Considering how many have taken off for the holidays we had a reasonable turnout this morning. Several new families are appearing, all black African types, with children, which is good indeed. We need young folks arriving, so many are not as young as they are, and those who were once young are now adolescent and have run off to find themselves.
A visiting retired speaker, whom we know and like, though he is a 'liberal' regarding theology, which is why I will not refer to his sermon as it was somewhat 'loose.' At times I wondered what he really believes. The Anglican church in England is indeed a strange place.
Whoever decided to lose an hours sleep on Easter Sunday requires to be shot in my experience. I was half asleep all morning, and even though I snoozed once I got home, I am still weary. Lose an hour next Sunday and it would be OK!
The weather is grey, the people I passed did not reflect joy and gladness, though dogs heading for the park certainly did. Traffic was slow, the holidays mean people are away, Easter means chocolate eggs fill the kids hearts, and folks are visiting family.
For the most part we were happy, the visiting vicar loud and cheery which left me exhausted, and people ran for home and a large family lunch.
I was attempting a quiz in a national rag, these once a week quiz's used to be easy, and this time I found how little I know about things these papers consider important. The quiz is intended for the readers, not people like me passing by, and it indicates how 'culture' today dominates the thoughts of the masses. How do I know who married who? How do I know which song this line came from if it appeared after 1974? I did at least know what we called water that had frozen!
I do like quizzing, especially on subjects that I know a little about. It is amazing how much I learn from them. However, when I used to watch things like 'Eggheads' with the insufferable Jeremy Vine as quizmaster, I found all too often the questions were on science or the like, which you will be surprised to know, left me dead. We all enjoy quizzing, that is why so many appear on the telly, and it is great to be on the team that wins a quiz. This I have been I must make clear, though this was back in 1967! I have lost many since. It's just a shame general knowledge questions these days all ask things that are not general knowledge to me!
I have this on my laptop, I hardly use the phone and find it easier to read on here, yet looking around so many people appear to consider this 'app' an urgent requirement. I know not why. Certainly it can be used to get in touch with people on the move, send pictures of places visited, or foodstuffs being scoffed, and also museums, companies and the like use it to advertise themselves. But is it worth it?
For me, a couple of people I know who rarely offer pictures, several interesting museums and little else is worth looking at. Using the search facility we see what others are offering, usually somewhat overdeveloped women exhibiting themselves, football players, young drugged up youths and an occasional picture worth seeing. It is all very tiresome to me.
Contacting people is important, but there is 'WhatsApp,' 'messenger' and Texts, and speaking on the phone ignorantly and loudly on buses, so why bother? Personally I prefer email, short and too the point, and long and explanatory if required. Pictures and videos can also be added to your own pleasure, but maybe not the recipients.
Still, it gave me something to moan about...
I've just dumped a bunch of dead and dying daffodils in the bin, and now I feel somewhat saddened by this These delightful bright flowers have lasted about 10 days, which is not much for £1, but they have gladdened the heart. Now, with all the care of a Tory cabinet minister I throw them out, their work completed, and it all feels like a real death. There are others on the desk, two varieties, both doing their job for a week or so, then they too will go the way of all 'Lillie's of the field.' We are surrounded by such a variety of flowers, some considered 'weeds,' yet they are so well designed and look so good. Gentle, yet strong, colourful and varied in shape and usefulness. These all come with a warning, 'Do Not Eat!' upon them, leading me to ask questions. We need to consider the 'Lillie's of the field' more carefully I say.
I came across this picture of the groceries we knew way back in the 50s and early 6os. Many have developed, others have disappeared altogether, or changed name to suit the customers. I recall the soap powder, always powder then, 'OMO' in the shop round the corner and under the sink at home. What happened to that I know not, but I think it still goes by that name in the EU. 'Scott's Porridge Oats' still exists but has now been packed in plastic, while 'Force' wheat flakes I never knew until I lived in London where I took to them for a while in the 70s. 'Tizer' was a common drink then, it might still be in some areas, 'Lucozade' of course abounds though without that orange paper kids used to like around it.
Notice how few exotic dishes appear? This was the days when we 'never had it so good,' which followed on from the days when we 'never had it at all.' So fancy stuff had not arrived, though the expensive shops used by the 'higher classes,' like Bank Mangers, Toffs and Spivs were doing OK. Notice also that 'Own Brand' has not yet arrived in the supermarkets. The supermarkets themselves only arrived in 1950 if I remember correctly, when Mr Sainsbury opened one somewhere in London. We had a At Cuthbert's Co-op supermarket round the corner, built about 1952, which lasted 20 years. I still remember the Dividend number, 47280, which was offered whenever we bought from there.
Today folks complain that supermarkets limit us to what they offer, this is true, and they whine that small shops have closed because of the Tesco's that arrived, which is also true, but they are they ones who stopped using the shops to go to the supermarkets because they were better!
We have so much more and still complain. We have so much more yet more people are struggling to pay bills, and not all of these are wasting cash and failing to budget. Still, the millionaires in the cabinet are doing OK, and they will not remember items we see in this picture, nor will any of them remember struggling with bills...
I'm sitting here reading the online newspapers, though apart from a tragedy in Baltimore there is little actual news on offer, when I looked up for inspiration and found this! Here above me was the Saltire!
Clearly this is a sign, of what I am unsure. Possibly this indicates Scotland will defeat Northern Ireland in tonight's friendly match, possibly it indicates independence is round the corner, possibly it indicate two aircraft coming and going from Stansted almost hit one another!
I do not know.
Sadly, the air stream has moved the Saltire on elsewhere. No doubt Sunak passing by in one of his £600,000 helicopters saw this and destroyed it in a piece of tetchiness for which he is well known.
Englishmen have made use of such attitudes for a thousand years, but we are still here!
The tragedy in Baltimore has removed the Moscow outrage from the front page. Questions regarding why that occurred are ongoing. ISIS-K, the ISIS working in Russia, hates Christians, and believes all Russians, and indeed all Westerners are Christians. Of course ISIS hates everybody who is not ISIS, Muslims, Hindu's, Indonesian, Taliban, Iran, Shia's etc, almost the whole world, so it is easy for them to find a target. The Chechen war some years ago heightened their disgust at Moscow and this is not the first outrage that has occurred there.
Questions arise however, as to how four men got into the theatre with automatic weapons, dressed in fatigues and opened fire. The FSB, the Russian security service is very efficient, the US, among others had warned of an attack, and yet this was allowed to happen.
Some imply Putin was involved himself allowing the attack to take place to turn attention away from both the death of the opposition leader in the gulag, and the losses in the Ukraine war. Indeed one report speaks of men dressed in similar outfits, blue jerseys, blue jeans, with guns, hindering people attempting to escape. These may be conspiracy theorists but many questions have not been answered. Add to this the housing block demolished by bombs some years ago which was blamed on Chechens if I remember correctly, conspiracy theorists again wondered if the Stalin impersonator was responsible, it is like him, and human beings are worth little to Putin.
We await answers, though we may wait some time.
As it is Easter Time here is a quick look at the Holy Sepulchre, the place most likely to have been where Jesus was crucified and the tomb in which he may well have been laid. Constantine's mother led the way in identifying the places, and he built this structure over it, but a historical perspective is somewhat ruined by that. Worth a look however.
Sitting here admiring the daffodils beside me
brightening my world. The clouds disperse for a moment to allow
tantalising glimpses of blue sky, then continue northwards at pace.
Sometimes I wish I could float along with them, head north, fly over
the land observing the world like a bird, though preferably without
being blown off route.
The world is a different place from up high.
Those early pioneers who risked their lives to fly in the first
balloons or the early flying machines could benefit from being the first
to view their world from a height. How lucky they were. Of course,
the fact that many died in doing this does make it less enjoyable.
Since the end of the Great War photography from
the air has had many benefits. Those internet maps for one, archaeology
greatly helped by air observation, and governments keeping an eye on
one another's defence capabilities most of all.
Sometimes however, it can be useful to us as individuals. Away back in the early 1960's my brother joined the RAF as a photographer. Here he learned the strict standards that were required, and also observed pictures taken at high altitude by RAF planes engaged in secret missions. One such secret mission, no longer secret, was Bob asking a pilot heading up to Leuchers airport in Fife to take a couple of pictures of our home as he passed. I have found two, a third, much clearer shot, has disappeared into my files somewhere. At the top of this picture a main road crosses right to left at an angle, from it a small, narrow road heads north. Opposite this wee road lies the block in which I spent many years developing into the idiot I became. I was probably at school when this occurred. Such aircraft often flew over us, most of which have long since been scrapped or lie in some aircraft museum somewhere.
Observation from the air is difficult. I can recognise my area from this picture, but would I if flying over it? Flying over regions known to the flyer does not mean recognition comes
easily. The land below is hard to define, and only obvious places can
be identified, coastlines, castles, or towns like Milton Keynes which
stand out like a sore thumb below. Landing at Edinburgh these days we fly in over the Forth of Forth, even from that I can recognise the various docks but too a long time to find our abode.
I dragged myself out this morning, far from willingly I must say, as I was feeling the lack of foodstuffs, the diet losing weight but not feeding me well.
Many greeted me, the women offering hugs, the men distain.
Back to normal then.
I was glad to be there, various things had hindered me for a while, and Psalm Sunday is one of the major events in the year. The Anglican lot have many 'feast days' and memorials to various people, many of whom are better forgotten in my view, and Palm Sunday, Easter and Christmas are three that must be remembered.
Unfortunately, today coincided with what they call 'All Together Sunday.' This began when many kids were around, fewer today, and instead of a proper Palm Sunday the man in charge brought along people working among 'youth.'
'Hooray' thought I.
Now the work they do is tremendous, speaking for Jesus in schools, clubs and so on everywhere, and they offer what appears to be a proper Jesus to the young, though why she called the 'children' when they are teens I fail to understand. Luckily, when the speakers spoke, my mind was so tired I failed to concentrate and missed the practicalities, including the news of lack of cash.
While this spoiled things for me, others were encouraged so it was not all bad.
I was glad to be there, to speak to one or two, and listen to others gabbing away.
I failed to join in the 'march' around the church waving my palm branch, as you may expect, but many did parade happily. The CoE member is easily pleased. The tambourine's and shakers on offer also missed me when handed out.
I have accidentally collected too many books to read.
Certainly I took advantage of an 'Amazon' card to obtain three 2nd hand books via 'World of Books' for just over £7, this I find the best way to obtain them, but am I to blame for other books being given or er, found in places? They cannot be left lying around, someone might steal them, so taking them to a safe refuge such as my bookshelf is important.
Looking at these books I am wondering why I was looking through the 'Amazon' shelves again just because there is another £7 or so pounds to be used up. Shall I go for more Ronald Blythe, or another trip around the country? Possibly yet another 'must have ' Great War book that ought to be on my shelf? Suggestions, and I get them, to obtain books teaching spelling, grammar and 'How to Write Properly,' will be ignored as they were while I was at school.
A woman on Twitter the other day mentioned how she attempted to offer books to the local school. They were grateful but only took one. It appears kids will not read books, possibly the mobile phone and online research is good enough to get them through, depending on the subject.
Trying to warm the place up cheaply, I decided to bake what one woman called 'Wartime Shortbread.' Whether it has any other name I know not. 4oz, marge, 8 oz flour, 2 oz castor sugar, she says, though I tended to just dump it in, and 20 minutes later out comes a biscuit.
The last one I made tasted OK, though some fool had put in too much castor sugar. The same fool accidentally put in more this time. I need something late at night to accompany my tea and this is the answer, a cheap biscuit. Even I can do it, but it will never sell.
A similar version using oats worked last time, but it tends to put on weight when you just eat the lot in one go!
There is either an election or a fight for the Tory leadership going on at the moment as Priti Patel is constantly in the local paper being photographed at various needless functions. Whether they wish her to be there is not made clear. She represents the neighbouring constituency and as it was enlarged she has fought off the other MP there. She will run the whole show, and she hopes, the rump of the party.
She may be seen as the most responsible and sensible of the various contestants, which tells us something!
The daffodil does not represent Priti Patel, but I had no 'Snapdragons' available.
After I scribbled that I searched for something interesting to grumble about. There was nothing of note, just too much querying Kate and her dubious photo, lies from MPs, gunmen in Moscow and Tesco's new lunchtime menu, and a new 'England' shirt costing £125 that people object to, nothing important.
When I had dumped it all until tomorrow we find Kate appearing to speak of her next PR stunt. This one however, is serious. Whatever the cancer is, and I have lost three family members to various types, we know she will get the best treatment, unlike those under the Tory thumb.
We also know the press will fill their pages with sentimental slush, the opposite of the vile attacks they were making on her in recent days, as they realise that their making use of her as 'Diana 2' might be coming to an end. Yet they also know the vast pull out sections now being prepared will make lots of cash. They can keep her in the press for ten years or more, whatever happens.
Do any of them actually care? No, of course not!
I have little time for the royal benefit scroungers, however, this is upsetting for those close to her, and will not do dim Willie much good. A sad story, but one the press will run with for all they are worth.
Last night I had the pleasure of a visit from my favourite Great Nephew! He has a dew days of and motored down to Duxford to see the great airfield there, the vast collection of aircraft and the tanks at the far end. Even he found it much larger than he thought. It is a great huge space.
I did not go.
Twenty or so years ago I was there twice, both time with an attractive young woman, and we both found it exhilarating and tiring at the same time. The 'Battle of Britain Ops Room' a room where part of the Battle was directed from, the Fighter Collection, USAF, several aged passenger liners and the large Tank collection at the far end make it a great day out. It cost him around £30 however. These places are not cheap.
When he arrived, eventually, he found following my clear directions difficult, I fail to comprehend this as there are only two main roads in this town, he arrived and we set off down the road for dinner.
The 'Yak & Yeti' is a Ghurkha themed restaurant which turned out to be quite quiet, apart from those collecting their online orders, or taking them to the customer. Cleary the place is popular.
Our hot stuff was very good, the Ghurkha lager also excellent, far better than the stuff the yobs drink, and as he paid, in spite of my desperate pleading to pay, the evening went very well.
It has been many years since I saw him, and most of the others, one day I will make it up there, and not for a another funeral!
After he had left, I sat here attempting to sort the day out in my little head when there was a knock on the door. This means it could only be the downstairs woman. I heard some chatter down there and thought they were discussing who should take the dog out last thing.
It was very different.
I had not realised an ambulance was standing outside the door.
He had begun to have a stroke, the conversation was about calling an ambulance, he not bothered, she worried. The ambulance came, told him he was going with them, and off he went. No arguments with them.
She came up to inform me of this problem. One he has had before, and the lass was understandably worried. She remained here, probably for the best, and this afternoon I can hear him return to the fold. No doubt I will here soon about the result.
We can worry about global warming, WWIII, Freeports, and who will replace Sunak, but for most of us it is the reality of life that matters, strokes, arthritis, leg breaks, schools, and holidays are more relevant. As always, great happenings are occurring all around us, but it is where we are and what is happening to us that is really important.
My preference is to rise around 7 am, here I am again awake at 5.
And awake it is. No drowsiness, no yawning, no weariness appears.
Wide awake.
The street light has come on, soon followed by hints of the rising sun afar off.
At least those hints sneaking through the cloud cover.
Cars begin to pass by, sometimes three at a time, this because they stop at the traffic lights up the road.
Many have failed to stop at the red light, they are often halted outside my door by the unmarked police car and smug officer who at last has something to do.
The 7.5 ton bread van noisily heads up to Sainsburys.
An artic throbs its way in the opposite direction, his load removed and already an employee who wishes he was elsewhere is increasing the price of the goods left to astronomic levels.
I am still awake.
5:15 am
I attempt to put noise into my head, on comes the radio built into the mobile.
All the programmes I have kept are rotten.
I do not want any at 5 in the morning!
Instead I put on the sound of lapping waves.
These will lure sleep back into my mind.
5:45 am still awake.
The lapping waves have been making me feel seasick so have been swapped for bird song.
6:01 am still wide awake.
What sounds like a bad tempered buzzard forces me onto Radio 3 while I seek gentle tinkling piano music.
Screeching opera woman finds mobile lying on floor!
6:20 am. Still awake.
My mind fills with bad thoughts, depressions, failures, and confusion.
7:16 am I awake tired and weary, groggily searching for the door and heading for breakfast.
I will be like this until my lunchtime nap.
Just on 10 am, washed, coffee'd, and weary, I am sitting watching grey hair being blown across the floor. I suggest that it is actually Blonde, but the barber woman will not accept this. She does accept the two pound coins as a tip on top off the £11 cost however.
Suddenly feeling the air colder I head for a cheap trip round Tesco special offers, this was once again disappointing. Hobbling home the air appears even chillier, though some Spring flowers are appearing in the gardens, this is encouraging.
15:16 pm. Much work to do, cleaning, tidying, hoovering...
Luckily, the neighbour downstairs has come home early, this means I canny hoover, I may as leave the rest also, just in case it disturbs him...
A Supper Party - 1903 Julius LeBlanc Stewart (1855-1919)
A bit of a conflict high above us this morning. These two Magpie's have taken to living amongst the trees. This annoys the Crows who live here. Yesterday two Crows buzzed the Magpie pair and saw them off. Today one Crow was chased off by this fellow and his mate, but the Crow is still hanging around in the trees high up somewhere. Possibly he awaits reinforcements? The Crows from times past would not put up with this, and I suspect more conflict soon. I just wish they would come down lower so I could get a closer picture.
Naturally, I was so engrossed by the birds conflict that I forgot to scribble anything else on here.
Few noticed.
However, Saturdays have little to say other than shops, football, sleep and feeding the face. Nothing out of the ordinary occurs at weekends, unless something personal does.
I met my downstairs neighbour walking the dog, at least the dog was pleased to see me, and little else of note occurred.
Nothing in the news, no accidents, no trauma, just lies from crooked politicians, and mostly made up stories about royalty. What a disgrace the UK media is.
My weariness, and the fear of heavy rain which did not arrive, put me off walking to the Kirk.
Instead I read the chosen verses, Jer 31:31-33 & John 12:20-33. This took me to Jesus telling the disciples, at least those close to him, just how troubled his souls was, to the point of death. Yet he chose to follow his fathers will, for that is why he came. What a moment it seemed to me, here Jesus was faced with the choice of avoiding the cross, yet he would go through with it. Then he says 'If you follow me you must take up your cross.' He gave up so much, lost life, faced Hell for me, us, and he chose to go through with it. What I face is so much easier. So why do I fail?
I am not sure being at church today would be any stronger an interpretation than what this meant to me.
What is this rubbish you ask? Well I have spent time today taking photographs of the phone lines coming into the house, and trying to work out where they go. This because the Landlord must apply to the council for permission for me to have an improved 'Full Fibre' ISP installed. Being a Grade II listed building this is the lawful way. However, this may take 6 weeks to come through! I sit here gnashing my teeth, or what is left of them.
The landlord has decided to enquire of the others if they too seek such a service, and may do something about it, next week perhaps. In the meantime she needs to know who has what, how many things have been installed without permission, obviously by a previous tenant, and what can the council planning people say?
So, in the rain, I fulfilled my duty, leaving my aging jacket stinking and requiring cleaning - some day.
To encourage my good feelings my laptop then started playing up. Going slow, offering things I did not want, not working, and not closing down either!
I vented my spleen and finally got it to switch off by pressing the start button, more regular methods not working. I got it back on, cleaned up/upgraded where I could, and now all appears tolerable.
The first really enjoyable music I can remember is Little Richard! My sister, being 11 year older than me, and my brother, being 10 years older, developed the habit of buying 'Rock 'n Roll' records, almost all '78s.' So we had all the good ones, Elvis, Tommy Steel and the like, and on one occasion, before 1958 when we obtain a 'Ferranti TV' we saw 'Wee Willy Harris' at the Edinburgh Empire Theatre. Willy was famous for his carrot coloured 'DA' style hair, quite something in the dull mid 1950s. I mind him on the stage, red hair, emerald green Edwardian 'Teddy Boy' jacket, and guitar. I loved it!
There was, and I think I may still have, a Little Richard EP. A fabulous device that played not one but four tracks! Wow, that was progress. The arrival of the TV set meant we no longer went to an occasional variety show, though these were killed off by tv anyway, so instead of red haired stars we had 'Wagon Train' and 'Popeye' instead. The noise of rock and roll was good however, whether primary school kids get the same feeling from Tasmin Swift I doubt.
The Beatles were the next major step in my musical education.
When you get to that age, between leaving primary school and beginning secondary, that is when music becomes important. Now some always have music, but for most of us at that time music speaks to 'our generation' in a way it will never do again.
I was lucky. My generation had the 'BBC Home Service,' from and for England, and also the 'BBC Light Programme' which played music. Luck regarding music was considerably less than the luck for the many genuinely funny comedy programmes of that time. Music was of a ballad type, Scots music appeared to be Kenneth McKellar and Moira Anderson alone, which was not good for adolescents discovering the Beatles, Rolling Stones, and seemingly masses of Blues music of one sort or another.
I mind standing at our stair door with a neighbour when one of his mates arrived. He asked if we had heard 'She Loves You,' by the Beatles, which of course we had, usually via Radio Luxemburg rather than the unwilling BBC. This record was really the one in my mind that made the Beatles. Two minor hits had come before this, but here they touched a nerve, something new, exciting and speaking to a generation sick of banal musical offerings on TV and Radio. This was the beginning of the musical revolution we hungered for.
One of the leading lights in the revolution was of course Bob Dylan.
The Beatles released something that was lying in the ether, and Bob, and much of the US music scene brought it out, whatever it was. In Vietnam war raged, a war few comprehended, a war that the US appeared to be losing. Worse, even the middle classes were being asked to send their son there, so opposition grew. Poor whites, Blacks and Indians could go, but not the middle class Americans who did not volunteer surely! The US mental outlook, hardened against the 'Commie threat' since 1947 was not appreciated by all the young during the late 60s. This generation had like us, grown up on winning the war against the Nazis, now the young sought a peaceful life, Vietnam, far away and unknown, especially to Americans, made no sense. 'Stop the War,' 'Get out of Vietnam,' 'Make Love not War,' became the cry in the US, UK and elsewhere. Protests abounded, but the war continued. Politicians and the people never do appear to be on the same side.
The music however, was good. US West Coast music abounded, 'Canned Heat' became a favourite of mine, 'Moody Blues,' 'Chicken Shack,' so many good groups available, though who could afford 6/8d for a single or 36/8d (£1 16 shilling and 8 pence) for an LP? So much music, so little money!
Then one day, when I was 20 or so years of age, a long time ago now, I chanced upon my brothers boxed set of classic records. You know the type of thing, 'Readers Digest Favourites' or some such. I played one of these boring old things and discovered 'Peer Gynt 'Morning Mood,'' and I was won over!
This is not the same recording, I do not know who that was, but it gives an idea of what I heard for the first time. From then on classical music was not the fuddy-duddy boring stuff forced upon us so often, instead it became something to enjoy. Like so many who thought classic music was for snobs I found it enjoyable, at least the nice bits, just as many were to do later with 'Classic FM. Now, I am more inclined to Radio 3 than to anything else.
The wind chilled the bones and the sky remained cloudy.
Today is totally different, it rained all day long!
I spent time yesterday clicking buttons to amend my Plusnet account to 'Full Fibre.'
This, as you know, gives a much better service - they say.
The thing is, we are all losing our landlines soon, this to make the entire country 'digital' and open to interference from China when war is declared. So landlines are removed, leaving those, especially old or disabled folks, in trouble, and the rest of us grabbing these 'special prices' to renew now.
These 'special prices' indicate government pushing and benefits accruing to Plusnet and other ISPs, though how I fail to understand.
One important point is informing the landlord. This I almost took for granted but the reply today reminded me this house is listed 'Grade II.' This will not affect the people in the flats round the back, but as I am on the front of the house care must be taken. Tsk!
So, next week work should begin, but as we are now awaiting a response from the council people we may have to postpone this for as while.
At least they have restored my speeds in the meantime as we wait....
I was very gallus today, I ventured across to the Public Gardens, a place I have not seen for a while. Once I was here early every morning, before the kiddies arrive. It may be I have not entered this place since cold November.
Once, this formed part of the garden on the Courtauld family. Then, as was their family way, they donated this half to the townspeople. Later, the house and the rest of the gardens became the High School. Public gardens were a very Victorian pleasure at the time. This explains the excellent layout, the huge Cedar trees, two in number, which dominate the green space, and the wide variety of trees and shrubs that were planted way back then.
What had been the gardeners cottage, built in the usual Courtauld 'Arts & Crafts' style, red brick with blue designs throughout, is now used as a coffee shop, partly to make money for the gardens, partly for old people to meet.
I avoided this.
The sky was blue, the east wind chilly, and few people were around. Even the kiddie play area was empty, though one or two passed by. Some healthy people even played amateurish tennis for some reason. That is, hitting the ball from one side to the other and going outside the large mesh fence to collect the balls gathering over there.
Under the towering Cedar we find this stone with added brass plate attached. The gardener might have been good at his job, however, he failed to indicate that planting such a tree under the Cedar meant it would not get as much light as required, hence the Oak does not reach as high as it may. It still lives mind, and is well taken care off. I wonder what happened to the old clerk?
The auto-focus on my pretend Leica kept annoying me. No matter which setting I chose it would wait until I was ready then blur the picture. I love technology! Almost by accident I found this wee flower in focus beside me. No idea what they are called, there is a sign somewhere but I could not be bothered looking, but I am once again in wonderment at such fragrant 'Lilies of the Valley,' here today and gone tomorrow, yet designed so well, so colourful, and so attractive. In a short time the gardens will be full of such things.
Of course I passed the war memorial. The wee crosses are lined up well. I knew one name, found I think two others, the other one may be a civilian 'killed by enemy action' elsewhere. In spite of everything people still remember correctly.
A very blurred picture of a 'Dunnock.' This, along with a young 'un and a Wren with tail in the air, were feeding ahead of me. These would not wait while I focused so snapshot at distance it was. Being close to midday most birds were elsewhere today, and I will not be there early when they come down for breakfast.
In Victorian fashion the Courtauld's were not afraid to leave signs indicating what they had done for the town. Indeed, this family gave schools, churches, doctors, houses and even a Hospital to the town. There has been many similar donations to the other towns where they established Mills. All this has been much appreciated.
There is zero chance of any Conservative Cabinet Millionaire doing similar today.
Cutting down an old tree and leaving it in an ordered disordered fashion has produced results. This area allows wildlife, some far too small to be seen, to thrive. I did not seek them out.
The Daffs may be out but the stark branches show that we are not yet fully into Spring. This means my Spring Cleaning may be left awhile, again...
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