Once again the mighty Heart of Midlothian have taken the wee team apart!
How delightful to know that even if we stumbled against Kilmarnock last week, when it matters the Hearts can turn it on.
Three goals in sixteen minutes, and the Hibbys were running for home.
Now, if the Celts will do us the favour of losing a couple more, and they can, it's a league where we all take points of each other, our chances will improve.
New players arriving, more on the way.
The futures bright!
The futures MAROON!
Saturday 28 January 2006
Wednesday 25 January 2006
The Family, does it exist in the UK now?
The other day, the law courts decided that an underage girl could have an abortion behind her parents back. In short, the parents were of no account regarding their child. Yet, the same parents are told they must be responsible for the child when they do something wrong. And this country has a 'yob' culture others envy.
Homosexuality has been developed to such an extent that Muslims and Christians who call it a sin, are visited by the police looking for 'homophobia!' Same sex partners are granted the right to 'marry' and be regarded as such. Financial payments to married couples are not given to the couple, but to one or the other. Letters sent by schools regarding the child are addressed to 'The Guardian/Parent of...' Instead of to the individuals name!
So we have a government that has in nearly twenty years of work destroyed the family.
We are now individuals, not families. Is this wrong, yes!
Society is built on strong family ties. We worship individuality. This goes against the grain of life. We learn from this that others do not count, we alone are important. Our needs come first and selfishness triumphs.
We are left with many sad empty folk. We are made to be family. Parents are meant to build up their child, showing them the best way to live, this happens often even now, but what help does the government give? None.
Marriage guidance is underfunded. Benefits are not biased in favour of marriage and we, the nation, suffer because of this.
Homosexuality has been developed to such an extent that Muslims and Christians who call it a sin, are visited by the police looking for 'homophobia!' Same sex partners are granted the right to 'marry' and be regarded as such. Financial payments to married couples are not given to the couple, but to one or the other. Letters sent by schools regarding the child are addressed to 'The Guardian/Parent of...' Instead of to the individuals name!
So we have a government that has in nearly twenty years of work destroyed the family.
We are now individuals, not families. Is this wrong, yes!
Society is built on strong family ties. We worship individuality. This goes against the grain of life. We learn from this that others do not count, we alone are important. Our needs come first and selfishness triumphs.
We are left with many sad empty folk. We are made to be family. Parents are meant to build up their child, showing them the best way to live, this happens often even now, but what help does the government give? None.
Marriage guidance is underfunded. Benefits are not biased in favour of marriage and we, the nation, suffer because of this.
Sunday 22 January 2006
Early Morning
Habit brings awakening before four in the morning. Fumbling in the dark while getting dressed, at the same time struggling to dry the weeping eyes and curb the yawns. Through the curtains, drawn to keep what heat there is from escaping, shows winter remains frozen, bleak and waiting to welcome.
An occasional car drifts through the night, the noise in the silence harsh and unwelcome.
Silence.
The darkness seems to shroud noise,not even birds are awake yet. When they do waken the noise, before traffic arrives to drown them out, is deafening. Such small creatures yet so loud a voice. One that entertains sweetly. Blackbirds and robins join in the early morning chorus, bringing delight to human hearers, but most likely a warning to other feathered ones. Claiming their remit over this part of the earth.
Cats brave the cold to wander round their estate, like birds nestling above, guarding their homeland jealously against the interventions of prowling neighbours. Stopping occasionally to stare with large round attentive eyes into the blackness, at nothing at all. Nothing moves. No life whatsoever. Yet the cat sees it. Is it real, or just imaginary? Only a cat will ever know.
A police car slowly passes through the amber lit streets. Young men with dreams of legal glory desperately searching for crime in the quietest area of the land. How can promotion, and a purpose filled life, be achieved by helping old ladies over the road, and patrolling empty highways? A postman makes his way to work, idling through a red light on an ageing bike which, luckily for the law, has no lights of its own. The law guardians pull him over and discuss the highway code with a drowsy, recalcitrant figure. His opinions regarding the way they see their duty is best not input into any future 'circum vitae' they produce.
Slowly, oh so very slowly, the sky begins to turn a lighter gray. Gradually easing and chasing the darkness away to the west, altering the atmosphere, the feel, of the streets, as street lights switch off, the traffic increases, and early shift workers will walk somewhat unwillingly into another day, life, as we know it, begins anew.
An occasional car drifts through the night, the noise in the silence harsh and unwelcome.
Silence.
The darkness seems to shroud noise,not even birds are awake yet. When they do waken the noise, before traffic arrives to drown them out, is deafening. Such small creatures yet so loud a voice. One that entertains sweetly. Blackbirds and robins join in the early morning chorus, bringing delight to human hearers, but most likely a warning to other feathered ones. Claiming their remit over this part of the earth.
Cats brave the cold to wander round their estate, like birds nestling above, guarding their homeland jealously against the interventions of prowling neighbours. Stopping occasionally to stare with large round attentive eyes into the blackness, at nothing at all. Nothing moves. No life whatsoever. Yet the cat sees it. Is it real, or just imaginary? Only a cat will ever know.
A police car slowly passes through the amber lit streets. Young men with dreams of legal glory desperately searching for crime in the quietest area of the land. How can promotion, and a purpose filled life, be achieved by helping old ladies over the road, and patrolling empty highways? A postman makes his way to work, idling through a red light on an ageing bike which, luckily for the law, has no lights of its own. The law guardians pull him over and discuss the highway code with a drowsy, recalcitrant figure. His opinions regarding the way they see their duty is best not input into any future 'circum vitae' they produce.
Slowly, oh so very slowly, the sky begins to turn a lighter gray. Gradually easing and chasing the darkness away to the west, altering the atmosphere, the feel, of the streets, as street lights switch off, the traffic increases, and early shift workers will walk somewhat unwillingly into another day, life, as we know it, begins anew.
Thursday 19 January 2006
The Old Railway Track
Converting old railways into country paths has been one of the better ideas in this nation. Of course we had lots of them, and few were of any other use, so make use of them I say.
Being Thursday morning few were around. It was gray and sort of drizzly at times, and the roads on the way there were a bit wet.
I have not been there for at least three years and in times past I went up this way almost daily. Not much has changed but improvements have been made. The track itself has been relaid, and at one or two notoriously muddy areas drainage and tarmac paths have been installed. This makes a huge difference from previous days. Not much fun attempting to ride the bike through several inches of mud. A new bridge has been installed avoiding the need to risk death crossing the bypass. That was fun, and with the new road installed this was a good use of cash!
I crossed the bridge but halted there. It was far enough for today.
Spent a while staring at the fields and wondering why God and I are so far apart. Well actually it is because of me, not him, so why do I ask? But it was good to talk.
It was good coming back, as there is an optical illusion on the way. It looks like you have a climb ahead of you, but instead the track gently slopes in the homeward direction. Great on the bike as you can pick up speed if late, and gently glide if not.
Enjoyable but brief time. Nothing like seeing grass and trees to relax the mind.
Funnily enough, when I came near the village I resented the intrusion of all those houses.
It just spoilt a good happening!
Being Thursday morning few were around. It was gray and sort of drizzly at times, and the roads on the way there were a bit wet.
I have not been there for at least three years and in times past I went up this way almost daily. Not much has changed but improvements have been made. The track itself has been relaid, and at one or two notoriously muddy areas drainage and tarmac paths have been installed. This makes a huge difference from previous days. Not much fun attempting to ride the bike through several inches of mud. A new bridge has been installed avoiding the need to risk death crossing the bypass. That was fun, and with the new road installed this was a good use of cash!
I crossed the bridge but halted there. It was far enough for today.
Spent a while staring at the fields and wondering why God and I are so far apart. Well actually it is because of me, not him, so why do I ask? But it was good to talk.
It was good coming back, as there is an optical illusion on the way. It looks like you have a climb ahead of you, but instead the track gently slopes in the homeward direction. Great on the bike as you can pick up speed if late, and gently glide if not.
Enjoyable but brief time. Nothing like seeing grass and trees to relax the mind.
Funnily enough, when I came near the village I resented the intrusion of all those houses.
It just spoilt a good happening!
Wednesday 18 January 2006
Heart of Midlothian
This club is busy bringing in more players, yet, as is the way of this great institution, nothing is as it seems. A player from Bosnia, playing in Belgium for Genk, is brought over, tried out, offered a deal, likes what he sees. Great stuff! Then the deal is off!
Is it because the 1.1million offered is Euros, but only £875000. But the Belgians expected £1.1 million! Or, could it be the agent in Edinburgh wants too big a cut, and Vlad says no! Or maybe we have found a cheaper option in McCann and the Bosnian has been dropped.
Nothing is clear here. The fans will never know, he may even come.
However, it makes no difference to me, if we win the league and get into the Champions League!
Glory!
Is it because the 1.1million offered is Euros, but only £875000. But the Belgians expected £1.1 million! Or, could it be the agent in Edinburgh wants too big a cut, and Vlad says no! Or maybe we have found a cheaper option in McCann and the Bosnian has been dropped.
Nothing is clear here. The fans will never know, he may even come.
However, it makes no difference to me, if we win the league and get into the Champions League!
Glory!
Thursday 12 January 2006
Pickle
I am in a pickle!
I buy a large jar of 'Tesco' pickle instead of the normal size. This is my way to save pennies.
But I cannot get it opened!
I use all my strength, all my initiative, all the tricks, yet it will not move!
I am afraid the jar might break if I try harder.
So I get out the hand strengthening tools, work hard pumping to build up the finger power,
and now I cannot get the jar open.
Why?
The muscles in my hand hurt to much from all the extra exercise!
The jar is in the bin.
I buy a large jar of 'Tesco' pickle instead of the normal size. This is my way to save pennies.
But I cannot get it opened!
I use all my strength, all my initiative, all the tricks, yet it will not move!
I am afraid the jar might break if I try harder.
So I get out the hand strengthening tools, work hard pumping to build up the finger power,
and now I cannot get the jar open.
Why?
The muscles in my hand hurt to much from all the extra exercise!
The jar is in the bin.
Saturday 7 January 2006
The Year So Far.
At the start of the year I said it was going to be a 'good year!'
It was to be better than 2005 and it would be onwards and upwards!
Wrong so far.
Today is the seventh of January and it is time to review all things.
What do we have?
Tiredness, overwork, frustration, annoyance, temper, anger, loosening of all control, the end of the line!
At least at work I find some who quite like me, even though they do not really know me. Thanks for that anyway. But this does not change the 'end of the line feeling!
The next 360 days are gonna be good, eh?
It was to be better than 2005 and it would be onwards and upwards!
Wrong so far.
Today is the seventh of January and it is time to review all things.
What do we have?
Tiredness, overwork, frustration, annoyance, temper, anger, loosening of all control, the end of the line!
At least at work I find some who quite like me, even though they do not really know me. Thanks for that anyway. But this does not change the 'end of the line feeling!
The next 360 days are gonna be good, eh?
Tuesday 3 January 2006
Children in blogs
Have you noticed how many people put up blogs just to tell us about their children?
So many blogs seem intent on thrusting their children on to us, the passerby as though this is some sort of important event in the world. Can I just say to such people that, no, it isn't! It is important to you, but not to me, or indeed anyone else. Please keep your kids to yourself like the majority of folks do!
The self indulgence shown by these blogs is amazing!
You and I are supposed to look and marvel that John and Suzy, or Dave and Alice have a child! Fantastic! Yippee! Superb! Now go away! People actually have children often. Lots of them appear all over the world, mostly in poverty ridden countries where mum and dad have to little time or money to indulge the world with pictures of little Johnny and his life. That is if they actually have a p.c, or indeed a home for the kids to live in happily.
Children are wonderful, I was one once, I have them in the family, far too many at Xmas I can say quite honestly. But we are not the type to run around saying I am middle class and well off, and I have a child! Look at me! Aint I wonderful?
Well, no, your not, so put it away, don't spoil it, or it will grow up like you.
And none of us want that to happen do we!
So many blogs seem intent on thrusting their children on to us, the passerby as though this is some sort of important event in the world. Can I just say to such people that, no, it isn't! It is important to you, but not to me, or indeed anyone else. Please keep your kids to yourself like the majority of folks do!
The self indulgence shown by these blogs is amazing!
You and I are supposed to look and marvel that John and Suzy, or Dave and Alice have a child! Fantastic! Yippee! Superb! Now go away! People actually have children often. Lots of them appear all over the world, mostly in poverty ridden countries where mum and dad have to little time or money to indulge the world with pictures of little Johnny and his life. That is if they actually have a p.c, or indeed a home for the kids to live in happily.
Children are wonderful, I was one once, I have them in the family, far too many at Xmas I can say quite honestly. But we are not the type to run around saying I am middle class and well off, and I have a child! Look at me! Aint I wonderful?
Well, no, your not, so put it away, don't spoil it, or it will grow up like you.
And none of us want that to happen do we!
Sunday 1 January 2006
Aasmah Mir
Aasmah Mir sums up all that is wrong in women in the media, indeed women in general.
Here we find a lass who has made it into the BBC and finds herself constantly on radio, who has a column all to herself in the 'Sunday Herald' and is extremely well paid too boot!
Yet she writes only about her hang ups!
A glance at the Herald articles would indicate that whenever she steps outside the house all men for miles around want to have sex with her! They look upon her only as an object and she alone fills their minds. Other women don't seem to exist, just this girl. This is such a problem that she is unable to wear her 'favourite jeans' outside the house!
Terrible indeed that.
At work this poor lass suffers terrible discrimination! Not only does she get paid less than the men around her, however she does get vastly more than a postman, a Tesco shelf filler, a milkman or any man or woman, doing a job she considers beneath her, but on top of this she is Asian! And an Asian who is a Moslem, apparently! Goodness me, her colour means everyone is looking down on her, her religion indicates she is a terrorist, and in her eyes the entire nation looks on her with a mixture of fear and loathing.
Poor thing, how does she cope?
Well she copes by ignoring the fact that most men don't want her. They may notice she is attractive, if she indeed is, but have no intention of going near her, anyway her personality would take care of any ideas that lingered in their twisted selfish minds.
By spending less time shopping for more clothes than she needs she can forget the poverty her employment leads her to suffer. Poverty that is slighty better than the poverty 150 million Pakistanis suffer most days, but hey, they mostly hate women anyway so that's OK!
The religion she bears might help her cope, if she really believes in it. Most Moslems I meet are nominal if anything regarding their religion, unless you disagree with it of course. Then it is something to defend, or in extreme cases, a cause, in their eyes to, to cry ' racist!'
Come on Aasmah, come into the real world. Start thinking about others problems and ignore yours. Especially those that you know will find a willing readership. A willing readership who desperately want to believe what you write. Without this clear support from you they would have to face the real world all alone, and change themselves instead of whining about the hard luck stories that fill their minds.
It is always much better to 'tilt at windmills' than face the truth.
Stop hiding behind the myth of discrimination and do something about those that really suffer.
Several inches given over to the plight of people in real difficulty, for the hungry, or just a few words about a story outside of yourself would be welcome, and certainly a change! But that would lose you your 'Herald' audience would it not?
That would mean a loss of column, a loss of income, and gosh, a loss of face for you.
Shame that. But however it might lead you to becoming a journalist, but talking about something other than yourself, well, that is possibly to hard, isn't it?
Here we find a lass who has made it into the BBC and finds herself constantly on radio, who has a column all to herself in the 'Sunday Herald' and is extremely well paid too boot!
Yet she writes only about her hang ups!
A glance at the Herald articles would indicate that whenever she steps outside the house all men for miles around want to have sex with her! They look upon her only as an object and she alone fills their minds. Other women don't seem to exist, just this girl. This is such a problem that she is unable to wear her 'favourite jeans' outside the house!
Terrible indeed that.
At work this poor lass suffers terrible discrimination! Not only does she get paid less than the men around her, however she does get vastly more than a postman, a Tesco shelf filler, a milkman or any man or woman, doing a job she considers beneath her, but on top of this she is Asian! And an Asian who is a Moslem, apparently! Goodness me, her colour means everyone is looking down on her, her religion indicates she is a terrorist, and in her eyes the entire nation looks on her with a mixture of fear and loathing.
Poor thing, how does she cope?
Well she copes by ignoring the fact that most men don't want her. They may notice she is attractive, if she indeed is, but have no intention of going near her, anyway her personality would take care of any ideas that lingered in their twisted selfish minds.
By spending less time shopping for more clothes than she needs she can forget the poverty her employment leads her to suffer. Poverty that is slighty better than the poverty 150 million Pakistanis suffer most days, but hey, they mostly hate women anyway so that's OK!
The religion she bears might help her cope, if she really believes in it. Most Moslems I meet are nominal if anything regarding their religion, unless you disagree with it of course. Then it is something to defend, or in extreme cases, a cause, in their eyes to, to cry ' racist!'
Come on Aasmah, come into the real world. Start thinking about others problems and ignore yours. Especially those that you know will find a willing readership. A willing readership who desperately want to believe what you write. Without this clear support from you they would have to face the real world all alone, and change themselves instead of whining about the hard luck stories that fill their minds.
It is always much better to 'tilt at windmills' than face the truth.
Stop hiding behind the myth of discrimination and do something about those that really suffer.
Several inches given over to the plight of people in real difficulty, for the hungry, or just a few words about a story outside of yourself would be welcome, and certainly a change! But that would lose you your 'Herald' audience would it not?
That would mean a loss of column, a loss of income, and gosh, a loss of face for you.
Shame that. But however it might lead you to becoming a journalist, but talking about something other than yourself, well, that is possibly to hard, isn't it?
This year...
is going to be different!
It has to be!
This year, 2006 will be a happy year. I have decided!
So, forgetting what is behind, moving on, and aiming for the best I go into (yet another) year with hope. Long time since that happened!
Watching the fireworks on telly last night, I was impressed by the display. But I found a great indifference to the event itself. A new year, so what? All we really have is a change of time calculation and an excuse for a party. The real reason for the party is of course that from now on we are heading towards shorter nights and warmer days, eventually.
Ah Spring! Can't wait for it to arrive. Warm days, bright sunshine, how I miss it!
The daylight brightens our lives while this darkness brings depression and low emotions.
Once Christmas and New Year are over we can get on with life, arguing, grasping, hating, selfishly making our way, hoping for good things and fearing bad, longing for love but failing to offer it, obtaining all we want, but never happy.
Crivvens, I'm depressed already!
Happy New Year!
It has to be!
This year, 2006 will be a happy year. I have decided!
So, forgetting what is behind, moving on, and aiming for the best I go into (yet another) year with hope. Long time since that happened!
Watching the fireworks on telly last night, I was impressed by the display. But I found a great indifference to the event itself. A new year, so what? All we really have is a change of time calculation and an excuse for a party. The real reason for the party is of course that from now on we are heading towards shorter nights and warmer days, eventually.
Ah Spring! Can't wait for it to arrive. Warm days, bright sunshine, how I miss it!
The daylight brightens our lives while this darkness brings depression and low emotions.
Once Christmas and New Year are over we can get on with life, arguing, grasping, hating, selfishly making our way, hoping for good things and fearing bad, longing for love but failing to offer it, obtaining all we want, but never happy.
Crivvens, I'm depressed already!
Happy New Year!
Wednesday 28 December 2005
Christmas Alone
Christmas day I spent alone. With the family being in the Edinburgh area, and having to work Christmas eve, it was not possible to get home. Not the first time this has been the case, but sad as I wanted to be there this time.
Thing is, whenever I mention this today at work people tell me how much they wish they had been with me! Not that suddenly I am popular in a fashion hid for so long, but more the memory of the crowded Christmas day they had endured.
It is great to be with the family young and old together, presents, laughter, crying, too much to eat and far too much noise, shredded wrapping paper and carboard boxes a plenty! But as age tells on the human frame, it is amazing how lovely the silence when they have gone!
So today, for a while, I was the object of jealousy among many!
Probably for the last time!
Thing is, whenever I mention this today at work people tell me how much they wish they had been with me! Not that suddenly I am popular in a fashion hid for so long, but more the memory of the crowded Christmas day they had endured.
It is great to be with the family young and old together, presents, laughter, crying, too much to eat and far too much noise, shredded wrapping paper and carboard boxes a plenty! But as age tells on the human frame, it is amazing how lovely the silence when they have gone!
So today, for a while, I was the object of jealousy among many!
Probably for the last time!
Tuesday 27 December 2005
Leith
The Leith I remember is a place much in need of renovation.
The shops then, from the fifties up to the seventies, were always bustling places. We went there most Saturdays as Princes Street was half day closing on a Saturday. Half day closing, who gets that now, let alone on a Saturday? Not in big cities that is for sure.
It was full of folks scurrying about their business, women chatting in all the shops, men wearily wishing they were at the match, and kids being dragged unwillingly to and fro for things they did not see any reason to accumulate. The tenements were old and it showed, Victoria sat imperiously outside Woolworths, and in the dim distant past there was a cinema overlooking her.
Just up from the stone queen stood a large station building reflecting the once important, but long gone, railway. Pubs a plenty took the pence willingly from men willing to part with it. Buses followed the routes laid down long before up Leith Walk and into Edinburgh, the road trod by many over hundreds of years, hence the name.
Today, there is an abundance of dreary shops in Leith. Big stores have gone, or just faded, charity shops preponderate and a general 'down at heel' appearance is found.
The dockside is rapidly being renovated. Old whisky bonds are turned into trendy flats, statues to those men of the past remind us of their works, and pubs with dubious reputations are now wine bars, with camp waiters to match.
I was reminded of all this by a Christmas gift, the book ' Leith at Random' by David Stewart Valentine. An excellent production! Short pieces on Leiths' past and photographs to match.
The type of short book that carries so much weight, because it covers a lot of ground quickly and simply, revealing fascinating facts about things obvious but ignored.
A good read for me at any rate. I never lived there, but spent so much time there, and have memories from my early years in the shops and of finding my first job working in Arthur Bells Whisky Warehouse in Leith Walk! A death trap if ever there was one!
A book worth giving a glance at, and of a type I wish I had written.
The shops then, from the fifties up to the seventies, were always bustling places. We went there most Saturdays as Princes Street was half day closing on a Saturday. Half day closing, who gets that now, let alone on a Saturday? Not in big cities that is for sure.
It was full of folks scurrying about their business, women chatting in all the shops, men wearily wishing they were at the match, and kids being dragged unwillingly to and fro for things they did not see any reason to accumulate. The tenements were old and it showed, Victoria sat imperiously outside Woolworths, and in the dim distant past there was a cinema overlooking her.
Just up from the stone queen stood a large station building reflecting the once important, but long gone, railway. Pubs a plenty took the pence willingly from men willing to part with it. Buses followed the routes laid down long before up Leith Walk and into Edinburgh, the road trod by many over hundreds of years, hence the name.
Today, there is an abundance of dreary shops in Leith. Big stores have gone, or just faded, charity shops preponderate and a general 'down at heel' appearance is found.
The dockside is rapidly being renovated. Old whisky bonds are turned into trendy flats, statues to those men of the past remind us of their works, and pubs with dubious reputations are now wine bars, with camp waiters to match.
I was reminded of all this by a Christmas gift, the book ' Leith at Random' by David Stewart Valentine. An excellent production! Short pieces on Leiths' past and photographs to match.
The type of short book that carries so much weight, because it covers a lot of ground quickly and simply, revealing fascinating facts about things obvious but ignored.
A good read for me at any rate. I never lived there, but spent so much time there, and have memories from my early years in the shops and of finding my first job working in Arthur Bells Whisky Warehouse in Leith Walk! A death trap if ever there was one!
A book worth giving a glance at, and of a type I wish I had written.
SNOW!
Snow!
Big clumps of white stuff falling all over the place!
Why?
I don't want it!
I mean, it's all very nice and that, it makes the whole world a different place, it quietens the sounds and brings joy to the kids, but why? Why now?
it is just horrible stuff to walk through, it's horrible to work in and it's all over the place!
Add to that the simple fact that it is very, very cold, and that ends it for me.
This is the warmest, driest county of England, and while here I do not want to be remembering the snow that clogs Edinburgh at this time of year. Oh yes, Edinburgh in snow looks lovely.
Wonderful pictures can be made there, lovely photographs. But it is no fun watching the bus skittering down the cobbled hills towards Comely Bank is it?
There is no joy playing football on an open field with snow all around and more clambering past Burntisland with you in its sight. No sir. I have had enough of those days.
I want sunshine!
Oh Sunshine. Warmth, pleasure, T-shirts and cold drinks, scantily dressed women and long evenings with darkening deep blue skies. Oh joy!
And we have snow!
Excuse me while I rejoice...........
Big clumps of white stuff falling all over the place!
Why?
I don't want it!
I mean, it's all very nice and that, it makes the whole world a different place, it quietens the sounds and brings joy to the kids, but why? Why now?
it is just horrible stuff to walk through, it's horrible to work in and it's all over the place!
Add to that the simple fact that it is very, very cold, and that ends it for me.
This is the warmest, driest county of England, and while here I do not want to be remembering the snow that clogs Edinburgh at this time of year. Oh yes, Edinburgh in snow looks lovely.
Wonderful pictures can be made there, lovely photographs. But it is no fun watching the bus skittering down the cobbled hills towards Comely Bank is it?
There is no joy playing football on an open field with snow all around and more clambering past Burntisland with you in its sight. No sir. I have had enough of those days.
I want sunshine!
Oh Sunshine. Warmth, pleasure, T-shirts and cold drinks, scantily dressed women and long evenings with darkening deep blue skies. Oh joy!
And we have snow!
Excuse me while I rejoice...........
Tuesday 20 December 2005
Niece picture
The best thing so far, for me, is the small picture of my great niece which arrived today.
Almost seven, yet with a look that holds nothing but trouble for her folks.
OK for me however as I am four hundred miles away! Hooray!
Lovely to get such a pic. Very nice indeed.
Almost seven, yet with a look that holds nothing but trouble for her folks.
OK for me however as I am four hundred miles away! Hooray!
Lovely to get such a pic. Very nice indeed.
Friday 16 December 2005
History
Recently there was a suggestion in the Scots parliament that Scots History would be dropped or at least downgraded in Scots schools. How foolhardy would this be?
after learning how to read and write, how to count and something of geography to know where you are, kids need to know the story of the area they live in. Local history and national history are the most important subjects to understand if an individual is to develop a true knowledge of themselves and their people.
Of course this needs to be true history, not the mythological propaganda that is all to often poured out as history. It is interesting that while children of diplomats in the European Union share lessons in many subjects, the history they are taught is always slanted towards their own particular nation. Myth and wishful thinking rules over facts.
Scots need to understand their own past. Not just since Wallace and Bruce, but before that, well into the distant ages. It must be 'warts and all' for the teaching of history does not tell us about happenings long ago, it tells us about ourselves.
No matter who the characters, no matter the place or the situation, in the end those we learn about are just like ourselves. They can be an inspiration or a drawback. They make us ashamed or proud, but really they tell us more about ourselves than any other subject.
And in these fascist politically correct days, the truth about our self is more important than ever.
after learning how to read and write, how to count and something of geography to know where you are, kids need to know the story of the area they live in. Local history and national history are the most important subjects to understand if an individual is to develop a true knowledge of themselves and their people.
Of course this needs to be true history, not the mythological propaganda that is all to often poured out as history. It is interesting that while children of diplomats in the European Union share lessons in many subjects, the history they are taught is always slanted towards their own particular nation. Myth and wishful thinking rules over facts.
Scots need to understand their own past. Not just since Wallace and Bruce, but before that, well into the distant ages. It must be 'warts and all' for the teaching of history does not tell us about happenings long ago, it tells us about ourselves.
No matter who the characters, no matter the place or the situation, in the end those we learn about are just like ourselves. They can be an inspiration or a drawback. They make us ashamed or proud, but really they tell us more about ourselves than any other subject.
And in these fascist politically correct days, the truth about our self is more important than ever.
Thursday 15 December 2005
Yobs
Every where you go these days people are talking about yobs!
The nation is surrounded by young folk taking over complete streets and enslaving the locals.
The police sem unable, or unwilling to stop them. The courts hand out slaps on the wrist, that are not even slaps! Robbery, muggings, stolen cars left burnt out, and a constant stream of abuse at passers bye continue with no end in site.
The government invents the ASBO, yet still the problems continue.
What to do?
No easy answers.
One effective answer is to change the heart of those involved, and only Jesus can do that.
The fact is that such behaviour in the young reflects the truth about the state of our hearts.
Our inner being.
As we get older we have a better attitude to others, at least, most of us do.
But when adolescent such understanding is often lacking, and the self rears its ugly head.
The desire to have our own way leads folk into the use and misuse of others.
Often an attitude that never leaves once begun.
Consideration for others is rejected for actions that are know to be wrong, but excused anyway.
The vileness that is seen in yob behaviour is within us all, not just the young however.
The heart is the root of all that is wrong in society. The self rules and cares naught for anything but, well, the self!
Only the realisation that we are guilty of wrong. Facing the fact of eternal judgement by a God who has no fault can cause a change of heart. Not just by the fear of judgement, a real and right fear, but also of the love this God shows by dealing with our wrong.
By taking human form and offering the sacrifice of himself for each one of us God shows his love.
Bad as we are, he dies for our wrong doing. Our wrong and twisted self!
That is love. Because we are clearly not worth it otherwise.
The yobs, of whatever age, can be changed by receiving a satisfied life.
Not an easy one, but a real one.
Found only in this Jesus who cares, and will one day judge, each one of us.
Whether we believe it now or not.
The nation is surrounded by young folk taking over complete streets and enslaving the locals.
The police sem unable, or unwilling to stop them. The courts hand out slaps on the wrist, that are not even slaps! Robbery, muggings, stolen cars left burnt out, and a constant stream of abuse at passers bye continue with no end in site.
The government invents the ASBO, yet still the problems continue.
What to do?
No easy answers.
One effective answer is to change the heart of those involved, and only Jesus can do that.
The fact is that such behaviour in the young reflects the truth about the state of our hearts.
Our inner being.
As we get older we have a better attitude to others, at least, most of us do.
But when adolescent such understanding is often lacking, and the self rears its ugly head.
The desire to have our own way leads folk into the use and misuse of others.
Often an attitude that never leaves once begun.
Consideration for others is rejected for actions that are know to be wrong, but excused anyway.
The vileness that is seen in yob behaviour is within us all, not just the young however.
The heart is the root of all that is wrong in society. The self rules and cares naught for anything but, well, the self!
Only the realisation that we are guilty of wrong. Facing the fact of eternal judgement by a God who has no fault can cause a change of heart. Not just by the fear of judgement, a real and right fear, but also of the love this God shows by dealing with our wrong.
By taking human form and offering the sacrifice of himself for each one of us God shows his love.
Bad as we are, he dies for our wrong doing. Our wrong and twisted self!
That is love. Because we are clearly not worth it otherwise.
The yobs, of whatever age, can be changed by receiving a satisfied life.
Not an easy one, but a real one.
Found only in this Jesus who cares, and will one day judge, each one of us.
Whether we believe it now or not.
Roy Keane
So, Roy signs for his boyhood hero's.
Nice for him.
Hope he does not think it is a soft touch in the SPL, he will be in for a shock if he thinks so!
On top of this the Heart of Midlothian are in turmoil.
Hibernian have reached a height that will end when their players are sold in January, and Rangers may have found some form.... maybe.
The rise of the Scots league may have hit a buffer.
I hope not.
Nice for him.
Hope he does not think it is a soft touch in the SPL, he will be in for a shock if he thinks so!
On top of this the Heart of Midlothian are in turmoil.
Hibernian have reached a height that will end when their players are sold in January, and Rangers may have found some form.... maybe.
The rise of the Scots league may have hit a buffer.
I hope not.
Friday 9 December 2005
Day off
What a blessing a day off is!
There is nothing better than getting up an hour late and considering those workmates, who at this very moment, are struggling along with their heavy burdens. Time to stop and think of them for a moment....and when you have finished smiling smugly, go back to sleep!
However, I enjoy adding to the days pleasure by wandering round Sainsburys early in the morning. This has two great advantages, one is the freedom from those women who fill the store throughout the day, shoving you aside rudely, allowing their kids to get in the way, shout and scream. and be a general nuisance. With these dangerous folk not around it is possible;e to quick;y grab what you want and head for the check out. Their the second joy of the day can be found. For it is at this checkout you mentioned casually to the women sitting there that it is indeed your day off and you may go back to bed when you get home.
Her expression, as she awaits the mob of hysterical women about to descend on her, is a joy to behold. I am not always so sure her vocal expression is in agreement with Sainsburys customer relation policy however......
The pleasures of the day unfold as the day progresses. Reading, eating, sleeping, enjoying the things you like and ignoring those responsibilities that can wait! Joy indeed!
I always make a list of things to do, and sometimes do them! It is not uncommon to find dozens of things to do, and at the end of the day discover nearly none of them done! A good day as I see it!
Must go, as I have just glanced at the list, and I have one or two things to avoid!
Cheers.
There is nothing better than getting up an hour late and considering those workmates, who at this very moment, are struggling along with their heavy burdens. Time to stop and think of them for a moment....and when you have finished smiling smugly, go back to sleep!
However, I enjoy adding to the days pleasure by wandering round Sainsburys early in the morning. This has two great advantages, one is the freedom from those women who fill the store throughout the day, shoving you aside rudely, allowing their kids to get in the way, shout and scream. and be a general nuisance. With these dangerous folk not around it is possible;e to quick;y grab what you want and head for the check out. Their the second joy of the day can be found. For it is at this checkout you mentioned casually to the women sitting there that it is indeed your day off and you may go back to bed when you get home.
Her expression, as she awaits the mob of hysterical women about to descend on her, is a joy to behold. I am not always so sure her vocal expression is in agreement with Sainsburys customer relation policy however......
The pleasures of the day unfold as the day progresses. Reading, eating, sleeping, enjoying the things you like and ignoring those responsibilities that can wait! Joy indeed!
I always make a list of things to do, and sometimes do them! It is not uncommon to find dozens of things to do, and at the end of the day discover nearly none of them done! A good day as I see it!
Must go, as I have just glanced at the list, and I have one or two things to avoid!
Cheers.
Saturday 26 November 2005
Xmas
It's late November and already I am fed up with Christmas!
The shops are full of Xmas gifts and adverts on TV and Radio gushingly exhort us to spend our cash on stuff that will be forgotten by January the first. Countless others tell us where to get the finance to pay for it, or to clear up the debts left by last years overspending.
All around folks are putting decorations on their houses. Some spending several thousand pounds to place plastic santas and reindeer, with snowmen and other creatures lit up and moving all around. All this to raise money for charity. Nothing to do with attention seeking eh?
Giving the cost of the lights and the electric to run them would raise more.
Christmas is still several weeks away! Yet we have an abundance of emptiness screaming at us from all around! Buy this and that and happiness will flow through your Xmas time. No it won't! On the contrary Christmas is a time of loneliness for many, and arguments and domestic disputes for far too many others.
Television will soon be full of blonde, brainless, grossly overpaid women, dancing overexitedly onto our screens telling us what a wonderful time we are having. These creatures will gush and yell 'wonderfull time' 'amazing' 'fantastic' and many other empty meaningless words while 'pap' of the worst possible type fills the screen.
Must it be like this?
Christmas is a time when families can get together and have a good time. People need a midwinter break and the hope that soon the nights will get shorter and warm days will return.
But do we need the commercial hype, followed soon after with the emptiness off the morning after? No. Certainly not.
Christians realise that Christmas is a time when the entrance of Jesus into this world is remembered. They know that the actual date of his arrival is not known. But having met him for themselves they know he came, taught his disciples, carried our sin nature to the cross, and by dying left it there. His rising from the dead and sending of the Holy Spirit gives life to those who accept it. They also remember that soon he will return.
The death for us puts this sham Christmas in it's place.
Time I think to drop it and replace it with 'the real thing.'
The shops are full of Xmas gifts and adverts on TV and Radio gushingly exhort us to spend our cash on stuff that will be forgotten by January the first. Countless others tell us where to get the finance to pay for it, or to clear up the debts left by last years overspending.
All around folks are putting decorations on their houses. Some spending several thousand pounds to place plastic santas and reindeer, with snowmen and other creatures lit up and moving all around. All this to raise money for charity. Nothing to do with attention seeking eh?
Giving the cost of the lights and the electric to run them would raise more.
Christmas is still several weeks away! Yet we have an abundance of emptiness screaming at us from all around! Buy this and that and happiness will flow through your Xmas time. No it won't! On the contrary Christmas is a time of loneliness for many, and arguments and domestic disputes for far too many others.
Television will soon be full of blonde, brainless, grossly overpaid women, dancing overexitedly onto our screens telling us what a wonderful time we are having. These creatures will gush and yell 'wonderfull time' 'amazing' 'fantastic' and many other empty meaningless words while 'pap' of the worst possible type fills the screen.
Must it be like this?
Christmas is a time when families can get together and have a good time. People need a midwinter break and the hope that soon the nights will get shorter and warm days will return.
But do we need the commercial hype, followed soon after with the emptiness off the morning after? No. Certainly not.
Christians realise that Christmas is a time when the entrance of Jesus into this world is remembered. They know that the actual date of his arrival is not known. But having met him for themselves they know he came, taught his disciples, carried our sin nature to the cross, and by dying left it there. His rising from the dead and sending of the Holy Spirit gives life to those who accept it. They also remember that soon he will return.
The death for us puts this sham Christmas in it's place.
Time I think to drop it and replace it with 'the real thing.'
Sunday 13 November 2005
Remembrance
Funny how we treat remembrance.
It has become popular once again to stand for two minutes on November the 11th at precisely eleven o' clock and consider those who fell in two world wars. A long ignored habit has returned to the nation. I wonder why? And for how long?
Yet while we watch the service at the cenotaph and note the number of ex servicemen marching past, I find myself asking, 'What about tomorrow?' Will we remember them then?
If you have a man next door who on occasion screams loudly during the night, appears depressed at times and possibly suicidal and unapproachable, and acts in a strange manner, do we care why? Or is he just a menace to us all?
Many men who served in the major wars, as well in the countless small conflicts that this country has participated in since 1945, have very good reason to act this way.
The sight of dead friends, guilt over their own merciless actions, horrors they would never want their children to know about, these things remain deep in their mind and return again and again to them, often in their dreams.
But do we care?
We remember the dead.
We wear the poppy, often with pride, we acknowledge survivors and read their memoirs, sharing, from a safe distance, their tale. We see ourselves as one with them.
But then forget them.
Who cares for those disabled in body or mind by war? The government? Hardly. After 1945 those demobbed were just told to go home and get on with their lives. Is it any different today?
It seems to me that there is far to little done for those who endured and suffer serving the nation. The nation does not grant decent 'post traumatic stress' counseling in my view. The public just don't want to know if the man next to them drinks too much and cannot control his aggression. 'Lock him up, he's a danger!' is the best they can do.
However, on this date, at the cenotaph, and countless memorials throughout the land such men are honoured.
Then forgotten.
It has become popular once again to stand for two minutes on November the 11th at precisely eleven o' clock and consider those who fell in two world wars. A long ignored habit has returned to the nation. I wonder why? And for how long?
Yet while we watch the service at the cenotaph and note the number of ex servicemen marching past, I find myself asking, 'What about tomorrow?' Will we remember them then?
If you have a man next door who on occasion screams loudly during the night, appears depressed at times and possibly suicidal and unapproachable, and acts in a strange manner, do we care why? Or is he just a menace to us all?
Many men who served in the major wars, as well in the countless small conflicts that this country has participated in since 1945, have very good reason to act this way.
The sight of dead friends, guilt over their own merciless actions, horrors they would never want their children to know about, these things remain deep in their mind and return again and again to them, often in their dreams.
But do we care?
We remember the dead.
We wear the poppy, often with pride, we acknowledge survivors and read their memoirs, sharing, from a safe distance, their tale. We see ourselves as one with them.
But then forget them.
Who cares for those disabled in body or mind by war? The government? Hardly. After 1945 those demobbed were just told to go home and get on with their lives. Is it any different today?
It seems to me that there is far to little done for those who endured and suffer serving the nation. The nation does not grant decent 'post traumatic stress' counseling in my view. The public just don't want to know if the man next to them drinks too much and cannot control his aggression. 'Lock him up, he's a danger!' is the best they can do.
However, on this date, at the cenotaph, and countless memorials throughout the land such men are honoured.
Then forgotten.
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