Remembrance 2018

Remembrance 2018 followed the usual pattern however many more people wished to offer wreaths this year, possibly because of the centenary.  The meeting was therefore longer but most remained until the end.

I asked to take pictures of this man's medals.  So many covering a wide range of places servicemen  have been sent to in recent years.  He also has been awarded several long term medals also.  Such men risk their lives daily but we tend not to know about them.   

Then it was off to the parish church for a service.  I missed out having been involved this morning, two was acceptable not three!  Then as they participants gathered the piper played a lament.

Remembrance Continues

On Friday I sauntered out because the BBC Weather forecast was for gray clouds.  I took this picture from underneath one of the wonderful trees planted in the 1800's for one of the Courtauld's.  The public gardens were then part of his garden donated to the town amidst much celebration, fireworks plus bonfire and drinking I suspect.   The trees planted were many and various and the result was something the gardener responsible never saw which is a pity as they are marvellous.  They also keep the big black cloud that drops gallons of water on people at bay.  Interesting how the man driving the grass cutter went faster as the rain got heavier.

This morning, minus rain, I went to the main parish church where a war exhibition was on.  One interesting aspect was putting these notes, each of a name from the war memorial, on the pews.  This brings home to people the cost of war and how it affected the town.  An excellent idea.  Another good idea was the show of pictures and letters from relatives of those who attend the church being put on display.  Many survived, one in five remember died during 14-18, and the letters give an insight concerning those who were there.  The stiff upper lip is rare today as is the normal practice of the terms 'Mother' or 'Father' for parents, we are more informal today.

I thought it a wonderful display with a wide variety of items covering all sides in the war.  The rat sniffing at the tins of 'Bully beef' was a nice touch and I was glad no lice were running free at the time, if there were I suspect tomorrows service will be interesting. 

 This I found interesting, it is a field kitchen.  A Frenchman invented this during the Crimean war (that's 1854 to you) and it has been in use ever since.  This one was made in the early 50's and they were used until recently when other means are employed.  The MOD keeps a store of them in reserve still.  A simple yet effective means of heating a large amount of stew/soup or whatever is lying around.  The wood goes in the hole at the side, the soup in the top where a large removable pot contains the goods and the smoke goes up the chimney, simple and effective, all great inventions are always simple.  This belongs to one of the church goers at this church, he has a Nissen hut, a trench and a wide variety of other war material at home.  I must visit one day!  Good job his lovely wife shares his enthusiasm!

 
As expected there is a window given to commemorate the men who fell, donated by a local worthy who spent much of his money on the town and worked hard as a councillor, and he was a powerful one, to improve things.  These days rich people keep their money to themselves.

Rushing home slowly through the centre I found the British Legion stand was still there from yesterday.  This time a lass sang, and sang very well, songs from the 40's to accompany the people ignoring her, not counting the mother dancing with a toddler.  I chatted with one of our 'heroes' for a while and with another who was there yesterday.  These ex-army men, who fought no war, just army bureaucracy and senior officers, were a delight to talk to.  A great many people of all ages were interested.

One of the men had created these models, you cannot see the legs sticking out from under the tank unfortunately, but I thought them a wonderful piece of work.

A wonderful collection.  Mind you I sometimes wonder about those that collect weapons.  These men understand them, they have personal meaning to them but there are others who one sometimes regards as somewhat barmy and it may be best they don't have weapons on them, even broken ones.  Back home to discover more people asking info on their great uncle or whatever.  There is a joy in discovering a connection to a name on a memorial, a strange joy but I understand this.  There may be more in days to come.  Tomorrow it is St Paul's remembrance service, I have supplied some info, and then the town gathering at the memorial in the afternoon.   You might read about that tomorrow...

Research...

With the rain dampening spirits outside it is good to sit around this grubby, unswept, somewhat littered accommodation and rest my weary bones.  It has been a bit trying physically as I have been attempting to cycle, exercise and work and now wish not to do anything far from the laptop.  
Yesterday was a busy time at the museum.  The shop has begun to attract the browsing fraternity, the ones who come in, touch, feel, hum, hah!, and wander around the shop and walk out without buying.  There is also those who do buy, we smile at them, and many who came in yesterday for one of our many local books or to ask a query of some sort.  I ended up with several queries yesterday some of which could be answered.  I was a little irked that one photo of a local man has turned out not to be who we thought it was.  The cap badge looked good but on closer inspection it is clear he was from the Northamptonshire regiment.  This irked me when I discovered their regimental museum was under the control of the council who were rebuilding the museum in which it was stored and are not taking any queries until work is completed in 2020!  While I understand this it is not helpful!

A film show in the afternoon was bringing in around 50 people.  This was film a local man took on 8mm from the 60's till he died some years ago, many come to see this and look for themselves in the picture!  By person or by phone they came all morning, interrupting my work, I have nearly finished that book now.   Over all it was a good day, I never argued with anyone, folks from a wide area, including the States, passed through sort of happy, and those that went round the museum had  a good time in spite of the mess created by changing from one exhibition to another.  Of course I never got my tea until 11:30 and with people coming in it was tepid by the time I got to it!  

One chap informed me of his relation to a name on one of the memorials and just had to tell someone.  His great uncle was killed at Arras and this sent me searching more info on him and where he fell.  Another attack that succeeded until it failed and they fell back somewhat daunted.  Arras was a battle the British forces won but in the southern end they face the strongest German defences and lost out.  General Allenby was replaced after this and sent to the Middle East. Some say Sassoon had Allenby in mind with this poem.

The General

By Siegfried Sassoon

“Good-morning, good-morning!” the General said

When we met him last week on our way to the line.

Now the soldiers he smiled at are most of 'em dead,

And we're cursing his staff for incompetent swine.

“He's a cheery old card,” grunted Harry to Jack

As they slogged up to Arras with rifle and pack.

But he did for them both by his plan of attack.    
Poetry Foundation

Sabbath Tale.

The Last 100 Days Battle is continuing tonight.  In the distance explosions abound and more will follow later I suspect.  There were plenty of fireworks last night and I suspect a few tomorrow also the weather will be mild and fire crews overworked.  It does enhance the remembrance events however, one thing never absent during the war was noise.  Noise from big guns and the rushing of shells overhead, noise from explosions, machine guns rattle and rifle patter adding to the screams and yells form men all around.  The silence after eleven on the day war ended surprised many. 
Having a baptism at church this morning gave us an idea of warfare in a different manner, hundreds of children appeared, at least there may not have been hundreds but it sure felt like it.  Screams and shouts, yells and laughter, lots of laughter, and fun all around.  This would never have happened in the church I went to as a child!

Amazon

How churches once were is found deep into this H.V.Morton book.  Morton travelled around Scotland (possibly during 1927/8 as the book is published 1929) and at one point high in the highlands he comes across a Scottish Sabbath!  This he found was a strange place for a Londoner.  He foolishly walked across the street expecting the chemist to sell him goods even though the village was shut up.  Through a slightly opened door the chemist refused as it was not life or death.  Later he saw the man dressed in black frock coat, black hat, black gloves carrying a black bible heading solemnly towards the Kirk, as indeed did everyone else, all similarly dressed.  I suspect there was no music, just a prompt from the front as they sung through the psalms, solemnly.  This reminded me of a tale of a young man being taken dressed in a kilt, his father was an army officer, towards an Edinburgh church.  The town was quiet, little if any traffic in 1914, and as they passed they greeted those heading to similar churches as themselves which studiously ignoring those heading elsewhere. Ah the delight of the religion of 'agape!'  To be honest it is only in the last fifty years such walls have come down and churches, as here in this town, work together much more.  The baptism shows a clear divide between the regular attenders at this place and those who rarely touch churches, the visitors come dressed neatly for church, the regulars have a 'come as you are approach' and this is not always neatly dressed!  Still, the ten pence pieces dropped in the bag as it passes by always helps.  
Morton tends to be a bit dramatic in his writing.  The tales were put into the newspaper he worked for and worked up into a book and he had both audiences in mind as he wrote.  Hence we see him finding tales from long ago in the borders, ghosts and weird happenings that probably never happened mixed in with historical accuracy.  At each stop he finds a story from the past, often intriguing, all to often a bit romantic, but well worth a read.  In Edinburgh, Glasgow, Skye and Aberdeen he roves around revealing something of the country in the period after the war, a war in which he participated and as such recognises old soldiers and the power of the new war memorials that abound by his time.  Not long after this of course the great depression settled in bringing with it another war.  The book is an interesting insight into the period, the accents, very strong then, and attitudes of the time.  It would be hard to enjoy a quiet walk in Skye these days when thousands of tourists clad in brightly coloured expensive anoraks fill the hills and ruin the experience they seek.

The Battle of Arras is continuing to the north, the Somme to the East and I am told Passchendale erupt at eight round the rugby club.  I may take to bed soon...

Friday Frippary

I finally got fed up awaiting Hermes collecting the returned goods and took myself off down the road for the long walk to the sub post office where I knew I would get a smile from the lassie there.
Naturally she was not there and I was faced with an overworked individual who I do not know, the regular couple were off it appears, who took the package anyway.  They have a small post office section used for after hours mail, good idea.   I informed the sender who did not care as they probably had the goods written off by now and being Friday were looking at the clock.  I care not, it has gone and I am happy to be rid of it.

The third world war war heard beginning outside tonight, Monday is fireworks night so people have been practising at great expense for days, tonight an artillery barrage occurred not far to the north east, I expect even more tomorrow.  I ought to be reading about the war when these things go off, it gives a decent backing noise but without the screams of course.  I am glad I don't have a pet at times like this.

   
Having spent an enjoyable evening listening to loud 'Canned Heat' and 'Joe Cocker' music, there is no football tonight which is a disgrace, I am no easing my ears with Gesualdo.  Very nice it is too.

I hope you enjoy it also.

Edinburgh Changes the World.

Edinburgh, 'Scotias Darling,' sits high and mighty upon the castle rock, a symbol of strength and power if ever there was one.  Like so many symbols it is of course untrue.  Not only in the last hundred years has such an edifice become useless is major wars it was also found to be ineffective in holding back the forces of 'Bonny Prince Charlie' back in 1745.  That was the year Charles attempted, rather badly to retake the throne of Scotland and England for his father James.  This Jacobite rebellion went as successfully as the others with Charlie eventually taken over the seas to Skye dressed as a woman and rowed there by another, Flora MacDonald.  This conflict, such as it was, the last proper British 'civil war' ended badly but left a deep scar on Edinburgh and the rest of Scotland.
In 1707 the parliament was stolen by deceit and removed to Westminster, Scotland's few Members of that house to small in number and for the most part forced to the sidelines, could do little there.  Edinburgh, deprived of parliament and the hangers on that followed in its wake, died a death and economic collapse was real for many years.
Following the rebellion various attempts are stimulating the city were aroused with many becoming very strongly attached to London.  Even the Kirk was divided with many younger men looking south for reasons of their own and many others looking south and also to France and the so called 'age of reason.'  Men such as David Hume wished to remove power from the Kirk, a power it had wielded since the reformation, and replace this with reason, in his case of course 'his reason.'  Many went along with him, few who attended church then as in many other years were actually believers, most just stayed out of trouble, and a great many of the 'educated' wished to investigate 'reason.'  Hume went so far as to try to teach Edinburgh people to speak 'English' so as to improve their chances in the world.  Not all went along with this as a walk down the High Street today would prove.  Then came Adam Smith with his fancy ideals of trade.  These ideas appealed to Margaret Thatcher even if she missed out his bit about caring for the weak in society.  It appears he wished to encourage trade but allow the cash to flow around so the poor were not left behind.  Margaret heard the bit about profit but not the bit about the poor, 'trickle down theory' was just another way of keeping all the cash to themselves, as today's Conservative cabinet prove. 
Edinburgh did take advantage of what was n offer and men like George Drummond made the most of things.  The 'New Town' was laid out, the 'Mound' created as a way of transport there and back, the 'Bridges' erected and the 'Nor Loch' drained, thus the Edinburgh we know came into being even if the progress was slow and the rich preferred to live to the south of the city and not the north.
This book by James Buchan was published in 2004, I wish I had read it at school!  I learned things, many things, about Edinburgh I did not know.  How ignorant I was of the growth of the city and the people behind it.  How stupid of schools not to teach so much more about our city.  Much was taught, but there again the class I was in contained many who found spelling 'Edinburgh' pretty difficult so maybe it is understandable.  
This was a good book, with insights into people and events I knew not.  Many things I understood and those living there would comprehend the place much better with reading this book.  It must be said some of the philosophical ideas were not just boring but a weariness to read, but that goes with the study I suppose.  This was one of those books you just cannot put down, so I didn't.

   
Sometimes we have young folks studying for appropriate degrees in museum studies, their hope being to end up running the British Museum or some such.  I see it as my duty to ensure they realise that such exciting work comes with sitting at a computer entering details hour after hour, precision being a must and only after that actually setting out museums, creating exhibitions and meeting the public can be contemplated.  Another aspect is kids work.  Yesterday morn I spent a wonderfully exciting time preparing these cut outs for the kids.  Quite what they do with them I did not ask, I just went ahead while in between searching the web for info for the lass who will be going to a local school soon.  Two of us eventually sat then chopping things up, searching the web, weaving occurred in Egypt at least 500 BC did you know?  And all the time we sat there people came in to disturb us.  Some to enter there names for events, some to bring in Christmas raffle tickets before we knew they had gone out, one couple to bring the granddaughter to see the museum.  And the phone kept ringing also.  We were so busy time to go home came before I knew it.   It was a good day mind.

Monday Meeting

Monday saw me hobble down to the museum for one of our quarterly meetings.  I would much rather have stayed in bed.  I am so weary for some reason, overwork is not responsible, and coffee does not work.
It was not going to be a happy day, the door was locked, no-one was answering.  This meant enter by the back door at the far end of the building, this too was locked.  Thus I went moodily the long way round through the cafe and entered the premises.  Here I dumped my ragged coat, claiming a decent seat at the front so I could hear what was being said this time around, and walked back the whole length of the building to get myself a Poppy from our collection box, we always have one and I want to use ours to help the profits.  
Returning the long way back, worn out and unloved but without complaining I graciously took my seat beside a new woman of whom I now little.  Gossip continued, I had not been noticed, and then we began what I suspected would be a long meeting.  If the big boss is there he takes an hour to answer a question, speaking in those well trained 'council' type statements which mean a great deal but actually say nothing.  There were also suspects who I could see liked to talk and discuss things that need no words but get them anyway.

Someone must have been reading one of those management books that have ruined many an office with fancy practices and we were split into small groups, even though there were only 10 of us lackeys present, and told to offer suggestions on ways to improve things.  I offered cut out this sort of thing when I am brain dead, but this was rejected on a technicality as apparently that was not unusual.  So suggestions were written down and offered to the leadership who swallowed hard and made a note of each one while we watched even the good ideas disappear into the litter bin. 
Suggestions made we then were informed of the museums comments made re the new building soon to be erected opposite the museum.  (This is one of the top council man's desperate idea to waste money and build an unsuitable building in that spot for reasons unknown.  This has been going on for over 20 years.)  This led to comments from one gentleman among us who has a bee in his bonnet re this building, not me, and we then had a stand of between council educated boss and slow speaking and always questioning without listening opponent.  I watched the clock and considered what to eat later.
Some time later we were informed of the next daft exhibition which I consider a waste but she who must be obeyed considers will bring in the crowds.  Indeed crowds of art types with their middle class art love and little comprehension of real life.  Not that I am one to complain as we could do a small exhibition for the armistice but she 'had not the time.'  A mistake I feel.  Two talks and a blog by me is not enough I consider.
The future plans were mentioned and I was ridiculed as the kids exhibition next year is appropriate for me but unfortunately as the acoustics are bad I have no idea what the exhibition is about or what they were laughing and pointing at me about.  I may not sleep tonight.

As the meeting slowly ground to a close, all hoping he in the corner would not interject again, I noticed the time.  It was also noticed that the clock had not been turned back as it ought and we were not an hour overdue as I thought but on time, just in time to get out before it gets dark!
The boss revealed his management efficiency by taking the large clock down and checking the time carefully turned the hands to 25 minutes past the hour.  Sadly he had turned the hands the wrong way and put it forward an hour showing us why his two girls grumble about him at home!
I then limped off through the town enjoying the bright sun and freezing wind, almost wandering into Tesco out of habit, and gratefully made it home to my warmish nest.  Tomorrow I am off out again to the museum for the weekly duty, then going back later for a get together to celebrate 25 to the day that the museum opened.  Red wine, cake and most of us scrubbed up a wee bit and maybe a few old faces returning, not that we lack 'old faces' already of course.  

Nothing planned after that.

Sunday Sabbath, Full of Joy

The Sabbath night draws to a close.  
I set my face this morning to avoid mirth, put on my darkest outfit, my black frock coat, clenched a black bible firmly in my hand and unsmilingly went forth to celebrate the joy of the Lord.  How terrible I thought to see people smiling and rejoicing in the sunshine, at least the sunshine between rain that is.  Women wore bright colours, though on occasion not as bright as some young men were wearing, dogs were being walked and children were heard laughing in the park opposite, cars were being driven and shops were open.  It appears some people were turning the Lords day into a day of joy, surely that should be stopped?

Actually it was not quite like that.  
The sun and rain was correct however, with added wind chill.  The church was full of happy people even though I was called upon to do the reading which featured men being circumcised with flint knives.  Instead of saying 'This is the word of the Lord,' all I could say after reading that bit was 'Amen!'  A glance around the congregation revealed men in uncomfortable positions.  No-one questioned the mistake I made, showing how knowledgeable this lot are, nor the use of flint knives. Knives made of flint are probable sharper than those in most kitchens and around 1200 BC they were used to making them so they would be precision tools.  It was all about getting ready to serve Gods purpose and preparing to be one nation together and all of one heart or something along that line.  We were all rather happy afterwards, relief I suppose!  

All week my knees have been irking me and today was no exception, for much of the week I have done little and been out only occasionally.  Having Saturday indoors was boring, no football, so I forced myself out twice the second time to see the fancy exciting market.  It was not that exciting. 
As Christmas shopping demands increase more market stalls will appear as entrepreneurs set up to make a killing with their home made delights.  My delight is finishing the shopping, writing the cards and having all lined up waiting to go.  Just one or two odds and ends to finish off nearer the time.  
I am preparing the smug grin for when people inform me how difficult shopping at Christmas can be. I am happy to be ignored and despised, I'm used to it.

What a difference winter makes when it arrives.  Curtains drawn, heater on, electric light instead of natural window light, the atmosphere changes completely.  Only a few decades ago candles and oil lamps were prevalent in so many dwellings, especially those far from big cities.  This town still had gas street lighting someone claimed until 1956 a claim I have yet to confirm.  It does seem unlikely but it is possible.  Some people find this atmosphere 'cosy' others find it like a prison.  Either way it is different and already I am looking forward to December 21st when the nights begin to get shorter.
The season also offers one advantage that of the clocks changing by going back one hour, a very good idea but spoiled by my body clock not being aware of this and waking me at the usual and now wrong time.  Few people appear to have been caught out and it is early in the year when the clocks change that mistakes are made, as I once found out.  Now we endure the ghastly needless Halloween followed by total Christmas shop desperation until financial suicide and Brexit sorry Christmas arrive.  Hopefully the second referendum on that arrives soon after Christmas, although I would be happy to have one now, well at least in the legal six weeks time.  That would be fun!