Tough Day!

The cruel, cold-bloodied women who boss me around forced me to stay on at work today.
The afternoon lass has gone on holiday again and none were available to cover except myself.  I did indicate to the harridans that Columbia were playing Japan (an exciting match it turned out to be) and if I stayed I would miss this.
She replied by kicking my ankle and saying "Stay if you know what is good for you!"  I am not sure this is in keeping with good management practice. 

The day had started badly.  The central heating upgrade was still in progress and yesterday (the museum is closed on Monday's) the men had moved half the shop to get the cables for the new radiators in place.  My first job was to replace everything, and I mean everything!  First of course this meant finding where it had all been put before putting it into some sort of order.  
This however was held up by the arrival of a small excellent school. 
This in the middle of a muddle, electricians wandering about, things everywhere bar where they ought to be and a school to teach.  It could not get any worse, but it did!  Visitors arrived!  A group came to see the exhibition in amongst the clutter and children yapping away.  This however they coped with and even bought things, so well done to them.
I merely continued restructuring the shop knowing that tomorrow when Boss 3 gets back she will change everything round again as she always does.  Humph!  Still I managed this hard work, breathing heavily to the delight of two female visitors, I know not why, and realised I must up the fitness striving.  

The work done, note no new photos, I returned to my tepid cup of tea and attempted to interest two women in buying the stuff I had re-installed.  They bought one card instead.
Having done all I then finished a small job, cutting wool for Boss 2 intended for a kids project she in engaged in.  This done I sat, and how I sat.
By now it was lunchtime and as I ought to be heading off the Boss 1 came by and kicked my ankle again and suggested I eat as I was going to miss the football and I ought to stop crying over this.  So I sat and ate my egg bap and prepared for a quiet afternoon with no football.  Then I realised I may be in luck.  By getting my egg roll from the cafe the boss had covered me at the desk, she left the computer on so I raced onto the BBC and found the game there!  Of course when it starts it asks 'Have you a TV Licence?' and as I have one I click 'Yes!' and continued.  The manager (Big Boss) glared at me when I informed him of this and he began to mutter about check ups etc.  I merely smiled as I knew he would sort it.  
It was then I realised sneaky boss 2 had been back in and filled the wool bag with a huge ball of wool for me to cut up for the kids.  This when watching football!!!  Have these wimmen no heart?  I say no as another volunteer entered to collect something and stood there yapping for ten minutes as I strained to watch Japan stuffing Columbia.  She knew what  she was doing!  Bah!
At four, with lots of cut red wool all over the place I left hoping to catch the beginning of the second game of the day.  Naturally I would not as a couple came in at ten to four holding us up by asking questions and meaning I did not get out until after four.  Home by quarter past dead beat, bruised and satisfied with another happy day at the museum.
Isn't life grand...?

Thoughts...

Sometimes you can see a divorce coming.  
Melania Trump has spoken out against separating children from parents when caught crossing the border from Mexico into the USA illegally.  I suspect none crossed while Mexico were putting Germany in their place yesterday.  Her husband, who is the President of the United States incredibly, has decided each who cross must be imprisoned and as children cannot go to adult prisons this means they are separated fro their parents.  This is similar to the Victorian Workhouse idea Jeremy Bentham and his mates gave us.  Christian care and general human kindness do not appear in either situation.
However it is her speaking out like this, added to her not appearing alongside him at all times that raises the gutter press question as to whether she is working towards a million pound divorce.  Here I find that I must be reading the 'Daily Mail' to much as it leads me to such speculation.  I await a tweet from the White house (burned down by the British forces in 1812) to deny any rift as 'fake news' while at the same time setting the lawyers, CIA and FBI to follow his wife.

  
Another attempt to keep Brexit out of the news.  This time Theresa has promised to spend £20 billion on the NHS over a period of time, a period of time in which she will not be there.  This has much coverage in her press with the right wing swivel eyed loons chortling over it all and Labour muttering something in the corner but lets face it who cares what they say these days.  
It is of course a lie!   
This money will come from the Brexit profit, while in fact Brexit will bring economic disaster and she knows it.  Just another lie to feed the troops desperate to believe in spite of facts.  There is more truth coming out of Ibrox park media these days than coming from 10 Downing Street and that is saying something!

With the football taking up a little bit of time I have not been able to do much except rush to the shops for food (and bird seed) and glance at the outside world which mad me glad I am inside again!
So much to do, so little time before kick off!   They want me to work tomorrow and miss Columbia playing Japan, are these women mad???

Like a Stranger in a Foreign Country

A picture in the Edinburgh Evening News just now got me thinking.  Yes I know this is hard to understand but it is true.
The photo featured a Sikh giving a prize to a youngster for some reason and this brought to mind all the 'Daily Mail' wingers grumbling that their country 'was not what it once was' and 'foreigners rule us now.'  This of course the main reason for voting for the disaster of Brexit!
It appeared to me in that photo that the Edinburgh I knew and grew up in has long gone.  This is indeed the case, it is over forty years since I lived there and even if no 'foreign Johnny' had arrived since then the place would no longer be the city I knew.  In many ways this would be good, in others it is a disaster, but change happens everywhere constantly and we have been part of this.  Sometimes we are urging change and ignoring those grumbling against change, then we are the 'Keep it as it was' school objecting to anything that means 'new.'
Sadly I thought I cannot grumble about such things.  The Christian must view the world as a temporary dwelling, not a permanent home therefore the world we wish to keep must be jettisoned because holding on to that is a form of idolatry.  We seek 'our' world, the safe happy place in which we are content, forgetting that Jesus died because that world was as corrupt as all other parts of the world, and we enjoyed some of that corruption but excusing it as 'part of our culture.'  
Our culture must now be Gods culture not the worlds.  Scots culture was about the best in the world, if you ignore football violence, sectarian behaviour and drunkenness that is.  Christians can no longer be part of the 'best culture in the world' as it is not actually the 'best thing for the world,' only Jesus is.
The point somewhere in my muddled mind is that I can easily object to Edinburgh being filled with Sikhs or Muslims, Hindus or any other kind but in the end I can only deal with 'people' not 'types of people.'  My Edinburgh was only in my head, my personal experience, and while I can give thanks for being brought up in such a good environment I ought to be living in a better world, the one Jesus offers not the world in my mind.  Edinburgh of course has always had invaders arriving.  The Sikhs have been there for almost a hundred years, many come via the Port of Leith for business or diplomatic reasons or to attend the university or Medical School so incomers are not new in Auld Reekie. 
The Old Testament has much to say about welcoming strangers whether they live amongst you or are just passing through, Middle Eastern hospitality demands a favourable response ought we to do anything else?  Some Christians however have failed in this many joining UKIP and such parties, in an attempt to stop the nation they know becoming a different nation, the 'It is not my country any more' attitude.  They are right, it has never been their country it has always belonged to God and he gives it to whoever he will.  The Christian must live in a tent like a nomad he has no permanent home on this earth.  The world in which he lives can never be 'his country' and always be what he wishes it to be, it will never be what he wants anyway lets face it, life is constantly disappointing us, life will never be what we wish it to be. 
Of course I am a foreigner is a strange land... 

Three Down...

Three games finished, one almost worth watching but not quite and another about to disappoint.
No time to do anything else...
I might have a bath in a months time..

At Last!

At last something to watch on TV!
The World Cup 2018 has begun and for the next wee while we have three games a day to fill the screens.  How lovely!  Well that said I must state that this first game is living up to the usual forst game in a world cup, it's rubbish!  
We have had the prelude, with Robbie Williams of all people, drawling while some dafties performed around him.  That nice Mr Putin spoke about being careful of the doorhandles in the hotels while staring down at the Ukrainian representative.  For some reason the image I saw was of that nice Mr Hitler opening the 1936 Olympics, maybe that's just me?
The first game has gone as feared.  The Saudi's are full of zeal and the Russians, no great deal here, are well on top having scored two easy goals (as we speak).  The early games are often full of fear as no-one wishes to lose a goal so as yet I see little excitement approaching.  I will however check it out just in case.

This morning, long before you lot were up, with the dawn chorus in my ears I ate breakfast.  Having burned eggs in the microwave I made coffee and sat there wondering who was burning plastic.
I soon realised it was me.
Somehow the hob rear had turned on!  I didn't do it, but it was on. 
This was unfortunate for the plastic container of biscuits was sitting on that hob ring hiding from the sun coming through the window.  I grabbed the metal ladle more used to scraping eggs from the pan and scraped the melting morass from among the by now thick pungent smoke that was filling the place.  This I threw into a bowl of water and removed the rest slowly dumping it also in the water to cool.  All the while choking on the fumes which I must say were very strong!  Quite how firemen cope with that in real time amazes me.
It took a long time to remove most of the smoke, the smell is still clearly noticeable, and the ring might be almost clear for the moment but I suspect requires more work.  Good job I never use that one.  
How stupid!  How on earth did I manage to turn the hob on?  
At least had the Robin entered at the time he would have had several open windows to leave by!

He's Back.

What is it about this Robin that he can work out how to get inside the abode but cannot find his way back out again?  This is the second time he has come fluttering inside.  Now remember that on one side of him is the great outdoors and on the other a dark interior of the room so why come inside when it is easier to keep in the light?  

 Anyhow he has once again entered and flitted around for a while glaring at me like it was my fault!
I did make it clear to him where the windows are located but he preferred to sit focusing on me in an attempt to make me feel guilty.  It failed.  I opened the lower half of the front window wide and this tempted him to sit high up on the plant that towers over the window.  Indicating the lower half being open got nowhere and the bird merely chose to sit on various perches and remain indoors.
Possibly he came in to inform me the feeder was empty, he has an effective manner about him.

Satisfied he had put me off my dinner and interrupted me sufficiently he moved across to the open entrance and sat from a while pondering his next move.  I remain convinced this was an attempt to make me fill the feeder.  This was dutifully done and the Starlings have almost emptied it already!
Robin will be happy enough down below making a mess of my neighbours pathway while bottom feeding.

Today the museum was full!  Full of plumbers, electricians and occasional people come to see what was available in spite of it all.  One or two just came to buy things, insert sweet smile at this point, and one of my many suffragette bosses gave me work to do which made time fly as I kept wishing to be elsewhere.  

   
The second textile exhibition is a bit more 'arty' than the last one.  Some interesting items on show and a great many in the shop.  None sold today and I expect until the workmen have finished there will be too few in to view to aid selling the stiff on offer.

 
Look!  The brute even manages to get in here!

Look!  The brute's managed to come back inside yet again!  This time the window was not completely open so I have had another race around the mansion until he, though I am beginning to consider this Robin a she, until she flew out the way she came in.  Bah!

String

A piece of string.
This is the one used by Kim Jong-Un on the end of which he keeps the President of the United States of America.
Sleep safe in your beds people...

Carnival Time

Carnival time!  
The local carnival does not compete with those reported annually in the media however it is a bit of fun and local colour once a year allowing the kids to sit, somewhat perplexed, on the backs of big lorries offering lacklustre waves of the hand or waving frantically if the mood takes them.  I enjoy it because of the kids faces.  There is never much to it though some folks work real hard getting things together and preparing kids and parent for the day.  Just a bit of fun in the midst of the town.  The ability to pose comes naturally to Essex kids.  They may end up in television one day. 
So, here are a thousand pictures!

 
 As you can see the locals are a shy retiring lot.

This lot were either a 'Keep fit' team or a bunch of Amazons on the loose.  I took no chances and retired behind the tree.

Not all were Amazons however.

No scooters this year however there was one very interesting motor cycle.

'Showtime' was the theme this year and the floats offered a variety of music, mostly bad!

I have no idea what half these shows represented were!

When the army arrive the show is over.  The parade continues around town and ends up in the far away where the 'Fair' carries on for hours.

Just in case...

Robin

I was sitting here cogitating re a tale I was about to place on the local facebook page when I noticed a visitor.  He is not the first to enter via the back window, it is slightly ajar for air but this man and his kind insist on squeezing through to eat the bird pellets that lie behind the window on the ledge.  Once insdide he and they then find difficulty in retreating the way they came and instead insist on crashing beak first into the other window.  
So I sent time opening windows while he flew to the top closed portion, or sat on the end of my mug breathing heavily and deciding to reach the floor and walk to the next room to attack that window.  The lack of knowledge re the layout of the inside of buildings is clear and the inability to fly through an open window clearer!   
It took a while but he eventually departed breathing heavily again and determined to learn the difference between an open window and glass.  He is the second Robin I have met this way and someone came in the other week and managed to escape without me noticing him.  At least he left no mess this time.

I'm a bit stupid.  No, I take that back, I am very stupid.  Indeed stupidity appears to be my strongest talent.  However a short muse on the number of knife crime stats in recent days, exaggerated by the media, leads me to a quick solution to this problem.  I suggest that the law stating you get up to five years for carrying a knife as a weapon ought to be put into practice!  That way people, including wee black boys forced into this by their mates, may well change their minds about carrying or using knives.  Indeed any fifteen year old jailed for fifteen years for using one might well put others off and save lives.
Why don't we do this?

Moped muggers can be dealt with similarly. 

A Change at the Top.

There has been rejoicing all round on Twitter lately at the welcome news that Paul Dacre is to be moved aside from his position as editor of the 'Daily Mail' and take up another role in the 'Mail's' newspaper kingdom.  I thought the rejoicing was summed up in one tweet that ran "You may not have liked Paul Dacre, you may not have agreed with his editorial choices or the direction he took at the Mail, but you absolutely have to admit he was a ****." Sadly the rudeness is crude but that was the word Dacre used on his staff daily at the DM.  
For 26 years this man has encouraged hate, hate of blacks, Pakistani's, Asians, the BBC, immigrants and the EU, this in spite of receiving vast subsidies for his grouse farm in the highlands, and of course anyone he hated.  He encouraged xenophobia and an insular 'Little England' mentality while blaming Europe and especially the French the Germans and appeared to enjoy bullying anyone who came into the public eye.
Of course it is true he was a great editor, his paper outsells all others and has a worldwide reach via 'Mail Online,' a success built on knowing what the reader wished to read and supplying them with a great deal of repeated 'evidence' to confirm their opinions.  Facts he never included!  Half truths and downright lies are the thing for Paul, thought, care and a search for truth did not bother him.  
Harassing celebs or politicians, the private individual or the great, it was all one to Paul.  Sell dirt and be rich was his motto and dirt he offered in depth, dirt on the rich and famous, unless his friends, dirt on opposition MP's, dirt on celebs.  The same celebs who spend much of their time half naked posing in his paper, he has always known how important naked women are in selling papers, sex filled the pages especially online.  
All media have followed him, the right wing press tried to keep up with him and failed, the 'Express' and the 'Telegraph' losing numbers hand over fist and heading down market all the time.  Dacre knew what he could get away with by spouting right wing lies and bigotry, he knew what the people wanted and knew they would fall for it.  He walks away to an overseer role, the new man, the 'Mail on Sunday' editor hated him and will not allow Paul to push him around.  It may even be the DM will improve, but I doubt it, what sells stays.  
Paul Dacre walks away and Theresa may announces he has left the cabinet, though that however might be a false tweet I saw.  The judgement we must all face lies ahead of us, at 70 years of age Paul is running out of time to consider his ways, I hope he does so soon.

Tuesday Twaddle

With the museum closed for a week, the heating system is being ripped out and a new one installed, there was little to do today.  Only an occasional individual entered the shop and was quickly dealt with, a happy greeting, a smile, a joke and no money taken!  Grrrr!  I'll keep my smiles until they spend next week.  On top of this the hammering, drilling and constant passing of plumbers wandering to and fro kept me awake and interrupted my reading of the newer books.  Have these folks no consideration?  

With nothing much to do it was therefore impossible to make mistakes, not counting the one phone call that came in which I lost because I pushed the wrong button when transferring it.  She never attempted to call back...
Nothing else went wrong as the boss tied my hands behind my back and chained me to my chair.  She appeared quite happy with this arrangement.  

 
I now find an amazing amount of free time in my life, this is because there is no football on tv.  The books are getting read, some jobs are getting done, well one or two, and the rest of the time I sit staring at the screen wondering what is missing.  How did I live before tv football?  I either read a lot, watched poor tv or just sat staring at the wall.  I must have done more, possibly in days of yore I had a life?  Hmmm I'm not so sure about that...