Thatcher Departs

The daffodils enhance a rather dreich morning.  Few other signs of Spring, let alone Summer, have been seen around here.  I blame global warming!  In spite of my intense suffering I, who happen to be one who rarely complains, continued on with my duties with no complaints whatsoever.  What?....oh!

The morning was spent with the BBC coverage of Maggies funeral in the background.  Now usually funerals force people to face up to the issues of life and death, let alone the personal grief of family and close friends.  However the somewhat overblown pomp and ceremony took away much from the funeral itself.  The arrangements for this were begun after talks between Tony Blair, then Prime Minister, and Margaret herself.  It appears, rightly or wrongly, David Cameron has added to this somewhat, like PMs do, for political reasons.  Not only does he wish to be associated with her he wishes her fans, the voters in the southern counties, to see him as a natural follower of her ideas.  They will not do this I'm afraid!  4000 police involved, and such pomp, including the Queen, calls for much security, several hundred from the armed forces, their employment criticised by many, and a somewhat strange ceremonial service overall.  The cost, not yet released as it ought to be, around £10 million! 

I found the ceremonial somewhat strange. (That's three times I've said 'somewhat!')  Why was she taken to the RAF church for a service with no-one in attendance?  What was the point of that with St Paul's filling up?  One thing is for sure, these events showed the difference between real Christianity and the church of England!  No wonder they fuss about irrelevant issues.  An event like this is not time to discuss the failings of the deceased but to concentrate on the better side.  This certainly surprised many!  One after another spoke of how nice she had been to them, and spoke sincerely at that.  Quite what you would expect.  As indeed where the words from the Bishop of London, a man who knows how to keep in with the best I think.  

This occasion brings together many heads of state and their representatives from all over the world.  What a headache ensuring the man from Iran does not sit next to the man from Iraq.  By placing the leader of Israel beside the man from Palestine an interesting event may have taken place.  The Argentinians helpfully did not appear.  I was interested in how they coped with sitting there for so long, waiting for the queen, waiting for the body, waiting for the service.  To hear David Cameron read a passage from the bible with little understanding of what he was saying was a treat!  I wonder how they all regard such times?  Does the pomp bore them?  Do they like to be important actors at this time?  The Queen mother I suspect would have been worrying about her racehorse at such moments.

This went on all morning, with more in the late afternoon as the coffin went to the crematoria for a private cremation.  Quite right too!  That is the moment the family can be themselves at last.  Was Thatcher worthy of such a funeral?  Clement Atlee changed the world in a more positive manner after the war yet when he died nothing like this occurred.  He would have opposed that anyway.  Thatcher brought much division, partly through changing many things that required change, partly through the hardness of heart that blamed those that suffered for suffering!  Especially while many lost jobs and her friends lined their pockets, just ask a banker or someone in a privatised utility!  All premiers deserve a respectful end, with no-one 'booing' as a handful did today.  How can anyone 'boo' a funeral?  Disgraceful!  This was indeed overblown and not required, and greatly over the top cost wise.  However it has been done now, life returns to normal, and we are left with this motley lot, none of them with her ability however warped, running the show.  We ought to mourn for us today, not her! 

  

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A Furtherance of Bliss.....

Yesterday morn, long before the milkman had gone back to the depot, I was out on the bike and whizzing slowly around town.  After this I strode purposefully around for bread then tidied up the area in the front of the building.  Well I shoved it all onto the street for the council to remove, same thing.  My beefcake like torso then done the laundry, by flinging it in the machine, I no longer use the pond in the gardens, and after a microwaved cheese omelette I cleaned the cooker.  Almost all of this was finished before 9 am.  I tidied up, moved one or two things around, had lunch and fell asleep.

When I awoke I was knackered!  Since then all has gone wrong.  I lost interest in anything, the 'things to do' list was dropped in the bin, accidentally, there was nothing on the telly, the papers were full of Thatcher, no emails arrived offering money, and my dinner was rotten!  Moving the indoor aerial caused the picture to wobble and now I cannot get the thing back whence it was!  Life returned to normal then?  Today I wandered around for bread, some fat git had eaten all yesterdays already, had a bath and deafened myself!  The warm water has loosened the wax I thought was beginning to show in my ear and now my hearing is dulled.  Naturally the cure is a bottle of 'Otex' from the friendly chemist.  How wrong can you be?  He was not around, his friendly staff have gone, I was confronted with a menopausal woman playing jobsworth.  Having mentioned I was going deaf I asked for the stuff, "Is it for you?" she asked!  As I could hardly make out what she was saying I almost missed that.  It went downwards from there.  By the time I left I was less worried about not being able to see properly, (going deaf does that while not wearing glasses affects the hearing) but more concerned as to how to dispose of the body.

Daily Record

The only good news came from the SPL rejecting the absurd new league setup.  Mr Milne of Aberdeen was apoplectic about this, especially as two teams in the voting system (11-1 required for change) voted against change.  He did not indicate why he voted in similar fashion at his friend Celtics bidding last time the voting system was debated, but there you are.  St Mirren and Ross County have done us a favour, whatever the money men say. Any system in which four Old Firm games are required to keep clubs going is not good for the long term.  Mr Milne, who apparently has dumped many of his employees lately for selfish reasons, may be upset, the fans however are pleased.  Not that he would care.

CNN

A bomb explodes and so does the speculation.  Three obvious culprits come to mind, a mad individual, although two bombs may be to much for one, white supremacists, remember Oaklahoma?  The main contender will be what we now call 'Islamist' groups.  I wonder if it was, and why?  There are many reasons, US activities abroad, men sitting in Arizona dropping bombs from drones on Pakistani children, and a general dislike of the US.  It happens here also, four more are on trial in the UK for bomb plotting, most info apparently coming from other Muslims. The US will soon work out who was responsible, the make up of the bomb will show this, and the allies will hopefully bring it to an end quickly.  

  
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Jings it's HOT!

Jings! Crivvens and help ma boab!  It was hot today!  Yes indeed when I was trundling around on the filthy bike the sky was that colour, more or less.  Blue with white vapor trails and very high white clouds spreading out way overhead.  The sun shone brightly as I rode carefully over the broken glass left by wee boys practicing their beer drinking and I felt the sun on my face, not just warm, but hot!  My face feels this yet!  Jings, Hoots man and help ma boab, summer has arrived.

This was the scene at sevenish this morning.  The blue sky, a bit lighter than in the picture, filled with vapour trails from rich people travelling the world or returning from their Easter break.  A very busy time for air traffic control last night it seems.  Why do so many flights occur at such daft times?  Is it just to annoy people living near the airport?

Not that I took time to sit in the sun and read books as I would like, I had to carefully burn my chicken, watch the Dundee United (called Dundee by the English 5Live girl this morning, United Kingdom is it?) versus Celtic semi final, another excellent game spoiled only by Celtic scoring a winning goal in extra time.  Then I got on the bike for 20 minutes after which I was forced to watch most of the English semi-final between two teams, I forget who, they all look the same to me, while stuffing a pizza I found in the freezer down my throat.  (I cooked it first!)

So that's almost another football season finished already.  As I passed I noticed the park has removed the goalposts indicating the wee leagues season has stopped.  No doubt cricket and golf, then the drivel that is tennis will fill the airwaves instead of proper sport.  However if the sun shines like it did today with the warm air bringing heat up from the Med area, then I will jump on a bus or two and see the world, nearby.      

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Some Days......

Some days nothing goes right.  The whole week has been like this.  The bug has dampened my planet sized brain (and can I just remind you Pluto is no longer regarded as a planet), writing, studying, thinking, reading have all been strenuous this week.  However today I arose after six to sun shining across the park, I must stop sleeping on this bench, and soon wandered around to the market for the veg.  Two cheerless market men sold me the goods once again, and a third avoided smiling as he overcharged me for the next plastic bag of urgent supplies.  These men originate in London and carry the 'London effect' with them wherever they go.  There is something about the city that takes away humanity from the individual, and London specialises in this.  I suspect it was the same in Rome, with its million inhabitants, and five thousand years ago in Ur of the Chaldees I suspect smiling in the heat of the day while pushing through the 65,000 inhabitants of the mud brick city was difficult then also.  Funnily enough many villages find difficulty in smiling or being friendly also.  Inbreeding and fear of people who do not possess six fingers on each hand I suspect there.  North of Watford people tend to be more open, the small triangular corner based on Watford, spreading out along the south coast of Essex to Southend, and south through Surrey to the coast, contains the most off-hand and pig ignorant people in these islands.  I am glad to be just outside that area, here folks are almost normal, usually.

The day could have been a happy one however, but this ended in despair.  By half time in the Scottish Cup Semi-Final lowly Falkirk were three goals to nil up against Hibernian.  Did I splutter and giggle while meditating on things to say to my Hibby friends?  YES!  However then the sad days returned.  Not only did the 'wee team' recover and score three miserable goals to make the result 3-3 by full time, but in extra time the Leith scruffs went on to score a stormer of a winner thereby robbing Falkirk of a cup final and ensuring Hibernian once again attend Hampden park in May for another anti-climax!  To cap it all I sauntered out for a break between games and it rained half way round.  Now I expect my tea to be rubbish, Wigan to lose to Millwall in the English cup semi final, and the internet connection to disappear once again as it did yesterday for no good reason.  'TalkTalk' sort yourselves out!  Bah!

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UK Cartoonists tell it like it is.

© Steven Camley of The Herald

© Peter Brookes of The Times

FrankBoyle@boylecartoon

© Dave Brown of The Independent

Matt

© Dave Brown of The Independent

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Word Polis

Charles Green, the rabble rousing Rangers chairman, has upset the press and the chattering classes by admitting he refers to his Asian friend as 'Paki,' in routine banter.  Naturally the press are full of mock shock!

So how come 'Paki' is so offensive when it is mere shorthand for 'Pakistani?'  It was not offensive in the early 70's, except when used on Mr Khayam, "I'm Indian, not a bloody Paki," this very large customer would exclaim.  As he spent much money we always bowed to his wishes.  If he is not a millionaire by now he must be dead.  In the late 60's a habit arose in parts of England, spreading elsewhere later, for young men to shave their head and wear large 'Dr Marten's' boots.  Such of a rough nature would roam the streets, find an innocent Asian and use their boots to give him a good kicking.  Social workers and PC PC's today may imply these (usually) young men had little chance in life.  Others thought them a bunch of thugs.  Young men have to prove themselves and this leads to sometimes violent fisticuffs.  In other cases it means random violence against anyone you consider worthless, an enemy, or weak.  Therefore this habit of 'Paki bashing,' or 'Bovver boot dancing,' as it was sometimes called became a subject for the media to decry, although they printed the stories, plus pictures, on as many pages as they could.  From this white, middle class Guardian readers decided that the word 'paki' was racist and insisted it be outlawed.  

Today such 'word police' have added a great many other words which they, with no mandate from the free world, have decided are bad.  Those who disagree are shouted down and suffer the use of violent names being thrown at them, although such terms are acceptable to the thought police funnily enough.  But calling a Chinese 'Chinky,' cannot be any more offensive than calling a Scotsman 'Jock.'  However a worrying trend has now appeared, some Scots claim to be offended if called 'Jock!'  How can this be?  Scots soldiers, usually called 'Jock,' wear the term with pride, why then does some wee boy, educated by PC teachers with little understanding of the world or her own nature, find such a term offensive?  

In itself there is nothing offensive about any of these terms, however some folks wish to be offended, or wish to improve their 'community' (whatever that is) in the eyes of the world.  The use of any term that someone dislikes clearly must be avoided unless you intend to annoy them, but I find it strange how easily today people are 'offended' by words perfectly acceptable yesterday.  What changed?  Human nature has not changed, it is ever the same, it must be fashion, it certainly isn't a sense of 'love' for your neighbour.  If these PC people really wished to 'love their neighbour' they would not jump on the bandwagon of attacking Charles Green, their is sufficient reason to do this from a factual football point of view already.  If words considered unacceptable are banned why are so many other vile words considered acceptable, and who are you to decide?  Loving your neighbour does not mean using words they dislike, and Green's use of such in banter with a friend, who may use worse in response, is none of our business.  Generation gaps make a difference here as this minor fault in my eyes is a great fault in those under 35, reflecting they way they have been educated, and those who educate them.  'Train up a child in the way he should go and he will not depart from it,' even if he is taught incorrectly.  Few break away and think for themselves most of us hide behind the 'herd instinct' and do not wish to be different  that could cause trouble.  Thoughtfulness for another is easy enough, but jumping on a PC bandwagon is fun for many.

We go through fashions constantly.  Today political correctness, however you understand it, rules the world.  Tomorrow another fad will arise and much spouted by the chattering classes will fall from favour.  The spirit of the air deceives us to our face and we see it not. 

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Eternal Judgement Awaits us All.

Do I take any pleasure in the death of the wicked? declares the Sovereign LORD. 

Rather, am I not pleased when they turn from their ways and live?

 Ezekiel 18:23  NIV

Morning Sunshine

Just after half past six this morning, when the world was mostly asleep, I pedaled out against the rising sun to continue my building photo project.  Trying this yesterday was a bit silly as far too many people thought they had a right to get in my way.  These thoughtless people dog me everywhere!  Too be honest many were considerate in avoiding me, something those living in London would not understand.  Taking pictures in London is not helped by others, they just get in the way.  Few rise as early as I, even the kids stay indoors to watch the early morning repeat of 'Match of the Day' from the previous evening.  Occasional others walked or cycled past, wrapped up against the still chilly east wind.  A van draws up near the supermarket, the passenger jumps out, rushes to the store door and drops a bundle, newspapers, at the door and returns to the van and they speed off to the nest.  The council driver goes back and forth over the rubbish left from yesterdays market, the brushes under his vehicle sweeping its catch into the machine.  A wet line two feet thick is left after he passes, glinting in the sun.  The sun reflects of his grubby windscreen and the beeping each time he reverses, which he does constantly, echoes around the empty market square.  An unsmiling man saunters past unwillingly, his dog however is evidently enjoying himself as the tail wags and his eyes glint.  The 133 bus noisily passes by, heading near empty for Stansted airport, high above a departing plane leaves Stansted for distant places, another, much higher, cuts the bright blue with a shining white vapour trail. I trundle about the square meanwhile, attempting to picture buildings that refuse to fit themselves into the picture frame.  What a daft place to put buildings!

This tramping around, I took some 85 shots this morning, is good for my fitness I suppose, it must be according to my aches, and it took my mind of the strange events that have afflicted the laptop.  I say laptop but I mean this browser, the others appear untouched by the blip.  The other day I noticed the adverts were appearing on Facebook.  I use Adblock so there ought to be none.  Adblock had gone!  Vanished for no reason.  This was replaced, normality returned.  The next day all was as usual.  However when I logged in during the afternoon I was not presented with 'Google' on the browser, but 'Yahoo!'  Not only but also the bookmarks bar had gone.  The Google warning re email had also disappeared, as had other extensions.  What is going on?  After some fiddling all has returned, bar the email warning, that means I keep forgetting to look for mail the hard way.  I have run all the anti bad guy things but nothing shows.  All seems well now, bar my nerves.

What a strange fountain this is, quite why it was made this way I know not.

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Sunny Saturday

First thing most Saturdays I am round here attempting to find fruit and veg that will keep my slim lithe fifteen and a half stone.  I have been attempting to lose weight, especially when it touched 16 stone again recently and have decided a more disciplined routine is required.  This means less home made oatcakes, flapjacks and shortbread.  The trouble with such goodies is the tendency to be fattening, especially as I tend to eat them all, quickly!  So once again I was at the markets best fruit and veg stall seeking the weeks supply.  Bananas, apples, small orange things, and so on.  Naturally, as I settled down to watch the football on BBC Alba I was stuffing my face with chips!  

Well I was hungry......

Wandering about in the early morning sunshine, the wind still from Siberia, I photographed some buildings for the house project.  Amongst Grade II listed buildings we find this telephone box.  Designed by Sir Giles Gilbert Scott in 1935 and produced by a variety of manufacturers, these are fast disappearing from our streets.  The use of mobile phones, plus the majority of homes possessing land lines, such boxes are falling out of use and into disrepair.  Many have gone altogether but surely there is a need for a few to remain?  This is a very thin picture because the box now sits in the midst of scaffolding as the 'Swan' pub is repainted. Otherwise it would stand out from the pub which may  have stood here for seven hundred years.  

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Laff

I saw a car the other day with a sticker on the back which read,

 "I miss Glasgow."

So I broke the window, stole the radio, nicked two tyres and left a note that read,

 "I hope this helps!"

Old Hooses

I've spent the day sorting out the pictures of town houses and lining them up with the 'Listed Buildings' list.  I wonder who decides what is listed?  Some years ago a TV show followed a lass wandering about listing buildings, but what training had she?  What authority to decide? This is important as a listed building requires authority to amend or repair.  Almost all here are Grade II but some houses, especially those of specific interest, must be kept as they are, this costs money!  I suppose a council employee must be the one given this charge, but the thought crossed my mind today that I have no idea who is responsible.  The door above is in good enough condition but my eye noticed the letterbox is quite large, normal size, and that is unusual on such an old property.  That could lead to instructions to replace the door as before, at your own cost, or even a fine I suspect.

The lack of stone meant the use of timber frames and plaster for house building.  The walls are often decorated with designs such as the one above, which I cannot recall where I found the thing!   This is a small one, some houses have large designs from the distant past which are well worth a look.  Whether there was a pattern to these or whether the were done just as someone's fancy took them I know not, but they are excellent.  

   

I wonder if this was an actual gas lamp in days of yore?  Knowing this town it may have been gas until recently.  Still, it helps improve the looks of the pub where it may have shone for many years.  Or not as the case may be.    

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Easter Aftermath

So Easter has come and gone.  The BBC as usual has offered a mixture of bland religious offerings, bar Melvyn Bragg's nonsensical programme supposedly based on Mary Magdalene.  Easter eggs have abounded once again, my collection somewhat less than my teeth hoped for, Tesco's et al will no doubt be offering some cheap tomorrow and storing others for next year.  Rubbish bags will be overflowing with coloured silver paper and dentists waiting rooms soon to be filled with frightened children.

Those same frightened children are also skipping school for a week or so.  This means fathers bring their children into the museum, are seen kicking a ball in the park with them, families meander through shopping centres,and groups of the little horrors are filling the streets, yelling, shouting and blocking the pavements.  While the behaviour in the skatepark is reasonable enough just now adolescents swarm like locusts in buses, shops, and anywhere normally used by decent people.  As I carried my weakened bug stained body through Tescos searching for bread I noticed gangs of wee brats everywhere.  If this is meant to be a holiday, where is the holiday from children I ask?

This man, Ian Duncan Smith, the secretary for the Department for Work and Pensions, earns £134,565.  He has been responsible for the amendments to the welfare state and the general oppression of the poor, the weak and anyone who cannot fight back.  Today he claims he could live on £53 a week "if I had to."  Some 250,000 people have demanded via an online petition that he attempts this for one week.  His reply is that he has done it already, twice having been unemployed.  He does not indicate how much dole he received  plus child allowance and other benefits, all of which indicate he is lying in his teeth.  

According to Wikipedia he is not unused to misinformation. Please refer to their tale for details of his education half truths.  His employment record does not inspire and that includes his failure as Leader of his party!  He has certainly been unemployed twice, so have I, and I struggled on both occasions.  The whole idea of publicising welfare payments is less to do with cutting the cost, certainly nothing to do with 'fairness,' but everything to do with encouraging middle England to vote for them by stigmatising the unemployed.  Call them 'scroungers' and the employed 'hard working families' (a Bill Clinton trick) and divide and rule.  Misuse of figures helps here.  This will get worse in the next few months as the Tory Party embarrass Ed Milliband on welfare.

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News Today

On this April Fools Day the news offered to us via screaming headlines and chattering voices informs us, to some extent, that the Conservative Party's vain attempt to amend the 'Welfare State' is once again under way.  Having spent the past few years informing 'Middle England' that all on benefit were scroungers, that the vast majority of those on sickness benefit were fit for work and that those on housing benefit had plenty more cash than those working, a state of divisive hate has arisen between those poorly paid ion work and those on benefit.

A note on language here.  We used to refer to 'Social Security,' a system that secured the individual from poverty, starvation and homelessness, whether through unemployment, sickness or other outside situation.  Now we used the word 'Welfare,' an American term that implies all such are lazy scroungers.  A small but important use of language encouraged by the Tory press.

There are, and have always been, people deliberately refusing to work while claiming as much as they could get for nothing.  Liverpool and Glasgow know much of this.  However the fact remains that the near three million unemployed would take suitable work tomorrow if it was on offer!  Where I ask are such jobs?  The Tory's claim a million have found work, but the vast majority are part time, and then on minimum wage.  Refusal to accept such work, even if highly qualified elsewhere, is not an option given by this government of millionaires who would never dirty their hands by working.  Ian Duncan Smith never stacked shelves when he was twice unemployed!

The amendments to the Social Security budget is merely an attempt to cut the bill, understandably, and get the 'Daily Mail' reader to vote Conservative by encouraging a hatred of benefit seekers and a false promise of tax cuts.   Sadly as so many middle classes now find themselves claiming dole money I fear this will not be successful,  especially as both Dave and George have missed many opportunities to improve the nation and instead turned it into a liberal ghetto, losing their core voters while doing so.  

The Labour Party?  Ed Milliband will follow a similar course.  After all Labour began the use of the ATOS company to weed out those fit for work from those genuinely unfit.  The money made by declaring an individual fit ensured many, whether missing limbs or mentally sick, were declared fit, in spite of the vast majority winning appeals backed up by medical records.  The sick in Afghanistan get better care.  Labour offer nothing, and it is Ed's fault.

'The welfare reforms' have been badly thought out, rushed through, and incompetently handled.  IDS will still insist they work however. and work is something he has never managed successfully before.

Not only, but also the Tory plan for selling off the NHS has taken another step forward today.Since the days of the vile Thatcher women destroying the nation the NHS has been under threat.  To save the taxpayer a penny, and earn votes for herself, she began to sell the NHS, that failed, but only just.  All governments since have puzzled how to maintain a free health system while cutting the ever increasing costs, all have failed.  On the same day that a failed reorganisation of the Social Security is introduced the government introduce a revamped NHS.  In theory doctors will control the spending, in practice it will do nothing for patient care, and fail to stop the overspending.  Hamfisted and ideologically led the overhaul will be amended by the next Labour government, quite how we await with anticipation.   Not exactly eager anticipation I must say. The Labour Party has nothing to offer but Tory failings, and that is not enough.

The biggest news however, according to the number of times it has been mentioned on the news, is David Milliaband's resignation as a director of Sunderland Football Club because they have chosen to sign Paulo Di Canio as manager.  Di Canio, an unstable character, was recently fired from lower division Swindon Town, but is seen as the man to fire up Sunderland as they fight the danger of relegation and all that means.

Now Milliband's problem is not a football one. No sensible Premier club would appoint this man Di Canio.  Let me give an example of his character.  While playing for Celtic some years back he won a penalty kick, probably rightly.  He took the penalty, he scored the penalty, then he, not they, he began to argue with the Heart of Midlothian defenders.  He got sent off!  Rarely do Celtic players get sent off, rarely does any player get sent off for winning and scoring a penalty kick!

David Milliband objects however not to the nature of the man but to his politics.  Italian football is very politically motivated.  Silvio Berlusconi, when not running his TV stations, bouncing around on young women, or even in one of his court appearances owns A.C.Milan, one of Europe's premier football teams.   In Rome Lazio, who Di Canio played for, represent the right wing in Italian politics.  All other teams have leanings one way or another, something which makes overall control of football in Italy very difficult for any government, and Italy has had lots of them  since the war.

Di Canio famously used the Fascist right arm salute during one game, for reasons I know not, and gained much opprobrium for doing so.  Whatever his reasons, I forget those now, it matters not.  This, especially in the left leaning press, was a great evil and a wonderful way to fill space.  He has never been allowed to forget this.  David Milliband has resigned he says, because of this man's political beliefs.  Is he right to do so?  Is he telling the truth?

I cannot stop dealing with people because of their political beliefs, to do so would be 'undemocratic.'  For Milliband to resign because the manager appears to support Mussolini is likewise 'undemocratic,' and somewhat over the top.  However let us remember that David has also resigned from the Labour Party and taken a job in the USA leading an 'International Charity,' for which incidentally he will be paid some £200,00 a year.  During the past year he has already, it has been claimed, received almost a million in payments for his 'other projects.'  Not bad for a man who failed to become the popular leader of the Labour Party because of the Unions choosing his more amenable brother.   

David has made a splash here.  This news has gone worldwide.  His stand against fascism and Nazism is clear.  What is also clear is that when Ed, his brother and present leader of the Labour Party fails to ensure a decisive defeat of this shoddy government then David will return as the great white hope, ascending from the Americas to the delight of the desperate Labour accolites and then lead them into a brave new world.

Aye, he cares about fascism right enough.

It is an interesting aside that while the dangers and horrors of Fascism, as seen during the 20th century, are real enough the dangers and horrors of the left as noted under Communism are less dangerous in some eyes.  The chattering classes in the UK, that is the middle class socialists, not those that have to work and get their hands dirty socialists, lean to the left while paying lip service to the wrongs of Stalin or Mao, Pol Pot or Castro.  Dictatorship is OK if we do it apparently.  I must add that the first to object to living  under such a system as run by those men would be the chattering classes.  Their left wing approach is to let them dictate to others, while keeping their wealth, and demand their rights to progress while pretending to themselves that they do this for everyone.  The Blairite Milliband flying to his wealthy abode in new York has laid his plans to possess the vote of such as they.  While pandering to middle England he will soon be pandering, from afar, to the Guardian reader.  Both share a delight in their money, both vote accordingly.

The people?  They know their place, and the news agenda is fixed by their betters to ensure they keep it. 

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Easter Morn

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I've Gone TeaPot.....

You see it's like this.  In the 19th Century the towns in this part of the world spent far too much time on 'civic pride.'  Huddersfield for instance would build an expensive, elaborate Town Hall, Bradford would then build a bigger, better, more ornate one.  Looking on and getting jealous Leeds would design and build a stupendous Town Hall to put all others in the shade, God was not worshipped in such towns, Mammon was!  This cost vast sums of money, often money that ought to have gone elsewhere, but that is how it was then.  Councils are so much more considerate and careful with cash today......what?....oh!

Anyway the City of Aberdeen decided not to be left out here.  Instead of a Town Hall it was decided to build something more useful and spectacular, a street!  A renewed thoroughfare right through the centre of the City.  This they did, knocking down some buildings and extending Union Street a considerable distance.  Now this was a fancy idea indeed but alas there was a serious flaw in the plan.  The street was an expensive enough idea but the buildings on it had to be predominately constructed of granite!  That slight flaw caused the costs to grow way out of hand because such granite had to be brought from a very considerable distance.  Costs grew, problems grew, and eventually the city was declared bankrupt!  As such the joke in Scotland grew that Aberdonians had deep pockets, would never spend money, and were very tightfisted.  Even today that myth continues.  It is a myth isn't it?

Some years later Harry Lauder decided to make a living out of the Variety Show circuit.  His act was famously based on a tightfisted Scotsman wearing a large 'Tam O' Shanter on his head, a kilted outfit, and carrying a very crooked walking stick.  His tightfistedness made him famous even in the streets of New York, which then was on the other side of the world.  In 1926 he gave the Hotel doorman a silver threepence as a tip.  The doorman howled to all the pressmen about the mean Scot and the publicity brought US fame to Harry Lauder.  The doorman had of course been well paid for his trouble before he received the sixpence!

It is interesting to note that 'Punch' magazine never showed mean Scotsmen until Lauder took to the stage.  Before then the humour was based on whisky, gamekeepers watching English visitors shooting or fishing and somewhat dryly and cynically commenting on there difficulties, or the accent.  For isnstance and small gathering of males one night, whisky abounding, Andrew rises to shake hands "Och yer no leavin already Andrew?" says host Jock.  "Na, Na," replies Andrew, "I'm just shaking hands when I can recognise whae ye are." 

At Christmas I spent a lovely week with a couple from Aberdeen, now resident in the warm south.   I should mention this man began work as an employee of the 'Clydesdale bank' in Aberdeen way back when, a job he left many years ago, but strangely enough the job never left him.  One of his tricks today is making use of a small teapot to reuse used tea bags, anybody's, he is not fussy, and this struck me as a wonderful money saving idea.  Normally I use one bag per cup, but inspired by this I began to reuse the insipid and costly tea bags.  However this was a messy while financially rewarding experience, so I went out this morning to find a teapot, cheap.  In spite of the crowds walking into me even though I'm big enough to see, I continued through all the charity shops in town successfully obtaining my teapot, for 99 pence!  What a bargain!  Now after each delightful, healthy cup of cheap Sainsburys 'Red Label' tea I can deposit the bag in the pot, with the others, and get my money's worth.  Somethings make life worth living, don't you think?  

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Good Friday

Local Emergency

There I was, as always, minding my own business after tea last night when the bell rang.  A bit late for round here I thought, the pubs are open.  It was one of my neighbours looking for a ladder.  None of us n this block possess such a thing, and then it dawned on me why she needed one.  The man next door was locked out.  The lock to his front door had jammed, it is the only way in, and he and his son were looking to a frozen night under the bushes in the park if nothing could be done.  Had the shop on the corner been open he would have offered the use of one of the second hand ones he sells (He makes money clearing houses) however at that time he was shoveling his dinner down not looking for folks with broken locks.  
Quite what could be done did not cross my mind.  The landlords office would be long closed, no emergency number, and John the man who does would not be rushing out in the evening to fix things.  Especially as he had probably begun the brandy after a day working!  
We cogitated, I rang the landlord anyway, no answer but an ansafone.  I cogitated again, by this time the man's son, or at least to of his friends, had decided to break in.  The one problem here was our lack of a ladder and the flat being on the first floor.  His door merely taking him to the stairs to climb upwards with no other entrance or escape.  
It was impossible to reach the window.  Standing on one another, grasping the gas pipe in the process, they attempted to climb an impossible climb.  The neighbour took action, he drove his car right along the wall, two lads climbed onto the roof, one sat ion the others shoulders and they fought their way to a position where they could break a small pane and undo the latch and climb in.  I merely fobbed off a passing police officers quizzical looks.  He was none to troubled and more anxious to get back round the corner to the station and drink his tea and write up his paperwork.  
Today John arrived to repair the lock, spend an hour looking for someone to cut a pane of glass, and then finished the job.  What excitement!  Who says we have a boring existence?  Life here is full of tension, new action daily, and if we are lucky something interesting to appear in the drains.
I find I a struggling to cope with the pace of life here.

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Jings!

Today's weather report finds us all happy to see the sun shining through the gray clouds.  The snow beginning to disappear while the evening temperature drops to indicate the wind is still coming from Siberia.  But if you turn the heating up, but not for long, and look out the window it appears to be a good day.  Just wear the big coat anyway if you venture out.

This research business is complicated  I have spent hours sorting out the pictures of buildings that I am interested in and have got no further forward.  This is not helped when I went looking for a friends granddad who survived the Great War, had to post packets, and get around to eating something, not sure what that was that I ate by the way!  Easter is also upon us which means tomorrow I must shop for the things I forgot last time I shopped.

You may notice I have ignored Scotland's match with Serbia, good.  However I must say the Serbs were, naturally, pleased that the Scots fans (The Tartan Army) helped clear the snow from the   pitch, many in kilts, some wearing only kilts, and collected several hundred pounds for a local charity.  Something they tend to do wherever they go.  As one lad said, they would not expect that from England fans.  So there!

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False Politeness

Listening to the cretinous outpourings of the early morning 'TalkSPORT' offering I was once again irked by the false politeness each caller offered.  Whether they caller was a football or sporting personality, a tabloid hack, (I cannot use journalist here) or white van driver himself calling the call started in the same manner.  Each and every person, all male, began "Morning lads, how are you?  This annoyed me, and ought to annoy 'the lads' also!  Why ask this question?  have they not been listening to the hundred taxi drivers who have already called in and asked that question?  Have they gone deaf?  Are they stuck for words?  Don't ask dumb questions from false politeness, when they call you to speak JUST SPEAK!  Murmur, "Morning," and make your point, answer the question, lie in your teeth as appropriate but don't ask how they are WE ALL KNOW!

False politeness has been encouraged by those PR people who train folks in dealing with the media.  Almost every person who is heard on news programmes begins by saying "Morning," even if they are about to answer the question first, they stop, mutter "Morning," and answer.  This is how they have been trained and it is false.  It can be worse with Americans, the home of false politeness.  When interviewing someone from the States they almost always give the "Good morning, I want to thank you for having me on your programe today, it's an honour to be here," pap!  Being Yanks they will have bever heard of the programmes that has honoured them, just as we have never heard of them.  

The New International Version of the bible is similarly affected y this.  Americans call everyone sir, even if they are holding a gun at their heads, and almost every one who speaks to Jesus in the New Testament calls him 'Sir.'  The word did not exist in Hebrew, Aramaic or Greek, it does not fit the portion on offer, it is an Americanism that ought to be dumped. ('please' similarly exists there, but not in the originals!)

There is nothing wrong with being polite.  It is sadly a dying art in many places.  However a quick "Thank you," "Ta," or "Cheers," is enough for most folks.  If everyone you met asked prolonged questions most folks would never get their business done.   Politeness can get things done by making people feel you regard them as important rather than a disturbance to your day.  The awful word 'please,' can help ease some, especially women, in doing their job.  I have come across such women who insist on me saying please and feel upset when I retort "I will when you actually do your job!!!"  For such politeness is important, actually working in between does not matter.  To waste politeness there appears folly to me.  

However I am a believer in 'Thanks.'  When I remember that is.  I am always grateful for decent service, and happy to commend folks for it.  So 'thank you' for listening.  Just don't ask 'how are you' when phoning Talksport!'

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Good Old Jamie!

James VI &I

On this day in 1603 James VI of Scotland took the throne of England as James I after the death of English Queen Elizabeth. Thus the 'Union of the Crowns,' saw a Scot rule the barbarian English! Naturally the English always refer to him as James I rather than James VI and Ist as they ought, imperialism never dies in England. They were happy however to see him take the throne and avoid war of any kind. Enemies abounded for England, as always, both Spain and France had made threats and the Armada was not that distant. Peace reigned for some time, apart from the usual problems in Ireland. The prolonged war there was bankrupting his new nation.

James was the son of Mary Queen of Scots. A small note here, no-one is ever King or Queen of Scotland, the title is 'King of Scots.' We are a democratic people led by a chosen King, and if he fails us we democratically chop his head off. James father was one Lord Darnley who suffered an unfortunate sudden death when the building he was in exploded. Shortly afterwards his mum married the Earl of Bothwell, the man considered guilty of bumping of Darnley. As Catholic Mary was far from popular in protestant Scotland, John Knox often made his full and frank opinion known at the time, this did not make her life easier. Mary always strikes me as a 'Diana' type, as opposed to Elizabeth who was more 'Thatcher' in her approach. Within a year of his birth in Edinburgh Castle Mary was imprisoned and forced to abdicate. James VI therefore became King at Stirling at the age of 13 months in 1567. He remembered little about this.

Years of reign under the control of regents followed, regents who took time to bump one another off as such folks do. However he learned the art of Kingship, also developing into a very literate and wise scholar. He rejoiced to be considered a scholar, writing books and translating parts of the bible himself. Once he took effective control of Scotland James managed to ensure an uneasy peace between the squabbling nobles and even between himself and the Calvinist Kirk. James married Anne of Denmark in 1589, he was 23, she 14. Social services are pursing their lips as we speak. She presented him with seven live children, suffered two still births and thee miscarriages. Life was tough for women in those days.

Political tact from James and leading English nobles prepared the way for James to peacefully take the throne of England as well as Scotland after Elizabeth had departed. Swapping 'a stony couch for a feather bed' James was amazed at the wealth in England. He had been somewhat lax with control of his own spending while in Scotland. After being supposedly assaulted by Alexander Ruthven, James' page 'run him through,' and Ruthven's father, the Earl of Gowrie also died in the following melee. The point that interested the scandal mags of the time was the coincidence that James owed this family a lot of money. Hmmm One of James great ideas once in control, was to merge the parliaments of Scotland and England, and he began to style himself King of Great Britain and Ireland. However the Scots nobles and populace were very much against this, and rightly so, but at that time the English also opposed such a merger and both nations continued with separate parliaments, law, and church. No oil in Scotland at that time obviously!

James became world renown when he produced his new translation of the bible in 1611, that collection of God breathed books that reveal the heart of God. James intention was to end the many religious squabbles then existing, which also endangered his own reign. It was demanded that all previous versions of this book were banned and only the Authorised Version used in all churches. It was also demanded that everyone attend the Church of England, or the church of Scotland, and refusal could mean death by burning. This less from religious than political scruples. The area I live in was a hotbed of dissent at the time and several became martyrs. His attempt to implement episcopacy in Scotland failed dismally, even though he returned to Scotland, once, to implement this. His failure left many problems in days to come for his son Charles the First.

James dream of a United Kingdom arrived in 1707, after much duplicity from England, and treachery from a parcel of Scottish rogues, the population still objecting strongly. Next September this wrong may well be righted of course. James died in 1625 after years of physical suffering, not helped by too much wine. Arthritis, fainting fits, gout and kidney troubles must have made his life a painful one at the end. So the first of the Stuart line died and was mourned by his people for the mostly peaceful years of his long reign. A far from perfect man he was nevertheless quite successful in many of his endevours. He left a kingdom at peace, and also a son and heir Charles the First, that of course ended the peace!

Elizabeth I

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