On Yer Bike!

I've noticed this bike parked here occasionally, the owner working nearby I suppose.  This is one of the machines that I lusted after in the days of long ago.  When aged a slender fifteen years (I'm 32 now) I would often stand outside Alexanders Showroom in Lothian Road dreaming of the wealth required to buy a BSA, Triumph or Norton Motorbike.  Earning £5:10 shillings a week, minus Nine shillings for National Insurance,meant this was just a dream.  In those days you had to be sixteen to get a licence, when I became sixteen they raised the age to seventeen!  It made no difference, I was only on something like seven pound a week then.  

Standing in Slateford Road just before then a rich young man on a brand new Royal Enfield with a bright red petrol tank trundled past my jealous eyes.  This was however the last Royal Enfield to be made and within a couple of years the company was dead, the result of much better Japanese bikes, Honda and Suzuki, dominating the market.  Royal Enfield had opened a factory in India where the bikes still sold successfully and that factory bought all the machinery in the West Midlands and still today continues to manufacture Royal Enfield bikes.  I suspect that in the Asian subcontinent the locals can fix these much easier than they could the Japanese versions.  Some are offered on sale in the UK and sell well today.

I did eventually obtain a Suzuki myself in 1976 which did not last as long as it ought, my technical skills were to the fore and I sold it cheap to my neighbour and moved far away.  It was a bit of fun at the time but not as romantic as a BSA Bantam or one of those large monsters that I leered at in the window.  I also found that while 1976 was a record heatwave year, the drought was fearful, rain however when it came was not a comfortable item to drive through on a motorbike.  I can still dream however and pretend I want and can afford and can avoid falling from a 650cc BSA brute!

A Day of Rest and a Visit.

Yesterdays early morning sun (I didn't see this mornings as I was still akip) shone brightly.  I struggled out of bed to attempt to clear up the mansion before my niece arrived.  This is her every eighteen month or so visit the intention being to see if I am still alive and to see if I have any money.  Sad to say she was disappointed in both endeavours!  Not only am I still alive (in one fashion at least) the money has not as yet made an appearance.  I took the opportunity to visit the museum to prove to the doubters that I actually had a talented family member.   

As my most beautiful and highly talented niece was only here for a few hours to run her finger over the dust on the mantelpiece and fail to engender any guilt from me while doing so it was a chance to eat properly, or so I thought.  I bought reasonably well and she ate it all!  We then talked, well I listened while she spoke of her world travels and musical talent.  I have musical talent also, daily I play the wireless!  At least she left some organic chocolate which has put a smile on my face and a hole in my teeth.

Today I have been recovering from the aches and pains, the tiredness and eventually clearing up the mess left from our dinner yesterday, the leftovers made an excellent breakfast!  I didn't realise until today how tired I was!  How it catches up with you when not expecting it.  
Next week, maybe tomorrow, I will begin my new exercise programme that I will devise.  I intend to get fit, certainly fit enough to meet my niece at the station and walk home as fast as she did.  I only puffed so much because  we were walking up a slight slope!  
Time for bed, it's just after six... 

What a Day!

They were queueing outside the door before ten this morning.  At the bells dinging on the Town Hall clock I opened the door and looked at the few in the queue and found the few went round the side of the building and down to the gate!  There must have been folks standing along the street but I dare not look out....
It took two of us to man the till and one to man the phone and deal with folks booking workshops for the kids!  We took the first money at ten and the queue just went on and on and on...  When there was a short break I checked the watch, 11:35 it read!
There were hundreds of them, kids bringing parents and grandparents and a few parents and grandparents bringing kids.  We soon ran out of small change and we had refreshed this three times! The short break was just that, we never got a chance to move and discover how things were going on elsewhere as we had more folks coming in no time to stop.  Add to this the trouble of controlling two, three or more kids, the need to offer them trails and things to look for, and some coming in while others go out, you can imagine the controlled chaos.  Occasionally I asked "Are these all yours?" To receive the gleeful answer "No!"  There were questions re prices and kids wishing to buy this and that at the same time as this was going on, VIPs (they say) coming in to look (One councillor actually paid an entrance fee!  I made sure he had his receipt in case he needs to claim it back) and the VIPs then left speaking to everyone, well one i know spoke to me at least, then the people returned and he got shifted aside.

  
It was after one before I could be relieved for a tea stop.  My ten o'clock tea had been sipped twice in the morning and was somewhat tepid by one, and even then I got caught up in one of the two complaints we received.  However I soon fixed that - I put the kettle on and waited till she had gone home.
Only then could I visit the owls sitting quietly in the big hall.  Five of them just sitting staring at folks and waiting till the camera was focused on them before turning their heads around!  Brutes!  These owls are lovely things.  Five different sizes, all apparently happy, none fussy about the visitors, kept at a  discreet distance, and one keen to sit on the ladies hand rather than the stool provided.  These creatures are worth a look up close if you ever get the chance.

   
Not much chance to take other pictures today.  Far too busy at first with the till and the folks arriving and as always we have to be careful taking pictures with children about.  On top of that I was too tired by then to care!  The place was flooded with people, the temperature rising and I just wanted to go home for the Swedish massage (which has not appeared) and sleep for 24 hours.  
The magician, the card trick man the potion tray (very popular as they all took small bottles filled with potions home with them) and all the other things appeared to be popular.  Only two complaints were heard but out of 500 or so visitors that's not bad. 
Now I just wish to sleep...

Another Book!

Amazon

This is a good book!

The fact that it arrived as a birthday pressie was nothing to do with my comment, free books are better than paid for books but this is indeed a good read.

What this book is not is an entire history of the SAS, I suspect that is unlikely for some years as many operations are still regarded as secret.  It is however an authorised World War Two history compiled by access to diaries and letters and some of the men themselves.  

Ben MacIntyre is a well known military author and some of his books have featured here before.  He offers a gripping but not excitement lead tale of the origins of the SAS after Commando style operations in the Middle East failed and David Stirling came up with the idea of attacking the enemy from behind overland.  

British army officers were like soldiers everywhere reared on discipline and organisation unlikely to be keen on any idea which appeared to offer rogue soldiering which they could not control.  Major wars are of course fought between two organised armies numbering thousands of men, small groups wandering off on their own frightened many staff officers.  David Stirling, the young officer who wished to live outside the hidebound army routine was one they distrusted!  They had reason to distrust him.  

The failure of sea led attacks on German held North African ports gave opportunity for Stirling's small force to take their opportunity.  Parachuting into a storm, the pilots miles of course, many men suffering injury and what was left of the secret assault a failure it appeared life was not going to be kind to this infant group.  

However already operating in the deserts of Egypt and Libya were the Long Range Desert Group (LRDG).  These men knew the desert like taxi drivers know their towns and were used for spying on enemy movements.  This led Stirling to make use of their drivers and arrange a small force to attack enemy airfields well behind the lines destroying infastructure and hindering enemy movements.  It also required, as time past, more security and men at airfields and important points.  

Within a short time Stirling had collected an assortment of tough experienced fighters who endured strict training.  Men who could, and did, walk forty miles without drinking from their water bottles in the midday heat, men who could navigate at night, move stealthily near the enemy and when required could be ruthless.  This produced a wide section of men from a variety of nations who proved equal to the task.  Constant attacks on airfields and enemy positions upset enemy morale, especially the Italians, most of them did not wish to be in the war anyway, damaged their materiel and enabled the British and Allied forces to hinder General Rommels attacks and under British  General Montgomery eventually push them back out of north Africa altogether.

This was was considered a 'clean war' against a 'clean enemy 'the Afrika Corps.'  Men fought to the death but acts of needless murder were not encouraged.  Once they moved into Italy via Sicily things were to change.

David Stirling was by this time held as a Prisoner of War, one who constantly attempted escape, and was in the end incarcerated in Colditz Castle where he ended the war.  His force continued, now much more popular with the fighting Generals if not with those back in the far off offices.  Terrific firefights in Italy which cost many lives in horrific situations began to shape a new mentality for the SAS.  As their numbers grew so did the challenges and operating behind the lined in France before D-Day saw several SAS groups deal not just with the German army but also the more deadly SS troops.  They also had to endure the ressistance fighters who continually split into various factions and spent much time arguing with one another.  On occasions spies amongst them led to enemy action that often caught them onthe hop. 

Having gone before the army in the desert, in Italy and now in France the SAS, now featuring French and Belgian battalions and again containing people from many lands led the way into Holland and Germany.  Fierce fighting, with no back up, often occurs.  

Then in April as the war nears it's end they came across Belsen concentration camp.

This book does not glorify the actions of the SAS though it is a gripping read.  The desert tales left me with a comradeship feeling towards these men, one that all soldiers require and one that took them through their war.  I confess I would have failed the entry requirements!  No matter how strog a man considers himself the war has effects he cannot lose.  It was not different for those that survived the struggle.  Many who began in the desert did not see the wars end, others disappeared in the forests in which they hid, still others were captured and shot out of turn according to Hitler's orders to kill all commandos without mercy.  Not all German army officers were willing to give such orders.  

After the war almost all men found routine life boring.  Some settled down others unsettled lives ended in tragedy.  The mental effects of killing and seeing comrades killed has an effect on the toughest.  Some remain alive even today, many from that war remain but surely not for much longer.
The SAS were at first accepted reluctantly, after the war they were quickly disbanded and not long afterwards once again revived.  Special forces were seen as a requirement of warfare in the early 1950's and during the 'Cold War' period.  So effective were the SAS that all countries soon adopted similar groups.  The French and Belgians of course were quick to do so, other nations followed but it took the US until 1977 to for such a force. All were based on David Stirling's idea of a loose group silently and secretively operating behind the lines.  A special type of man, one who does not boast about his achievements, good or bad.
 

I found this one of those books I could not put down and was rather annoyed it ended.  That does not happen often.  Partly it was the story, war stories are exciting when the bullets are 70 or so years away from me, partly it was the excellent writing, mostly it was the feeling of comradeship that came through, comradeship in fighting a good casue in a dirty war, and in Europe the war was a dirty war, and fighting for a cause with good comrades.  My other books appear tame by comparison.

    

 David Stirling on right.

Now I'm Not One to Complain...

Wandering through our exciting town centre I came across a couple of Alpaca's sitting in a small cage wondering what they were doing there.  Beside them a couple of not to keen goats stared at the kids touching them and in a cage were four small birds, quail possibly but I am not sure, no notice was seen.  The centre often has animals but for what reason these appeared was not clear, the place was not too busy either, maybe the animals scared folks off?

The locals have been at it again.  They spend an enormous amount of time looking at old photos and grumbling "It was better back then," or "Life was easier," and "It was safer then."  Each shop picture brings groans that "I preferred the little shops," "Bring back small shops" "It's all Tesco's fault!"  The thing that bugs me is the reason there is no small shops is the peoples decision to shop at Tesco!  Small shops cannot compete with the like of large supermarkets, though we still have a butchers on the go, and he is struggling because so many use the supermarkets as they are cheaper!  
The woman who once wandered around carrying a heavy shopping bag or two visiting the grocer, the baker and the ironmonger were happy to be chatted up by each money grabbing shopkeeper who paid his staff the least he could while dodging tax as much as possible yet if they had to do this today they would avoid it as Tesco is easier!   Yet they still grumble "It was better back then!"  Aye it was as you were seven years old and your mum carried the bags!  
Old photos bring the cry "It was better back then" more than the shops ad I must explain to these dreamers that the old men in the photos are grumbling to the kids round about that "It was better in the past!"  People don't want to believe me, we believe what we wish to be true rather than facts which upset us by removing the dream.  The past was never better it is just our better lives were found there, and we have forgotten the fears, poverty and long hours adults had in the past.  How strange that wealthy fat people long for a time when they would be struggling all day and never give thanks for what they actually have in front of them, we just spend time wishing we had something else, something more!  The rich and well fed are more unhappy than the poor!

 
What is the difference between an Alpaca and a Llama anyway...?
I now know!  Alpacas were bred for the wool and some meat, the Llama as a beast of burden, camel like.  One male Llama in amongst sheep or goats protects the herd very effectively from predators.  Some are found in the UK I hear.  Llamas are of course bigger than Alpacas.

Ah Summer Time!

We have missed the worst of the summer storms around here.  The other night I noticed, around four in the morning, lightning flashing in the distance, no thunder was heard but some claim it was noted elsewhere in town.  I suggest they were just light sleepers. Today there was no lightning, no thunder just a long shower lashing rain on the unfortunates who, dressed for summer, were caught out walking in the open when it arrived.  I didn't laugh at the drookit men waking past heading for a pub to dry off.
Now, shortly afterwards, the sun shines brightly, the day is very warm though a bit humid and I am once again inside.  No reason to go outside, no money to spend and nothing I need buy until tomorrow.  So I just sit here joining in the newspaper online columns grumbling about things and offering my twopence worth.  Already by nine this morning I had one enemy for life!  Good going I say. 

 
Is it just me or are blogs being used less these days?
True it is that I have done little in recent days.  I have not got out and about as I would like and there has been little to see in this little town.  Indeed the only nearby event I missed because I was asleep all day!  I know others have been sick, some have changed circumstances and life moves on but it appears from here that there are fewer to read these days and like me they are less regular in their production. 
However from this end I am making a start in doing something about my health, something about life in general and hoping to save cash at the same time.  I may even get out and about and see some of the summer activities that occur.  The trouble with these is the belief that everyone has a car and can reach out of the way places where train and bus do not run!  These often occur on a Sunday also, the day public transport in out of the way places does not run!  Grrrrr!
Being stuck inside in a small town does not offer a lot of variety even though there are events occurring.  Anyway I want to get out and see things that I have missed or did not know about, this area has many hidden away and I need to find an attractive (and not too bright) woman to drive me about so I can see them.

But good news, there is football on telly tonight!
What...?
The same to you!

Tory Grumbling While Rolling in it.

Oh what a fuss, the BBC pays its people lots of money and folks now complain, what a 'to do!'

In the days of long ago when Maggie Thatcher was king the back bench Tories shouted loudly about BBC bias and questioned whether there was a need for a licence fee, how times change?  The Tory back bench demanded programmes that reached a mass audience rather than just the quality programmes then available on the BBC.  To answer this Michael Grade was appointed and he introduced 'Eastenders' a soap opera that has done more to lower the standards of behaviour in the UK and elsewhere than anything other than Rupert Murdoch's 'Sun.'  Other such tripe were produced and quality has ever since been shoved aside in the search for ratings.
Recently BBC employees whether staff or entertainers have been criticised for huge payments, this by Tory back bench MP's earning £74,000 plus all the other jobs and 'appearences' they make and having a cabinet in which each and every one of them is a multi millionaire. (Hunt the Health Secretary now engaged n selling the NHS to private operators has masses of shares in said operators, he is also the richest member of the cabinet!)  This outcry, taking up willingly by the 'Daily Mail' (Editor Paul Dacre on £2 million a year plus) and other Tory rags.  The Beeb then lowered some of the big names salaries, including the Director General and when this failed to stop the whining decided today to reveal the names of those who earn over £15,000 a year.  It must be stated that many do not get paid PAYE but form themselves into 'companies' and thus avoid much tax (Tory style).
The outcry, much expected and mostly jealously unleashed, was drowned out by that other paper seller the 'gender imbalance.'  This is an invention middle class women have come up with to grumble about men earning more than they do.  So today the usual suspects were brought out complaining Gary Linekar get almost £2 million for a football programme and no woman is anywhere near this.  This argument ignores Claudia Winkleman, one of the worst females ever to appear on the screen gets pad £450,000 for doing almost nothing!  Some blond on the 'Now Show' another piece of emptiness from the BBC gets similar for what?  The number of empty meaningless women paid over £150,000 is staggering yet the cry is there are not enough of them?  This cry often from the women who are looking for such jobs! 
The real reason for the gender gap' (note how we never say 'sex' these days) is that the men are better at the job and  bring in the viewers, in TV and radio that is what matters.  That is also why some women have their jobs, not that they are good but that women respond to them, BBC Breakfast staff please note.
I was shocked to say the least when I saw some payments however, Stephan Nolan getting half a million?  Nothing justifies this.  Chris Evans £2,25 million?  How on earth he gets this I fail to understand, just as Jeremy Vine pulling in over £700,000 for a crap radio show and as a bad quizmaster on 'Eggheads.'  How often he does not know the answers to things I knew in primary!  

When you think about it the payouts are not in media terms excessive.  Had these folks gone to ITV they would often get twice or three times the money, maybe we ought to be glad they stay where they are?  The women whine as always yet never mention the abundance of female newsreaders (Sophie Rayworth getting £250,000 for reading a prompt) and the vast number of women on BBC sport, mostly ignorant of their subject.  I could mention 'Farming Today, produced and presented by women but always it is male farmers interviewed, sexism here clearly.  Sexism works two ways but the women never notice this.  It is of course 'selfishness' not 'sexism' that is at the root.    
The market sets the prices on offer, the Tory party back bencher will wallow in grumbling until something is done then head off to earn a great deal more than anyone in the Beeb, but that appears to be OK.  This does not bother me overmuch, happiness does not come from the cash obtained by fronting poor programmes or getting jobs because of who you know, and this happens everywhere in life.  Life is more than cash and we live well without it, don't we? 

An Exhibition

Having decided to spend cash only on things I actually require and cease wasting money on luxuries I was confronted with this as I arrived this morning.  A variety of new jams and suchlike faced me and somehow or other this one fell into my hands before I left.  It is possible I may have to try it sometime tonight rather than let the jar sit there lonely.

The new exhibition is up and running and the crowds swooped in today, well two old ladies on their way to lunch filling in time.  They and attractive young mums booking places for the kids workshops filled my first hour today, an hour that is not quite so hectic normally.  Before my tea had been served I was busy, as usual by the time I tasted it the tea was rather tepid.  We rarely get a hot cup of anything during the morning.

I did read the condensed story of Harry Potter presented to us ignorant folks and Peggy and I were not impressed.  The idea was to introduce us to the characters but I remain unmoved and no less ignorant of them.  It appears Harry is always being attacked and always wins,just as well or there would not have been several books, several films and millions for the author...

The exhibition looks OK to me, it will bring in the punters and any questions we have re the many personnel will be answered by the seven year olds who will fail to comprehend that we know nothing abut Potter and his story.  Appropriate goods are on sale alongside the marmalade, trails and things to do are there for the kids, and a nearby cafe stands waiting for mum and dad, gran and uncle and anyone else worn out by tramping back and forward round the museum.  

From now until October this will be our lot.  Next Tuesday, the first week of the holidays, we have the official opening and we expect a fair few to turn out for the magician, the Owls and whatever else they have laid on.  The cheery smile, the compliments, the warm welcome that awaited me this morning led me to believe something was amiss, indeed it was as they presented me with the outfit I must wear next week.  I of course refused but felt that somehow I have been compromised into this arrangement. 
 

No, I don't know what it is either and I am not going to ask.

I am positive these moved through the day but I didn't notice anyone touch them.  I think this is getting to me, I need a six months holiday.

One child at least is interested in seeing this exhibition.  When informed she could not visit every day as they would be on holiday she asked if they could cancel the holiday, mum was not impressed. 

Nothing Happened Again so I Took a Walk!

Nothing happened in between dark passing clouds and moments of sunshine.  

The Bees did not notice and carried on with their work. Poor souls only last one year and that is spent in flitting from flower to flower to keep the nest going and pollinating plants.  We would be lost without them.

The pond is awash with Lillies floating on the top.  The gray sky made pictures hard to obtain but I was unwilling to paddle in the deep to get a better one.

This bush was awash also with colourful yellow flowers.  Dozens of them brightening up the area.  The benefit of wandering through the park in dismal afternoons is the lack of kids and mouthy mums getting in the way.  Few people wander about blocking the view or getting in the way of the camera. The downside is the gray clouds that pass over hinder the light.   

The 'Daisies' they grow in the gardens are well fed are they not?  These were almost four feet high.  In my day they were never above an inch or two.  Could it be they are on drugs?

A bright addition to the gardens - whatever it is!

 
The public gardens were once part of the estate of the Courtauld family who built a very large house on the other side of the road.  They had a very big estate which now forms the park opposite and in the 1880's donated this portion of their gardens to the town.  Much rejoicing ensued on opening day as a parade through the town with bonfires and much eating and drinking in the evening as the town celebrated the new acquisition.  Another offering from the Courtauld family who also donated the school in which the museum now resides and many houses throughout the area.  Doctors, hospitals, churches and many other buildings were given by the Unitarian Courtaulds who followed the 'social gospel' of the Victorian era.  If only the wealthy today had such a conscience!  The picture shows the 'Arts & Crafts' style house which was a common theme of Courtauld houses and served until recently as the gardeners home, now it holds a coffee house.

Now I'm Not One to Complain...

During today I have had the 'Tour de France' on in the background so I can keep an eye on these cyclists powering up steep gradients faster than I could drive a Ferrari down them.  Today they streamed into the hill country while gathering clouds soon began to surround them as they climbed into the 'mountains.'  All the while two of the ITV people kept up a running commentary of the action (Cycling surely? - ed?).  There is in the TV world (TV being a device to show pictures) a preoccupation with filling the screen with words in case the viewer was unable to distinguish a cyclist from an ancient Abbey or Castle seen rising majestically in the background.  Now background information is indeed useful but sometimes silence while watching the men slogging along is useful also, this gives our ears a rest.
However what annoys me came at the end.  The leader, he with the 'Yellow Jersey' was one Chris Broome, an Englishman, therefore it was clear that in the eyes of the commentators he alone was what mattered at the end of this tough uphill race.
He flopped!
There was of course passing reference to the young man who actually won the race but only one man mattered - the Englishman!  For a moment I began to wonder if anyone else took part!  It is a recurring theme in any sport that the English commentators only see one man/side their own.  Now all commentators have a support for their side in any game and sometimes when they win a major trophy it can be seen as excusable, rarely is this the case in England.
We note by the way that at least one woman has mentioned Andy Murray going out of Wimbledon by informing us the 'Scotsman has gone home' whereas when he was in the tournament he remained 'British!'  Tennis hopes then rested on a wee English girl who soon lost to a very experienced opponent and know doubt has become Irish or Welsh or whatever now.  
The cycling world has done this for years, Chris Broad who now commentates was another hero for a while and there have been others.  No matter who wins the 'Tour' this year only one man will be centre of the ITV world and you know his name...

The degradation of sin bares its fruit....... 

Organised Work

Too early, too, too early this morning I crawled on my hands and knees down the Avenue to the museum.  The warm welcome was not forthcoming, indeed they grumbled each time they fell over me without a word of apology.  However I attended to my duties with a smile on my face and joy in my heart.  This lasted about five minutes.
I had to endure a trip to Tesco to replace the yoghurt like milk in the fridge, a happy occupation mostly but today I bought my 'K' rations at the same time only to discover half the town was at the checkout when I arrived.  The very attractive young lass in front of me with a weeks shopping allowed me very graciously to go ahead of her and this enabled me to make it back before opening time at the shop.  
Then, once I had made my tea, sorted out the mess left by others Peggy, who told me she was on holiday for two weeks, arrived.  She then lied about this but did produce another cup of tea which I managed to accept graciously.

Nothing then happened.
However there was a period of confusion over the distribution of leaflets to schools in the area which any man would have organised properly.  I made this comment and was immediately and wrongly declared 'Enemy No 1' as women always react this way to honesty.  That reminds me, who swiped the other bag of chox I placed on the desk?
Silence then ensued as nothing happened for a long time.
An occasional individual would appear, grumble and leave.  Two visitors, two with queries, one phone call and nothing else happening was my day. 
Taking the opportunity when the clouds parted slightly to attempt (with a real camera) to catch the Bees hovering around the garden I made off and in spite of a dozen blurred pictures obtained my goal, almost.  These are the best I have managed for a while.
Fantastic to note all the pollen (if that's what it is) on the fur.  Once long ago in Edinburgh I watched a Bee such as thee sit on the window sill and brush all this collection into the pockets on his legs before heading of to the Hive.  That was one reason I wished to have a camera capable of such shots and today I almost found a decent shot.    
I then checked the shop, sat down and waited...
Nothing happened.

I glanced at the work involved in preparing the next exhibition, realised how hard this was and returned to my place.  So as my leaving time approached my replacement drove in and nothing was happening I began to organise my departure.
Peggy then arrived with a handful of small stools obtained from a type of Ikea shop.  One table was placed in front of me and a pleading lady asked me to finish what she had started.  Once finished she produced the others and this with five minutes before I left!  Had I not been (on my own) struggling with the 'Allen key' I might have mentioned this ought to have been brought to my attention a  wee bit earlier, like two hours ago!  Three tables later I ran for the door before others arrived, ignoring the unpacked table behind me. 
I slept like a log once I got home.

Fatigue

This one is a Goldfinch surely?  
He was sitting chatting away on the TV aerial this lunchtime just waiting to pose for me.  I suspect Dave sent him so that I would know the difference between a Goldfinch and a Chaffinch. 
However I have discovered a wee book on birds, you have seen the type, in amongst the few bookshelves and will endeavour to identify the beasts properly in future.  A handy book ideal for pocket, I wonder where it came from? 

The Spring Bug has still not left me!  Three months every year it bugs me and this year it has hung on longer than usual.  I have hardly got out and about unless I really need to go. This makes life boring.  It also means I do little here as I just canny be bothered to think, anything that requires thought is just left aside.  Outside the sun has often shone, half naked wimmen stalk young men, persons clad in dark glasses T-shit and coloured shorts roam the streets while staring into their phones all while I sit indoors half asleep much of the time.  Exercise does not help, my aching knees don't help and dirty looks from checkout lassies when I do get out help none either.  
I'm really cheery today!

  
Tomorrow I will drag the bulk down to the museum hoping there is little to do.  This is unfortunate as there is much to do in preparing the new exhibition and I really canny be bothered offering to help.  The energy just is not there and this is embarrassing.  Nothing has got done indoors and apart from food shopping I have not been out.  I look forward to Wednesday so I can have a day off! 
Bah!