Good Friday 2023

If my memory serves me right, and it sometimes does, 'Good Friday' was always a holiday, and a day when most things closed down, at least in Scotland.  Clearly this is not the pattern today.  Shops are open, football is being played, and while many do have a day off for a holiday they do not comprehend it does appear that Jesus dying for you and me, taking our sinful nature and ending it on the cross, means little to those living out that nature and finding no satisfaction from it.

Now we know that while many more people attended church's of all denominations in times past, we also know the minority were true believers.  Most were nominal, though many had some depth of faith.  However, the nation accepted the Christian holidays as 'Holy Days' and forsook most activities on them.  Not all did of course, and many who did observe cared little for God.  The false religion has long since disappeared, 'Diversity' is God now.  A diversity that accepts no equal and has captured the nation and no-one noticed.  The church was asleep and soon the church in all its forms will be outlawed for speaking out the truth.

Jesus however, remains in charge.  His death, while ignored by most, will continue to speak for all who come to him.  He is alive to receive them and will never turn any away.

 

 

 

Jesus before Pilate

Matt: 26:.Meanwhile Jesus stood before the governor, and the governor asked him, ‘Are you the king of the Jews?’  ‘You have said so,’ Jesus replied.

12 When he was accused by the chief priests and the elders, he gave no answer. 13 Then Pilate asked him, ‘Don’t you hear the testimony they are bringing against you?’ 14 But Jesus made no reply, not even to a single charge – to the great amazement of the governor.

15 Now it was the governor’s custom at the festival to release a prisoner chosen by the crowd. 16 At that time they had a well-known prisoner whose name was Jesus[b] Barabbas. 17 So when the crowd had gathered, Pilate asked them, ‘Which one do you want me to release to you: Jesus Barabbas, or Jesus who is called the Messiah?’ 18 For he knew it was out of self-interest that they had handed Jesus over to him.

19 While Pilate was sitting on the judge’s seat, his wife sent him this message: ‘Don’t have anything to do with that innocent man, for I have suffered a great deal today in a dream because of him.’

20 But the chief priests and the elders persuaded the crowd to ask for Barabbas and to have Jesus executed.

21 ‘Which of the two do you want me to release to you?’ asked the governor.

‘Barabbas,’ they answered.

22 ‘What shall I do, then, with Jesus who is called the Messiah?’ Pilate asked.

They all answered, ‘Crucify him!’

23 ‘Why? What crime has he committed?’ asked Pilate.

But they shouted all the louder, ‘Crucify him!’

24 When Pilate saw that he was getting nowhere, but that instead an uproar was starting, he took water and washed his hands in front of the crowd. ‘I am innocent of this man’s blood,’ he said. ‘It is your responsibility!’

25 All the people answered, ‘His blood is on us and on our children!’

26 Then he released Barabbas to them. But he had Jesus flogged, and handed him over to be crucified.
The soldiers mock Jesus

27 Then the governor’s soldiers took Jesus into the Praetorium and gathered the whole company of soldiers round him. 28 They stripped him and put a scarlet robe on him, 29 and then twisted together a crown of thorns and set it on his head. They put a staff in his right hand. Then they knelt in front of him and mocked him. ‘Hail, king of the Jews!’ they said. 30 They spat on him, and took the staff and struck him on the head again and again. 31 After they had mocked him, they took off the robe and put his own clothes on him. Then they led him away to crucify him.
The crucifixion of Jesus

32 As they were going out, they met a man from Cyrene, named Simon, and they forced him to carry the cross. 33 They came to a place called Golgotha (which means ‘the place of the skull’). 34 There they offered Jesus wine to drink, mixed with gall; but after tasting it, he refused to drink it. 35 When they had crucified him, they divided up his clothes by casting lots. 36 And sitting down, they kept watch over him there. 37 Above his head they placed the written charge against him: this is jesus, the king of the jews.

38 Two rebels were crucified with him, one on his right and one on his left. 39 Those who passed by hurled insults at him, shaking their heads 40 and saying, ‘You who are going to destroy the temple and build it in three days, save yourself! Come down from the cross, if you are the Son of God!’ 41 In the same way the chief priests, the teachers of the law and the elders mocked him. 42 ‘He saved others,’ they said, ‘but he can’t save himself! He’s the king of Israel! Let him come down now from the cross, and we will believe in him. 43 He trusts in God. Let God rescue him now if he wants him, for he said, “I am the Son of God.”’ 44 In the same way the rebels who were crucified with him also heaped insults on him.
The death of Jesus

45 From noon until three in the afternoon darkness came over all the land. 46 About three in the afternoon Jesus cried out in a loud voice, ‘Eli, Eli, lema sabachthani?’ (which means ‘My God, my God, why have you forsaken me?’).

47 When some of those standing there heard this, they said, ‘He’s calling Elijah.’

48 Immediately one of them ran and got a sponge. He filled it with wine vinegar, put it on a staff, and offered it to Jesus to drink. 49 The rest said, ‘Now leave him alone. Let’s see if Elijah comes to save him.’

50 And when Jesus had cried out again in a loud voice, he gave up his spirit.

51 At that moment the curtain of the temple was torn in two from top to bottom. The earth shook, the rocks split 52 and the tombs broke open. The bodies of many holy people who had died were raised to life. 53 They came out of the tombs after Jesus’ resurrection and went into the holy city and appeared to many people.

54 When the centurion and those with him who were guarding Jesus saw the earthquake and all that had happened, they were terrified, and exclaimed, ‘Surely he was the Son of God!’

55 Many women were there, watching from a distance. They had followed Jesus from Galilee to care for his needs. 56 Among them were Mary Magdalene, Mary the mother of James and Joseph,[f] and the mother of Zebedee’s sons.
The burial of Jesus

57 As evening approached, there came a rich man from Arimathea, named Joseph, who had himself become a disciple of Jesus. 58 Going to Pilate, he asked for Jesus’ body, and Pilate ordered that it be given to him. 59 Joseph took the body, wrapped it in a clean linen cloth, 60 and placed it in his own new tomb that he had cut out of the rock. He rolled a big stone in front of the entrance to the tomb and went away. 61 Mary Magdalene and the other Mary were sitting there opposite the tomb.

NPR

ABBA and Judas

The 6th day of April is the day we commemorate the day the music died!  On that date in 1974 the 'Eurovision Song Contest,' which at that time still contained songs, was won by the Swedish group ABBA singing their cheerful, yet hollow 'Waterloo.'  Music was never the same again.

Since the early 60s we had seen music develop from the 'Del Shannon' and 'Pearl Johnson and Teddy Carr,' type of meaningless, bland lyrics into something not just filled with life, such as 'Little Richard' and 'Elvis,' but into real meaningful songs by the 'Beatles,' 'The Rolling Stones,' 'Cream,' 'John Mayall,' 'The Moody Blues,' 'Pink Floyd,' 'Deep Purple,' and hosts of deeply considered musical genius's.  

ABBA killed this.

Music that was attempting to change the world for the better was quickly erased and replaced by banal, bouncy, drivel, always accompanied by flashing lights, badly overdressed men and women, not always easy to tell apart, and cheap, cheery, meaningless trivia, which once again ruled the airwaves.

Where did this lead us?

The 'Eurovision' itself continued with dross for 15 years before realising deviants and weirdo's sold better than feeble music.  Now it is not the song but what kind of pervert that gambols across the stage that counts.  Any song with a meaning will not be tolerated, not that such will be entered anyway.  

The banal 70s bounced emptily across the screen leading only, along with Thatcher's encouragement of greed, to the absurd meaninglessness of the 80s.  Big shoulders and fancy perms, and the women were much the same, dominated while barren groups disturbed our ears with inconsequential noise.  No wonder some took to Rap as they considered this had a meaning for them.  Quite what that meaning may be is a mystery to me, however, it is the result of ABBA arriving on the scene and killing music.      

Excuse me while I cover my ears from ABBA drivel and revive myself with proper music, Jimi Hendrix and 'Purple Haze.' 

Oh that's better!

Arrest Duccio-di-buoninsegna c1310

Judas followed Jesus faithfully for three years.  He was risking arrest and death yet he remained.  We hear from the apostles afterwards that Judas stole from the money bag he carried.  Can we conclude that in spite of the work he had watched with interest, indeed, on occasion doing similar work himself, that he did not trust Jesus with his money, his future, his life?  

At the last supper Jesus informs his men that one of them would betray him.  Not one considered Judas liable to do this.  However, they all stated 'Not I Lord,' and meant it.  When confronted by Jesus Judas however, replies 'Not I Rabbi.'  The eleven saw Jesus as Lord, the Messiah.  Judas saw him as a Rabbi, a teacher, not as Messiah.  Whatever his motives, and it is impossible to understand what they were, money was a sideshow in this.  Judas was disappointed with his Rabbi and sold him for 30 coins, that is about a months wage.   

Once Jesus was arrested and threatened with death Judas offers remorse and attempts to undo what he has done.  The attitude of the Priests, 'That is your responsibility,' speaks much about them.  There is however, no indication Judas yet sees Jesus as Messiah, just a worthy man whom he has condemned.

Peter, having failed to remain awake while Jesus implored his father now fails again by running away and then in the house of Caiaphas three times denies Jesus.  He too faces remorse, yet he still believes in his Messiah.  I am right in thinking Judas did not see a Messiah and had no hope?  Simon Peter saw a Messiah and had some hope, though all appeared lost at the time.

Jesus himself, knowing his father and what lay before him remained in charge of what followed.

Bobby Walker, Jesus, the Temple and Anguish.

Bobby Walker was the greatest footballer of his generation.  Known by even English commentators as the man with ;twinkling feet,' and considered by no less than Billy Meredith the great Welsh winger (who had over 70 caps for his country) as the best footballer around.

He is of course almost unknown outside of Edinburgh today.

Born in 1879, not far from the origins of the Heart of Midlothian itself, this late Victorian young man moved to Gorgie, watched the Heart of Midlothian bring the Scottish Cup home in 1891, what a delight! and was destined to play for his club.  Beginning as a 14 year old at Dalry Primrose Bobby soon attracted the attention of the Heart of Midlothian.  Interestingly (I say) a picture, which I cannot find online, shows the team in 1896.  Bobby Walker sits at the front alongside his team, and looking at two or three faces around him I find I recognise them!  At least three of the young men pictured are identical with three of the young men who formed the crowd following the Heart of Midlothian during the 1960s.  The family resemblance is too strong to ignore.  I did not know these men as they came on other buses, but they are descended from members of this team.

During 1896 the Heart of Midlothian defeated Hibernians by 3 goals to 1 at Logie Green in Edinburgh.  Amongst the crowd was Bobby Walker, aged 17 and soon to sign himself for this great side.

From his first game for the club, a friendly two all draw against Sunderland, until his last in 1913, a Roseberry Cup semi-final against St Bernard's, Bobby Walker established himself as one of Scotland's greatest ever footballers.

If you read the Glasgow press this fact may have escaped you however.

In those far off days Scotland had two international sides, the SFA Scotland side, and the Scottish League side, both of equal importance then.  Of course we only played against Wales, Ireland and England, no other nation was considered worthy enough to challenge regularly.  However, Bobby Walker obtained a record number of International 'caps,' 29 in all, including an amazing 11 caps against England, another record.

Speaking of records, he managed to play against Hibernians 94 times!  There were many more leagues, cups and friendly games in those days.  He also scored 17 times against Hibernians at Easter Road, even John Roberson in the 80s could only manage 15 there.  Keep in mind Hibernians great centre forward Laurie Reilly only managed 7 against the Hearts and you can tell something of the mans talent.

There is no doubt that his talent was recognised by all in the day, only injury or his own desire stopped him getting more rewards for his ability.   

After football he continued to play in friendlies, though his health was not always good.  At least this avoided his participation in the Great War.  However, his financial dealings were not wise, his pubs lost money, his wife appeared to commit suicide, and he himself did not help by drinking.  A great curse amongst Scots is the drink!  Far too many die from the after effects.  It is to be hoped today's players are encouraged to a different lifestyle to aid long term health.

Bobby Walker died during August 1930, and was buried in Merchison cemetery not far from Tynecastle Park which he graced for so long.  Huge crowds lined the streets as his coffin passed by.  A rather tragic end to a great footballer.

This book comprised much written by Bobby himself in his autobiography, lots of photographs from the time, and masses of statistics at the end to please the most fervent statto.  It is a long read, going year by year of his career, and invites us into a foreign world from the turn of the  century and before the Great War.  So near in time, yet so different from today.  Yet the tale of one talented young man making it to the top in football is no different.  Spotted at a young level, signed and escorted by players more senior to him whom he knew.  And capable of making the most of his talent, and obtaining great reward for it.  He was earning £6 a week at times, a soldier only got 10/- (ten shillings) and many people earned less!  

For fans of football and history this is a book well worth reading.  The man speaks for himself, the pictures and reports speak for the times.  The talent speaks for itself.   

On Palm Sunday, though it was not called this at the time, Jesus entered the Temple and upset all the tables of those making money.  This was not just a bad temper, the area in which these money changers and merchants were operating was the 'Court of the Gentiles.'  This area was where all people could come and worship the God of the whole earth, not just Jews, the 'chosen people.'  Instead of prayer what we see are money changers.  A rule had arisen that only Temple money could be used, so someone was getting rich.  The animals brought for sacrifice were rejected as 'not good enough' and only those on sale, at a price, could be used, pigeons, for the poorest, lambs for the wealthier, all at a price using Temple money.  No wonder Jesus was upset!  This was a Temple area set out as 'a place of prayer, for all nations,'  and instead it was a capitalists dream.  No wonder the tables were overturned, the animals set free.  

The word 'sorrow' used here as you know is perilupos which is not covered by sorrow.  'Very sad,' 'deeply grieved,' or 'exceeding sorrowful,' says 'Vines Expository Dictionary of NT words.'  Here is a man who bows before his father knowing that this cross is the only way to save mankind.  Before him lies arrest, opposition, hatred, lies and beatings before being falsely found guilty of being what he is, the 'Son of God!'  

He takes his disciples with him, only eleven are left, with the closet three nearby.  Three times he appeals to his father for this to be taken from him, but there is no other way.  He wrestles with giving up himself to physical assault and then crucifixion, and then separation from his father for the only time in eternity, all for you.  Jesus the man has to choose whether to suffer this because you and I sin, and care little about it, or whether he should keep his body, return to his father and let us all be lost, suffering Hell, the separation from God for ever.  

He chooses to accept the fathers lead, all the while he struggles and his closest friends forget him and fall asleep.  How very like me.

Palm Sunday 2023

 

Today, being Palm Sunday,  I made a special effort to make the Kirk.  I knew the vicar had planned a march around the building, all very Anglican, and took my camera, the battery suitably refreshed and the disc cleaned.  The only trouble was I was knackered by the time I reached there.  A mile walk and all I want to do is sit and dove for five minutes.  Naturally, a man came over to talk.  By the time I had dispensed with him people sat down beside me and talked!  At one and the same time I was so pleased to be among people who like me but at the same time just wished I could doze.  As John was speaking I knew there was an opportunity for that however!

Of course after a few minutes, when we all began to relax the vicar informed us that NOW we would parade!  There was much creaking of bones, aching of muscles all around, while those in wheelchairs looked a wee bit despondent, those walking felt much more so!  Grabbing my coat, about 46% with a cold north east wind, I hobbled my way out first, across the road, and positioned myself for the debacle parade.  

I do anything to avoid joining in these catholic like rites.  

Across the road, on the pavement opposite I had little time to get positioned.  I grabbed a few shots as the party walked by, few locals around as it was still just before eleven in the morning, and moving from the front of the church, around to the rear and back in to continue the service.

Much enjoyment from many, much relief as seats were taken once again from others.

All this to remind ourselves of Jesus welcome into Jerusalem.

Jesus, riding on a colt of a donkey, would go down from this 'Mount of Olives,' and climb back up to the gate opposite, just out of shot to the right.  As it was Passover, the entire Jewish diaspora wished to be in Jerusalem.  Numbers vary from 500,000 to over 3 million attending this event.  Whatever the number, it is clear vast crowds were gathered in the vicinity.  Some say (note this phrase, very useful to me) those throwing down their cloaks and branches of palm trees, a common eastern occurrence, were people from Galilee who had seen Jesus operating there.  This to distinguish them from the crowd calling for his execution a week later who were possibly the Jewish leaders local men.  

Whatever, a crowd gathered as it does when an occasion is underway, vast numbers would see a man on a colt clambering up the hill cheered by the crowds proclaiming him a 'prophet,' while he himself was living out the scriptural prophecy of being the Messiah.  Few recognised this.

The final countdown had begun.  Jesus, the man from Nazareth who was God in the flesh, arrived to be greeted by cheering crowds, yet he alone knew what was about to happen.  Some considered him a prophet with gifts, some hoped he was the Messiah, almost none knew he was about to die on a cross for their sin.  

Knowledge of scripture does not always lead to understanding.

Saturday Sloth

 

 

I started the new month in the normal way, seeking for what day this is, working out what the time was, seeking coffee, and then hobbling up to Sainsburys before either I was awake or the crowds had gathered.  At Sainsburys the crowds had gathered.  I filled my basket as quickly as possible, joined the shortest queue at the checkout, friendly crowd here, good young lady on till, and struggled home, huffing and puffing all the way.  

Another month has begun!

This is the fourth, and I still working through the second!  Now Spring clean time has arrived, but thankfully I canny be bothered.  So that is that!  

The constant bug over the past few months has been hanging around making life difficult again.  However, by remaining indoors for the past three weeks, only shopping took me out, has helped greatly. Indeed, this week I returned to exercise and housekeeping!  Both have been missing, and my mind is clearer than for a while.  However, I have been here before.  A virus is not a good thing, they come and go, wave after wave, but hopefully this one will clear off soon, I may even stop coughing for a while.

So, Saturday is football day, and to nobodys surprise the Heart of Midlothian threw it!  A good reason for depression.  It is strange how a simple game like football can mean so much.  We all know its only a game but winning and losing have an effect on the fan.  I cheered my self up by watching Motherwell roundly beat Hibernian in Leith.  That brought a smile.

Now I prepare for tomorrow, Palm Sunday, mostly by staring into space...

 

      My latest great niece. That cheers me up.

Reformation, MacCulloch

This is a big book!  

There are 708 pages of small font, followed by notes and appendix and index.

And being by a great Church historian it is not an easy read.

None of his books are. 

Diarmaid MacCulloch, as you can tell by the name, is an Englishman!  His grandfather was an Anglican vicar, his father also, and during the 1970s Diarmaid also wished to become a clergyman.  This however, was hindered b y his homosexuality, which he did not hide.  Today he would be welcomed and rushed through to Bishop hood!   This has been a sore point with him ever since, every book he writes, every TV and Radio appearance, every article makes clear his anguish at being rejected.  He himself also makes very clear the biblical teaching throughout indicates that this is a fault, and a sexuality that if acted upon becomes sin.  However, underneath each page he is trying to change this.

This does not detract from his research work however.  Covering the period from 1490 - 1700 he delves into the working of the church, and then the churches, throughout Europe at this time.  And what a mess there is to investigate.  On one side we have the two straight forward sides Roman Catholic and Protestant, it is soon clear that the advantage of teaching people to read and giving them a bible to actually work on, the invention of the printing press came at a good time, also released a great many versions of understanding the clear 'Word of God.'   As time passes Anabaptists, Lutherans, Calvinists, Catholics seeking reformation, Catholics not seeking reformation, Inquisitions, states which accept differing opinions, states which accept only one, some large states, some small.  

Each page offers another 'great man' who has diligently come up with his own understanding, some thoughtful some absurd, every so often this one or that is burnt at the stake or exiled because of their beliefs or lack thereof.  On top of this there is straight forward war between states.  Catholic Spain dominates the Netherlands, and were not too happy about it, Austria had wars, Poland tried not to have them, France had Huguenots and liked them until they didn't, England had a King desperate for a son and dumped the Pope because he disagreed with that kings efforts to obtain one.  So Anglicanism, the Church of England with a monarch as head was born.  Scotland became Calvinist under John Knox and was better for it.  For states in the east of Europe there was the Orthodox tendency and the Ottoman Muslim attacks from the south, they held much of the Balkans and Austro-Hungary at the time. 

Two things come out of this.  One is the lack of the Supernatural in this.  Talk is of the Holy Spirit but little appears to be seen.  People argue, for several reasons not always honest, for their view of the bible, but almost none expect the supernatural intrusion from the Holy Spirit which is where true believers begin!  Intellect may help you find God but not without the Holy Spirit to open you to receive.   Much argument, little Biblical Love.

This brings out the second aspect of this book, violence.  These were violent times.  Punishment for crime was rough and unpleasant.  It is not a surprise that various religious groups used similar tactics on their enemies, sometimes to avoid them being used on themselves.  However, to our eyes, in a day in which punishment appears to have been removed from society,  we find, flogging, beating, exiling or burning people unsatisfactory.  I am quite pleased we take this attitude today.

It is fair to say he is an outstanding historian, one I would always recommend.  This tome if full of information which reflects the long period of research which has gone into the work.  The length of the book would be shorter bar the authors delight in giving individuals their full title, always adding his opinion of them as he does so, thus adding 150 ages to the work!  There can be no doubt that if you wish to understand the Reformation this is one book that must be read to inform and, to some, delight.

I began this book just before Covid arrived, then put it down as during that time I had difficulty reading, I just could not sum up the energy, and little was read.  Since then I have been trying to finish all the books, another one of this man's sits already begin on the shelf, it will remain there for a while, as I fight my way through all the books piling up on the 'to Read' shelf.  

I am however glad to have finished this book.  I learned a great deal, especially about biblical arguments, clearly you can make the bible say what you wish if you refuse to read what it actually says!  The arguments and history, the vast number of names that flash across the page, can be very distracting, so much information is found here.  That said I recommend this book to anyone who has the time to read it, in paperback, much History will be found, much about church and much about people all the way through.  A good thorough, but long read.

Scotland Returns, Forbes Withdraws, and Prices Rocket

Last night Scotland deservedly beat Spain by 2 - 0 in their second game of the European Championship Qualifying stage.  This was not a shock result, this was the result of an ongoing process carried out by manager Steve Clark, a process that has had it's ups and down's over the period he has been in charge.  Scotland, the nation that not only invented the game of 'Football,' but developed the Laws of the game as they now stand, alongside the 'Scientific Football,' that saw them dominate the game before the Great War, has been through a tough time recently.  Until Steve Clark took charge Scotland were on the way down in football levels, last night they revealed the results of hard work and team discipline which combined with decent tactics and the always required luck, saw them return to the world stage, a stage they have not appeared on since at least 1998.

There has been moments when things looked like they may improve, only for them to fall down all around us.  Individual players of quality have appeared occasionally, but sadly too many lacked the quality, the managers the tactics, and hope that rose soon dissipated.  Questions can always be asked regarding how some players or managers obtained their place, eyes always glaring in the Glasgow direction at such times, but today is not the time for recriminations today is the time for hope and encouragement.  Hope that a renovation of the Scottish League to suit all sides rather than two will occur.  Hope that clubs can develop young players, especially those who are capable of making it overseas in places such as Italy.  Encouragement for those already involved, in spite of their obvious limitations, to continue to give all and develop on the field individually and together.  This is a time of hope, at last Scotland can look forward into the football future with hope, much development still is required, but as a man once said, "This is not the end, but it is the end of the beginning," or something...

Wiki

Humza is swearing in himself and his new cabinet as we speak.  Each will have been carefully chosen to support the cabal that has undone the independence debate over the last few years.  To begin with offering Kate Forbes a lowly job at 'Rural Affairs' can only be seen as an insult.  Her supporters are also beginning to turn down the low jobs offered them.  This cannot be the way to unite the SNP.  What this man has done is to force half the SNP people who voted for Kate to one side as if unimportant.  This politically is dangerous as they will then gather around her and Ash Regan, we have no idea if she has been offered a post as yet, and form a powerful opposition to Humza within the party.  This sort of behaviour make the SNP look like the Conservatives and can only lead to disaster.  Maybe we can ask again regarding Special Branch operations with the SNP?

 

I came across this on Twitter this morning, 'Which' offering an idea of the rise in prices at the major supermarkets.  As they say, Aldi and Lidl remain cheapest, but still it gives a good indication of rising costs. 

I noticed this as I scrutinised my bread in Tesco after reading this.  The fancy type of bread I like, instead of the 'Plain Loaf' variety, now costs either £2:25 or £2:40, according to taste.   It was not that long ago it cost £1:60 or £1:80.  Now Brexit is too blame indeed, other factors such as rising energy prices, transport costs, slight wage increases must all be taken into account, but for me the real reason prices increase is greedy supermarkets!  They have us all on the end of a lead.  There is little opposition to a large supermarket, other than a large supermarket.  In my reach lie Sainsburys and Tesco, up till now Tesco were cheaper, but lately they have been catching up with the crooks at Sainsburys.  There is a Lidl up the road, too far to walk these days, but I never found them cheaper anyway.    

Now I can survive this, I simply do not spend on what I can no longer afford, I buy the cheapest stuff if required to.  Some however, suffer.  Gas prices like electric are doubling for me, or at least so they say, what may happen will no doubt be different, and many will struggle to cope.  Many of these will be working people at that.

Remove the government where the PM pays less tax than the workers, where MPs line their pockets on second jobs, and bring in a government of the people, for the people.  Hold on, I see a problem here.  The opposition do not know what a woman is, they have no policies bar getting the 'red wall' votes, and Keir Hardie is turning in his grave at what they have done to the workers.  Maybe an election is not the way forward after all...?

Hmmm...

Wicki

Humza Yousaf has become the new leader of the SNP, but only just.  Only half the party want him, and many others are not happy that a man who has not been seen as truly successful, would now lead the party.  Others are very happy about this, the Labour Party, the Conservatives, of course Alex Salmond's ALBA Party, and no doubt the mentally unstable Greens also.  The population are looking the other way and hoping this is not happening.

Humza is seen as a continuity candidate, that is, he has been forced into this place by the 'powers behind the throne,' and this to continue Nicola's programme, much of which was manifestly absurd. 

So, we expect little obvious change, lots of votes drifting away, possibly a rise in ALBA, and independence drifting far off the agenda for a long time.

Maybe Nicola was a 'Special Branch' agent after all?

In Search of England

Henry Canova Vollam Morton, better known as H.V. Morton, followed his father into the journalism world.  However, he became better known for his many, many travel books which covered many parts of the world.

Morton moved to London and was fortunate to be the only journalist around when Tutankhamen's tomb was opened in 1923.  A 'scoop' if ever there was one.  I have a vague idea there was some trickery involved in this, but I may be wrong and hove not got time to investigate more.  This deed made his name and travel writing became his game.  The 'Daily Express,' for whom he worked, were happy to offer his many journeys around London, which he made into book form.  And he was to continue this type of work, mostly on London, for years.  It was common in days past for the papers to offers such 'features,' unlike today where celebrities and half truths dominate.

During 1926 H.V. travelled around England in a small 'Bullnose Morris' car.  His task was to discover the England of the day, eight years after the Great War.  At this time few could afford a car, unemployment was rife.  Indeed my father had enlisted in the Kings Own Scottish Borderers the year before because work was difficult to find.  The sight of rural England was unknown to the majority, a day holiday might mean a trip by rail or bus to the seaside, or a long walk there and back, the whole village or district marching together on a rare day out.  The sight of an educated man in a car 'from London,' might well have impressed, or not so much behind his back, the rural people.  Indeed in Norfolk he meets one local more than unwilling to divulge much but weary contempt.  

Life may be different today.

The idea is simple, he drives out of London, stops at an appropriate spot, describes what he sees and moves on.  His writing is at times very descriptive, involving present situations, history and fables from the people in residence.  This is usually excellent, occasionally, where he imagines the ghosts of times past a bot wearing, as this appears more to entice newspaper readers than describe a historical event.  On the other hand however. it works very well.

Beginning in the south west and heading north via Stonehenge, where the American visitors apparently dominate, blocking the roads with their 'charabancs.'  From Cornwall to Gloucester, visiting cathedrals, castles, Inns where he can remain overnight, including one pub where the fire in the main room has been continuous for over 200 years, and on to the Lake district.  Hadrian's Wall, York and into Lincolnshire, making a special effort to visit Rutland, wherever that was, and into Norfolk.  

Stratford is not forgotten, he was born in Warwickshire, his father editing the 'Birmingham Mail,' and he once again discovers how charabancs full of visitors, often American, destroy the very towns they wish to visit.  This remember, was 1926!

1926,a mere 97 years ago, and the changes in the UK since then are made clear through this book.  The roads are narrow, little traffic, the rise of the charabanc and tourism for the middle classes and Americans.  Many Morton meets appear to imply life is changing, and not for the better.  The 'it was better in my day' attitude is not new.  H.V. fills the pages with his somewhat sentimental, sorry, patriotic, love of 'England.'  This is not a love I can share.  One reason being it represents an attitude from a different age, an age that had just lost sons in the war, and occasionally this is mentioned by those around the author, an age that wishes to believe the loss was worth it, especially while the nation was bankrupt and life had not returned to how it was.  Indeed, women who moved to towns and cities returned with skirts up to their knees, amongst other changes.  Morton manages to notice almost all the women he passes.   The patriotism and deep feeling for an England that never existed runs through this book.  People are always looking for the time when things were better in the past, or when the nation was more powerful, richer, better.  All such dreams are just that, dreams.  

For those who wish to see an England in 1926 I recommend this book.  His writing is always good, and he does describe both fantasy and reality as he found it very well.  Those who know the places he passes through will quickly note how this England of today is not the England of 1926.  Well worth a read.

 

Wicki

Porthcawl Sea View

 

At first sight this appears a rather uninspiring view.  A dark grey sky, restless grey waters, grey stonework filling the screen, and little of joyful movement to be found.  However, early this morning I began watching this, I filled the screen with it as background while I did other things, and became taken by the sea, the restless, ever moving sea.  

There is something relaxing about watching waves build up and heave themselves over the breakwater, or is this a sea wall?  The incoming tide carries great weight and as many know erodes vast areas of coast line in the UK.  The Norfolk coast on the east of England has for many years seen villages and even towns disappear under the sea.  Heavy tides in winter can crash across the beach removing vast tons to distant parts never to be seen again.  Dunwich famously is now a mere collection of debris where once a town stood.  The sea now covers several hundred yards of what once was a busy, bustling town.  On the west coast of Ireland the half circle remains of a Neolithic settlement can be seen.  Originally this was a round defensive wall, not far from the edge of the cliff.  These cliffs are not the soft east of England shores but hard rock with a cliff now quite high.  The strength of the Atlantic waves can be seen among the ruined settlement where large stones, many tons in weight lie scattered around.  These once formed the cliff, now they have been hurled high up and onto the clifftop.  It is no wonder the people moved inland!

That said, the sight of waves gently or as this morning, with a somewhat rougher edge was still a pleasure.  The waves splash along the wall, every so often building up until first, at the lighthouse end, they crash across the wall, and then much more powerfully, crash over the wall, reaching even to the further side.  Such a sight is not unknown in most parts of the UK.  In Arbroath, on Scotland's east coast, the football team ground is only a small road with away from the North Sea.  Crashing waves are a danger during storms  as they are known to come over the football ground wall and saturate anyone taking a corner kick at the time!

Considering how powerful waves can be, how much water there is between one land mass and another, and how difficult it is to create a raft that can cross such water, I am always amazed that man took to the water just to see what was 'over there.'  They reckon (Note the use of the word 'they' to fill in when I do not know who) that five thousand years ago, and maybe more, men made a couple of dugout logs, attached to a sail, a craft that travelled across the Pacific ocean enabling them to reach places like Fiji and other far spread islands.  What skill!  What talent, what courage!  This comes from that strange desire to look around the corner just to see what can be found.  I think we all have that to some extent.  But sailing such craft?  Amazing.  Just as in similar fashion we crossed from the British Isles to what is now Ireland.  A hollowed out log probably, and an adventurous, possibly mad, young man or two.  Maybe they were just trying to impress the women?   But how many did not survive the experiment?

The camera is situated on the Porthcawl RNLI building looking in a south east direction along the southern coast of Wales.  The RNLI (Royal National Lifeboat Institution) operates a small but lively lifeboat from breakwater.   While a lifeboat was arranged by wealthy locals in the 19th century the RNLI as we know it today has operated from here for some 50 years.  In the past lifeboats were just large rowing boats, the operators local men who knew the sea, and knew the risks they were taking to save lives.  In my view there can be few volunteer organisations more worthy than one where the operators, in spite of the training received today, understand that each time they leave shore they may not return.

Fast rubber boats, high skills, good training, yet in the past strong me rowed out into the roaring seas just to save people.  Lifeboats developed, attempts to enable boats avoiding sinking grew, but in the end whatever safety feature is created it is the man in the boat that counts.  

There is little to equal such an enterprise as this.

Thursday? What Day is it...?

This Magpie was chancing his luck yesterday.  I caught him from a fair distance via a dirty window.  He was sitting quite contentedly in the area belong to the Crows of this parish.  Had they seen him there would have been a stramash of epic proportions.  These birds are very jealous of their roost and the surrounding area. He was not in their roost, that is over the other side, but this is their feeding grounds and had he met them then he would have been their feed.  

A bird has a difficult life.  From learning to fly, by being pushed out of the nest by mum, to seeking food, nuts, worms, beetles, scraps etc, and all the while keeping a wary eye on larger birds or other animals that might delight in making you lunch.  You never see small birds just resting, their heads are always warily on the move, one eye on the surroundings.  A little bit like me wandering around Tesco this morning.

Thursday is a good day to shop.  It once was the town's 'closed day,' a chance for those forced to work Saturday's to have a day off.  Some still close Thursday but it has really come to an end that attitude.  However, the townspeople still react by not shopping on Thursday, all shops take less on that day than any other, the museum was the same.  Naturally, for this reason I try to shop Thursdays each week.  I will pop up to Sainsburys for bread and milk on Saturday but hopefully all other items are now in.  

It was once the norm for each town to have a 'half day closing,' in Edinburgh when I was a boy it was Saturday!  Until the 60s Edinburgh's main shops closed on Saturdays, Leith on the other hand closed on Wednesday's.  That explains why I was dragged through Leith on a Saturday, in spite of the crowds, and 'up town' on other days.  All very confusing for a wee boy.  

Today almost everywhere is open all the time, holidays included.  Easter and Christmas may see a day off for many, but even deliveries to your house may be made seven days a week, rather than a more sensible five days and Saturday morning.  

The nation requires a rest day.  The idea that we can have what we want, when we want it, sounds fine, unless you are forced to work those days.  Busy traffic seven days a week outside your house may benefit some, but it does not do you much good.  Living in big cities or towns does have advantages, it is also noisy, polluted and horrible at times.  Having this seven days a week lowers the lifespan, stress, neighbours, noise, all add up and wear you down.  We need a day off.

The Romans had many days off for 'religious' reasons.  Some say they took a month off altogether once a year, if I read that right.  Less lucky people do not get a day off, let alone a week.  How lucky we are.

The biblical one day off to rest and worship God, "The Sabbath was made for man, not man for the Sabbath,"  is a good way to deal with things.  Six days is enough for most to obtain what they want, few really need to shop on a Sunday, no matter what most say, and I have done seven day shifts in the past, plenty of time to obtain the needful.  A quiet street, even a busy one is always good, the locals need it, the people need a day to themselves, and not like it was in the 50s where nothing at all happened, and the parks were locked in some places.  Enjoyment must be the thing on such a day, not more misery.

I should talk like this.  Once more I had to check the calendar and the laptop to ensure this is Thursday the 23rd.  Each morning I have to ask 'what day is it?'  A day off would just confuse me!

Boris's Losers

PM Rishi Sunak has successfully put one over on Boris.  While 'Lard Boy' was lying in his teeth in the Committee rooms Sunak put through his revision of the Brexit Northern Ireland deal to almost everyone's satisfaction.  The result was the 'Ayes 515 the Noes 29.'  Some 22 Tory backbenchers, all the usual suspects shown here, voted against the Bill.  Six members of the DUP of Northern Ireland also voted against, plus one Andrew Bridgen, now an independent MP as his party do not want him.  Clearly the farce that is Brexit has reached a stage now.  A stage in which the return to the EU, or at least a close working relationship benefitting both sides can be reached. 

On top of that Boris and his ERG supporters, all as mad as the march Hare, can be seen to be on the way out.  At the head Boris is fighting, I mean lying for his life in the committee room.  His main tactic is to blame everybody else, indeed one commentator explained more buses had been called for as Boris had thrown so many people under them London was running out of them!  

I have followed his lies via Twitter.  I just cannot stand listening to him.  His bare faced lies, his buck passing, his sense of entitlement are too much for my tired mind.  

As far as I know the committee is still in session.  Tomorrow the air might be clearer, his guilt obvious, and his fate looming.  

Interesting to see how the commentators under the 'Daily Mail' stories are mostly against him, no matter how Paul Dacre and his lackeys try to defend him.

It could really be the end of Boris.

Costa Rica Tarrazu and Italian Style

For a while now I have been using those Cappuchino coffee sachets that coem 8 to a box.  These wake me up to some extent each morning.  However, the cost has risen to £2 a go and that has brought this to an end.

Some time back I was using ground coffee in an indvidual cafferiere thing and jad discovered a wide variety of coffees.  This became a trend for a while and ended in the way such trends end.  So, having been offput by supermarket money grabbing I returned to the ground coffee.  Now one of my highly intelligent and beautiful nieces had sent me a coffee maker of sorts, ideal for Expresso, and a bag of Costa coffee to go with it.  I tried this again and remembered I also had a jor filled with the previous coffee, Costa Rica I believe the origin thereof.  I also noted that Sainsburys had given me a pile of extra token vouchers so, at Sainsburys this morning I made use of them.  However, to get them I had to spend more than I hoped so ended up with an Italian job also.  Once again the main coffee is from Costa Rica, and so, in spite of having the dregs of the previous lot for breakfast, I made use of my new purchse and, adding double cream instead of milk, obtained a delightful drink that I much enjoyed.

That was this morning, It is now nine in the evening and I am still awake!  This may be a long night...

King, WW2 and Rolls, What else is Required?

 

You will be as delighted as I am to read that Prince Louis will be attending the coronation alongside George and Charlotte. whoever they are.  My heart leapt at this news, didn't yours?  

No?  I am not surprised.  

This is just another 'Daily Mail' story ignoring the real problems in the UK and pandering to royalists everywhere.  Their Tory lies have not convinced anyone so talk about something that distracts the readers is the usual way.  So, the 'Online Mail' fills the top of the page with tripe like this.

A serious point has to be made however.  Charles, they say, (always 'they' whoever 'they' are) wanted a 'cut down' coronation.  So who decided to make it a bog occasion, Holiday, long weekend, pubs open late, and all that?  Surely this was a government desire to blind the population to their faults, if indeed they are still in office come the day.

Surely if the monarch wishes to be popular he would avoid spending millions on an event in times of cost-cutting?  Surely he would be avoiding large gatherings and seek a cheap coronation?  Now, after fifty years awaiting his enthronement I can understand Charles wishes to have his big day, but consider the effects on the public.  

In Scotland support for the monarchy is falling, 36% were in favour, if I remember the last poll correctly, 45% against.  So a third of the country is for a monarch, mostly Tories and Rangers fans, and an ever growing number wish to lose royalty.  This in a nation where the monarch was known to wander the pathways around Balmoral freely, accompanied only by a security man and rarely recognised, and usually ignored by the public.  A friend of mine walking there one day met Camilla and her guard wandering the hills.  They chatted amiably and went on.  This ought to continue whatever the decision, but for Charles to ignore, or not be made aware of the publics view is a mistake.  

There is also the question of the Stone of Scone (pronounced 'Scoon') now kept in Edinburgh Castle.  On this stone the King of Scots is crowned, and until now it has been placed under the coronation chair in Westminster Abbey.  Stolen by Edward I the brutal imperialist English king in 1296 during one of his failed invasions, and removed to London where it was imprisoned until returned by a desperate London government seeking to stop Scottish Nationalism in 1996.  That failed.  The question now is, ought the stone to remain in Edinburgh?  Should Charles be forced to come to Scone Abbey and be crowned 'King of Scots' there?  I wonder if the new First Minister has the guts to ask this question?

I doubt it.

You can tell it is a Saturday simply by looking at the 'Online Mail.'  Every Saturday without fail we find a Second World War story, this time one featuring Plaszow Concentration Camp, an unruly, lawless place, even by Nazi standards.  This story tells us off a violent man who allowed the power to go to his head, and the survivor who sought him out after the war and had him brought to justice.

Now the tale is not pretty, but the tale is not important.  What is important is to remind the reader that 'They are British,' and that 'We won the war,' and allow them to sink into the Brexit dream of imperialist greatness that would make Edward I jealous.  The facts of the war matter not, most of the readers were not born during the war, it is the 'British Flag Waving' that counts.  As indeed does the coronation story at the top of the 'Mail Online' page.  

Journalism, who needs it? 

There has been a bit off a hoo-hah in the press because a Glasgow company, 'Morton's Bakers,' has ceased to exist.  This Bakers has become famous in the west of Scotland for providing the morning roll so beloved by Scots, especially on a Sunday morning!   While this is sad news for Glaswegians it kind of surprised me as in Edinburgh it was more normal on Sunday mornings to walk to the local bakers shop for rolls and then gather the newspapers from the nearby newsagent.  It is to be hoped the clever people in the house already had bacon, eggs or square sausage available for the rolls, or there would be trouble!  As far as I know this is still normal procedure for many.  Huge bakeries may supply rolls to supermarkets and large shops, but the rolls from the local baker are always the best in the world.  All over Scotland small bakers can be found hard at work at a Saturday midnight as they prepare the requirements for the morning.  In times past, when I was walking home, too late for a bus, to cheap for a taxi, I often made my way through Stockbridge.  Just after passing Royal Circus on the right hand side were a row of shops.  Amongst them there was a small bakers shop hard at work, and on a quiet, late summer night the fragrance of the bakers work filled the air all around.  Marvellous!  I remain unconvinced such wee bakers can survive with large supermarkets around but surely many do.  There is nothing better than entering such a shop, being served by a 16 year old (if that) on her first job, possibly buying a 'snowball' or two, and maybe a couple of 'Fly Cemeteries' for later.  Now, we have a large 'Greggs' in this town but there is no way I would buy in that shop (I use Tesco) if there was a suitable bakers nearby.  Sadly this area does not possess one such wee baker.

However, for the hungry, I have found a suitable recipe for those able and willing to learn how to eat properly.  Scottish Scran  Go read and learn how to eat properly!

Dreich Day

 

As the Spring equinox approaches it is no surprise to find the rain teeming, the air cold, and Dreich being the order of the day.  This suits my mood perfectly.  I'm fair scunnered with all things at the moment, the never ending virus, the weariness, the empty media praising liars, and nothing being quite right or as good as it once was.  That sort of a day.

Nothing is what it was.  Twitter, once a good place to argue, meet new enemies, and learn things, has now become a drudge.  Musk has decided to change everything, mostly without any idea why, and ruined it for all.  Things and people I follow do not appear on the new 'Following' thread.  Things and people I have not followed, and certainly do not wish to know about, US College Basketball, Pakistani politicians, Movies, Arabic and Indonesian football?  I mean how does the algorithms find such things?

Rarely is anything suitable.  

Some things have disappeared, rather like Putin's opponents, other things appear unwanted.  Just what is the schoolboy owner attempting to do, other than force us to read far-right posts supporting Russia?  I think stepping into one of his rockets and firing himself off to the moon might be a good idea.  

I note the International Criminal Court has put out an arrest warrant for President Putin.  It appears that some of his actions in invading Ukraine, massacring people, dropping missiles on cities, and blundering about with a broken army has not gone down well.  If you happen to see him when you are out and about either ring the local police or make a citizens arrest on him.  

There might even be a reward...