Thursday

Nothing happened today except the sun shone.
Just imagine, sun and blue sky, daffodils reflecting the sun while they wave in the wind, seagulls bothering folks in the park while they chase food scraps (seagulls not the people), and another inkling of Spring in the air.
However I did nothing.
I do that very well.

This afternoon however was taken up wandering through the shops to find a gift card for my great niece.  If only 'Poundland' did them!  I finally found one (Primark) that would suit an 18 year old though I believe booze was on her list also.  Whether it was on her list or her mothers who informed me of this I am unsure but these folks don't behave in the seemly manner in which I spent my youth.
What?...oh!

Having said that I am reminded of the (near empty) bottle of Armagnac Brandy that has been lying about for a year or two.  I thought I had better ensure it was fit for purpose and indeed it is!  Such smooth brandy has never before bee invented.  How lovely this stuff is.  How low the level in the bottle...now.
During the Great War General Haig, then the Commander-in-Chief of the British Army was being constantly pestered by General Joffre the avuncular French top man.  He would arrive at Haig's door blustering about the situation and demanding action in a near hysterical demeanour.   Haig, though from the 'Haig whisky' family, rarely drank much but when confronted by a demanding Joffre would reach for his best Brandy and supply copious amounts to the eager General. By the time Joffre headed for his car he had agreed in principle to everything Haig required.  
I might try this with some folks I know...

Day Off

The Chancellor in the English Parliament has offered his Budget to the nation.  The chattering classes are chattering twenty to the dozen to convince us it is a good/bad thing for us all.  I suspect it will be a good thing for those who already have plenty and not so good for the rest of us.  I have dealt with it in the usual manner by switching it off and awaiting the reports tomorrow which give a better indication of what it all really means.  What it all really means is the ones who already have more than enough will have more and those without will have less, as always.  Not that I am a cynical type you understand.

Quite whether I need to make use of the dregs from this ancient bottle I know not as yet but listening to the clever people often drives me to such as this!  Being a day off, I must open the curtains sometime soon, I am in no mood to do anything that demands thought so maybe thisis a better idea than at first contemplated.

This is 'International Women''s Day' and on Twitter and Facebook vast numbers of pictures of women are appearing along with the #Womansday hashtag.  Naturally I wished to do my bit so apart from enquiring when is 'International Man's Day' I have posted pictures of women, such as the one above, with the required hashtag.  For reasons as yet unknown no reply has been received on either social system but at least on one the number of pictures has lessened.  On a newspaper (that word is dubious) a lass is demanding 'equal pay' and I agreed with her.  I requested similar pay as to what she is receiving as a member of the Scots Parliament, I have as yet received no reply.
One day men will be equal to women...

Exhibition

As a little experiment I began the day by attempting to video the exhibition.  It did not quite work as expected but gives a flavour of what it is all about.   

This was not an easy operation as I had some things to do, the man was vacuuming the floor nearby, and worst of all the kettle was nearly boiling so I had to hurry.  

The first two cover the main gallery, the next the second gallery space.  There was a bit more but surely this is enough for you?  OK, if you wish I may add the few seconds of other bits.

This Bardfield Painters thing is bringing folks in.  They come from miles around, thee art lovers chase pictures everywhere, and all enjoy both the pictures and the way they have been portrayed.  Quite right too she made a good job of the display.

An added joy is the money spent of books, cards and postcards that go along with the exhibition, visiting an art work makes many wish to take a bit of it away with them, so cards it is.  All helps keep us afloat.

Like cats not all pictures move.  

This is just a taste of the exhibition which kept me busy this morning.  People enquiring about the afternoon event, a vintage local film show, were also keeping me from hot tea.  However in spite of the pressure in which we were under Peggy and I managed to find time for gossip and other important things...

Memory at Work

Watching St Mirren score early on against one half of the evil twins brought back to mind a similar goal I saw scored in 1962, long before you and I were born.  Not only did it bring back to mind the goal it brought with it the very essence of the day also.  For a second I could 'feel' the atmosphere, smell the glossy programme and the embrocation cream then used to lubricate players before a game and tasted again the very ambience of the day.  For a second I saw the blue sky and bright green grass, again I was sensing the surroundings, then new to me, again I experienced for a brief moment the exciting experience of that day long a now gone all because of memory.  I remember also the six goals which we went on to score and note St Mirren and also now losing!

It never fails to amaze me just how much we have stored away in memory and also how difficult it is to retrieve it when required.  Just listen to BBC's 'Brain of Britain' and note how often you know the answers to a question but cannot find it in that large brain box of yours.  It takes merely the slightest fragrance from a Hyacinth plant and I am back in Primary School, cross a muddy field and the sweetish grass brings me back to Lying face down in a goalmouth, not always successfully, a song might bring to mind good days or bad and a photograph from times past can fill the mind with memories of a place.
What returns easiest, good memories or bad ones?  
Tiredness can bring to mind the memories of failure and regret that are not wanted, tiredness rarely brings good thoughts let alone good memories.  Looking back people tend to consider life was better in the past, are they deliberately forgetting the bad things or just deluding themselves?  All too often it is age that makes us remember the energy we once had, the hopes and dreams that no longer register in the mind, maybe that is why the past appears better even though at the time we grumbled so often.

      
Repressing memories can be hard on us.  
I recall a lass who had many problems, a young thing with too much arthritis in her bones and no memory of early days.  One thoughtful woman considered she had been a battered baby and possibly this accounted for the problems, and she had many problems.  Closing the mind can keep us sane but there comes a time when we need to be freed from certain memories.  
On the other hand many who lived through war have memories they do not wish to bring to mind.  Guilt for actions taken in stressful times, sights seen and hard to forget, pain and suffering endured all lead to a refusal to face the memories, and who can blame them?  Some memories are hard to face and it is likely we all have them to some degree.

  
Old Photographs.
These are all old photographs taken long ago before digital was available and because I never left the abode once today, rain and appallingly poor football keeping me inside.  Each picture is a memory, of a wander in Kensington Gardens where pigeon dodging is part of walking along the pathways, a stone cat somewhere on the south side of the Thames reminds me of my lost ability to walk for miles in strange places seeking new sights.  The old railway, which one day soon I might get to see if the rain goes away, the sun shines early and I can get the knees to work the bike again, the old railways and the long gone gate that vandals destroyed for a laugh and the Rangers never bothered to repair brings good memories and two Penguins haughtily enduring my camera while stinking of fish when I last visited Edinburgh Zoo a hundred years ago.  All good memories, I keep the bad ones to myself.    

More 'Roses'

Yesterday I wandered about in the bright sun and chilly wind.  This was just as well as today the weather has been 'fair drookit' and instead I sat here fiddling with the laptop to no avail and making a bad chicken stew.
Maybe I ought to have gone out?

Spring is indeed Springing all around.  Wee flowers are blooming everywhere, Robins, Chaffinch's, Goldfinch's and others are singing all around and the Wood pigeons, the males at least, are up for it already.  The Council planted Daffodils are shining brightly in some places, these are outside the Council offices hmmm, the ones opposite me are only now beginning to open.  Soon we shall see helping themselves to them on the basis that they are planted by the Council!  Help yourself to a Council dustcart also if you feel that way.  

While I admire the bright cheerful colours of small flowers that abound in Spring I do wish they were planted higher up!  Falling over while taking pictures is not my favourite habit but any observer in the Gardens yesterday might have taken a different viewpoint.  They could at least plant them closer to the benches placed all around.

    
While a great deal of effort has gone in to placing information regarding the many trees found in this delightful Garden no effort has been made to enlighten daft folks like me as to the names of these flowers.  This I suspect is because the rich who flourish all around have their own gardens and have made use of such creations for themselves.  Only the ignorant with no more than a dying flowerbox require education.

 
Interestingly few wee beasties are seen around the plants.  No bees or wee flies buzzing around.  No doubt these will arrive soon, once the damp weather moves away somewhere else.  The park had the usual local dwellers, squirrels abound, birds and the scattered white feathers told of the cat which has decided to play in the park, a cat I saw in the distance worrying a squirrel up a tree.

The fact that I have to lower myself to get near the plants, in spite of the telefoto on the camera, does ensure that I shake noticeably when clicking the shutter.  This is seen on many pics that fail to appear here, believe me!  I might by a wee stool to carry with me...

At last, as I left the park I found wee plants placed at a suitable height for people who's fitness is not what it ought to be.  The Robin chattering away was unwilling to show himself for the picture, would you like to see pics of branches and leaves...?

It was a delight to freeze my fingers while in the park as the thought of Spring was encouraging.  The days are getting longer, behind the clouds a sun often pops out, one day it will be there for hours.  When it arrives I will sit in the park reading my books and contemplating those as yet to retire who are slaving away paying for my wee pension.
How delightful!

World Book Day, Apparently

Thanks to what we now must refer to as 'social media' I discovered today is 'World Book Day.'  This appears at first sight to be an attempt to get kids to read books.  It seems to my little mind it ought to be aimed at adults also!  A glance at the website showed me that it was to complicated to follow and contained far too much fun for my liking, so I abandoned it.  

I find it surprising that such an effort is required to make kids read books.  As a lazy brat I rarely read books full of words, my sister did that, but we had loads of comics to read and many 'educational' books, the type full of pictures such a encyclopedias or books on different interesting subjects as our folks wanted us to read as much as possible.  Even the comics which appear so puerile in some ways today were teaching us much even if not directly.  
There were a couple of books I did read, not only once either.  One was 'Black Beauty,' the story of a horse about which I remember nothing even though I read it three times at least.  Another was a battered old book set in some Medieval, possibly Germanic town.  This concerned a young lad and his master and his adventures.  However I remember nothing else about the book but there is an uncomfortable feeling that it evoked still hanging around as I think of it.  The title escapes me also.   
As a kid I tried to read those Enid Blyton 'Five Get Drunk' books but these were for girlies and few others come to mind outside interesting books about space travel, railways and football.  
When working, aged about 16ish I read 'Days of Wine & Roses,' a book about a man who tries to stop his wife becoming a drunk, gets her out of it but becomes one himself, then when she has brought him out of it she relapses into drunkenness for good.  Or at least that is how I remember it, later it became a film with an excellent Jack Lemon playing the lead, his only serious part.  Another that I read at this time had a real effect on me, 'Culloden' by John Prebble.  This made me aware that that battle was not between Scotland and England as I supposed, and many still do, but a civil war as Charlie Stuart attempted to take the throne.  Looking back it taught me also that life is not what we think it is and neither is history.  So much propaganda is shoved down our throats we do not recognise it.  

I suspect some fear kids today only look at computer screens, possibly this is because that is what they see the parents doing all the time!  I doubt using computers will harm kids reading, it ought to enhance it and enable them to develop good computer skills.  If we only wish to encourage kids to read stories I would be against it.  I am not one for story books, sorry 'novels' as most are reflections of broken lives and not worth the paper they are printed on.  However there are so many things kids need to know that can only be found in books and these ought to be priorities for parents at all times.  Interestingly the book day is sponsored by 'Book Tokens' and there can never be a better gift to give kids (of all ages) than book tokens, especially when used for teaching them about the world as opposed to the bile they find available shoved in front of them.  Teach them, young and old, to consider for themselves.

Free Speech

'Free speech' has always been a limited offering.  To many the words mean we can say anything we like anywhere no matter who is listening.  Yet there has always been limits, usually caused by thoughts uttered in an offensive manner towards people who the speaker wishes to upset.  Indeed free speech does not mean, and never has meant, feel free to insult and offend for the sake of it.  
However today we are in a time when little speech is free in any way.  Political Correctness, the new absolutes of western society, decides what we are allowed to say and where we can say it.  This has run so deep within society that I read recently only three universities are without limits on speech of any kind, all the others, including the so called 'Best ones' limit what can be said and by whom.
One such incident saw Germaine Greer, that mentally unbalanced writer, self proclaimed 'academic' and media favourite banned from speaking at one university because she upset some of the students.  Had she been banned because she is a mental case I could accept this but a banning just because she disagreed with them is unacceptable in any university.  Many would say that all universities exist so ideas can be debated, not banned.  Race, sex, religion and just existing appear reasons for rejecting a free thought, and secularists are very bad at this where religion is concerned, the left bad where politics is concerned and the right make use of their media to ensure other opinions are drowned out and kept from the readers too lazy to think for themselves. 

Should anything be banned?  Any idea of any sort?
It would be easy to ban any who suggest violence ought to be banned.  I could agree with this.  On the other hand should there not be a place where the ones making such a suggestion can be questioned about their beliefs, where they originate and what lies behind them?  Universities would be an ideal place for such debate.  Rabblerousers who refuse to debate cold them be banned after refusing to discuss and listen to other open ideas.  
Why are people so afraid to debate their thoughts?  
One fear is what they hear could be right and destroy their preconceptions and long held beliefs.  Ideals long treasured and found to be wanting can destroy an individual and he does not wish to hear any more.  Laziness allows many to accept what their media tells them because it  is easy and saves them from deep thought about their world and their lives.
Why are students so afraid of opposition?  Can it be many are radicalised and unwilling to be open to other ideas, then get out of universities, can it be they are pushing their own beliefs and will never accept another? 
This is not new, this has gone on before within such hallowed halls.  Politics, religion, monarchy and ideas have always caused conflicts in places of learning, possibly it is worse now possibly not.  
I mention this as two men have been found guilty of 'Public order offences' by preaching scripture to people at a Bristol Shopping Centre.  It appears they got into discussion with many who disagreed with the biblical saying by Jesus "I am the way the truth and the life, no man comes to the father but by me."  Those opposing took a Muslim line it appears.  Eventually police arrived and the 'PC' PC brought charges against them.  
Now it seems to me these two men, one was an American, handled the situation rather badly.  This was a tough approach but nonetheless the opposition closed them down not because of their manner but because they did not agree with what they said.  Does this mean Muslims, as well as Gays who have tried this before, can stop preaching because they are 'offended?'  What an open door to censorship that is. 
Keep in mind what is occurring in the UK today, the CPS (Crown Prosecution Service) has desired to charge people who state that 'marriage is between one man and one woman only' with a 'Hate Crime' against gays, and transgenders!  During this trial the prosecutor states  "To say to someone that Jesus is the only God is not a matter of truth. To the extent that they are saying that the only way to God is through Jesus, that cannot be a truth." How can he say this?  He can say he disagrees and oppose it, he cannot state it is not truth.
What we are seeing here is an outworking of a process that has been ongoing for forty years.  The state now decides what is truth, what is allowable to state, and bans those who state truth.  The church has seen the persecution coming and each week we see similar stories, not always reaching the courts, yet appearing in business, the NHS, and all parts of society.  
Not long before the Christian church is outlawed in the west once again.

Hard Work....

"Hard work never killed anybody"  Or so stupid people used to say.  These were usually stupid people who were not involved in 'hard work.'  I however was so involved today.  Before I even started I had to check things were in place, put right the mess left from before and then sort some things out for the lass running the kids 'Stone Age' lessons today.  
Then I opened the door!
This art exhibition is bringing them in.  Numbers of them came early this morning, in small groups, and ones and two's to wander round purring at the exhibition.  We are becoming used to this.  Art lovers come some distance often passing through other galleries to stare contemplatively at the offerings.  So far none have grumbled and as they come specifically to see it I suppose they wouldn't.  Again they spoke of the capture of village life and again I wondered if any of them appreciated what working on a farm during the 'between the wars years' was really like.  Middle class artists painting and drawing on quiet roads can be appreciated but had I been up to my knees since dawn amongst turnips or cabbages I might not keep my silence when a chap suggests I pose for him.
The visitors do however inform us, and I inform the curator, that it is a well laid out exhibition and a credit to her and the museum.  When I tell her off this she gets defensive and through gritted teeth demands to know what I want!
Wimmen eh?

Talking of wimmen my colleague came in while I was burdened and behind my weary back ensured the heater was on full blast, I of course was sweating like a pig having run around for an hour, and she removed my excellent music and replaced it with a new one of her own!  This so she could sing along to the entire CD all day!  At least she made the tea, twice!  I might have died without it.
However, while I was busy, she then disappeared to help the kids and left me listening to this music while facing the hordes of visitors while she chatted happily to the kids and teachers!  Good job I am not one to complain.  
One mum, gran actually, brought in a child not yet two and controlled by reins.  Watching her struggle to browse the shop while not letting little Johnny destroy it innocently was enjoyable.  He did try mind.  While putting her card through for the goods purchased the Town hall clock rang twelve so we had to await the pin number while she took him outside to hear it ringing.  Good job the only other customer was also a grannie.  

One of the false gods loved by the Romans was found in a pit under what is now a shopping precinct.  In days of yore this was thought to contain Roman dwellings and this may have belonged to an individuals house and who knows why it was dumped.  Maybe they became Christian and threw it away.  There are several items from that 'dig' on display, coins from that time and before, stone age stone axes, and a lovely Mammoths tooth found down the road where such beasts once had their dinner.

 
Having been buried near the wee man on a horse and now behind glass this has not come out too well but does show the kind of thing Romans liked in their house.  Whether goddess or not I canny say but statues meant a lot to Romans.  Famous or commended people had statues built for them and placed  in prominent places as a reward for whatever.  This one shows what the well dressed Roman lass would look like while looking down her nose at others not quite so well off.

On the way home I came across this Rose on a bush in a garden.  I canny make up my mind it if is late from last year or a sign of Spring being around the corner?  I do hope it's the latter as it appears to have other buds ready to show nearby. 

I Don't...

Another Sunday Night

The beginning of another week.
Last week left me having a near death experience on Wednesday.  Having walked my knees into the ground, and the rest of me also, I spent the day eating and sleeping, I was so tired!  That over I avoided doing anything after that only leaving to visit Sainburys of Friday morning.  The weather was not conducive to wandering the streets either much of the time and I have been frustrated by my inability to go anywhere interesting.
Today I toddled of to St Paul's finding nothing but sky to photograph.  How the clouds change as minutes pass by.  However the number of telephone wires crossing the streets round here make it difficult to picture even good skies as they occur when the view is blocked.  Have these people no thought?
I am sitting here resting my knees, already telling me not to move, as tomorrow I am back at St P's and then work on Tuesday.  I am already looking forward to sleeping all day Wednesday.  I will however be thinking of friends at a family funeral that day, one led by a humanist.  Hmmm...

I have spent much of the day removing photos from this laptop onto an off laptop storage.  Already one GB has been saved and I am only half way down!  So many old pictures which get copied into several places for some reason, I wonder who does that?  I reckon there is more that a GB still to be filed away somewhere.  This old machine is slowing down so I will clean it up but maybe it needs replaced?  Could someone send £500 for a new one?  What...Oh!

Tacitus & Sea

Before I began to make use of my Book Tokens this Xmas I began to re-read Tacitus.  This was somewhat disappointing for me as I liked it last time but was more aware of his bias, deliberate choice of view and admiration for Vespasian the new Emperor.  
I agree after three poor Emperor's, each one devoted to replacing the disgraced Nero, Vespasian was a good practical choice.  His ability to secure the Empire and salvage Rome from the muddle was useful and Tacitus came to fame under Domitian Vespasian's rather unfortunate second son.
The book goes into too much detail, much of which finds me wondering about its veracity, and often speeches are made Thucydides style, that is made up by Tacitus.  This does not mean he in inaccurate but he is not totally truthful and people might sound as he wished.  
When Nero was removed Galba took his place until bumped off by the crowd, Otho was next and he happily committed suicide to save Rome, Vitellius was next but after a short but bloody civil warhe came to an end thankfully.
It is easy to see which Emperor Tacitus liked because the bad ones are full of greed, laziness or incompetence, their people are often divided and confused, always without discipline and not very nice.  The good guy's side however are the opposite.  Now again he is probably right as civil wars tend to leave a lot of confusion and mixed feelings, father against son etc.  However he on occasion sounds like something written in the 'Daily Mail' rather than an objective source.
Still without actually doing anything but be crowned Emperor by his troops Vespasian takes the position and before he even reaches Rome the book ends as so many parts of the writing have not survived.  So much we do not know!
It's worth a look just to get a grip on how class ridden the Roman society was.  To see how easily armies dump their generals and run amok, and to be glad we live in such a secure and loving society like ours.  
What?...oh!

 
I've done nothing but read books and tidy up today so here is a picture of the sea.  Isn't it wonderful?  The sea not the picture.  Where would we be without it?  Just sitting beside it relaxes the mind and allows us to dream of places far away.  
The sound of waves lapping against the shore, the sight of boats, some with sails, moving around is so good as easing the days troubles.  I wish I lived next to the sea I do miss it.  However it never writes to me.  
At night at sea you see the stars above.  How wonderful to get an uninterrupted view of the night sky.  I caught such a glimpse the other night coming home as the light opposite was out.  At sea you will be able to see for miles and above you a panorama of stars must appear.  I want to see that!  Ah well, one day perhaps...

I've Never Been so Happy!

 

I spent the night here.

This was not my intention earlier in the day but after last night's 'entertainment' I felt there was no longer any choice. 

We have had the misfortune of 'Brexit,' we have had the greater misfortune of Donald Trump and whatever that means, now the lowest point for a long time has arrived, a 3-1 defeat by the 'wee team.'. 

In all my 32 years I have never known a more humiliating experience than the one offered by the Heart of Midlothian during the Edinburgh Derby against the 'wee team' last night.  Defeats occur occasionally, usually the fault of cheating refs and diving Hibbys, rarely do the Heart of Midlothian get swept aside by the better team as they did last night.

Now as the European Championships take place on Tuesdays and Wednesdays at this time of year nobody is allowed to televise football games so as to protect the overpaid self important clubs involved in the Champs league.  This means I could not see the game live and had to rely on the wireless and the comments of the pundits.  However it was clear from this the display was awful.  How it looked to those paying through the nose for their tickets I would hate to say.

Losing 3-1 to the Hibs is not and never will be a good thing but to lose without a fight is terrible, a 'terrible' of frightening proportions.

Why did it happen?  

The new (and as we are constantly told 'young') manager wishes to play classy football.  To do this he has introduced players suitable for the performance of such football and at times this shows through.  However it becomes clear having watched one or two games recently that to succeed at such football a degree of strength is required, this was missing all too often, and not available last night is appears.  Real Madrid, Bayern Munich and others play the type of game we wish to play but add talented players who are strong characters and have the will to fight even against wee teams like the Hibs.  Often they encounter clubs who close them down, hassle them and give them no time on the ball but still produce the goods, this is a trick some of our players have yet to learn.

I spent last night, and rediscovered this morning, many needless abusive comments from people who's mental failings have caused them to support the Hibernian, these posted many comments on Twitter and elsewhere which did not enable my cardiac performance to remain normal.  It is too be hoped that those who post such needless and hurtful comments will contract Mumps in the next few days from their kids!

Oh and the trains had stopped by the time I got down there!  Bah!

Storm Doris!

Now who in their right mind would put a name to a storm?    

At the moment winds of around 30 to 60 mph are hurtling past the window.  Policemen are seen chasing their hats, trees falling over, roofs crashing through houses and the media inform us this is the fault of Storm Doris! Doris!!!  What a daft name to give a storm.  

Why do we need to give storms names?  Who decided this?  

Storms have blown across this land for thousands of years, always referred to as 'a storm' or 'strong winds' or just 'bad weather' yet to enable this enfeebled population to understand that a 'storm' is raging we now know it by a name, and not just a woman's name but we vary from a woman's name to a man's name time after time!  What a load of juvenile baloney.  

A storm is a storm, we need not know it's name as we cannot call the police and as them to catch 'Storm Doris' and not just because they are busy running after their hats either. 

Bah!!!

Look at that poor pigeon, he was swaying this way and that and now hours later he has gone and disappeared.  I suspect he will be in Harwich by now, walking back slowly as he canny fight Doris.

You of course will know the 'Nereids' were sea-nymphs according to ancient Greeks (and some young ones I believe).  Fifty daughters of Nereus and 'Gray eyed' Doris!   Doris was a popular name at one time and was indeed the name of Herod the Great's first wife.  He banished her along with Antipas his son for another and bumped that one, Mariamne, off after 'in house' lies and office politics from the women of the palace even though Josephus claims he actually loved her.

Doris is also the area of south eastern Turkey, then called Asia Minor, which the Greeks helped themselves to unasked in that English Imperialist style.  The area including Halinass Halingcar, Rhodes and Kos formed the 'Dorian League' and they became 'pillars' of the community (did you see what I did there?).  Not many women are called Doris today, fashion in names change as quick as a woman's mind...

What...oh!

Email Day

 

Being so tired after the long weekend effort I sat and read all the unanswered emails today.  

That was about my limit.

The emails have been lying there since Xmas some of them, I keep putting them off until an appropriate moment.  Most emails get answered reasonably quickly, spam gets dumped right away and there are always those that require thinking or a rational answer, those get left.

I make use of four email systems, though two now are one and the same thanks to Microsofts intention of killing of 'Live.co.uk.'  One I keep for museum work and another is old and ought to be dead but keeps working!  Then there is Googlemail the most useful as it gets your replies posted here, except for two of you with whom it refuses to work.  How strange but there we are, computer geeks are strange folks and their work reflects them.

So the morning was spent in waking up, scribbling replies to people afar off, deleting old mail, moving on to the next wondering what to say and scribbling nonsense, on and on.  So nice to get through all those and await the wonderful answers that will be received over the next month or two.  One concerned a sailor who died from appendicitis in 1917, then a very dangerous occurrence, and I discovered very intriguing information regarding him.  The sender was in Larbert and our man was stationed at Grangemouth which I did not know had the Royal Navy based there in the Great War, I thought it was just Rosyth.  The English government closed Rosyth in a vain attempt to get votes in Plymouth I suspect they closed Grangemouth earlier for similar reasons.  

Three were from the museum requesting my attendance to do things, most of which I avoided, and one at least I will attend, it's a get together for a laugh, I'll go there.

Too tired and weary and the day too grubby to make me leave my abode so old fotos will do to fill space.  I'm not fussy...

Time Flies

Where does time go?
Intending to be at St P's for noon today I rose with plenty of time to spare, ate dressed washed and all reading done I happily awaited the hour of departure.
Why therefore with all things done and careful planning completed did I find myself suddenly rushing for the door?  At one point there was an hour before I left the next minute I was racing to get out on time!
Who stole those minutes? 

Switch the laptop on and watch it warm up and almost half an hour will pass before it is ready for work.  Switch it on and go make a cup of tea taking only two minutes and the brute is wondering where you have been and switched itself off again!  How does time work in such situations?
Waiting for a dentist to finish pulling teeth can take hours but a fanciful delight of whatever sort lasts only seconds, how come?
I am reminded of the tombstone which read:-

"Harry Smith the inventor of time travel.  

          Died 3rd February 2317."

This old laptop is quite good however a year or two ago I bought a second one as this was overheating and playing up.  Once I obtained a new one this brute began to play nice again!  The newer one has more power, more ram, more GB space and is slower than this one!  I am annoyed as I cannot figure out why.  
I have done all the usual things, increased ram, run the anti this and anti that, cleaned out this and that and having done all the usual things the beast still reacts slower than this old one.  Possibly Cortana that needless use of space might be responsible, it is off on the old one but keeps appearing unwanted on the newer.  I have tried closing it down as per usual methods but it keeps reappearing.  None of the recommended tricks work.
Possibly that is not the problem but I cannot work things out as to why it is slower, it ought to be faster than this.
A bit like me really, very fast for my age...  what?  Oh!

Sunday Morning

Sunday morning football is not something I was ever involved with.  I am not sure it occurred in Edinburgh in those days though I think many played on Saturday afternoons, the schools certainly played on Saturday mornings.  We ourselves having left school and unable for reasons we failed to understand took to playing football on Sunday afternoons at the Meadows while attempting to listen to John Peel offering proper music on a distant transistor radio. This was not a success.
Maybe I misunderstand but it appears to me England was full of people playing football on Sunday mornings.  This seems to still be the thing to do but as I rarely pass the fields on Saturday's I do not know if anyone plays there at that time.
It is a long time since I last stood between the goalposts, feet inches deep in mud, thoroughly enjoying myself in spite of the score.  Wormwood Scrubs, 11:30 in the morning, around 1976 or 77,  I reckon was the last game I played.  We drew four all with the Spanish church.  The sounds of the players cries, the thud of the ball as it bounces of the bonce, the emotions aroused when you score or lose a goal, the smell of the grass or ought I say mud as face down you grasp for the ball near the goaline, all such things remain in the memory and please the heart, unlike the aches and bruises found the next day.

These events today were put on by the local football club which struggles near the bottom of what is called the 'national league,' and unofficially called the 'Fifth Division.'  Partly because this gives coaching to young players who one day might bring fame and fortune to the club and partly because such 'community efforts' help encourage the council to back the club in its drive to build a new and much needed stadium players of all sorts can be found here on Sunday mornings no matter the weather.
The earnest kids play a disciplined game such as we at that age never comprehended, their knowledge of tactics far outweighs mine, their positional sense at seven years old is greater than mine will ever be, and maybe one day they will indeed make it to the top division and even their national side.  
parents, often under strict instructions regarding their behaviour, shouting or attitudes towards the referee watch on keenly interested in their offspring's development.   Mums shiver behind the coffee mug obtained from the pie stall trailer that makes a good living from the watchers, Dads once more fantasise about success, this time for their son, wishing they knew then what they know now and on occasion running the line trying their best to keep within the spirit off the game and give correct decisions.  Others find some degree of enjoyment racing after a loose shot as the ball runs down the slope and bodies no longer used to running begin to stiffen before they have returned the ball to the playing area.  Glancing at the pie stall they wonder if they ought to buy something or wait until later and visit the 'Coach & Horses' instead?  

  
They even have girls teams pretending they are men on occasion.  It is clear from those involved that few will make it to a higher level though one girl I saw on an earlier occasion might make it playing rugby!  For most of them fun is the main thing though I notice few girls team in recent weeks, maybe the weather was too cold!  
One problem I find is that if you don't make it into a 'team' you might not play football in any place. Until the late 70's or the early 80's football was played in open spaces five night a week in every part of the country, now it is played in school playgrounds if there is space or not at all.  I wonder if the lack of natural talent has been lost because few now play in these sometimes 20 a side games with players of various ability?  The great skillful players of yesteryear all came though such football education and I wonder if this is losing talent that ought to be allowed to develop before such coaching is used.
It also loses many who get discouraged early on and fail to just enjoy the game, played at their own ability level, for fun with little thought of a future career.  Playing for fun, in spite of the weather, also involves team spirit, meeting strangers, a wee bit of travel and again more fun!  We cannot all make the top level but we can make fun out of the game with friends surely?