The 11th....

The BBC managed to ensure the Armistice Day was commemorated well by covering the Lord Mayor of London's Parade.  This live event features many representatives of London and elsewhere marching through the City of London, a good day out for all - if the rain stays away.
Today it began with the Last Post and the two minutes silence.  This was fitting and as always many soldiers, sailors and airmen are found marching in this parade.  I wonder how many others commemorated this two minutes elsewhere on this busy Saturday morning?

Life continues elsewhere and TV offered me the first Christmas advert of the year.  I avoid TV most of the time, I avoid adverts constantly, unfortunately I saw this one. 
My verdict?
"Puke"

Dismal Park and Dismal Charity

Twice this week I have meandered slowly across the park ruminating on how depressing and dank a park can be when weather is dreich and the park empty of life.  Trees stand bare of leaves, they lie rusting all around, even evergreens appear darker than normal and only an occasional small bird is noted high up on a bare branch shivering in the gloom.  In the far distance a pale blue sky might be seen on occasion but much of the sky is battleship gray and full of the promise of rain.  
How much better in the Spring when leaves develop happily, bright yellow Daffodils and other flowers dominate the edges of the par and toddlers run around with parents struggling in the rear and the air is full of birdsong and bright sunlight. 
Not even the occasional drug dealer hovers during this day, gathering in the dim light behind bushes at night maybe but never in the dank daylight.  Those choosing to cross the park do so wrapped up in winter garb, council workers passing through offering brightness with those high-vis yellow or lime green jackets they are forced to wear, the only bright spot in the day.  How depressing a park can be after rain or in winter.  Roll on Spring.

An A4 envelope crashed through the door today.  Inside there was a letter from a charity, a four page letter, detailing the sob story they work amongst, a reply envelope, a car, a three page handout detailing the work at Christmas all wrapped in a big envelope.  My first reaction was simple, if they can afford an appeal of this size they can do without my money.  Money spent asking for money can be saved by sending out less and more to the point I say.
This came from a  place I have helped before, a good place doing good work especially at Christmas. However as I mentioned to one (well run) charity a while back I do not wish large amounts of guff asking for money and all of it ends up in the recycling.  Brief details well written tell more and may get my sympathy.  I recall one charity working amongst children sending out small plastic packets containing a sugar/water mix that they feed starving children, my attitude was send that to where it is needed not to me!  
A quick glance at 'Charity' on Google (Google, there is a charity that is doing well!) reveals hundreds and thousands of charities asking for cash.  Some are small local ones, good for them, others huge national world wide operations paying the top people over a hundred thousand a year (charity eh?) and I am not sure they are making the best use of the cash with such administration.
Clearly charities have to fight to get our money, clearly there is much need, clearly this failing government is contributing to the need by throwing people on the streets and failing to provide care where it is needed.  There will always be a requirement for charity and in this country people are always willing to give, I just wonder if the money is always used correctly, administration organised properly and my limited cash is being used in the most appropriate manner.

 

Messy State

While hiding from the chill wind I have cogitated on the government situation.  Now I know you will ask "Government? Does the UK have one?" and I will answer, "Not at this moment."  
The Scottish Labour Party then leader requested those Labour voters in constituencies where the Labour man would not win to vote for the Conservative Party thus ensuring the SNP would not win at the general election.  The result was many did indeed follow this instruction and the UK government was then won by a handful of seats, Scottish seats, that meant we now have a Conservative Party forming the government.  Had the Labour voters voted Labour and the SNP won the seats Jeremy Corbyn the leader of the UK Labour Party would now be Prime Minister instead of Theresa May.
Theresa May's government has been a farce since she was elected as she knows the Brexit nonsense will bankrupt the UK but she goes along with this just to keep her job as Prime Minister.  Her control of her cabinet is non existent and add to the farce of Brexit and the incompetence regarding the discussions with the EU we have the 'sex scandals' some of which are genuine and the loss of cabinet ministers from said cabinet.  
Today we await the MP for Witham, Essex, who has been called back from Africa where she escaped to avoid answering questions in the House regarding her latest shenanigans. 
It appears Pritti Patel, a woman who knows the colour of money, has been meeting with members of the Israeli cabinet on numerous occasions unbeknown to the PM or indeed her office (She is Minister for development).  This is serious as such meeting s require a civil servant to be present to take notes and make reports etc but this was not done!  Not only but also, she has met with and discussed government business with the Prime Minister of Israel without informing Theresa May her own PM!  Just what is going on we ask?
Today we read the Jerusalem Post claiming Theresa May was aware all along these meetings (all 12 of them) were underway, and aware that no civil servant was there also.  This is serious stuff and totally out of order from the correct handling of such circumstances under Parliament protocol. 
Who is telling the truth?  
What will be the result?

p.s. Tonight we hear the Patel woman has 'resigned,' they normal way to say she has been sacked. 

This government has an easy time as Corbyn also wishes to leave the EU.  Had he differed in his opinion he could bring this government down but is unable to do so.  A government with a lying Minister, a lying Foreign Secretary, Boris Johnson also, and David Davis the Brexit secretary claiming over 50 studies relevant to the result of Brexit are available and refusing to release them when parliament demands they are released he now claims they do not exist! 
Yet Corbyn cannot bring them down?
There is no stable government in Westminster, a rag tag group of individuals on the make each eyeing up the other as a dangerous opponent.  A weak opposition, a frustrated populace and all the while costs to the people rise daily (BT the latest to make a grab for another billion) the NHS loses money, the disabled, unemployed and sick lose benefits and housing and parliament is in a mess.
What a state to live under.  I have never known such a mess. 

I of course have a theory.
The more I look at things I begin to see judgement at work.
The UK has the Conservatives, the US has Trump!  The West has political correctness and the lunatics run the asylum.
We have left the ways of God, poorly followed as they were, encouraged abortion and gay sex, worshipped Mammon and become disinterested in human life.  I have mentioned the benefit claimants who are all regarded as scroungers I can add those who kill on the roads and walk free after a short sentence of four, five or six years while the dead are just dead and the victims families are not considered worthy of care.  
We are worshipping ourselves, this only leads to trouble.
The more the 'self' is glorified the more we die. 
Turning to he who rules is the only way forward for us.  
Turning to Jesus and the way of truth is our only hope.
Few will find it while the cosmos implodes.

When I am Poor then I am Rich...

The release of the files indicating the billions hidden away by the elite to avoid tax is no surprise to most of us.  Fiddling tax, especially when there are so many ways to do this 'legally' has gone on since time began and many grumbling about this will avoid tax on the 'Black Market' when possible.
So to be informed that leading Conservative parliamentary members of both houses are at it is no shock, to hear the queen is dodging tax is also no shock, she would not wish to tax herself would she?
However when her 'advisers,' she does not do her own accounts it appears, when her 'advisers, put ten million of her money in to tax havens and companies of dubious reputation then either she gets a  grip of her money men or begins to pay her own way.  This amount, £10 million, is only a small portion of her personal wealth they state, so why did she require a £10 million a year rise from the taxpayer for her royal duties bud?  If she has money in the bank why is she not doing what the nation has to do in these years of austerity and cutting costs?  Add to her tax paid income the £750 million being spent renovating Buckingham Palace while the nation attends one of the thousand Foodbanks that employed people have to make use of to pay their way is a question that requires an answer.   
Bone, famous U2 singer who asks people to pay for the poor also has money in tax dodges, Lord Ashcroft, a man who has bankrolled the Tory party and makes a noise about buying Victoria Crosses of the fallen while talking up his patriotism has many millions resting loyally abroad.  One of Trumps men, one Wilbur Ross has connections through such accounts to President Putin, no shock there, many foreign Johnnies are in on this, Canada's weird Premier Trudeau's top financier has of course got his fingers in the pile and foreign owners of English football teams are also in the game.
How lucky we are not one of those corrupt African nations where such behaviour is commonplace, how lucky the UK is so honest.

 
The good news is that such corruption has taken the corruption of our Westminster leaders off the front page and moved it into second place.  This is good because women are still appearing, jumping on the bandwagon of fame, all accusing someone unnamed of touching, raping, abusing or just smiling at them at some date in the past, often way in the past.  Whether any of this is true or whether this is just women telling the world that even though they are ageing men still want them I am not too sure.  I suspect men do not want such women around preferring the more thoughtful type and not those on the make.  
It is interesting the Ambera Rudd the Home Secretary and Liz Truss also a cabinet minister of some sort should appear on the list of named MP's mentioned for harassment.

This is allegedly the list of miscreants and it is worth a read.  Amber is near the bottom (ooh missus) and Liz half way up, one with relationships and one fornicating!  Dear me is this right?  
The whole thing is of course a game.  Men and women have been touching one another up for centuries, both have abused the other in a variety of ways, yet it is only bad men that get publicity, not bad women.  It appears they are seen as 'being independent women, making their choices,' not 'sluts' as they used to be called.  Men are not keen on 'dirty girls' as they are called, and in parliament it is clear there must be a few of those willing to make use of themselves to gain advantage, just ask that nice Edwina Currie.
Tomorrow there might be some better news, like the end of Brexit perhaps.

Looks like Reindeer...

Many of you will have read The Venomous Bead and her troubles with the latest Microsoft upgrade.
If you have failed to do so I suggest you do as it is funny, it always is when happening to others.
However the upgrade landed here the next day and strange things are happening to me!
This is not funny!  
The most common problem is not a serious one just an annoying irk.  I sign on and it runs as it ought then suddenly I must sign in again!  When I do the brute is already up and almost running yet I have had to sign in twice, why?  This has never happened before and is the fault of the new upgrade.
I notice they have added a 'people' sign to the taskbar yet I neither require this or wish to possess it, naturally it is not removable!  The Start Page also has added many items they claim are new, though they are just upgraded, almost all of which I will never use.
One day they will invent and offer a laptop that does what I require, need, use and like, one I will not find offers items I don't wish and one that works without glitches of all kinds.   

Facebook, the one that claims 126 million people contacted by Russian bots would not be influenced by them yet demands huge costs from those willing to advertise pap to the world as it will influence the viewer, that facebook fell apart the first time I used it after the upgrade.  Whether this was facebook or Microsoft or myself I cannot tell but it disappeared from the screen and suddenly returned!  Of course this HP model cursor has a life of its own.  I leave it here and find it there, I look up a word and when I type the cursor is three lines away from where I left it.  I become the curser then!
Isn't technology great?

Christmas brings its troubles.  One of them is the council 'Reindeer Hunt' in which local kids are encouraged to find the reindeer hidden across town.  If they are as big as this one and the one placed outside the museum I suspect they will find them easily enough.  I suspect however the majority will be no more than a foot high and found in the windows of many shops.
This follows a similar 'hunt' organised by the council during the museum exhibition this summer to make people look into the windows of the shops around the town.  The kids look for the items and the mums spend their money, a good and successful idea.

I canny wait to see what they have placed inside!

One Hundred Years Ago Today...

A hundred years ago today the 3rd Battle of Gaza began, amongst those who failed to return were three men from the local area, all members of the local Territorial Force serving in the 1/5th Battalion Essex Regiment.  

On 23rd July 1915 some 20 officers and 649 'other Ranks' of the 1/5th Battalion Essex Territorial Force sailed on the S.S. 'Grampian' for Gallipoli in the 161st Brigade as part of the 54th (East Anglian) Division landing on Suvla Bay on the 10th of August 1915 to face their introduction to the Great War. Here the battalion fought through the heat of the summer into the snow of winter departing to Mudros on the 27th of November 1915. Six officers and one hundred men had remained in position throughout their time on the peninsula, twenty seven had died in action plus ten from disease and one hundred and thirty three had been wounded including the Commanding Officer who never returned to action.
From the cold of Gallipoli the battalion served in the warmth of Egypt, much of the time being bored while guarding the Suez Canal. By March 1917 however the battalion saw action at the first battle of Gaza where they attacked the 'Green Hill' successfully in spite of advancing over 4000 yards of open ground, heavy casualties resulted but all were recalled because of misunderstandings regarding the position elsewhere.
The 5th participated in successful action during the early morning of November 2nd 1917. At five minutes to three in the morning the 5th Battalion attacked Zowaid Trench and the Rafa Redout from their positions on the beach to the west of Gaza.  Darkness, smoke from the guns, dust thrown up from the beach, desperate and deadly efficient Ottoman defending plus the general 'fog of war' caused confusion and the battle was not won for many hours. The cost was terrific as an entire Turkish Division had been brought in to defend the position leaving the battalion losing 2 officers and 73 other ranks killed and having 7 officers, including the replacement Colonel wounded for a second time and 172 other ranks wounded. 

Among the dead lay Serjeant William George Ambrose who fell attacking Zowaid Trench. Also there were two more Braintree and Bocking men Private Arthur William Gosling and Private James Joseph Willis.
William George Ambrose was born in Braintree in1896 and by 1911 lived in Woodfield Road. His father worked at Crittalls and William found employment as an office boy, possibly a rather tedious job for an energetic young man. With his father also being a serjeant in the 1/5th Battalion Essex Territorial Regiment it is no surprise to see William enlisting at the Drill Hall in Victoria Street when he was fifteen years of age. His photograph shown here reveals him to be a man of action and it is no surprise that he was serjeant also by the time he was 18 in 1914. For many men the Territorial Force was the only way to get away from the daily routine, meet mates and have a bit of excitement. The Battalion was dedicated to 'Home defence' however when volunteers for 'overseas action' were called for many were keen to answer that call.   Nineteen was the enlistment age and many who volunteered for overseas service were below that age, some well below!  William George Ambrose was an experienced fighting man of 21 years of age when he died leading his men attacking Zowaid Trench at Gaza. His body was recovered and now lies in the well cared for Gaza War Cemetery. 

Private Arthur William Gosling off similar age to Ambrose was the son of a milkman living in Stine Cottage, Panfield Lane. Arthur had been employed as a painter with Gobbold and Millbank before the war.  He too had joined the regiment possibly full of excitement and sharing the patriotism of the crowd but he also fell during this battle and was said to have died of his wounds, unfortunately however his body was never recovered.  The damage from artillery often making identification impossible.  He is commemorated on the Jerusalem Memorial.
Private James Joseph Willis was 19, he lived in Maltings Lane of Bradford Street and worked for Baileys the grocers in the High Street on the corner of Sandpit Road. James had left his job when 16 years of age and enlisted (by lying about his age probably) in the 5th Essex and was early in the war. He too fell somewhere during this third battle of Gaza and died of his wounds, his body also was never recovered for burial and he is commemorated on the Jerusalem Memorial.

Work...

How wonderful to get back to work and find nobody noticed I was off.  Having looked around and discovered where things had been moved to, things always move when my back is turned, and settling things into their proper place I sat back to meet the rush of visitors.  
She just popped in to browse!
A quiet day which was just as I wished, I did not realise how tired I was until I arrived, not that they cared.  Sweet Peggy dropped me a cup of life saving tea then ran off to be worked like a dog into the ground.  I watched from a distance.

I did however find the Christmas gifts I will be making use off, most appropriate I think.  I never checked how many there were inside, hopefully not too many but I want my moneys worth.  Now I must look out my 'Bah Humbug' hat for the festivities.  Ideal for the shop.

Unfortunately as I looked at the Robins here perched in their box I found myself considering a man who works just over the other side of the park as this Robin looks just like him!  The red breast is not quite the right colour but there is no doubt the shape and expression fit nicely.
Maybe I ought to send one to him...?

 
The painters were in when I was last here and the Victorian area has been brightened up a good deal.  Lots of hard work involved there, so hard we got the men in to do it rather than kill our volunteer painter.  I bet he was glad.  Too much Victoriana appears gloomy and often this reflects a society of poor housing, gas lit factories and shoddy conditions, not helped by a world of smoking chimneys all around.  However Pre-Raphaelite painting reveals a world of colour, men in drab outfits lightened them with colourful waistcoats and middle class housing while crammed full of often overbearing amounts of tat was full of colour also.  A great period the 'Victorian' period, except of course it ought to be divided into several component parts, early, middle and late as each reflects a changing world in the UK.  The changes of the period are with us still, railways, electoral changes, increasing wealth and better education.  Some today need to go back and learn from the Victorians.

    
The organic garden is still producing bright flowers.  Several, mostly these, were standing out in what sunshine there was this morning.   The ever changing garden scene always provides a bright spot all the year round.  Maybe I ought to eat whatever it is she feeds the plants...?

So it Continues...

 

It is not enough for movie producers to be attacked by poor hard done by women but we must also continue the attack on these poor soft touch women abused in the house of Commons (no mention of the Lords I note).    

Daily the media spout nonsense about hard done by women and always ignore the fact that women abuse men in similar fashion also.  Once again the man is bad the woman good and this is not questioned.  It appears our PM has found 36 Conservative Members of Parliament, including two cabinet ministers, who have abused, sorry are accused of abusing women in one way or another, no mention of anyone in any other party being accused.  

I found a refreshing item in the 'Online Daily Mail' (Yes I thought it unusual also) where Kathy Gyngell speaks of the many years in parliament where women made use of their bodies to get benefits from men as much as men abused said women.  How refreshing to find an open minded approach in among the hysteria.  This did not stop Harriet Harman exposing the chip on the shoulder she developed as a 13 year old girls school pupil reading 'Spare Rib' magazine.  A magazine my grown up sister dumped.  Men are horrid she says, allow women (e.g. Me!) to control the world. Such comments ignore the bad women in this world, only today we read of female concentration guards who were worse, they say, than the men in those Nazi camps.  Possibly Harriet and her friends never paid attention in school.

Sadly men and women continue to regard one another as they have always done.  A few years of confused feminism will not alter human nature nor stop women using the femininity to get where they wish to go nor men taking advantage of those willing to use what was available.  All that is lacking is honesty on the part of those seeking publicity now, years afterwards and with no regard of aiding other women who may be hurt.

 

I was sitting here last night, head down eyes glued to the screen, when I realised something was amiss.  I found my emotions stirred by loneliness, a touch of fear, there was depression in the air and I wondered why?  Then I realised, it was night time!  It was in fact not long after seven in the evening yet it was dark, curtains closed, light on, heater off because I was too lazy to get up, and the feelings were controlled by the darkness.

This is because until relatively recently the curtains were open and light of whatever sort came in.  Now it was dark early the world becomes a cold place, light opens our hearts and minds, darkness closes them.  It is not surprising to know that in lands where darkness reigns for 24 hours a day people take to alcohol and suffer terrible depressions.  It is no surprise to understand that suicides are less frequent in the 24 hour light than in the dark.

We all suffer that three in the morning attack where we wake still half asleep yet cannot return to slumber and instead fill our minds with dreadful thoughts.  All our failings, fears, worries loom large yet after another couple of hours sleep they dissipate and are forgotten.  Darkness, not even street lights here at that time these days, silence, weariness all add up in the mind at that time.  If however we worked nightshift and woke in the middle of the day would we be depressed I wonder?  On the occasion I worked nights I cannot recall if this is so but it seems likely that light would ease the mind not make things worse.

I must keep a light on tonight and see if I wake with a smile on my face...

I had another one the other day, a 'selfie.'  Not one I took OH No but another one taken by one of the girls.  By another I mean another and another and another!  I cannot imagine taking so many photos of myself when a teenager why do they do it now, especially the females?  Every new hairstyle, and there are too many off them, new outfit, new day, every meal, every small item is put into a 'selfie for the world to see.  I am all in favour of photographs with which to remember the day but really enough!  I don't need to know you now have green hair, I have no wish to see you in the 'guising outfit,'  I certainly don't want pics of your lunch (the same as yesterdays).  

A few decent, sensible photos are all I ask, like my 'selfie' above.  That is all we need, nothing more.

   

Repose

I woke slowly yesterday afternoon.  The dream in which I found myself was enjoyable, though what it was disappeared from my mind the minute consciousness returned.  I huddled under the ageing ex-army blankets enjoying the warmth and desiring to continue the sleep for some considerable time yet aware that I had passed he point where this was possible.  So rousing myself with little wish to do so I eased myself out of bed and lay prostrate on the floor until I could gather the impetus to stand up.

Why is it that the afternoon nap is more refreshing than the night one?  Why do I enjoy the after lunch kip more than one that last six or seven hours in the dark?  Could it be our perception of sleep is confused?  Are we meant to sleep longer during the say than during the night?  In the Middle East people rise with the sun and take to slumber at midday, no-one bar the 'Mad dog and Englishman' go out in the midday sun.  In Spain, and in the new state of Catalonia it is not unusual to have a siesta and work late into the evening.  Football games often start at nine in the cool of the day, something that would encourage frostbite if attempted in Dundee I can tell you.  Yet does this pattern benefit people more than the UK norm of rising in the dark and working all day straight through?  Are we more efficient or less so than Johnny Foreigner because of this?  
I suspect weather is the real determining factor in sleep patterns.  Hot nations need to hide at midday, this is less a requirement in Aberdeen or Inverness where finding a source of heat is more important than avoiding one.

 

Maybe the sleep pattern of the male lion is what we ought to follow.  Whether because of heat or habit I do not know but cats in all parts of the world appear to follow similar routines.  The male sleeps for around fourteen hours a day while the female hunts and provides food for the table.  The male then eats the largest portion and returns to sleep it off while the girls and kids finish what is left.  An admirable pattern on my view of things.  Quite what the male actually does to deserve this is as yet unknown but this is a pattern cats worldwide appreciate and adhere to so it must be correct.  

Of course if I sleep less at siesta time I might sleep more during the night.  But is that the way to improve my life?  Is it not better falling asleep at midday for ten minutes catnapping to refresh the mind for the rest of the days work?   I admit if you are driving a bus this could be a hazard but many folks would benefit from such a routine, shop workers, office dwellers, and men who have real jobs.  Those who are retired need it more to keep the mind fresh and I consider it important to practise as much as possible, in fact I think I ought to do so now...

Wanderlust

Young men like a bit of adventure.  Some simply walk out the door and keep walking travelling far and wide over large acres of the world, often with little forethought.  Others are forced by the call of King and Country to adventure in places they would rather avoid.  In days of yore young lads often as young as twelve or thirteen years of age would wander through the docks finding work on ships travelling to foreign fields, the better educated grabbing what contacts they could might find a trail across Europe making the most of the smattering of French and German forced down their throats at school.  The attraction  was the same, to go out there,  over the horizon to places untouched and unknown always hoping for adventure, well adventure that didn't hurt at any rate, and finding excitement that cannot be obtained by staying at home.

My limited adventurous streak showed during the close season, that once upon a time situation when the football season closed in May and did not reappear until August, then I would travel.  Bored as I was I went to the Bus station on St Andrews Square and got the bus to North Berwick.  This is not a long journey but I was only eleven or twelve at the time and my money was limited.  After this I went further, Kirkaldy in Fife or Leven a wee bit further over, just to see what was there.
As I got older football's close season got shorter and by then we played football during the spare time rather than wander about.  Of course when fifteen I also had a job that the grace of God and inept management meant I kept, I would have fired me, and with good reason, several times before I jumped ship.  The travel bug was satisfied I realised by the bus trips to football matches in Dundee and Glasgow.  While we went for the game I just enjoyed the trips outside of Edinburgh and being somewhere different, even if cold and wet as it often was.

Great West Railway

I did of course take a very badly thought out journey in 1974 when working at the Royal Infirmary.  This was the year I bought a bike for £18, the owner had 'Gone to Australia') and then a few weeks later set off on an epic journey to London.  This is not something I would do today.
However when based in a Swiss Cottage slum during 1976, though I may have moved to exciting Willesden Lane by then, I took it into my head to go to Cardiff.  Why?  I have no idea but there again I had always wished to go abroad.  So off I traps to Paddington Station, pay through the nose for a ticket and clamber aboard the 125, only used on that line then, and sat back.  
One notable aspect of the trip was my questioning mind. We entered a tunnel and while this is to be expected after a while, a long while I thought, we were still in the tunnel.  It took me a while to realise we were in Box Tunnel (either than the Severn I canny say which both looked dark to me) and I was surprised as I had forgotten the difficulties encountered when creating the railway back in the 1840's.  Isambard Kingdom Brunel constructed this tunnel and it appears like me many think that on one day a year the light shines straight through the tunnel and that day happens to be Brunel's birthday.  It appears we are wrong in this, it occurs a day or so earlier on his sisters birthday.  That is what I call a present, what she called it is not known.  

 Avraham Graicer

In spite of the overnight stay in Cardiff, where nothing happened, and my desire never to go abroad again I did in fact make an interesting trip to Jerusalem just before the 1st Gulf War, the one in which everybody was scared of Saddam, and with the weapons the USA had given him they ought to have been scared!  That was interesting and provided plenty of photos even though most were taken on slide film, still sitting there waiting to be shown but no good on here!  One day I will transfer them to digital and bore you as I bored others in 1990.  The one inescapable incident of that trip was visiting Megiddo, the ancient city that goes back several thousand years.  From the name we get the term 'Armageddon' and it was in 'Armageddon' that I got locked in as the lack of visitors (the Yanks were scared to visit in case of war) meant the caretaker locked up and went home.  I eventually found an unlocked gate before I had to climb over the wall. 
These days I find it difficult to go anywhere.  This year has been a bummer physically and while I wish to wander about have been unable to, local transport has not helped either, road works, and rail works have closed things on weekends.  Age also means I lack the adventure to see over the hill as I once wished to.  Having been over the hill for some time I have a degree of cynicism that youth does not possess and this limits adventure to some extent.  However a free gift of a car and the money to run it will I'm sure change my opinion.  Hmmm looks like my opinion will not be changing any time soon.   

'Fats'

                           

One of New Orleans most famous characters and the man who may be credited with the first 'Rock n Roll' record ('The Fat Man') has sadly passed on. Fats Domino, one of the great music influences leaves a long list of great songs, this video contains the best.

Breathing

What a difference in life when you can breathe!  I slept for hours last night for the first time all week and even visited Sainsburys by 7:30 to avoid crowds and replenish stocks.  I have cleaned the mess and having fallen asleep since I now feel almost human again, almost.
This began a week on Thursday and only today, Saturday, is the worst past.  What a rotten week, it is easier to be ill than suffer Man Flu!  How lucky wimmen are in not getting it.

Having spent the midday watching Hibernian struggle at Hampden, I did not continue to send 'Tweets' to Hibbys asking if they had left by half time as always honest...well OK I did.  How lovely to spend the day breathing while watching football!  The dinner is burning slowly in the background just in time for the six O'clock game of BBC ALBA tonight.  Mince, to remind me of what it is like watching Hibs!

I have sent time listening to this great album for 1969. The Hippy influence at its height on here. Great stuff!  I still have this in the rack behind me, not that I think it playable now but it was a great album at the time.  The Moody Blues continued for many years and performed at Glastonbury in 2015 ( I didn't go).  There have been changes to the line up and occasional fall outs but even in their dotage some are still continuing to play on.  I suppose it keeps them alive though after 70 million album sales I doubt any of them need the money.   Amazing to think all these guys are in their mid 70's!
I am still 32.

You're Toast!

So there I am for another night sitting in front of a television at three thirty in the morning unable to breathe or sleep and watching a man attempt to sell a toaster to nine enthusiastic disciples.  Quite why anyone would spend over £60 on a toaster, no matter the many additional super facilities it offers, beats me.  It is just sliced bread burnt slightly does that require paying out £60?
I turned off and eventually after slogging through several channels of the same advert offering gym equipment you don't need found an old US WW2 documentary on the fall of Berlin.  It was that or another unfunny US sitcom full of bright young things with no future until they sell their trauma stories to the media in ten years time.

  
Somebody out there is buying this stuff!
Who are they?  Do they live near you?  What makes them appreciate an object like this with a tosser salesman like that selling it?  The audience, both male and female, were enthusiastic thereby proving they were actors taking what jobs were on offer.  
Would it not be a better idea for Amazon to sell books here during the night?  How about an E-Bay channel where items could be auctioned all night?  Something needs to be done to improve TV for the sick watching life pass by ...

 

Smoke Gets Up My Nose

The air has been heavy with the scent of someone's fire this afternoon.  I note, and you can see, how the mist has surrounded us this evening seemingly still full of the residue from those Portuguese fires at the weekend.  Maybe it is the general stour that fills this land of course but either way it is getting up my stuffy nose.

I did not realise that Portugal was so densely forested until now.  Apparently it is one of the most wooded parts of Europe.  Now consider a government struggling with a poor economy, the forested areas owned mostly by private companies and organisations and a lack of proper fire control ( a little bit like our tower blocks) a land dry from hot sun and climate change and trees soaking up what water there is and a tinder box appears.  Dry ground, badly organised woods, scrub for kindling and a couple of arsonists arrive and there will be trouble.  
Several have died in this latest fore, 60 died in June, and today the minister resigned, more for her own good rather than for shame it appears and the government might yet fall in consequence.  
It causes me to wonder how a fire so far away can get up my nose here.  I wish it would blow over the Atlantic next time as I find it hard enough to breathe today anyway.

I have been subject to much sarcasm from a woman.  My 'friend' Peggy has seen fit to question my situation with sarcasm and satire, offering contempt and a distinct lack of sympathy.  This is because as I was shown the door at the museum yesterday for being sick she had to work for a change.  The caring staff sent me home as they did not wish me to die on the counter and coughing over the visitors, both of them, was considered bad form.  
Much sarcasm has been offered.  Remember this you females of the species:-

Now excuse me while I get matron to fix up that intravenous 'Hot Toddy' drip and wipe my brow while muttering "There there," "Poor boy," and "Be brave," instead of the present cries of "Wimp," "If you knew what a woman goes through," and "Try having a baby!"  All of which cut no ice with me!  Now where is the paracetamol...?  

Cogitation on Silence and Noise

Late Sunday night and the world feels different.  It does not take long to recognise the reason, it is the resounding silence.  There is no football hullabaloo in front of me, no cars passing by outside, no young girls screaming in the park, no young males impressing them with their noise, there is school tomorrow and all that homework still to do.  There is even an absence of aircraft overhead, no quiet voices of passers-by, no footsteps.  All is still.  

Silence, something we are no longer used to.  Something I notice only when I have no radio or TV blaring, no football in front of me, no music, no sound.  All this silence appears a strange experience to me now.

Once, before the motor car and the radio it was always like this.  Small market towns had their own daily sounds, loud voices were not uncommon then as now especially when the pubs emptied but there were few if any motor vehicles with polluting engines, pollution was the responsibility of factories and they were closed on Sunday nights.  No workmen's carts would trot slowly by however the local gentry might pass in their Brougham on their way home from a free dinner.  On the edge of town animals in the fields might be heard, nocturnal creatures on the hunt, an owl or a few bats and in the country there are always noises nobody comprehends and does not wish to investigate. 

How quiet life could be before the motor car and electronic devices.

Perhaps we avoid life by hiding behind such electronically produced sound and thus fend off the need to think and face the reality of our lives.  Bread and circuses for the many in the modern day.

   

After eight in the morning the contrast is clear.  Already the barking of happy dogs with wagging tails with torpor filled owners following has been heard.  The bread van snarls it pollution spreading diesel 7:5 tonner up to Sainsburys, cars driven by Monday morning blues ridden owners head for work in shop or factory, and soon dragging schoolbags behind them the future of the nation appear slowly making their way to the school Stalag.  By nine the streets are busy, shoppers appear and the sun decides to shine when most folks are in work, isn't that always the way.  On Radio 3 a soprano warbles uninvited and behind me the kettle boils noisily for third, or is it fourth time drowned out by passing white vans rushing into their busy day.  All we need is the police round the corner or the ambulance from up the road to announce their arrival by blare their siren and the day will be complete.

Maybe I ought to go back to bed...?

Going back to bed was a good idea, I heartily recommend it.  In fact I recommend it so much I may return there once I have eaten something for lunch.  

Lunchtime certainly is not quiet.  Next door the builders hammer and bang, lorries back up across the street, cars waiting for builders lorries to move allow me the pleasure of their poor taste in music while they wait, and on top of this I have been back in the BBC iplayer.  This gave me five Radio 3 Essays on the Great War by Sir Hew Strachan a historian of repute.  (Do you ever hear of a historian being called anything else?  They are never referred to as 'dodgy' are they?)  This series is about 'The Long Road to Peace' and well worth a listen.  These fifteen minute programmes suit me as if they get wearisome you can dump them soon enough, I listened to all five.

The noise levels grew also as the street life became busier and the world went about its busy business.  I added to the cacophony by setting aside a few minutes to listen to AC/DC offer us one or two of their melodies, well if 'melodies' is the correct term with AC/DC that is!  Just in case a neighbour was in I used small earphones and now I am not sure I can actually hear the traffic outside as tinnitus appears to last longer than I thought.  

Storm Ophelia has been filling the news today.  This was a hurricane at one time but now is referred to as a mere storm even though it manages to reach over a hundred miles an hour in parts of the Republic of Ireland.  This is not one of the usual left over US hurricanes, Ophelia never moved from the eastern Atlantic and has begun to move north picking up large portions of Sahara sand with it.  This sand is they say much finer than that found elsewhere, whether this is true or not the sky has turned a yellow colour above us this afternoon and in some places a deep red has appeared in the hazy clouds.  The picture is quite close to how it looked at one point and the air is filled with a heavy scent, with fine bits going up the nose I noticed.  As darkness falls the sky changes colour and with the storm heading north the sky will clear by the morning I suspect.  The storm has caused much damage and several people have been injured and a few killed.  Here the sky has changed colour, the trees shiver in the wind and the slow traffic reveals the rush hour at its height.
I may as well go back to bed...