Solstice Again

 

 A local Tavern

 

Yes it's the winter solstice once again.  The time of year to celebrate the end of Autumn and the beginning of Winter.  The good thing is that with global warming we will be sunning ourselves this winter, according to those scientists who inform us of the melting ice caps and the movement of the Jet Stream.  Of course this means we may drown as the seas rise up, the land becomes overcrowded, crops cannot grow and the rich grab all they can to themselves.  So not much change then?  But at least we will freeze in a warmer cold snap.

At least the days now get longer, which means the fog/mist/cloud that covers the land will arrive a bit earlier than normal.  Oh goody!  It does mean that with the solstice, Christmas, New Year over we can all look forward to Spring, which will arrive in due course, stuttering into view with added snowstorms as usual.  

It is no wonder people celebrate the solstice.  Way back before your grandmother was born man knew the times of the year, but did not know how to work a laptop and write this down for us.  Instead he built Stonehenge like creations to watch the sun come up or go down.  His maths was wonderful even if he could not spell.  How people must have looked forward to the end of the winter season, especially if they were living around the time of glaciers arriving in Essex.  They say the road I am living on, indeed this side of the street, had a ramp of earth all the way along to the corner, which once was considered a defensive structure but in fact was caused by the ice age stopping right here under my desk.  That explains why it gets so cold in here.

Hunters and gatherers would understand well the seasons.  They knew where to find fruits and various edibles and when they would be appearing.  Healthy organic feeding was the order off the day, of course they were dead by the time they were thirty!  Later the first farmers must have rejoiced as the seasons turned.  They would look forward to the joys of ploughing, seeding, and resting before the harvest.  Today we know nothing of hard work in comparison to farmers of old.  Vast farm fields, vast machines, and vast companies do not offer a romantic view of farming today, though after Brexit farming is now a dead duck in the UK.  

The turn of the year always brought a chance to get together with friends.  In the far past tribes from many areas would congregate together, eat, drink, and be merry and ensure the marriages between tribes could occur.  In England the 12 days of Christmas were one of the only holidays available to people.  Occasional Holy Days occurrred but most just got plastered at the Christmas Celebration.  How much of Christ was in this can be guessed.  One theory is that some Christians brought in Christmas, the 'Christ Mass,' and worked out the date of December 25th as Jesus birthday (Based on the assumption (see what I did there?) that Mary conceived on March 25th) and 9 months later it was Dec 25th.  Hmmm...   

Anyway, the Reformation in Scotland ended that in the north.  No mention of Christmas in scripture, so it was dropped, though he obviously arrived as both Matthew and Luke mention this event.  England however, continued their debauchery for the 12 days and more for many years.  It has not ended as yet around this area as far as I can see, and No 10 Downing Street not only continues the pleasuring but repeats it over and over, no matter what Covid is doing to the public outside, and then deny this.   

Scotland of course forgot about Christmas but managed to enjoy the New Year, and the Kirk did not appear to notice, and since 1956, or was it 1958, Christmas and New Year have been an excuse for drunken, rowdy, behaviour as if they needed an excuse!

My Puritan Christmas will be less exciting, and as we face a type of LockDown immediately after Christmas life will not change a great deal for a while.  The latest bug has worried Boris, though to be honest there is a growing thought that this time he really is on the way out.  I wonder what rabbit he can pull out of this hat?  Consider this for Christmas, if he goes, we may have Liz Truss as Prime Minister soon.

Pray!

 

 

Silly Old Fool

 

It was not just the world outside that suffered from fog this morning.  Rising early, carefully gathering all required for the trip to church, taking one of those free 'Flow Tests' that the council have given out, breakfasting according to the days activities and then, in good time, plodding off in good order towards the Kirk.

Naturally, the chill in the breeze did not waken me, nor the several people met on the pavements, pavements narrowed by the overgrown hedges, worn areas caused by cars to driving over, and various items left by passersby and their mutts.  None woke me from my slumbers as I plodded on.

It was as I almost reached the Kirk that I woke up and remembered the heater.

I had plugged it in at 7:30 to warm the air.  I was so busy organising myself that I forgot to unplug it as I left.  This heater now sits under my desk, warming my feet and while safe enough with me beside it allowing it to burn free  while  I was out was not desirable.  Grrrrrr!  I expect all would be safe, but it was a risk I could not take and so in the church I dumped the Christmas cards for the masses, explained myself, and hobbled back home.

It was 25 or so minutes later I clambered up the stair, entered a very warm living room and unplugged the brute!  So then it was too late to return, my dinner put to the test, and I sat annoyed at the silly old fool who could not remember something as simple as unplugging the heater!  Bah!

Another thought did cross my head however.  The Christmas cards in church.  In times past we laid them on the table and people added their own to the pile.  Each collected their own while adding to others.  All well and good, children excited to see how many they collect, adults hoping they would not get one from people they had forgotten!  Covid has ended this!  Now, to stop the spread, we must meet one another face to face and hand them the card.  Hmmm... I wonder if this is a safer method?  

Anyway, good news!  A call from one of my women at lunchtime, she and her man will collect me tonight to ensure I get to the Carol Service.  This saves me another hobble there and back.  How nice of them, I hope I put a card for them in amongst that pile...

 

The day ended well.  Being collected and delivered back afterwards was a great pleasure.  I think I could allow this to happen weekly if I thought I could get away with it.  

The usual straight forward Carol service, usual songs, usuall readings and usual unknown people arriving never to be seen again.  Some new people have arrived recently and remained however.  The only annoying thing is the need to stand and sing, sit and then stand, sit and then stand... by the end I am worn out!  

I think I will suggest changes for next year...      

 

 

Up and Down the Stairs

 

I awoke to fog this morning, I suppose I ought to have shut the window last night, and faced the day bravely with my eyes closed.  Having had to turn away a visitor yesterday because the place was in a mess, I had no choice but to clean today.  After a sparse breakfast of cereal and instant cappuccino I began to fall asleep again.  However, the need for bread, and being Friday a busy day, forced me to Sainsburys early.  Now last week folks were wandering around maskless, almost the majority cared not about masks.  Today, after stern warnings from Billy (I'm not responsible and I was not at the party) Bunter, concerning the latest virus all were forced to wear masks. As I was packing the bag and about to pay the lass had the temerity to ask me to lift the mask higher, I drop it as it steams up my glasses, I pretended not to hear, cashed the card, and headed home.  Masked people were all around and shocked I was to see this as many were happy to be unmasked only yesterday!  Do people really think the virus has gone away?  Did they not read about the sick in the NHS?  Do they trust the main stream media?  What is wrong with people?

What is wrong with me was the need to clean the loo, the kitchen and hoover, let alone the other things that required doing, next week.  Fair wore me out and it is not yet Christmas.

This has been a tiring week.  Several times a day I have been up and down the stairs, postman, deliveries for me, deliveries for next door, recycling out and having to explain to a white van man where he ought to be (a hundred yards that way), more deliveries, and up and down stairs.  Even a dodgy fellow with a tray of goodies seling things door to door.  This has happened before and I am still unsure if it is a con or not.  It reminded me of the various Indians that once brought dusters and pipe cleaners round the doors, mum always bought something from them.  Some of those men became millionaires, others estabished good shops and businesses.  I wonder what this lad was up to and where he will end up?  

My goods were not gifts, they were memory sticks.  I realised mine were, er, overloaded, and swapped things around with the new ones, only to find I needed more and more!  Then after they arrived I needed a colour ink for the printer so Amazon was back again, different driver, just as lost, and now I am determined not to spend anything more until after Christmas.

Oh, look at the books on the WOB website...  

Gyles: Odd Boy Out

                                                  Waterstones

 

This is a big book.  A great many pages all reflecting the authors ability to 'talk until the cows come home' and probably, never repeat the same story, and always find the author in the middle of it.  

As always with Gyles we see a man who is the centre of attention on every page.  From childhood on he seeks the limelight, fantasising about theatrical talent, writing fame, and whatever else comes his way.  He is off to be someone.

His schoolmates often indicate he is somehwat conceited, full of himself and talks too much, about himself!  To be fair to Gyles he admits this, one of his redeeming aspects is his honesty regarding his outward appearance.  

This book covers his life from birth, his parents, sisters who he hardly sees, his childhood spent mostly on his own, happily I must say.  Some of us were a bit like that also in the days when we could get about safely and avoid social workers and the like fearing for us when we were perfectly happy.

Gyles does have talent, courage to push himself forward amongst the people who can help him upwards as a theatrical, a writer, or whatever idea is going through his head.  There is no doubt he has talent.  

His fancy schooldays amongst the upper middle classes tells us much about life in the 50's.  I suppose that tells us much about the changes for good or ill since.  Gyles makes it to Oxford, that seat of learning where the entire place is staffed by professors of various talent, almost all of whom are degenerates of one sort or another.  I must admit that having read the Oxford pages I wanted to rush away to one of Glasgow's rougher parts just to meet people of higher moral standards and more honesty!  I suspect it is no different today.  Note: Cambridge has never produced a Prime Minister, Oxford has produced many, including the Billy Bunter who is there at the moment.  That makes clear the standard of education required.    

By the end of the book the reader is well aware of Gyles ability to talk about himself, show off his many talents and be a pain.  His wife also is well aware of this and according to his comments frequently brings him down to earth.  She looks good and sounds the right type of woman.  However, it is clear that while Gyles claims almost everyone he meets is a friend, and usually a good friend, he does come across as a likeable pain in the neck, as anyone listening to 'Just a Minute' on Radio 4 will agree.   

Loud, noisy, full of himself, knowledgeable, and even entertaining.  I was bored at times by this book, however, I suspect I will seek out the next one when he gets around to scribbling it.  

Old TV

                                              Pure Energy

I was reading Max the other day and he brought back memories of the days of long ago, back when it was 'always now' and the days longer, sunnier and energy never lacked, until nasty parents forced you unwillingly inside to feed and push you to a far too early bedtime. 

Not that you could get up in the morning mind.

Max spoke about the TV of the 50's and that brought to mind the old 'Ferranti' tv that we obtained, by rental, from either 'Currys' or the 'Leith Provident' (who, being a 'Co-op' gave a dividend!).  This model found here on 'Pure Energy' is very like the one that arrived in 1958 in the corner of our house.

The programme on while the TV was being installed was 'The Army Game,' a comedy set in an army barracks laughing at what life the majority of men, and many women, had endured during the war only a dozen years before.  

In those far off days, much further far off than I would like, there was a choice of two TV stations, BBC and STV.  I cannot mind the actual numbers but I think to change from one channel to another meant getting up, turning the dial from '10' to '8,' then standing back to ensure the picture was not rolling up or down.  This meant playing with the knobs at the rear until the picture settled.

However, as Max reminded us we had such fine Historical dramas to entertain us as kids, 'The Lone Ranger,' 'Gunsmoke,' and many John Wayne westerns.  I remember 'Robin Hood' and 'William Tell,' all with dynamic leading men, a woman who did little, fast action, dramatic music, and an audience of millions around the nation.

It was many years before we realised the actual 'History' offered in such programmes was nil!  By the mid 60's, once we were all at work, we realised the 'Wild West' was not fought with 'Colt 45's' blasting Indians (now called by white middle classes 'Native Americans,' though they all had their own tribal nation names anyway), Indians who fell off their horses, always forward, and by the dozen, at the firing one one bullet from a man looking backwards while riding a horse at the gallop!  

As for 'Robin Hood' and 'William Tell,' well!  

The BBC at the time had a high reputation for journalism, especially after the war when the Beeb had stood up to government pressure, Winston wanted to take it over Geobells style, and gave as honest a news service as possible without giving away secrets.  The new style news programmes such as 'Tonight' which offered decent, popular much liked presenters, interesting and often humerous reports from around the nation, as well as more serious topics in a sensible manner.  Cliff Michelmore and Fyffe Robertson became household names, and not like the 'celebs' of today.  

TV started in the evenings only, Scotland did have the 'One o'Clock Gang' in which Larry Marshall and his gang offered repeats of jokes told many times before, as well as a song or two, also repeated often.

The afternoons may have featured the boring black and white coverage (all was black and white until the early 70's) of cricket, that most boring of games, that was made more boring by being in black and white, with Peter West, a racist Englishman who did not like Scotland, commentating in a frightfully English manner.  I went out and played football night after night like the majority of schoolboys and ignored such appaling TV.

However, some programmes were unmissible.  'Hancock's Half Hour,' which on radio had 25 million listening weekly transferred to TV and the audience followed.  Imagine 25 million watching any programme today other than the World Cup Final!  The result was conversation the next day which always began with the TV from the night before.  The nation had something to keep them together, although TV also helped divide them.  

The 1956 Suez crisis would have been seen by many on TV news.  This brought a sharp division and soon a new Prime Minister, Harold MacMillan.  He was one who could make use of TV and was keen to do so.  A new situation arose, words on radio were no longer good enough to get elected, you had to look the part, not just sound it.  Many were slow to accept this. 

Today, TV is something I never watch.  The output on 50 Free channels is usually vile, tepid, repetitious or banal.  I watch football via the laptop and occasional programmes only, I miss nothing.  Few can converse regarding last nights TV as almost all watch different poor quality trash.  Many young folks are on video games, older folks also, and music means more to young than TV.  The BBC, especially in these last dozen years, has failed to report in a journalistic manner.  UK news is tainted with Tory propaganda, ITV and Sky follow suit, social media is the way to get news today.  Boris and his cabal already own the major press, now they have quieted the TV output.  Whoever owns the major news, press, TV and radio, can keep the people under.  The majority, though suspicious, will never react in the hope they can survive and not get blamed. 

 

Wiki

'Keeping the Lights On.'

 

 

‘Keeping the Lights on’ by David Craig, describes the joys and difficulties experienced when following the calling of God to lead and build a church. In fact two churches are here built and both are still going strong. 

Having known the author and his young wife for fifty years I loved watching again their successes and shared once again the many heartbreaks endured. Nothing is without trouble in this life, church leaders know this too well, they too share the same problems, difficulties and joys following Jesus brings.

Beginning as a History of the last 30 years the book has developed more into a mix of biography, History and instruction to young men faced with the ‘Call’ to build a church. From the cold north in Aberdeen, via well paid employment in Edinburgh and moving abroad to England and the London Bible College David is always honest about the doubts, fears, financial woes encountered, as well as the joy of provision from a God who never forgets his people.

The first church ‘Westbourne Grove Baptist Church’ as was at the time, ‘The Grove,’ to all who have known it, began with a congregation of 14 members! This really was the last shot! Several years of bible exposition, personal counselling and a great many bacon sandwiches at the ‘Manse’ led to an increase in numbers, around 65 or so, and a sense of ‘Love’ that remained long after they had left. That is ‘Love,’ not the sentimental hush that so often represents ‘love,’ today.

The Call to Bournemouth and a slightly larger church followed. Similar hard work, personal discussion, bible based teaching, personal seeking after God for the congregation followed. Again hard work, much prayer, and by prayer we mean listening to God not reeling of a shopping list like I do, brought a numerical increase, a number of fellow leaders for the growing organisations, and the a powerful ‘renewal’ for the church. ‘Renewals’ during the 80’s and 90’s often caused much pain, Satan worked marvellously to insert hate on many occasions, I experienced this myself twice, but the church in Bournemouth pulled through by making every effort at keeping the ‘agape’ between all concerned alive.

The author does not hide failures or personal crisis, indeed such honesty encourages belief in Gods work. Good times and bad follow as the church seeks to follow Jesus, this book makes this clear.

There are pages of description regarding the practical requirements that will benefit many building churches today. Experience learned the hard way is always good. The end result after 30 years and retirement (do preachers ever ‘retire?’) was a church now settled in an old cinema, a building suitable for the 500 or more no members of the church.

Both churches had connections to mission work overseas, the home church made sure these people far off and often in difficult situations were not forgotten. Social media of course helps here today. This along with the many connections the those around the church continue, and will continue unabated as long as these churches thrive.

Advice to young pastors includes the requirement to spend time with God alone daily, to spend time with wife and children daily, and especially to take time off before burn out and destruction arrives. The need to pray regularly with elders and leaders is stressed, as is communication to one and all when required. The whole church must pray, not just the leaders. House groups and prayer groups must be used when possible. The church must lean on the God who called, not individuals own ideas. We can trust the Father to make known his will.

One thing is clear, without his wife David could never have succeeded. Her willingness to support the work, indeed the development of her many gifts in prayer and counselling the women in the church, her support, and often rebuke, we have all endured that, enabled David to finish his calling. He could not have done this without his wife Maureen.

This book is easy to read, informative, full of the daily stresses and joys of church building and a credit to both David and Maureen and to the Lord who called, enabled and provided all the way through. I recommend it.

 

Confusion

 

My Day: So Far...

 

Dreich Day

 Dreich day.  The picture sums it up.

Slumber

So I went to sleep.

I placed my head on the pillow, pulled the blankets up over my head and sought slumber.

By quarter part midnight, or one and a half hours later, I was awake.  

Soon sleep returned.

Then an hour later I woke, my right arm indicating pain, I turned over.

Fortyfive minutes later Iwas awake, I could not breathe, no air.  Window opened slightly to the cold fog outside and I dozed again.

Thirty minutes later I had to turn over again.  

My left leg hurt, pain in the thigh turn back again.

An hour later a slammed door as neighbours mate left for home woke me, and I think half the town also.

I was tired enough to soon return to sleep. 

Then a headache woke me.

Soon it was once again sleep.

Then the arm again gave pain so it was turn over time.

By 3:45 am I was again awake,the other leg had decided cramp was in order.

Sleep.

Five minutes past four and it's off to the loo.

No sleep.

Turn this way and that.

Listen to radio iplayer.

No sleep.

Radio off.

Thoughts crowd in, all bad.

The world and my faults pile up in front off me.

No sleep.

Radio again, nothing worth listening to.

No sleep.

It is five am, the street lights have come on again.

No sleep.

The radio bores me, music does not fit the mood, worries about the day ahead, all false, pile in.

The radio drones on, men crossing the Sahara desert for fun!

Suddenly it is five past six in the morning, cars move about outside.

I cannot return to sleep.

More radio.

Turn this way, that hurts, turn that way, that hurts.

Almost seven in the morning.

No chance of sleep now.

I glance at clock it says 7:48!!!

I attempt to rise.

I glance at clock, it says 8:17!!...

I rise, and for some reason are grumpy all day...

Afternoon Booster!

 

 

 

Another day, another jab!  This time it is the 'Booster.'  This one Boris is desperate for people to have in the hope less die and he does not get the blame if they do.  I suppose with 140,000 dead, 489 while he was having an illegal party, and today a total of 115 children dead, there is enough problems for him to ignore and buckpass to get on with.

So off I hobbled, rushing to get there in time for the appointed hour.  I need not have bothered!  This jab is given by a church organsation, and well organised they are.  However, with one thing and another there was a queue, quite a long queue, all muttering about 'Booked Times' and standing outside waiting in the dark.  Most obeyed and understood, some objected, and those working there were  indicating that they were all volunters giving their time freely for this, which pacified some grumblers.  I suppose we are all so used to having what we want when we want it and not happy to wait. 

 

I ought to mention that I did not enter either of these public houses, I was just trying the wee camera on night shots, and not very successful sadly.  The blurring shows it is not up to such things but as I want some night shots I may have to try again with the big camera. 

I felt very weary from last weekend on, and I wonder if the Flu jab was responsible?  So I await any reaction to this 'Booster' with interest.  However, after the first Jab I found my immune system improved by it, the terrible long cold that lasted for months has not returned, and I blame the Jab!  So I am happy to have as many as they wish. 

 

Christmas & Parliament

Being the kind and generous person I am, and having been reminded that I am supposed to be 'thrifty' as a Scot, then I am happy to say I have satisfied both these demands by obtaining these 6 bottles of whisky to give to my equally generous friends.  So far they have given nothing!  

As I always say, a promise is a promise, and if I promise a bottle of whisky to someone I make sure they will receive a bottle of whisky.  I fail to see how anyone could grumble.

The big box of nothingness that I send annually to my sister will be posted, I hope, tomorrow and nothing much else Christmassy requires to be done. An online shop for two or three people and that is about it.  Most cards have either gone or have been written and an abundance of stamps remain.  I am ready for when they go up in price again.      

Of course abuse has come my way from those who have not yet begun their shopping.  Tee Hee.  There is no need for me to rub this in, but I do anyway.  

Most men will of course wait until the last few days before working out what they must buy, and are then found asking women friends what they ought to do!  I always suggest they buy her a new iron or a hoover, but for some reason they never work up the courage.     

Daily Mirror

 

When I read a man had jumped the fence at the House of Commons my first thought was to ask which MP had tried to escape?   It did cross my mind it could be a Lord from the House of Lords, though most could not jump over a step let alone a fence.  Anyway, all of both Houses are making too much cash to run away these days.  However, it turns out it was merely a member of the public, possibly trying out his right to protest.  His reasons are as yet unknown but after being tazered, handcuffed and led away to a police van (no longer called Black Maria's') he was heard to mutter "My rights!"  Indications are this was a 'stunt' of incredible stupidity, for a reason as yet unknown, and that any magistrate who eventually gets to hear his case will not be impressed with 'his rights.'  

He must understand that amongst the posse of police officers who responded many carried guns, guns that a mad gunmen in the USA would give a great deal to possess.   These officers also know how to use them, had this man appeared violent in response he may have discovered how well they could use them.  

Silly boy.

Christmas St Andrews

It was dreich when I forced my unwilling bulk out off bed this morning.  Too tired to think I yet cogitated over the bag lying on the floor with items that had to be posted this morning.  So, after much strife, I forced myself down the road to the Post Office with the young woman who smiles at me.

For most the the past few years I have endured the walk down there rather than face the hard bitten and unhelpful staff recruited from the Lubyanka when it closed in 1989 in the town centre Post Office.  

I learned recently the present town centre has closed and people are advised the nearest is down Panfield Lane.  This is untrue but in case they file into the one I use I will keep quiet about this.

When I first arrived the PO was in what was called the 'Quadrant,' a fancy name for the Co-op.  This was then staffed by Soviet types, personality and heart removed, and led to long queues and occasional opportunities to find bile on my tongue.  Later it moved to another part of the building and only the lass with the 1960's hairstyle remained, new unhelpful staff being recruited.  However, by now I was going down the road to the smile, or just had no money to send anything anywhere and kept clear of the place.

Now 'Quadrant' was not a shop I used much, female dominated department store type of place, and it held a wonderful array of staff who could never be found.  For instance, I looked upstairs in the furniture department for a new stereo some time ago, the chap was loitering at the front as I wandered about looking at things.  One caught my eye, I turned to speak and golly, he had gone!  This was typical of 'Quadrant!'

Then in one of the few occasions I ventured in, Christmas possibly, I noticed the PO had gone, I knew not where.  Later I found it in the town centre, in a small newsagent type shop with a large array of counters and unhelpful staff in the rear.  The queue wended it's miserable way past the cheap toys and papers while the unsmiling brutes demanded to know what was in each package in a manner befitting an Israeli Border Guard.  I had a run in with them also.  Now this too has closed, no reason given.  No profit, no staff through Covid, someone fiddling the books?  I do not know.  So, it is off to the smiling lass who speaks only enough English to get through the day, as do the family who run the rest of the corner shop, never closing being Hindu, and able to compete with the Tesco Express almost next door.  An excellent shop.  I passed over my three items, gasped when she told me the price and she laughed, however I cleverly bought Christmas stamps which it turns out I do not require.

So, almost all the posting is done, one box, still to be found, a card or two and then online ordering for other items and I am done.

Tee Hee, how far on are you?

 

Considering this is St Andrews Day I felt the weather was very Scotch.  Though warmer than yesterday, I doubted Andrew, while fishing with his brother Simon on the Lake of Galilee would endure such a west wind as was reminding me of my days heading up Ferry Road from Leith.  He may have endured squalls, rain, and snow every thirty years or so but in between he had high temperatures and plenty of time to lie in the sun and forget work.  That did not occur in Leith!

It is difficult to believe those men of Fife accepted the words of single monk in a coracle who landed with nothing but a bag containing Andrews bones (he said) and they named a town after him.  One up on others I suppose but did they not do an internet check?  I suspect now Nigel Farage would appear and send him back from whence he came, wherever that was.  Where Saint Andrew actually died is of course unknown, though legends abound.  For myself I doubt whether it was on or near the Fife coast.

 

Cold Christmas

 

 

It is a pleasure to wake at five O'clock in the morning and find the sun has begun to show its face.  It is not so good when you wake simply because you canny breathe!  The heating on all night, ice cold outside, and inside also, and the air died in the room.  When I eventually ventured through to the real world the bright sun shone wonderfully but the white frost remained on the rooftops and on the edges of the field.  It is still hanging about in the shadows, our first really cold night.  Up north they have snow, falling trees and a warning.  The warning states the weather is bad so people in the South should remain indoors while those up North ought to put on a coat!   About right!

 

It is also a pleasure to find the postman ringing the bell and knocking desparate to give me my first Christmas box!  It is a pleasure to open this box, unwrap the mountain of needful bubblewrap (well wrapped indeed as any postie was tell you) and find several bottles of liqueurs made from a variety of fruits.  I accidentally opened the Blackcurrant one now and am forced to enjoy it. 

I am not sure these will last until Christmas... 

Facebook:-  MalloryMade

However, I have packed several items for transmission onwards tomorrow.  The cards are almost ready also, and one box for my sister, full of trinkets, chox and rubbish rather than anything wonderful, and that will soon be off also.  I like to post my cards on the 1st if December, well ahead of the rush, ensuring they get there without any trouble, usually.  This also reminds folk to send me something! 

A thought that never crosses my mind usually.  

It is still November!

 

Boring, Cold, Saturday

Pah!  So much for weathermen!  No snow of any kind, not even sleet, though it is planned for late afternoon, aye right!  

Instead a strong northwesterly has been blowing icy wind through the cracks in the window frames and forcing me to make use of the old man's heating allowance already.  If the wind came from the west I could survive better, but no, it cometh blasting from the Arctic and is happy to do so.

I forgot to eat properly last night, maybe that is why I felt so bad this morning.  The head was not woken up until I ate dinner, such as it was.  Funny how eating is good for you.  Thus I have just sat here awaiting tonights football.  I wondered if the Flu Jab yesterday was having an effect, the tender area there is quite large for such a Jab, more 'tender' than normal, but I think it was just lack of eating.  

 

The storm has been the only story in some papers, I note the Tory rags have ignored Conservative Dougie Ross's claiming for expenses while forgetting to enter his £30,000 linesman takings in the Holyrood register.  I suppose to the Tories that is not a problem, more a way of life to them.  The 'Glasgow Herald' however does splash an ex-SNP member as being questioned by police, no charges so far.  Dougie appears ignored.  The rest cast fear about the latest version of the virus, especially as it may 'Halt Christmas!'  though Christmas will go ahead whatever.   The usual Saturday scare stories and little actual news, the Conservative Party will not allow this.

 

 

Another Flu Jab

Those fun-filled-frolickers who forecast the weather have delighted us by threatening snow for the morrow!  This appears to be funny in their eyes.  Now while snow can offer decent photographs it comes with other disadvantages, cold for a start slippy for another, dangerous for roads, old people, and me!  Brats throw snowballs at you, people spend their time grumbling about snow,(and I hate that) and buses and railways grind to a halt.  Cars that are driven are either slow or driven by untrained jet pilots with a death wish, and don't get me started on the slush that is left behind!

This also means that with a temperature of 2% tonight, thats 34% in English, the heating must be made to work, all this costs money!  I know this as I sit here now with my feet on the heater!  At gas central office they are breaking out the Bubbly already, just wait until January!

 

I was back this morning, in spite of the rain, to the surgery.  This time it was the Flu Jab.  The queue of aged people was long, but quickly parted to let me in to the Stasi.  She, I must say, was very cool in the heated atmosphere, lots of folks stumbling aroung hither and thither, some knowing where they were going, some not.  I, the youngest among them, was treated well by the Stasi, she even helpfully gave me the Blood Test result, nothing changed there, and sent me round to the old folks queue.   Five people were before me, except I was the only one on time!  I joked with the crew there before a nurse approached, called my name and off I went.  I must say these two nurses while efficient were not the cheeriest.  I suspect they have come in for the day to jab the Flu queue and then hop off to collect the kids.  Their men, if they have them, are welcome to their cheerless faces.   

All done I retreated to Sainsburys and Tesco, changed the bed, (it is nearly the end off the month) and set the washing machine going.  The day has been filled, or at least it has passed by quickly.  Now the darkness falls, the rush hour stumbles by slowly, the chill deepens and I am left wondering just how much snow will actually arrive tomorrow, if indeed it does. 

Because of an outcry in the past, by the grubby right-wing media, those weathermen are likely to 'Cry Wolf' to often these days just to avoid blame if it all goes wrong.  However, I will be residing indoors if the sun does not shine, the cupboards are full enough, the temptation to walk the chilly streets is not strong, and football might arrive.

 

Ancient & Medieval Worlds lecture 1: Mesopotamia part 1

 

Thought some of you might like this.  This is the first in a series of short lectures about the distant past, which some of you may remember...   

There are about a dozen or so in the list.  I have watched this one and found it quite easy to listen to.  Putting it on YouTube allows you to see what the others in line are.

Sun, Sky and NHS

The sun was up, the sky was blue, an ideal time to walk round the corner and have the first off three visits to the NHS.  Get them in now folks before Boris sells the NHS off it to his donors.  Today was a blood test.  This meant being first in the queue of old men at ten this morning to have the delightful, efficient nurse struggle to get blood out of this stone.  She tried the left arm unsuccessfully leaving me with the conclusion that I was dead.  She smiled gently and thrust the needle willingly into the other arm in a fashion that disproved my conclusion.  Blood flowed!  

 

 

After this I wandered round Sainsburys seeking meat, some fool had forgotten to raid the freezer last night.  Thus I encountered several people of my acquaintance, including two who could not avoid me no matter how they tried, and headed home rejoicing.  Those two did not.  Thus encouraged I once again took my weary body, very weary this past week, across the park.  

There is something very enlightening and enjoyable found in crossing even a small area of green, especially when the sun is up, the sky blue, the air filled with light, and dogs taking their owners for walks wish to meet you.  It was indeed chilly however, when I first left the house the air that we breathe out was like a steam engine, but within an hour it had warmed up to freezing.  

And Winter has not started yet!

I ended up in Tesco for the things not available in Sainsburys.  They were not available in Tesco either.  However, I managed to spend money and hobble back home, clamber up the stairs for the second time, grateful I need not do this again today.

 

Ding Dong! Ding Dong!

'Hermes' at the door.  Packet collected for next door, I indicated the way around the back to Number 2 with a second.  Back up the stairs a third time after all.

It was as I laid the large red, plastic bag down I noticed the name.  

It was incorrect.  

This packet was for Number 2, not Number 5.  How stupid of me not to check the name.  Anyway, off I go, downstairs, round the back, knock on the door, and am glad that he indoors was as dumb as myself.  He never looked at the name either. His wife also spends too much online.  

Upstairs for the fourth time!  How happy I am!  My routine shattered I have lingered all day after this trying to catch up with things I keep forgetting to catch up with.

I anticipate tomorrow with great pleasure...

 

Fungi, Tardis and Sweets

 

So far, it has been the usual confused day for me.  

Last night the laptop would not switch off.  So, after several late night attempts I left it to switch off by itself.  This morning it was still on, the sleep mode had come on, but now it would not connect to the WiFi. 

Troubleshooters were aroused, the yellow ethernet cable advised and once employed this worked well, but the thing was not connected properly.  

Then followed many attempts with troubleshooter and a restart.  Once restarted it now works fine, without ethernet cable filling the desk.  All appears back to normal.

Why?  Why does it do this to me?  There is no reason for this?   Grrrrrrrrr....   

The fungi pictured I found growing on a grassy patch behind the old Registery office.  Now being run as a kindergarden no-one bothers to cut the grass.  I guess Dave could identify these specimens but to me they are just Toadstools.  I agreed with a passing woman that we would not be eating these any time soon.

 

A late afternoon wander around town where the crowds gather for the 'Xmas Lights' being switched on.  Every child in the town was here, far too many people, and a few perplexed dogs.  I pushed, and was pushed about by the crowds, willing to mix it as not long after leaving home an Audi driver came close to hitting me.  I wished I had said more at the time but he kept moving.  Thus Irked, I wandered about.

 

Sweets abound here.  This stall is a regular who offers bags of teeth destroyer.  He remains considerably cheaper than the fancy stalls found today.  Candles, cakes and things I canny afford nor indeed desire.  Many have been before so must have made money, and Xmas arriving will do them some good.

 

Being FREE entry I popped into the museum for a peek.  I have not wandered about there for some time.  The space exhibition looked good, including this Tardis.  I refrained from opening the door as I was not sure where I would end up.  There used to be lots of these around Edinburgh, now almost all that remain have been turned onto coffee stalls!

Nothing to Say Friday

 

Nothing much happened again today.

Housework, searching the web for xmas gifts, searching online for packets that have not arrived, and changing passwords for some sites.  Not very exciting today.

Not a day for arguments on Twitter or newspaper pages, everyone appears quiet.  However, I see Lord Frost is claiming now there could be a breakthrough on Northern Ireland.  How come?  Well Boris has lost the support of his backbenchers and cannot guarantee they would support using Article 16.  Boris, as always, looks after Boris.  

Andrew Marr, a Labour man who has, for £400,000 a year, refused to attack the Tories is now leaving the BBC so he can 'Get his own voice back.'  To do this he is moving to Murdoch's LBC and Classic FM for a bit more than £400,000!  He will speak freely there?  I expect a female Tory lackey to take his place.  Nadine Dorries is also claiming people are afraid to speak on social media for fear of being 'cancelled.'  This from a woman who abuses others and blocks those who respond?  

Friday, when parliament shuts down, people head for home, some rejoice in a weekend of fun and gaiety, others in DIY and shopping.  Sensible people watch football.

That's a good idea.  I see there is a game on tonight, I think I had better check it out, don't you...?

 

Stasi at the Surgery

 

 

I awoke after 6 am this morning and lay there full of fear and ire.  I had to phone the Stasi at the surgery to arrange a blood test ordered by the doctor.  My mind filled, as it does when still asleep, with imagined fears, arguments, responses and abuse.  I attempted to get this out of my mind by listening to the wireless but for an hour I wrote and re-wrote imagined complaints. 

At 7:30 I awoke peaceful.

I forgot to phone at 8 am and remembered after the half hour.  I then called, endured the corporal's long intro and pressed 'Number 2' as ordered.  She repeated the same words needlessly thus increasing the costs to me.  After the overture to an opera a gentler voice informed me I was 18th in the queue.  I put down the phone.  

Some time later I tried again, this time when answered I jumped straight to 'Number 2,' and then the opera overture.  Eventually the music stopped and the gentle voice informed me I was 13th, 13th!!!  "How long do they take to make appointments?" I wondered," I bet it is all those old people at fault."  

Later, I tried again, three times I have called at the most expensive time, at least now I was second in the queue.  Almost 25 minutes had gone by since I first dialed. (Do we still say 'dialed?')  At last the phone rang, and rang...and rang ...and rang...and rang...and a female voice kindly answered as I was muttering things down the line.  

I stated my case and was cheerily fixed up immediatley!  Shocked, I mentioned the Flu Jab I had not been offered.  "Right," she says, "Friday 26th?"  Shocked again I grasped the chance and the morning time offered.  

Isn't it just typical that when you fear something will be a struggle against the powers of evil the reality is very different?  I spent a few minutes checking to see if I was still asleep and dreaming, once convinced I was awake I also checked for bite marks.  None found, I had called reception and lived!  And you say prayer does not work?

I got out no further than Tesco today.  I had to go for those forgotten things yesterday, bread I am not supposed to have, chocolate I must avoid, wine which should not be taken and yoghurt which can be.  I also stocked up on 'Waterstones Voucher Cards.'  You see Amazon, whom you may have heard off, are having problems with 'Visa.'  Visa charges have increased from, if I remember right, 0.3 to 1.5 after Brexit.  The EU had a cap on these costs which we lost with Brexit so the price shot up.  This is now costing the UK £35 billion a year.  Amazon, those friendly staff-oriented people, are not happy and are ending UK Visa cards at the end of January (ensuring they get this Xmas in first).  So Waterstones it is then, which will surprise the members of my family who find reading a problem.  So, happily paying the young lady at the checkout I hobbled back the pretty way, avoiding buses, lorries at the building site, reversing vans up the side road and people attempting to keep a social distance away from me.  I think that was the reason.  Home to cogitate on the work to do tomorrow and wonder if it will get done?