Ticket to Ride

This is a good book.  

Published in 2016, Tom Chesshyre road the rail in 2013/14, so it is slightly dated.  Non the worse for that.  It is understandable that situations have changed somewhat in some of the countries Ton

m has travelled through.  And what countries, what trains!  

Written from the point of view of someone who likes trains without becoming an anorak train enthusiast, Tom travels through China, India, USA and Russia amongst others places.  Detailing the trips, the people, the country that he meets on board and sees through the window.  

The fact that he has put so many trips into the book means each trip could have been a single book in itself, though I suspect his run in with a mutinous bunch of Aussies who rebelled against him he probably does not wish to cover again.  

His writing style is good.  We are there listening to the Chinese coughing loudly, we see the red soil of Australia fade into the distance, we note the differing attitudes of guards, both at the borders and on the trains.  The North Korean guards are not what I expected, the drugged up lout in New York was. 

In most nations Tom comes across ano rail enthusiasts.  Those who travel on every line, ensuring all they see, trains, coaches, signals, stations, drivers are photographed, and those who just like travelling by train.

On such trips people open up about themselves and life in general.  By avoiding controversy guides can become quite friendly and open in even the most 'locked in' nation.  Train travel, especially on long journeys, does tend to loosen the passengers, drink also helps.  Speaking to a stranger, often about their private life, is possible for some, especially when you will never meet again.  Something about train travel relaxes people, the smooth ride possible on most lines today, the sights from the train, green verdant land, streams, seas, mountains, all calm the mind.  

Of course there is the other type.  The drunk, the lout, the man or woman on the phone sharing their work or private life with one and all.  Surely murder is not wrong in such situations?  The staff, sometimes happy, sometimes grumpy, depending on where you are and how they have been treated.

'Ticket to Ride' offers all this.  It was a book I found hard to put down.  Also, the trips being separated means this book need not be read in one go, each chapter a differing delight.  The descriptions of the train delights the anor fan, the hope to be there one day delights me.  

I recommend this book, both as a 'railway' book and as a travel book.  

Tom Chesshyre

I've just realised I have read one of his before.  'From Source to Sea.'  A walk from the source of the Thames to the sea.

OAP Aid

I received a letter the other day, with an incomplete address, though the postman managed to get it to my door.  This was from someone new, the county council.  As part of Liz Truss's response to the energy crisis she has sent cash around the country to aid us poor folks in our distress.  This is kind of her, so kind that I will not inform her that by nationalising the energy companies she could have saved us a lot more money, and saved the cots of this gift.

However, £80 is quite decent, and a big surprise.  So, wide eyed and having checked this was not a spam merchant playing games, I trotted off to the store this morning to take advantage and fill shelves.  I confirmed with one of the better staff members that this was legal and they were aware of these 'handouts' from a woman who does not do 'handouts,' and began collecting the required goodies.  With my freezer quite full, not of steak however, I obtained the tinned stuff, and other long term goods as I intend to use them much more in my culinary arts. (The word 'arts' here is a misnomer.)  Some £19 was used, the young woman at the checkout appeared happy, and I carried my heavy load away already scribbling in my mind a return visit for other long term goods soon.  

Did I need this money?  I am doing OK here.  I am not starving, indeed the bug helped me lose weight, and I am seeking lighter meals anyway.  However, it is when the gas and electric contracts run out they will then raise the prices to who knows what.  That is when this will be a benefit.  Some have gone from £400 a year to £1500 or so. These often OAPs who do struggle.  How can they pay such bills?  We can take hope that this temporary PM will soon be gone, that a sensible individual will take over, and that intellectually satisfying policies can be offered.  Hmmm... we wait and see...

Soup, Spiders and Australian Railways

 

Because a bug attached itself to me I have managed to lose almost half a stone by not eating.

Today however, I began to eat.  I put some chopped Chick Pea things, I forget the name, in the pan last night and covered them with water.  This morning I boiled them, flattened them, sort off, and added the ingredients.  These are easy to find, I just put in what is lying around.  Salt, brown and red sauce, cayenne pepper, vinegar, turmeric, coriander oops, too much, chicken Oxo and tin of chicken soup.  Add onions, green lentils the only tin available, and some frozen leeks, heat, simmer, and wait.

I now have a coriander soup.

This is not one the local cafe's will be asking about any time soon.

I did my best, ate two bowls of this, er, stuff, and cooled the rest for the week.     

My prayer, "Lord, I'll get it down, if you keep it down."

I have been hosting quite a few of these guys recently.  One has been above me in the corner for several years now, though whether he, or she, is the same one I cannot tell.  Above the window a long legged creature has been moving about for some time, first here, then there, sometimes just 'hanging about to my left.'  This smaller fellow is living on the wall just outside my door.  He has been there several days now.  No web, no friends, possibly no idea where he is heading, but he is still there, though he has managed to move several inches during today.  

None of these are the Australian type, small, non dangerous, and mostly wanting to keep in the dark places rather than a hallway with occasional lights.  My aunt, who moved to Australia in 1926 I think, was not impressed with my sisters response to what she referred to as a 'small spider.'  My sister was not impressed by what she considered a 'dirty big brute.'  I think Aunt Lizzies tales of the spiders she met while living in one of the big houses (as caretaker) on one of Sydney's many bays put my sister of her dinner for several days.

They can stay in Aussieland.    

When I am rich, I will take the train, the Indian Pacific, from Perth to Sydney one day.  There is only one way to meet Australia, to see the lie of the land and to understand how the people develop, but by train travel.  Railways open countries, first of all in the days of long ago, and now in the days of tourism.  Commuter travel is still a busy rail service, though clearly it is quicker to cross such land masses by air.  To see the land however, you must take the train.

Hmmm...I canny even get to the train here.  I must jump on one soon, before all the strikes restart. 

A Scottish Poem

I bought this book years ago and found it once again while staring into the bookcase.

Trevor Royle has brought together poetry and prose, including some fictionalised acounts, of the great War.  I was touched by this poem, something that does not usually happen, as it reflected the emotions felt by the couple involved.  It spoke better than most works from the time.

 

Pilgrimage: Being the thoughts of an ex-soldier at Ypres, 8/8/28

Me, an’ Jean, an’ the bairn;
The wee lad spierin’ an’ starin’;
Daunderin’ quiet an’ douce-like doun
The Menin road into Ypres toun.
‘Did ye kill ony Germans here?’
Man, it’s sair what a laddie’ll spier.
An’ Jean whispers ‘Wheest!’ – an’ there comes
The band wi’ its trumpets an’ drums.
There’s a glower i’ the wee laddie’s ee.
Ay, he’s ettlin’ ti sojer like me.
An’ Jean whispers low in her pain:
‘Lord, Ye’ll no lat it happen again!’
Syne the Gate whaur the weary feet trod
Like a white kind o’ promise fae God.
An’ in silence we’re spierin’ an’ starin’
– Me, an’ Jean, an’ the bairn.

Me an’ Jean
Her wi’ a saft warm licht in her een,
Thankfu’ that I am come through,
But trimlin’ a wee at the mou’,
Prood o’ the medals I wear –
The same as the Prince stan’in’ there;
Her hand grippin’ hard in mine here
– Oh Jeannie! Oh Jeannie, my dear! –
An’ I ken a’ the things she wud say
An’ Geordie was fond o’ her tae.
We saw Geordie’s bivvy yestreen,
Me an’ Jean.

Me,
Lookin’ yont ower the years juist tae see
Yon War like the ploy of a loon;
But a queer kind o’ shiver rins doon
My back as the things dribble in
– A hallikit lauch i’ the din,
The sangs, an’ the mud, an’ the claes,
An’ my buits, an’ yon glint through the haze
O’ anither lad’s bayonet, an’ lichts
Makin’ day o’ the darkest o’ nichts,
An’ the drinkin’ our tea fae ae can.
– Oh Geordie! Oh Geordie, my man!
An’ – deil tak’ this dust i’ my ee.
Me!

---

J. B. Salmond

from The Old Stalker and Other Verses (Edinburgh: The Moray Press, 1936)

The poems were often written in an Arbroath dialect.

I found this on the excellent Scottish Poetry Library.

 

Whithorn Woman

Whithorn Priory in Galloway is found in the very south west of Scotland.  A church is attested by the great Bede in 731 AD to have been found here in 700 AD.  It is rumoured than Ninian founded a church here around the year 400.  A Roman coin engraved with Emperor Constans (337-350 AD) was found near the altar, indicating something was in place at the time.  

The locals like to refer to Whithorn as the 'Cradle of Christianity' in Scotland, and possibly in the Britain we know today, and they may not be far wrong.

Several 'Digs' have uncovered Bishop Walter, who died in 1235, his ring and crozier defining him.  Research indicates the Bishop was 'portly,' and had a diet rich in fish.  This was not what the locals ate, even though the sea is close by.  Another clergyman of the time lies nearby.  The second man may not be a clergyman, yet he is interred close to the altar.  He had a cleft Jaw, which would make reading Mass difficult, yet this is where he is buried.  

The picture above is is the face of a woman who was buried amongst the Lay people (the lower orders) in what was later to become the 'Glebe Field.'  The Glebe Field was used to sustain the minister of a church.  This woman is believed to have lived in the 1300s.  This is in the days of Robert the Bruce, and life was often full of war.  She is in her early  20s, and when she died she was buried on a bed of shells, for reasons unknown.  The sea lies just down the road and conjecture as to the reason for the shells could go on for ever.  Nothing else is known of her.  Clearly not rich, she is just a woman of her time who died early.

I have noticed quite a few of these reconstructed faces appearing over the past few years.  Allowing for the difficulties in reconstructing an actual perfect likeness I find these fascinating.  While they cannot perfectly reveal the actual person, their habits, dress, attitudes and the like often remain unknown or guesswork, they do show an insight into life in the past.  It makes our forefathers real, no longer just a name on a rich mans tomb, or a mass of bodies buried in a local graveyard and soon forgotten.  The past becomes real, and if you are descended from this area it is always possible this may been one of your relatives.  If I remember correctly, a man in Cheddar Grove was through DNA research, found to contain the same DNA as a skeleton dating back into prehistory found in the area.  

One thing soon becomes clear, people today, mobile phones, cars, technological adept, are no different from those who have gone before.  What has been will be again, as it were.  Wherever such reconstructions are found they always turn out to be human, just like you and I, and therefore carry all the same sin nature we carry.  Humans never change, and these reconstructions prove this.

Ruaridh's Blog is full of info on Whithorn 

    

Crash Dive!

aljazeera

You may have noticed movement in the earths superstructure lately.  This was caused by Liz Truss (the Prime Minister no less, stop laughing at the back) who encouraged her Chancellor to drive the nation over the cliff.  It seems Brexit was not enough, we now need to line the pockets of the rich by stealing from the poor.  The usual, but not so bare-faced, Tory approach.  The intention is to 'Drive Growth.'   She did this so well that yesterday, in an unexpected move, the Bank of England stepped in (at £60 Billion or so) to stop all the Pension funds running out of cash and destroying the lives of millions.  The response from the leader, who hid for several days, was "No bother."

Now, she is connected to many organisations based in 'Tufton Street.'  These are the people who drove Brexit, 'Leave.EU,' 'Taxpayers Alliance,' and 'IEA,' all companies of sorts who do not reveal who pays their wages.  This is easy however, it is US billionaires and their friends, those who pushed for Brexit, and made millions, and push now for deregulation of everything, no matter the cost, so they can make more millions.  Liz receives money from most of the backers.  

There is little surprise in these moves, they have been coming, but few expected them to actually happen.  Now the UK is seen worldwide as a 'Basket case,' and not just in the UK.  Corruption at the top is driving this.  Intelligent thought, care for those suffering, and taking responsibility are not on the agenda.  'I'm all right Jack,' however is.  

 

Vaccination and Microsoft equal Anger

Science Museum

 

The letter came the other day, this followed on from the email, informing me that I was now eligible for the 'seasonal' Covid vaccination.  'Hooray,' said I, and returned to slumber.

Today, I looked up the online process, I clicked, I clicked again, always in the appropriate places, and clicked again.

I entered my National Health number.

I entered my date of birth, 2nd Jan 1990.

I clicked 'continue.'

I then selected the nearest centre offering the vaccination.

Witham!

Witham!  Six miles away, an hour on the bus, and even then I have to walk miles to find the place in the outskirts of town!

Other offerings were further afield.

I searched for the 'Walk in Centre.' 

I found one in town!

This operates at the 'Braintree Village' shopping experience.

I looked up the opening times.

SUNDAY!

Sunday, the one day buses do not run!

There is a Hospital up the road, 20 minutes walk away even for me, and that is where I got the previous two vaccinations.  The local 'Christchurch Pharmacy' run by a local church, offered the last booster.

No more.

For no good reason, cost in other words, if I take up this generous offer I must travel miles for it.

Shambles, that bloody Tories!

Bloody Microsoft!

They have kept me waiting a month before accepting the change of details, for no reason.  

Today I tried to sign in and had to go through all the hoops.

Eventually I was told to offer the last 4 digits of the phone number.

This I did.

I waited.

I waited.

I waited.

Nothing came.

I went through it all once more, informing them of my honest opinion.

I waited.

I waited.

I gave up.

I did get far enough into the mish mash of an organisation run by 14 year olds to find the phone number they required me to add was correct, however, the phone number on my details made no sense whatsoever.  Where did it come from?  I tried to delete it, but it appears to be still there.

Then I had to log in again, and now they are making me wait another month before I can go through all this again!

Happiness is not my name today.

Night Trip in the 80s

Reading a book on rail travel my mind returned to the days of long ago when I regularly caught a late night train from Kings Cross Station to Edinburgh.  I canny mind who informed me of this train, especially as it did not stop in Edinburgh, but I boarded the thing anyway.  When I say it did not stop, what I mean is that it was not meant to stop there officially, this stop did not appear on the timetable, yet stop there it did, at 3 am in the morning.

Once I knew about it I made for it.  I am sure it left about 10 in the evening, but memory says it was 8 pm, however, it was a slow train, not an express, and the luxury about it was the fact that all the coaches were aged corridor coaches.  Indeed, these had long been pushed aside for the open plan coaches normal today, and being made up of small compartments, with very few passengers travelling late at night, it was very comfortable.  The lighting in the compartment could be dimmed, most important for night travel, and once aboard and settled in there was nothing to do but enjoy the dark view of the world outside passing slowly by.  Some things did pass by quickly of course, express passenger trains full of express passengers, goods trains, which we now refer to as 'freight' for some reason, and often we would slow to a dark halt in a loop and wait while something flew past in a hurry.

This was a great experience for young me.  I was never disturbed, except by a man in a peaked cab looking for tickets, and once a group of young soldiers looked in, growled and made their way to the far end and exercising in the Cairngorms.  Good luck to them!  

Travelling at off-peak times was my preference, and this train was off-peak.  The night view from a dimmed compartment gave a differing outlook from the dreary day.  Lights appeared here and there, pausing near a block of houses, some were lit up, most in darkness, an occasion pair of green eyes watching from beneath a hedge, red flashing lights high up in the distance, and passing movements in the opposite direction, lit passenger trains, dark bulky goods ones.  Stations were not quite bare of people.  Well lit, a railwayman walking about here and there, at least in the larger stations such as York.  Anoraks,  sorry, enthusiasts, two far from young men at York in the middle of the night, eagerly recognising a number on one of the coaches.  This appeared to I to be one step too far with train watching.  Travelling at low speed watching the houses in the distance, traffic flowing on major highways, occasional cars on lesser roads.  Shops signs lit up, industrial units with steam from vents and chimneys, with obscure dark shapes looming up and passing by  silently.  

We would arrive at the Waverley on time almost exactly, and once I was confident the train would actually stop and not drop me at Dundee or Aberdeen, I would 'alight' as they say into a near empty station.  Usually two or three at most taxi's would sit there hopefully, a knock on the window, a sleeping driver awake, muttering "Three O'clock," and coming back to life, I would be driven home in style.    

I enjoyed those journeys, soon to be amended with the introduction of a new service, via the west coast for some reason, in open coaches with far too bright lighting.  On one occasion this broke down, almost all passengers were grateful and slumbered happily, none complaining to the guard when he informed us of the problem.  On another trip I was met by an elderly (to me then) Pakistani man who chatted happily about his business in Aberdeen.  He was pleasant, kind and good company, and I did not wish to tell him to leave me alone so I could sleep.  He drifted of somewhere about the midlands and we snoozed uneasily into an Edinburgh dawn.

It is time I got back on a train!

   

Moronic Media

We need more about this woman.  Today's media is stuffed full of garbage regarding actors, TV celebs, and other nobody's and their love lives, 'floods of tears,' and similar non stories.  Once again people wrongly diagnosed by overworked doctors (they never mention those who were successfully treated) tell us their woes among the routine murder, rape and 'Kiss & tell,' stories that I loathe.  

Even the football pages struggle as the international games are upon us once again.  This means the routine lies and half truths offered week by week will not do.  Hacks spend must time filling space with  nothing at all and expect to be paid for it.  

The reluctance to grumble about this lying government, today announcing more benefits for the rich and taking money from the poor, is still ongoing.  Serious journalism is hard to find, especially when Twitter remains blocked, and the variety of news feeds I come across are either too far left or too far right.  Journalism cannot be one sided, it requires an open mind, but that does not sell the press. 

A quick look at the TV guide and all hope has gone.  Bread and Circus's without jam.  I am so glad there is some football on tonight.

Cancelled Truth

 

As mentioned the other day I have been banned from Twitter for standing up for the truth.  Naturally I appealed this nonsense and await a reply.  Until then I am banned, I suspect they will keep me waiting in the hope I delete the truth and save them the bother.  They are foolhardy if they think this.

However, while we await a known apparent infringement of their rules an email arrived informing me I was permanently banned from the 'Online Daily Mail.'  Tsk!  They did not even have the decency to inform me as to what I said wrong.  This is annoying.  I looked it up and wonder what could be the problem, possibly not agreeing with the Queens mob, possibly not agreeing with the Mail most days I suspect.  Anyway, that is one name that will not be seen again on the 'Mail Online' sadly.  

Of course I discovered another name I use there still works, three Brexiteers proved that tis morning, and so I am limited to using that one alone for now.  No more agreeing with myself to boost numbers...

The 'cancel culture' is an undemocratic movement, and when those strongly opposed to it begin cancelling those with whom they disagree it speaks volumes about them, and society in general.

Society is often confused, conflicted, and led by those who really care nothing for society.  This has left this nation with a browbeaten population, youth with much confusion as to what life they ought to be living, no belief in right and wrong, just an exaggerated expression of 'Me First,' and 'My feelings are important.'  The 'silent majority,' many of whom queued up to pay respects to their queen the other day are being let down by those who ought to lead them.  Politicians, church leaders, the media and whoever has a voice in society ought to be speaking truth.  This is not happening.  UK Politicians in government are owned by US Billionaires, and speak policy that benefits the rich, this is not leading the people, just the few.  Church leaders are taking the congregations with them under 'Stonewall' control. Jesus is forgotten, scripture ignored, the nation kept in ignorance by those who ought to proclaim Jesu crucified from the housetops.  The nearest we have seen this in recent days was the Archbishop speaking at the queens funeral, an almost proper sermon, so rare even from him, though she would have agreed. Those who consider men or women believing they were born in the wrong body browbeat any who rightly oppose them, nobody wishes to stand up to the mob!  Facebook and Twitter and other social media do not know how to cope, and just continue to gather data.  TV and press offer 'Bread & Circus's' while journalism and investigation is passed over according to whoever owns the works.  

Amos the prophet, saw such events many years ago.  The Lord himself loved the people, even though they had walked away from him and ignored him.  He sent many prophets but Amos sums up some of our day quite well.  The rich get richer, the poor do not get justice, and soon judgement falls. 

Individually and as a nation we cannot continue to live so far from a God who created us and who desperately wants us, so he can give us real life, a life that satisfies.  

How God cares, how Jesus weeps.

Walk the Lines, by Mark Mason

This is another result of Christmas and birthday book vouchers.  A trip to Waterstones and sever books later back home to work the way through them all.  As I am reading three or four at once it does not always flow, at last one is finished. 

The basis of this book is simple.  The writer takes note of the different Underground lines, marks them out on a map, he is obsessed with maps, and then walks along the streets and byways that are covered by each individual line.  Clearly he is young, clearly he is fit, clearly he is off his head.

I like the idea.

Beginning with the Victoria line our hero walks from one end to the other, offering small talk, descriptions of stations, conversations with individuals, and vague history as he passes.  This is good and quite enjoyable, especially when involving stations, streets, and situations we have all met with.

He then walks across all lines, visiting all stations, and describing the changing scene from built up London, rich London, depressing Harrow, and a vast number of green areas within the city itself.  

The only problem I encounter with the book is that after a while it all becomes somewhat 'same.'  That is, one line sound just like another, one street like one passed before.  This is because he has taken on too big a job.  Such an adventure featuring one line only could have investigated the much deeper, offered many more tales of past adventures, crimes and mishaps, and become a more enjoyable read.

However, the sheer size of London, as our friend Fun has shown, means it takes a much deeper enquiry into the locale before we get the best out of the city.  This is not to disparage the effort here, on the contrary, it reveals how wide and full the whole of 'London' actually is, and it is not just a spot somewhere in the centre seen regularly on postcards, TV and rubbish films.

The people met along the way can be interesting, though an artist who makes cakes would have been better thrown from the top of the former Nat West Tower Putin fashion rather than entertained.  

The whole of the Greater London area covered by the Tube lines, meaning much of the south over the Thames is ignored, reflecting the wide divergence of people, dwellings and high streets that make up the conurbation.  London, like all towns and cities, has its own atmosphere. not always pleasant, but it is an enticing place to live.  It is also overcrowded, full of pig ignorant people, far too much traffic, and expensive.  For instance, to live in the residence I once occupied many years ago, allowing for much improvement to the place, would require around £500 a week to live there.  This, plus gas, electric and all those other costs is not something everyone can afford.  

The book is well worth a read for anyone who has lived there, it is well written, even allowing for his 'interesting' thought processes as he tries to understand and comprehend what London actually is, and a good book to read, one line at a  time.  Published in 2011 but not yet out of date regarding most lines and their happenings.  I recommend it.   

1908

The Monarchs Funeral and Twitter

Very quiet this morning.  By 8 am an empty airport bus slogged its way slowly past, a black woman, dressed West Indian style walked slowly up the road, a car or two hastened nowhere.  With the major shops shut, a bank holiday declared, and many waiting in for the queens funeral procession on TV there is an air of silence about the town.  Well, apart from that siren just now, trouble down at the bypass I reckon.  Even the dogwalkers are silent, no barking, no gossip, very quiet even for here.  

The constant TV pictures on YouTube, happily without the sycophantic commentary elsewhere, show us men in uniform taking position, crowds eagerly awaiting, some have been there in position for three days!  What loo do they use is my first question?  10,000 Police march into position, all dressed in dark uniforms, the Royal Navy take their position also.  In 1901 the horses pulling Queen Victoria failed for some reason so the RN standing guard were called in to pull the gun carriage on which she lay.  This became the tradition and will be done today also.  Tradition being very important on such occasions.  Massed pipe bands, glowing in Highland dress, full of colours most Highlanders before the 1800s never knew, play as they march to their spot in the ranks.  The crowds cheering almost every move be it police, army or workers preparing the ground.  Others praise the unity found upon such occasions, I find myself asking, will it last?  An event brings people together, daily life soon returns and today will be forgotten by Thursday.

Of course when the media tells us all have fallen silent for the funeral not all have done so willingly.  There is a need for the nation to take note of a monarchs passing but to be honest so much has been over the top and a hindrance to many.  With a growing republican feeling in parts of the UK, not yet an overpowering growth however, many are irked by the response and feel ignored, sometimes angry.  Much of this is somewhat childish, protesting at a funeral for instance, and much a 'chip on the shoulder' feeling about rich folks.  I ask such about their wealth, and many have plenty of it, and enquire as to how they spend time helping the poor?  "Do you work in a foodbank?" is always a good question, one which gets no reply.  A more balanced debate is required here.

While all this was going on I participated in one or two discussions on Twitter.  A great place to meet objective dialog and sympathetic listeners.  In answer to one man's statement that gay sex was normal I reminded him that this was abnormal, not normal.  He was based in Germany, the German Twitter has informed me this was not breaking the rules, however, UK Twitter has blocked me.  So I appealed, on scriptural grounds.  I am blocked completely now while this is investigated.  We shall see if the gay lobby rules Twitter or not soon.

Saturday Queuing

Walking through the cold north wind back from Tesco I cogitated on the people seen slowly walking by the Queens coffin.  A never ending TV channel allows us to see the mourners pass by, sometimes hurried by the men in black coats.  All ages appear, a surprising number of children have waited for hours to see this event.  All colours, all ages, all types appear.  Of course MPs and others have privileged entrance, no queuing amongst the plebs for the Rees-Moggs of this world.  David Beckham made an appearance, a publicity stunt clearly, and one that will bring in more cash to pay his wife's debts.  No doubt also that she thought up the idea.  While 45% of Scots claim to wish a republic, 36% a monarchy, in England the proportion is much higher.  No doubt the Brexiteer mob are among the most loyal, the Tory Blue everywhere like to consider they may one day touch that royalty themselves.  Fat chance really.  Today, many pass through the ancient hall, few knowing its History, almost none knowing the queen except for media images and possibly a handshake once upon a time.  But they have come, endured the wait, bossed by the controllers, stand for a moment, bow gently or almost touching the floor, curtsey or salute, or just nod the head and wander thoughtfully on.  Some cross themselves in a variety of manners, others blow a kiss, while servicemen bearing a row of medals from various wars stand tall, adjust their caps, stiffly salute, and march on.  The serviceman's loyalty to the crown is deeper than many realise, this is built into them during service.  The queen herself would enjoy the attention and the show of loyalty.  She would understand also those who wish not to attend, unlike the media whose coverage continues to be sycophantic.     

Nothing to say Friday

 

Life has been busy recently.  At least having to watch football at 5:45 and 20:00 hrs three days running I fond this quite tiring.  Made worse by watching replays of games the next day.  Still, someone has to do it.  Anyway, the Heart of Midlothian did well considering their many injuries, including during this game, and successfully overcame the Latvian opponents.  It has been a long time since we were at this level, and it shows.

I have however, managed to work out a setting that enables a poor shot of the moon.  Naturally it is ebbing away now, and this morning I noticed it had moved across the sky to the west.  Why can they not keep these things in one place so I can set the camera up properly?  Tsk!

The 'Lying in State' and Charles touring the country has left little space for other news.  This of course has not stopped the Conservative leader from releasing licences to 'Frack' for oil in various places.  This done on the day the queen lay in state in Edinburgh!  How noble.  While Charles and Camilla 'walk about' greeting happy Welsh folks today I am left wondering what Liz is doing.  She has ensured she was seen on camera in Edinburgh, Northern Ireland and Wales, none of whom want her, and managed a hate filled glare at Nicola while she read first during the service in St Giles.  Tasteful.  While she will no doubt take advantage of the time to meet with leaders from many nations in the next few days, as indeed she ought, I will be amazed if any are happy with her.  Joe is annoyed about the Protocol,  China, if any arrive, are annoyed about Taiwan, Russia is annoyed Putin was not invited!  She has at least allowed the Bankers to increase their bonus's, another Brexit benefit. 

Poor Charlie and his woman, feted everywhere, then stabbed in the back at the earliest opportunity.  What a life to lead.  Well paid, surrounded by servants, and not having to walk to Tesco in the morning as the shops are shut on Monday may be very well but, the queen herself preferred the days at Balmoral when she could just be a housewife.  Phillip cooking the BBQ and she washing up afterwards, all much more enjoyable than meeting the people they are forced to smile at.

Royalist?

No surprise here.  Those areas you guess are republican appear to be so, those you consider monarchist are it seems.  There is a growing demand from some, usually under 50, for a republic.  Many well over 50, and I would like to remind you I am only 32, are in favour of royalty.  Possibly the royals are favoured because of the war effect, a time when clever PR implied the royals were suffering with their people.  Buck House was bombed, the King and Queen visited many bombed places and became popular by their attitudes.  How much was acting is irrelevant now, at the time it brought a nation at war together.  Many born after the event are affected by this still.  The loss of the queen may alter their view today.

Those younger elements, born into a liberal society that has lost its way are influenced with a desire for 'freedom' unknown to their aged relatives, at least in part.  There is a lack of discipline amongst many, and an 'entitled' approach which often appears amongst working people.  We were never 'entitled,' just lazy, unhelpful and bolshie, which is different!

How Charles deals with this may amend this map.

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...'