Monday Morn Sun

The day began brightly, the clouds were red tinged and the sky was blue.  This meant the temperature must be about freezing, and it was.  Having wiped the condensation from the windows, stuffed aged 'hot cross buns' down my throat for breakfast, I switched on the heater and wrapped up.

This was a day where the light tempted me out and the cold tempted me back in.

I remained in.

I worked through another chapter of the book of Amos and wondered how nicely this book fits in with the government of the day.  Both Westminster and Holyrood, and indeed Wales, have corruption at the centre these days.  Being in power is on one hand an opportunity to do good, it is also something people do not like to let go off.  The Westminster power does not appear to have the intellect or political savvy to hold their position, not heled by Boris and Liz obviously.  Nicola has some talent, she ought to be PM not FM, but her weird obsessions may bring her down.  Her gender failure may be too far from Indy for many.  

Next I spent a few minutes pretending to exercise, I will feel the aches in the morning.  And followed this up by dusting!  The stour flew all around, thick clouds filled the house, lost items were recovered, much more exercise was involved, and after this was over I considered hoovering to finish off.  However, instead I made lunch and spent the rest of the day seeking out live pictures from various parts of the world.  I had to, the effort had worn me out.  I realised the bug that hindered my earlier this year was still hanging around.  An underlying weight hindering life.  This has hit the UK hard this year, and while I am quite used to suffering this was for months on end it has come as a shock to all those who used to call me lazy.

I give them no sympathy.

So, I sit smugly here, happy with what has been done, planning tomorrows day, and seeking a decent football game to finish of the day.  As I wait I watch the Blue Tits flitting through the trees, I note the happy attitude that comes with the shorter nights and brighter mornings, and an expectation of Spring soon calling us from afar.  This keeps the news of the Chancellor, multi-millionaire he, who is going to increase our energy prices come April once again.  The Conservatives, the party that cares...

My Saturday Evening Post...

 

Grave Thoughts

Working my way down the new Twitter stream this morning it struck me how many people have died.  Now this is not new, people have been dying since people began, in case you did not notice, and sadly, one day we will join them.  It is a thing to be noticed that there are more dead than there are living in this world, and the number of the dead increases all the time.  

I was becoming more aware of this as people I once watched on TV or listened to on radio have departed.  At my age when musicians from the 'Punk' era are dying it makes me feel old, as they are still in their 60s.  Yet more and more people who became famous, or perhaps infamous, have departed and they are still doing this.  Singers, TV personalities, comedians, footballers, actors, troublemakers, strikers, politicians, good and bad, all pass on.

In my family only two of the original 6 remain, and I keep reminding my sister that she is much older than I. The aunts and uncles have long gone, friends, neighbours, those who make up my past have moved on.  The life I grew up into has long gone, and most people with it.  How strange.

Yet this is life as it has always been.

My mother lived until 94, all her friends went long before her.  Friends and family from her youth have long passed on, their sons and daughters also!  All that remained were memories and some fading photographs.  

Of course, not all we knew have been missed.  Many we saw regularly on TV or in the press ought to have benefited society by going sooner.  A great many harmed society in many ways, politicians, businessmen, celebrities, and spam merchants.  These are not missed by many.  

Others are missed, even if we knew them only from TV programmes, mews headlines, and goal scoring feats at the football.  Many a musician is missed today as there is no one to equal them now.  In the locale there are always people who benefit the area by doing those little jobs, such a 'Lollipop Lady,' escorting kids over busy roads, or by just keeping an eye on disabled or lonely folks.  These are irreplaceable.  

In our town, population around 40,000, each one has a story to tell.  Some well known faces, some well known to the constabulary.  Each known to someone.  How many have lived here since Neolithic times when a handful of people foraged in these then woods with stone implements to survive?  Since the town blossomed 2000 years ago many have walked the lanes, built houses, had lives and loves, fought wars, made babies, traded goods and services, and fought for better conditions.  Holy days were celebrated, as there were few other holidays, some were serfs, others made it big.  While most worked the fields there were others who travelled the world, usually in an army or a boat.  Many went to the new world, others were forced to Botany Bay!  Still other came for the work on offer and their descendants remain.  

When I worked in Maida Vale Hospital at night, I often wondered about the many who had gone before.  The doctors who had created the Neurological studies during the 19th century had left their pictures in the Board Room.  The nurses, passing doctors, porters and other staff were rarely shown this way.  Occasional names arose but many staff had worked for years in the building and at that time they were now forgotten.  Just like we will be in the days ahead.  

Depressing though this may appear it is not so.  This is life as it is.  We all go through it, some more easily than others, and the good news is the bad days that surround us, which are not as bad as they have been or could be for us, will end one day.  The rogues who hamper us will meet their end, the situations that are difficult will soon leave us, and possibly we will see better days yet.

I confess, if it was not for Jesus it could be a depressing time for me.  However, I look forward to better days, and life is already improving as the days indeed are getting longer.  Nothing better than rising with the sun shining in the kitchen window, and the rush hour beginning with the setting sun brightening the skies outside my window.

Frith, Paddington Station

William Powell Frith - The Railway Station

 

I think this is a great painting, of Paddington Station, supposedly as the train prepares for departure. 

Frith liked pictures that were long, and had a rise in the middle, here supplied by the porters loading luggage onto the roof of the coach.  Rail travel in 1862 was exciting, adventurous and also dangerous.  Apart from the danger of human beings being themselves there is added class distinction, a signal system nowhere near as efficient as todays, and train times that are as believable as railways anywhere in the world.  

However, I like the picture as it is full of life.

Clearly Paddington, it is always recognisable, the train sets the scene, the smouldering engine awaiting at one end, the long line of wooden coaches, terrible in an accident, and the wide selection of human nature to be seen on the platform. 

Brunel's spectacular Paddington Station building had been completed only a decade before this picture emerged in 1862.  Frith would no doubt have used it before, he certainly reconnoitred the place to get this right.   He also ensured his family's fame by placing them in the left centre of the picture.  The woman kissing a child goodbye in the near foreground, possibly the son of to school, is Froth's wife, he himself stands behind with his elder son.  The bearded man next to them had given Italian lessons to Frith's daughters, and appears to be haggling over the taxi fare.  As the porter scrambles to pick up the luggage and possibly a tip, a bridal party in full Victorian overdress fusses about nothing before clambering into the coach.  These coaches were not very big inside, how did all those women fit in?  Or did they just dump the Bride and Groom and send them on their way?  I guess so.  

A Sherlock Holmes lookalike is being accosted by two Police Detectives, accompanied by a uniformed officer.  This apparently is based on real incident.   

The picture is full of the confusion, worry, fear and nervousness so many experience at railway stations.  Add the class distinction, the need to be in the right place, the distracted children staring at the huge arena about them, the noise of the engine warming up for the off, the smell of the smoke, Welsh coal was the best coal for engines it appears, the noise and bustle, the thoughtlessness of those in a hurry or just used to the fuss, the dogs, the mixture of uniforms and the journey ahead.  All are caught in this wonderful painting. 

Frith sold it for £4500, plus another £750 for not showing it at the RA.  This allowed the buyer to show it in his gallery at one shilling a time.  Louis Victor Flatow saw 83,000 visit his gallery for a peek.  It was also shown elsewhere and I suspect he easily regained his cash.

I think this a great picture in so many ways.

For Christmas, could you buy it for me...?

Bacon

 

I took this picture eons ago while trundling up the old railway, or 'Flitch Way,' as it is called.  The name derives from the competition that takes place every leap year in what until recently, was the Flitch Pub' in Little Dunmow.  The winner receives a 'Flitch of Bacon.'  Like many such pubs this is now a restaurant.  Because of the size of the event the judgement now takes place in Great Dunmow.

The competition, which goes back many years into the 14th century, they say Chaucer mentions this, is simple in outline.  The idea is to find a couple who have not regretted their marriage since being married in the past year and one day.  The award is a 'Flitch of Bacon.'  Aggressively questioned by magistrates, and providing witnesses that they have not regretted their marriage once, a jury then decides the outcome.  

It appears few 'Flitches' were ever awarded!  

I wonder if any of my readers have gone a year and one day without regretting the marriage?  Of course you must ask the spouse this also, no magistrate will question you, no jury decide.  There again the bacon will come from Tesco if you had won. 

I wonder if I will ever ride that bike again?  I doubt it now.  Things do not appear to improve and I am losing interest.  I may have to find someone who needs a bike to take it on, do it up and have fun.  

I miss the Flitch Way itself mind.  A  two mile long stretch up to Rayne, busy at times with dog walkers, and how the dogs love it, people strolling along, and much further on the horse riders out for a trot. 

It gave some nice pics also.

Coming Soon...

 

Hunt & Railways

This millionaire wishes people who have retired after 50 or so years of work, to return to work to save his party from defeat.  That is not how he described it, but that is what it is.  Instead of obvious solutions, return to the EU, or at least the 'single market,' tax the filthy rich like himself, Sunak and those who 'carelessly' forget to pay several million pounds in tax, as this is difficult, we get old folks to work long hours and die.  I wonder which millionaire came up with this?  Too clever for Hunt, but maybe a Tory loving civil servant seeking promotion thought it a wheeze.  

Guess what the nations response is...

HS2, that multi Billion waste of time and effort, has failed once again with the news that it might not reach all the way into London, they place it was supposed to start from.   This exciting news raised blood pressure everywhere, but, for once, the Tories have risen to the challenge with Hunt,  (see previous) has made it known HS2 will indeed end at Euston Station.  Possibly.   

There was no need for this.  The railways could be improved as we all know, but surely improving what is there rather than introducing something new covering similar grounds was another 'Boris type' piece of flannel.  Badly thought out, badly planned, and l still have no idea how much work has already been done.  I know huge machines have created vast tunnels in places, I know many have lost houses and lifestyles because of this railway, I know the Leeds part has been scrapped, but how much has actually been completed, if any?  

Still, we can afford this even if we cannot pay the railway workers, the nurses and NHS staff, the postmen, the ambulance staff, the....

The dying embers of the day produced a mild pink in the sky.  This is to warn us tomorrow will be as chilly as today I suspect.  The winter has been mild so far, and the energy people are not happy with the warmth.  The prices will however, remain high.  On that note the water people have informed me that in spite of the cost of living crisis they must put the water charges up.  This is to pay the fines received for polluting rivers, streams and the seaside with sewage rather than spend money cleaning it up.  So the money I am charged for 'sewage' is now paying the bill for the sewage they did not bother cleaning!  Privatisation blessing here.

Eon Again

 

I got another letter from Eon.  

The send emails and letters informing me I need to switch to a 'Smart Meter.'  The last letter offered it slightly differently by telling me they must replace the meter as it is getting 'old.' Well yes, it has been there for almost 30 years so I would suggest this meter is old.

The problem is meter they wish to install will not work.  This requires a signal, via the phone it seems, but there is no signal in the basement.  On top of this even if there was a signal it would not reach up to the 1st floor.  So it is a non starter.

Now their man told them this when he came to inspect it some time back, but they do not listen.

So, I keep getting such helpful information that is of no earthly use.

Should I be surprised?

All big companies have a major flaw, they are operated by people and computers. 

Neither work well.

The people do not insert information.

The computer carries on as told but does not understand what it has not been told.

Wrong information is inserted.

The computer carries on as told.

No information is inserted by human.

Computer just makes it up as it feels like it.

Or is that the human element?

Privatisation has ended the mass of troubles we used to have with the old 'Electricity Board.  I am so happy it has all worked out so well for us today.

Except of course energy prices are coming down at high speed, but prices are not lowering at all.

Bosses bonus's will be good this year.

Burns and Haggis

It may have escaped your notice that today we celebrate the 'Bard's' birthday.  Rabbie Burns will not join us however, having passed away in 1796.  Scots, and quite a few others, will be attempting to cook Haggis, Neeps and Tatties for lunch, reading the 'Address to a haggis,' and if they are not Scots they will be making a fool of themselves with the accent. 
 

Sadly the haggis available in my Tesco's is not great.  I could have got 'my butcher' up in Forres to send one down, but time beat me here.  I did consider the 'mince pies' in the freezer however, by the time I considered them it was too late to defrost them. 

I had garlic bread and vegetable soup instead.

There was no 'Address' offered.

A proper Haggis from a butcher can be expensive.  It can be however, marvellous, not like the rather dry ones I find in supermarkets.  I certainly would not buy the 'Vegan' or is it 'Vegetarian' one that sometimes becomes available, as clearly there is no point.  

As my late sister's birthday fell on Jan 25th along with Rabbie, I cannot forget the date.  She however, showed no poetic talent, unless sending postcards from places she visited with 'I was here today,' on the back counts.  It counted a wee bit when she sent a card thus commented upon featuring the Andromeda Galaxy!  I was in two minds if she had actually visited.  It turns out the family had been to a science type exhibition in Edinburgh.  Not many stars seen from there at this time of year mind.

No Haggis but however, I have the whisky, given to me by one of my secret admirers.  Burns referred to whisky as 'John Barleycorn,' and his poem offers his delight in the substance.  It may be Burns, as he often did, made use of an old poem and livened it up.  However, he, working on a farm when not seeking smugglers for the exciseman, and usually helping them rather than catching them, he knew all about the difficulties of raising Barley as a crop.  He would know about the hardships of farm life and the struggle to make it pay at that time also. 

And while we make the most of the Orkney Barley we keep an eye out for those Vikings seeking to steal back their product.  We however, have ways of dealing with them...

Bread

 

What a good day.  Much of it has been taken up with stuffing my face with my 'Stonebaked, white, crusty, bloomer' that I was overcharged for at Tesco.  Very nice bread indeed, meaningless name for a loaf made by the thousand and then priced higher than the rest to make it appear special.  However, I enjoyed it, and will enjoy the leftovers tomorrow, before it suddenly dies.

The poor lassie pictured above is creating bread, probably a 'sourdough' bread, apparently first discovered in Egypt.  They say they liked bread there, and by 3000 BC there was plenty of variety of wheats and other crops with which to make it.  I am not sure I would wish to be a woman rolling it back and forward there for much of the day.  She would also have to crush grain before this to create the flour to use also.  The bones of such women show years of hard work.  Of course the men, who died earlier, also show the effect of the hard work they endured, but being men are ignored, they do not sell papers. 

As far as I remember early wheats were not very good, and the bread did not actually make you very healthy.  It took some time before such grains were worth while.  By Jesus time Barley Bread was for the poor, and Wheat Bread was for the rich.  Jesus prayer, 'Give us our daily bread,' meant just that, give us the barley bread that keeps us alive, the very basic of life.  Note he did not mention the better bread.  

I like trying the differing breads on offer, though all here are found in Tesco or Sainsburys and therefore not exactly the best options, but they have to do.  I suspect the health food shop sells their own or 'fancy' bread but the price will be fancy also, they can keep that. 

It used to be small bakers kept Edinburgh going for bread.  Walking home late at night I passed one at Stockbridge, door open because of the heat, and the fabulous aroma of baking bread filling the area around.  On Sunday morning someone was sent down the road to get the 'rolls and papers' so we could eat and work our way through the mass of papers we once bought.  The family on the top floor used to change the papers they bought for the ones we bought so together we got through the whole Sunday output of the press during the day.   

How different now.

The only media then during the 50s and early 60s was the wireless and the papers on a Sunday morning.  And usually full scale papers at that.  Not the tabloid things of later.  Even the 'Scottish Sunday Express' had things worth reading at that time, while today it is a dreadful dying rag.  I understand the journalists that remain are not allowed back into the office, it is cheaper for them to 'work from home' while writing items telling people not to 'work from home.'

At least back then, after lunch eventually arrived, we could sit near the gramaphone and listen to the 'Goons' or 'Hancock' making us laugh.  The 'Goons' offered a strange world of sound that nobody has touched since, or at least, not so successfully.  The 'Hitchikers Guide to the Galaxy' the nearest thing on radio I can think of similar in output.

 

After I left Tesco I ventured into the museum as I wanted a couple of postcards.  I have four second class stamps to use up before they are out of date, so I must send something to someone to get the benefit!

Here, I encountered two of my women, women I have not seen since Covid began.  How long ago that appears.  Avoiding buying anything but what I wanted was difficult, I almost bought a book I do not require but still found myself arguing in my mind about buying it.  Anyway I wasted around 30 minutes there, including having a quick look at the latest exhibition, 'Ladybird Books,' before heading home to my bread.  Since then I did nothing.  I filled my face and look forward to the weight increase happily.

 

 

 

Frost, Bishop and a touch of Toby

It was one of those ridiculous winters morning today.  The sky was blue, the sun shone, and the streets were slippery with frost.  As I walked, tripping up several times and almost going flat out once, the pavements on one side were white while the frost on the telephone wires above slowly melted, dropping great blobs on heads of the few passers-by.  Everything ached, and as I rose that morning my one thought was "I wish it was Monday."  Then I can go back to bed, but not today.

 

Today the Bishop was preaching, so I was ordered there to take pictures.  

This once confused me as he is not the Bishop of Essex, just of Colchester.  But large counties have a Bishop and as many 'sufferagent Bishops as required, Essex has three.  The sbishops, as you may have noted, are strange people, this one however, has his good points.  For a start he knows God, though he does have a tendency to the 'Stonewall' nonsense.  I was glad he did not mention this today, I may have started something.  All went well, he spoke well, many pictures were taken, all smiled.

 

I then watched as the Heart of Midlothian strolled past the poor Hibs team.  This, as you know, is not unusual.  The best part was watching Toby Sibbick run up the park near the end of the game and chip the ball past the despairing goalkeeper.  Toby Sibbick, the new striker!  Another great performance from him, though the team was not playing to well once again.  Playing not to good we have beaten Aberdeen and Hibs.  All looks good so far.

It's the Bishops Again

 

It's the Bishops again

Now I must explain, I do not come from any 'Bishop' background.  My background is Scottish Presbyterian and later, non-denominational, so the almost worship I see of Bishops in England is not something I share.  Therefore when pronouncements are made by Bishops I tend to see them (I hope) from a biblical viewpoint, rather than a practical church viewpoint.  

Now the Bishops as you will realise have an important and difficult job, whatever they say brings opposition, both from believers and unbelievers.  In the glorious Church of England both exist.  

There are constant points of diversion that arise and today we have the Gay problem, in which there is a push for the church to accept something that is clearly wrong and goes totally against scripture into its midst.  Many oppose this, however, it appears possibly two thirds of the bishops do not.

So where are we today?

The issue pushed constantly by a small minority is that the church ought to accept gay marriage or civil partnerships between gay couples.  The 'Trans' issue is put to one side, but you can guess it is coming soon.  The world around us has accepted gay marriage as normal, though we note there was no question of asking the populations whether they agreed or not.  Civil partnerships, where two people live together and can inherit from one another cause no problem, except in the church when gay relationships are involved.  

To be a Christian means recognising you have a corrupt nature, full of sin.  You can never stand before  a Holy, perfect God, your creator and one day we all will stand before him.   All are lost, none can stand.

God himself takes the initiative and in Jesus of Nazareth dies in our place, hounded, wounded and crucified.  He dies physically and spiritually, the second person in the Trinity is separated from his Father for the only time in eternity, for me and for you.

Jesus dies for our sin.

When we recognise this we have a choice to accept this and follow him or go our own way.  He wishes desperately to save us, he wishes to make us new and he knows all about us as a father knows his child.  Our acceptance of this sacrifice for us and our choice to change our ways and follow this living God is called repentance and faith.  

Without this we do not belong to Christ.

The problem all denominations have faced is that some who have repented, and I tend to the belief that others who have not, are forcing churches to accept that which goes against scripture teaching, and indeed our human understanding of normal sex.  We now see gay marriages in various churches, while such as this are also 'affirmed and blessed.  This should not be.

The choice the Bishops have made is to refuse to allow gay marriage in the CoE, which is correct according to scripture, but now will allow those who wish to affirm such gay partnerships or marriage the right to do so.  This is clearly unacceptable.

Lev 18:22.  "Do not have sexual relations with a man as one does with a woman; that is detestable."

This is quite clear, many other verses you will know back up this command.  These commands come from the very heart of god, reflecting his love and holiness.  They reflect we are made in the image of God, males and female, and those who follow him are intended to obey this.

There is no doubt there are many, though a minority in the land, with such tendencies.  We are all sinners, our tendencies, our failures, our reactions to life reveal themselves in other ways, but they remain corrupt in Gods sight, just like gays.  It is Gods will they are healed.  God loves each one and I tend to the opinion he wishes to love every gay, but wishes to see them lose this lifestyle.

They poorly thought out draft from the Bishops speaks out of both sides of the mouth.  

This is unacceptable.

The Bishops, those at least who know God, ought to be speaking in love the good news of Christ Jesus, proclaiming his cross and nothing else.  They ought to offer love to all, but also demanding repentance and faith in Jesus.  Accepting someone without offering repentance is not the Good News.  

The world has taken gay rights to heart, but like us at one time, the world does not know God and does not, and cannot understand.  No church ought to follow the guidance of this world, we after all are only passing through, but we are meant to be light in a dark world.  We cannot enlighten a world by accepting sin as normal.  

If we do accept sin as normal we no longer require repentance, if so there is no requirement for forgiveness, and no need of a saviour.

Satan works wonderfully well.

There is much sin in our own lives, we are meant to be fighting it, not condoning it as we often do.  To allow this Bishops move to go ahead weakens the church in the eye of the world, after all it no longer has a position on which to stand.  

We must also take into account what is happening in the world around us.  'Diversity' has arisen in politics, police, the church, the NHS, big business and schools.  Everywhere we see people standing up for marriage being between one man and one women being opposed, disciplined, sacked, and taken before the courts for 'causing offence.'  Others are arrested for preaching because 'someone' is offended, still others cautioned or questioned by the police (the Thought Police now?) because they stand praying quietly.

Do people in the pews not notice how this has happened in front of them?

Do they not see where it will lead?

Governments are trying to impose a Bill that will mean praying for those who wish to lose a gay tendency becomes illegal.  A 'Gay Conversion Therapy' ban will mean it becomes impossible to pray for any who ask, because the law forbids it!  Is this what the church should accept?  The gay lobby wish to end Christian prayer, and indeed the Christian life, Satan knows how to hurt.  

Has the church not noticed?  

While we pander to gays they attempt to kill the church.

Christian 'love,' does not mean not hurting people.  A quick read of Pauls letters shows how he honestly, and indeed in love, dealt with sin in the churches.  We must do the same.  This will hurt those who sin, as indeed it hurts us when we admit our wrongs, which are many, but we must speak truth anyway.  If speaking Gods word hurts, then sin has been revealed, and their argument is not with you, but with Gods revelation of their sin and himself.

God the Father looks down and desperately wants the people to know him.  He desperately wants us to know him also.  His love is strong and genuine.  We cannot bring that to the world if we allow sin in ourselves or in the church as a whole.

So many in the churches are not aware, or not willing to be aware of the threat to their freedom of worship.  We live in troubling times, too few understand this and this latest move by the Bishops weakens an already poor hold the CoE has on the nation.  It must be opposed.

Thursday Thrills..

Another day wasted doing laundry and such like.

When young and fit, with nothing but an exciting view of life ahead, cheerfully looking into the adventures of travelling the world, or at least a day in Cardiff, life was good.

Today, having learned that being an adult means wondering what is for tea tonight, drying your laundry over the heater as a cold draft comes in the open window, ignoring the ironing awaiting, and once again trying to turn the energy off, all the while using it to dry things.

At least when the sun shines all appears well.  Note the pigeon happily sitting high up among the bare branches seeking what sunshine he can gather.  They do not appear too bothered about the weather, nor anything else.  The heavenly father feeds them, usually long before most of us have risen from slumber.

I glanced at the excitement caused by Rishi flying to Blackpool for nothing very important, or the fuss engendered by Nicola and her Gender Bill, and the many other vitally important subjects mentioned, or if they involve a Tory Chancellor dodging tax, not mentioned in the media, and ignored them all.

Today, I just wanted simple things, like sleep, food, and no disturbance.  So far so good.  So I will switch everything off ow and hide in my bed until tomorrow's exciting arrival...

I hope your busy day was better than mine.

Wednesday Kirk

 

I was feeling good this morning, though whether my new breakfast drink is responsible or not I remain unsure.  At least as I walked down the road to the Kirk later my bones did not creak as mush as usual.

There was a 'discipleship class' underway and I went along just to be involved in a face to face argument as opposed to the Twitter arguments I am so used to.  Sadly, this did not occur.  Tsk!  

When people agree with me I find myself floundering and unsure what to say, it is so unusual.

It was good to get about and about, buy bread today to save me getting up early to find some tomorrow.  I bought a couple of bags of cake like things, don't ask me what they were, and the cheerful lass in the 'Tesco Express' pointed out something was wrong with one bag.  It was crushed, and I mistook this to be a different variety of cake.  She changed them over and on I went.  I dumped them on the folks at Kirk, sandwiches were being eaten then, and found tea to keep me going.

I'm knackered and broken now mind...

Wealthy Memory...

How lovely to be wealthy!

Emptying the pockets, searching the cash lying around, and I find all this.

This is the result of Covid!

You see, with Covid around nobody wanted to touch cash so the card came out of the wallet.

This meant that when cash was made use off, such as in the club, then change was given.   Though never enough I say.  This meant that gradually the pockets filled up with loose change.  Now much of the small stuff can go into the cider jar and be made use off at Christmas, well next Christmas as there was too little to bother about this year, and all I need carry is a small amount of what may be required in an emergency, which never arises.  Therefore I have cash abounding, but in reality no money.

Having missed the last two trips to the club for the old man's meeting I have the cash that I would make use of there.  Still, it makes me feel rich to hear it jingle in the pocket.

However, I have had an idea.  I will forget using the cider jar contents for next Christmas's Brandy gift to myself, instead I will turn it into one of these.  This way it will fill up very much quicker and I may have the Brandy by Easter at this rate.

My memory always had a hole in it, however, now it is becoming larger and developing into a canyon instead.  Names are always hard to remember, much worse now, working out why I turned to a page on the laptop is becoming a normality, but always managing to pay my bills, sadly, has not yet failed.

Not a Lot

 

 Frank Kelsey

 

Not a lot has happened.

The bug has bothered me a bit.

I have avoided everything.

Remaining inside, weary, sleepy, and staring into space.

Today, it improved.

I visited the expensive supermarket.

Made soup that tasted like it was meant to.

And now am revived by my own soup.  That has not happened before.

I di begin a post yesterday, I remained inside all day, but was not happy with the phraseology.

It made no sense in other words.

I have returned to one of my Twitter names however, I may soon be banned again.

Hopefully the world is treating you all better than the cold north wind coming through the gaps in my window is treating me.

 

Laptop Death

I have decided to write a book!  It will be called 'Your Laptop is Trying to Kill You!'  It ought to be a best seller.

Today, I attempted to download family history info that had been lost some time ago.  I had most of the info in place and was sure of finding what I required once again.  After some faffing about I began to download info onto paper for printing.  Because of the setup I had to first copy and past the info, then paste it onto what they call 'Sticky Notes' as this removes any little boxes and frames the info has been put into.  From there I then paste it onto a 'WORD' or in my case a similar page.  Simple.

Not so.

For a start, right clicking on this machine either does not work, or if it does it then switches off as you use it to cover info or paste info.  This is a constant habit.  As it sometimes requires several attempts before it works things can go wrong.  While copying one piece about 'Margaret' it failed several times, by the time I had copied the details and printed it off I realised I now had two 'Isabell's!' The blasted smug machine had switched back to the previous woman!  

Add to this my confusion caused by one of my beautiful nieces.  She has also been looking into this and managed to place one wife as the daughter of a previous parent.  It took some time before I worked this out.  The unfortunate habit of using similar names in each generation may be romantic to some but it does the head in of those of us today scrawling through hundreds of Margaret's of Isabell's.  As my dad was called Robert, and so were almost all the fathers before him, and others of the same name also used Robert for generations it is quite easy to come to the conclusion those Mad Axe men found in the daily press are not so mad after all.

Of course add to the fun the router.

This is a machine that sits on the desk quietly doing its work.  

Except when it begins to flash!

Green, Orange, still orange, flashing orange with a 'b' and possibly a wi-fi sign, then more orange before Blue appears, before it begins the whole routine once again!   

Mine takes a delight it playing nice until the football begins, then it goes off on one.

When it all works, the swear box is filling up nicely, and the printer is working well, that is when you realise the ink is about to run out.  There is of course plenty of black ink in the cupboard, but no coloured one.  The coloured one runs out.  You glance at the clock, the wee stationer is shut, supermarkets crowded, but if you go there is no suitable ink, and if there is, it is not the one you need.

You pick up the mobile, switch it on, or at least attempt to switch the brute on.  Nothing happens.  You press again and again, yet nothing happens.  You fling the brute down and it switches on.  

You then attempt to count to ten but that is not helping...

Tomorrow I will visit Tesco, I may have to use the self-service machine.

This could mean trouble...

The Morning Shift

 

I hobbled slowly up to the bank just after it opened the doors this morning and made to place a cheque in the 'paying in machine.'  A woman approached wearing a face a doctor's receptionist would be proud off.  

"Yew paying in?" she asked. 

"er, yes," muttered I.

She grabbed the cheque and examined the signature closely while the other staff glared on from a distance.  The vixen passed the cheque around the others who slowly examined the small piece of paper.  

"It looks almost genuine," one whispered.

"Him, paying in?" said another.

In the corner a customer mumbled to the clerk at the 'Information Desk,' "It looks dodgy to me, he has never been seen inside this place before."

The clerk agreed, but added, "However, I have only been working here ten years."

After a quick call to a stunned 'Bank Interpol' service I was allowed to proceed, though the woman with 'Stasi' in her blood did indicate she was watching.  Indeed she was, and soon made clear it the machine would not work while I was doing it  upside down.  Why are self service machines so difficult?

I made for the door, eyes watching me, some red amongst them, others white with little black spots in the centre, I took the opportunity to hide among the early morning throng.  I did notice two men across the way stare at me as I left the bank doorway, "What was he doing there?" one mouthed.

I sauntered through the townscape.  The sun shone brightly, those avoiding the market day crowd sauntered also, mostly in my path I noticed.  Few stalls were seen, though many regulars take holidays in the sunny parts of the world at this time of year.  Push chairs pushed past, invalid carriages also, a dog was walked through the town dreaming of fields and trees, and children were locked in school to everyone's enjoyment.

I felt free.

On my way back to my abode I dared to enter Sainsburys on a Wednesday after 9 am.  I was pleasantly surprised to find the hordes had not in fact gathered there already, it was not quiet but it was almost safe.  Safe that is bar the men not used to trolleys and the women who used them as weapons.  

The security man greeted me with his usual smile, one learned while serving in the Kings Own Royal Deserters, ran that electric weapon searcher up and down me and waved a pair of handcuffs in my face.  

I think he was telling me something. 

I browsed the grossly overpriced fruit and veg, avoiding fingering any in case they made me pay for the stuff.  Dodging two grimacing men facing one another down in the narrow space between the shelving and a staff trolley, and I headed for the meat.  

There was lots of it and the prices were fabulous.  I decided instead to take a walk out to a farm and kill a cow at the weekend, chop it up and shove it in the freezer.  Hard work, but less hard work than paying the prices Sainsburys wish to charge.

Was it Sainsburys or Tesco whose shareholders voted against a pay rise for the staff recently?  One of them gave their staff a box of 'Quality Street' chocolates as a Christmas gift!  As they sell at £4 a time and cost the store considerably less I am amazed at the generosity!  

Carrying a basket enables me to avoid the slow, old people that hinder so much in supermarkets.  Thus I collected the needful and headed for the checkout.  Alas!  The aged population had queued up, blocking the main passageway ignorantly.  This is not surprising from a generation that always considered themselves before anyone else, and so I went off and joined the other young people like myself at the self service tills.  

The young lass, who I had not seen before, was quick to aid those requiring help, even though she at first offered a visage fit for those seen sitting behind Tory Prime Ministers at PMQs.  While we passed items across the pinging till she amused herself by dreaming of her boyfriends/better job/bank balance/way of escape, until a cry of help was uttered.  I think I would rather sit at a checkout that be forced to run back and forward from one till to another constantly as in this job.

Once she had cleared my mistakes, once the security man had ceased glaring at me from across the hall, I moved out into the cold sunshine and braved crossing the by now, full car park.  Dodging the man with the trolley that did not go in the direction he was going, avoided the woman in the red car putting makeup on her face while the car moved, and stopping to allow an ungrateful couple pass with their pushchair, I halted to catch the sun above the church.  

Naturally it comes out dark, that's what happens when you point the camera at the bright sunshine, but I like it and do not have many other opportunities on days like this.

Back home, while the sun hid itself behind cloud and the temperature dropped like a stone, I concentrated on things that mattered.  So, I slept, ate, slept and ate.  Seems good to me.  My knees agreed, and we have decided not to wander out again until Friday or Saturday, and spend the time available doing things that matter.  

So, not much will be done this week again...

A Bit About Britain

I was persuaded (that's another word for 'ordered') to obtain this book.  This I did, read it I did, and shove it on the bookshelf I am about to do.

The author has a website devoted to bits about Britain.  This, as you know, usually means 'England.'  The author is English, claims a Scots wife, claims a university education in History, and claims to have 'reason.'  

The book itself is an excellent example of turning a blog into a book.  Whether this was the original idea or not it has certainly worked.  Covering the UK from the earliest known dates, and dates as you know are always changeable, he works forward until the period after the second world war.  The method chosen chows how difficult it is to deal with history in a simple manner.  Far too much must be left out simply because of lack of space, include too much and people turn away.  This book manages to cover the whole period remarkably well.

Clearly there are areas to disagree with, what historian would ever accept a book as flawless?  The authors chapter on reason is clearly unreasonable.  He omits to say where his great pride in his reason comes from, nor why we ought to accept his opinion as 'reasonable,' when clearly it is far from that.  His view is clearly from an English perspective, his understanding of Scotland somewhat at variance from mine, and the very nature of the beast means much information a reader such as I wish to see must be omitted.

That said there is much credit in this book.  In fact, when considering the number of asylum seekers arriving on these shores it became clear to me that most will be very ignorant of the land in which they arrive.  When I came to this region of English wilderness I sought out the local press, visited the library, went to the museum and bought a small booklet detailing the towns history, and discovered what it was, or had been about.  This book could do the same for newcomers to the land.  Instead of absurd questionnaires designed to stop people taking up residence this book ought to be given to those allowed to stay.  Clearly this simple, one off book, will teach them more about UK history than what they will learn from the far from free press, TV or talking to neighbours.  

While this book has faults it clearly is ideal as a quick review of UK history, and also details a Timeline that is quick and easy to follow.  Those who find delight in certain passages will soon visit their local museums and libraries to discover more of their chosen time period. 

I recommend this book as a quick history of the UK.