE!'

While the two previous PMs were a flop neither was as inept, lazy and possibly treasonous as Boris.  Now e have come one step further down the line.  A woman who's mind changes so often you begin to think she is a woman!  Much has been written by her backing from US billionaires who made their money from fossil fuels, and their right-wing policies are found in much of her scribbles over the years.  There is no doubt she is for the rich and wishes to ensure the cowed population behave as serfs, as she, and many other Tories, clearly intend.  There is a new level of spite and idiocy at the door, this leaves only one question: How long can she last?  I say gone before Christmas, unless she calls an election and wins.

A Torpor Day

 

I have been in the Island of Torpor for the past few weeks.  A virus has limited my energy, given me one uncomfortable night, and left me brain dead.  Some of course would question the last bit by asking "How can you tell," but I ignore these people.  Little has been done in my ken, not helped by little stimulation in the world around us.  With a pretend PM pretending to PM, and two hopeless pretending replacements mouthing to the Tory gallery (Omitting the bit about selling off the NHS which almost all of their listeners require), and holiday season meaning everyone else is away leaves no interest for us.

I could inform you of the goings on at Dundee United, the 'Courier' podcast is indeed very good.  I could inform you of the trials and tribulations at the Heart of Midlothian, the 'Scarves around the Funnel' podcast is also good.  There again I could speak, again, of a trip to Sainsburys late last night for bread and exhaustion, but I will forego that.  

Today the torpor was interrupted by having to post the one year olds 1st birthday card, repost neighbours mail that came to us, and dump the rubbish bag.  Such excitement!  

This however, was at least accompanied by the arrival, again, of the Ambulance Helicopter.  The Big Orange One landed over the road, missing the parks occupants, and quickly gathered a crowd of onlookers.  These were not voyeurs seeking to watch the sick, merely folks interested in the sight of such a flying machine so close by them.  Indeed, a noisy flying machine at that.  

Such beasts often cross our airspace.  The Ambulance often accompanied by an even more noisy police one, usually late at night with glaring searchlight, and often the idle rich pass over in their private, possibly self piloted machines.  Depending on orders we also catch many Apache helicopters on army manoeuvres, as well as the even noisier Chinooks, those great big and very useful American built machines.  Of course we will not mention the 'escaping fuel' problem, one which caused over 400 US machines to be grounded will we?  No.  At least they do not have prestigious aircraft carriers that break down because someone forgot to 'grease the propeller shaft do they?  Tsk!

Bank Holiday Bread, by Tube

Having decided on a quiet Bank Holiday Monday, I foolishly read 'The Venomous Bead.'  This, as you possibly will find when reading, led to a desperate and urgent desire for lots of white bread.  At least this began the day with a laugh, though while laughing at others efforts, made worse by the man in the house being helpful, is of course wrong, I still managed to enjoy reading this stuff as I always do.  

My rising early, and shops don't open until 10 am on Bank Holidays, I was forced to wait until the did before dragging myself slowly out the door.  Early had by now become after 10:35 and traffic was rushing too fast to be first into the supermarkets before the crowd.  The crowd were already in the car park!  

I walked to Tesco down the splendid Avenue, the best road in town, home of some lovely homes all built about 1881, I know this as they missed the census of that year but houses appear in 1891.  The chill in the air noticeable after the warm weather of the summer.  Suddenly the east wind, coming originally from the north, disturbs the warmth in the air and reminds us of a normal UK summers day.  The beaches and the sewage filled sea will be packed of course.  Interesting that Tory 'Environmental spokesmen' are now saying the nation ought to 'rough it a bit' instead of complaining about sewage in the drinking water!  Tory Britain!  Poison the water to save money for the shareholders and expect the nation to drink it and shut up!  

I passed the retired solicitor filling his Jaguar with kids seats, clearly the grandchildren have forced him out for the day, elsewhere blinds were still drawn, and as we neared the store an occasional mum holding hands with a son passed by.  Quite a few were out and about in fact, kids do not like lying about indoors. 

Shopping only for bread I paid my £21:95 into the self-service machine, the young lass only having to aid me twice, and left with my heavier than expected bag.  Who put that whisky in my basket?  

Talking of London Underground, I have been enjoying 'Fun'  as she wanders the Jubilee Line, though I still think of it as the Metropolitan, though it became the Bakerloo in 1939 and the Jubilee in 1979.  Quite why I think this way I know not.  However, she ends this line with a grand tour of the rich at the outskirts of London, well worth a read.  

The 'Tube' was always a place of adventure.  Some packed stations, Oxford Circus and Piccadilly for instance, some interesting designs both outside and in, and often interesting people.  The word 'interesting' there can be read in many ways.  The aroma of burning air as the train approached deep underground was always memorable.  The aroma of some passengers similarly.   A strange job driving underground all day.  While most trains find some light occasionally the Circle has limited opportunities so see the sun.  Boarding at Royal Oak, while HSTs departing Paddington belched diesel fumes over us all, and being crushed, if indeed we could get on, is always memorable, especially as we always had to stand and wait while the Paddington train got through to Edgeware Road before us.  Joy I call it, but the young ladies I often accidentally were forced up against may have felt differently.  Who can tell?  Well, apart from the creaming and hitting with their shoe I mean.  I miss this in many ways, the Underground I mean, not the screaming... 

Nothing to Say Again

 

David Roberts - Pyramids of Giza

Nothing to say again, so here is a pretty picture.

Today's Politicians, Compared to Yesterday's, briefly.

It has been reported that Rishi Sunak, the 'would be' PM, has stated that he was not encouraged to speak out during the pandemic.  His claim is that had he been able to speak he would have ended lockdown, masks and other scientific advice, removed all scientists from the public eye and cut down the information given to the people about Covid.  This he says would have encouraged business, the economy and enabled growth, though I do not quote him directly.

This reveals the changes in politicians in my lifetime.

The first half of the 20th century saw two major world wars, a world depression and an attempt, after 1945, to improve life for the nation.  All UK political parties wished things to improve, even though there were disagreements as to how and when.   

Then, after 20 or so years of this came Thatcher!  The idea of working together was replaced by greed.  It could be said that this new economic model enriched everybody, and indeed it did, except for the 3 million unemployed of course, many who never worked again.  Under Blair and Brown the worst excesses of Thatcher were diminished, however, a growing threat came from those growing up in the 'Punk' era.  Having known nothing of war or hunger, even from a distance, having been brought up with a 'silver spoon in the mouth,' though often brought up by uncaring parents, those who became politicians, newspaper and media people, all from the same background, cared nothing and knew nothing about those outside of their circle. 

Today, the new PM is to be Liz Truss, a woman connected to many organisations that wish to reduce benefits, they mean end them, charge for the NHS, drop all protection for workers, the environment and anything that hinders their profits, and we can see how this will work out through the privatised English water companies today.  In short, a return to 'Victorian Values,' without the 'Victorian Social Gospel,' that changed the world for the better.  People no longer matter, they are cogs in the wheel to make the rich richer.  Truss and her kind have been planning this for many years.  Lobby groups abound and we do not know who pays for them, though Koch, Mercer, Pharma companies and Fossil fuel companies are all involved yet we are not officially told who pays.  US money offering US standards to UK people while UK politicians line their pockets and prove unworthy of office!

The futures bright, but not in the UK!

Shops and Service

As the kettle was making far too much noise these days I decided it was heading for the door.  So, in spite my  body's great reluctance, I wandered slowly around the corner to Tesco once again.

As you know this means grabbing a basket, quicker than fighting people with trolleys, selecting goods, and heading for the checkout where we pay, exchange a few words, and move on.  Simple, usually satisfying, in spite of price rises, rude customers who are mostly older men, and children who are either to be enjoyed or eaten, depending on their behaviour.

The other day a facebook picture was presented of a shop during wartime.  A customer or two, with children, were being served by the women behind the counter.  In the background a man selected items from a shelf above.

"How wonderful!" a woman exclaimed. "Such service, you don't get that today."

This got me going on the absurdity of such women.  Clearly she has been brought up in a supermarket world.  This lass has never had to trudge from the butcher to the baker, the grocer, that shop down the lane, across the bridge to the clothes shop, and if she is lucky, spent much time trying on hats in a department store.  All the time lugging the bags with you, none of them plastic, and dragging bored and uninterested kids also.  All this is the heat of summer, the rain and cold of winter.  Add to the joy of such 'service' there is the long queue at each shop, in wartime the ration coupon also had to be administered, and then the chatting women gossiping all day long and saying nothing but holding everybody up while the man behind the counter flirted with them to increase his take home pay.  In short, the 'service,' some loved held everyone up, and when supermarkets arrived women rushed to them as all their needs were met in one fell swoop.  Who caused the end of such shops?  The women fed up of trudging between shops, hindered by queues, and wet through from rain, now made it home quicker and happier than before.

Shops still have service, the Tesco girls are very good, and the smaller shops which remain can offer service, or not depending on which miserable employee is on duty.   Those who long for days gone by probably never lived through them.  I remember as a kid being taken round the corner to what must have been one of Edinburgh's first supermarkets, a small one run by the St Cuthbert's Co-op.  We moved there inn 1953, and the first was a Sainsburys one in London in 1950 so this was a quick spread of the idea.  I also stood bored while mum was rabbiting with women about nothing in the street, my mum would talk to anyone, or in shops, whatever they were.  As for waiting while she tried on hats!  This was avoided by standing with dad on the pavements edge in Princes Street while she wasted time in C&A's or whoever.  A long line of men were to be seen at the pavements edge, smoking and waiting while the woman was indoors doing her thing.

When a man goes shopping, as you know, it is a quick business deal, soon accomplished and home again...

Edward William Cooke - Sunset on the Lagoon of Venice

Edinburgh, Autumn and Football

Louise Rayner - John Knox's House, Edinburgh

A quick glance at this picture and you may think the scene has not changed much in all these years.  This picture, painted in the later 19th century, is full of life and depicts what is supposedly a normal day in the life of the great city of Edinburgh.  We see the High Street, or 'Royal Mile,' as it is known as it leads from Edinburgh Castle down to Holyrood House, has always been a bustling place.  The painting portrays the locals, with a few workers of many kinds included.  The better off by now having moved down into the 'New Town' long since, we can tell the small tenement dwellings are occupied by those standing around in the street.  None are ashamed of hanging out the window and participating in the conversation, none are ashamed of washing hanging from the windows, neither activities being seen done today.  

However, this month Edinburgh endures, sorry, welcomes, the Festival.  An orgy of high class entertainment for the paying public.  Alongside this come the 'Fringe,'  this is an orgy of artists seeking fame and fortune, alongside those from previous generations who made it here in the long forgotten past.  This comes with a plague of leaflets no-one reads, mostly scattered about the streets or pinned to any available post, also unread by passers-by

Add to this mix the Dustbin men are on strike for a week!  This means wheelie bins overflow, rubbish piles up, and none gets collected.  The tourists flooding into Edinburgh, while the locals flood out if they can, get the benefit of Brexit Britain in their face, and certainly up their nose.  An excellent idea of the Binmen to make clear what is happening in our country today, low wages, high energy bills, and Brexit failures flood the nation, and the government, in Westminster, has gone on holiday!  As I keep telling the Brexiteers, "You voted for this!"  But they refuse to accept reality.  "This is not the Brexit I voted for!" Is their cry, though there never was any other on the table.  Lies and devious politicians, backed by very rich men abroad has brought the nation to its knees.  And Brexiteers refuse to accept this.  Trains, docks, Royal Mail, and dustmen on strike, and Brexit continues to make problems.  

Boris is on holiday.

400 miles away from all this I sit watching August slowly disappear from us.  Already 22 days in and leaves are falling from the trees.  Possibly this is encouraged by the dry ground, the heat heavy upon us this year, possibly just normal Autumn approaching.  

The sun still shines, though now through much more cloud, and slowly heads towards the west.  Women take their dogs across the quite safe park, enjoying the sun while standing gossiping about their neighbours with others like minded.  The impatient dogs snuffle around the fallen leaves and sun browned grasses always finding something to keep them busy.  

The rush hour now struggles past the door, music of an awful kind emits from one, a ringing phone from another.  Rap, with a capital 'C' passes by at three miles an hour, followed by the airport bus, hydraulic brakes squealing like a crying child.  Every evening the same people, the same slow struggle towards retirement.  Others, often retired, foolishly shop at Sainsburys in time to meet the rush hour.  They have done this for several years, why?  Have they never considered an early morning or late night shop?   I suppose getting up, checking the pills, finding breakfast, walking the dog, and then it is too late for shopping.  In the evening they would not wish to miss the 'Bread & Circuses' provided for them by broadcasters dulling the brain and hindering thought.  

I avoid such TV yet find my mind is dull and thought hindered.  Having exercised, twice early last week, then twice worked in the front to clear the mess I found my self very tired and aching much from Thursday onwards.  Even today, after a trip to Tesco, my body aches.  This, I must say, has nothing to do with the money saving offer on a bottle of 'Jameson's Orange Whiskey'  that was going cheap last week in Tesco.  Irish whiskey does not just possess a wrong spelling of 'whisky,' it is also only 30%, which tempts some to drink more than they ought.  Especially when watching football.  My neighbours now know I was watching football at the weekend.  

Steam in the Highlands - The Jacobite Steam Train (Hogwarts Express)

Rain!

The expected rain eventually arrived, thunder bellowing and lightning flashing somewhere further over.  Jolly nice for those of us indoors suffering only occasional splashes of water, not so much fun for those hiding under the trees across the way.  Situating yourself under a tree during such a storm is not the wisest move, although there is no chance of cover elsewhere around here.  

The power appears to have diminished now and constant steady rain washes the months of mire from the streets, a very welcome event.  However, the cloud now makes the world a darker place.  We have ben used to bright days, brighter, sometimes colourful evenings, and now a dim grayness steals across everything indoors.  We are no longer used to this.  

I could easily survive six long months in the far north during the summer, permanent light would benefit me greatly.  The six months darkness of winter might wells see me dangling on the end of a rope!   How can people, especially young folk, cope with that.  Many years ago I worked in a commercial darkroom loading lots of Black & White film onto a bar which then went through the developing process.  No skill required.  However, at that time of year I went to work in the dark, worked indoors all day, and went home in the darkness.  This did not last for very long which is just as well.  Six months regular darkness does not enable happy people, no wonder Scandinavians drink so much!

Maybe I should try that now while the monsoon rain drumbeats on the kitchen window?

Paris Street – Rainy weather (1877) by Caillebotte

Twiddling Tuesday

So far it has been a nothing week.  At least, I have done nothing.  However, with rain approaching, and smearing the earth last night, I decided to clean up the front yesterday before the rain.  That finished I have reached the decision that enough was done for the rest of the week.  OK, I had to visit Tesco, the staff might miss me if I don't pop in, and sit here playing solitaire for a few hours, but my back aches after yesterdays work, honest.  

As I sit here cogitating, listening to the rare sound of traffic passing by on wet smeared roads, I wonder how many accidents this will cause? I find myself enjoying the aroma of lightly wet leaves mixed with the cooler air.  The temp indoors is still around 80% it claims, but it feels more like a cold 70%.  Imagine, a cold 70%!

Those fussing about the heat did have a point.  If this is the result of the grasses in the park imagine what the food crops have gone through?  One farmer loudly gave away his onions, they were not possible to pick and make a profit so he called on people to help themselves or they got ploughed back in.  Many farmers, those not yet put out of work by Brexit of Liz Trusses failed ANZAC deals, will be in the same situation.  One reason I cleared up the front yesterday was because when the rain falls, no matter how poor, our front soon is awash with weeds!  Tsk!

It is rumoured the outgoing PM will be staying at Chequers until he is heaved out.  Difficult to know as he is hiding in Greece at the moment.  His furniture (and wallpaper) is being removed as we speak.  His replacement, most likely the inept Liz Truss, will be soon winning the never ending election, and then she will move here junk into No 10 at our expense, so I imagine she will spend the cash liberally.  The future looks bleak.  I wonder if she will last until Christmas?  

John Macvicar Anderson - Westminster

City of London 2: Pathe

 

 The second part of this City of London film. 

 

The City, as Was

Nothing much has happened recently, apart from temperatures heading for the 90s and everyone being sick of the liars contesting the Conservative leadership.  More noise about high energy prices, indeed Boris reappeared at a meeting of energy bosses in No 10.  Nothing happened bar him getting a backhander or two I suspect.  He certainly did nothing for the cost of living increase, however, his lackeys at all levels are keeping up the pressure to bring him back.  

The drought has been declared, so I will cease from washing, though I have done one today.  Tesco and washing sheets, my life is so full!

At least football is back, though to be honest it means little these days.  So much around me has little taste today.  In fact nothing tastes, that is, it means little unlike in days gone by.  Age is having an effect.  I have no problems disliking things, so much I see is trashy and worthless, though my forefathers must have felt the same.  The 'shiny' things of the world mean less as time passes, though if I were to obtain a large source of wealth my ideas may differ.  This of course is unlikely.  So, I will just remain here, a miserable old goat.  A position, I have been told, that suits me admirably.

Atkinson Grimshaw - The Thames Below London Bridge

Joseph Farquharson - A Flock of Sheep in a Snowstorm

With the temperature reaching towards 31c and that means about 92f, I thought some would appreciate a picture to cool them down.   This artist created several similar scenes, I suppose living up north he would find this an easy country view to notice!  He created so many such paintings he was known as "Frozen Mutton Farquharson." 

As you give thanks for not putting the gas on, as you reach for yet another ice cream, consider the sheep, and indeed the painter sitting there in two feet deep snow trying to finish his picture! 

Joseph Farquharson: 1846 - 1935.