Bookcase 'A' and Bookcase 'B.'

Having bought, carted upstairs, scrubbed and filled £20 worth of bookcase the other day with the remains of the videos that have littered the floor since the beginning of last year I saw another, much better, bookcase outside the wee shop on the corner this morning.
As I obtained Bookcase 'A' he mentioned he might be obtaining more furniture with a move he was doing on Wednesday.  Therefore as I passed heading for the early morning bargains in Sainsburys (ha! Bargains!) he called out as I slouched along.   I kept walking as I was not sure if I could afford or wanted another small bookcase and perused the money grabbing supermarket caught in two minds re the purchase.
At home I immediately forgot the bookcase and began the hard work of stuffing my fat face and getting on with the needs of the day - or doing nothing as it came to be.  By early afternoon I had remembered the expensive bookcase (Bookcase 'B') and plodded along dutifully feeling somewhat obliged to view it properly as he does offer us good things and reduces his invented prices for us.  
It was a better bookcase and by this time I had justified the purchase even though I ought not to have done so, but I did!  So I made for the shop, obtained the goods for a reduced £15 'Because your a good guy and it cost me nothing' said he, although he could have said that re 'A' also but didn't, and while he cashed in I made of with my heavier than I thought bookcase 'B.'

  
The weather it was warm, the sky blue, and I as carried the goods the fifty yards my face became a similar colour.  Then I had to climb stairs with loose shelves wishing to leave me, stair light leaving me in the dark, keys not fitting lock and eventually the job of finding space.
After a look around the prefab I decided it had to go by the bed.  This would create space there but would it fit, no it would not!  However 'A' would fit so 'A' had to be emptied of contents and replaced by 'B.'  A simple task, just as simple as removing the wee table and boxes underneath in the bedroom, except for the wires from the lamp getting caught, things falling, dust that has lain undisturbed since Disraeli passed by deciding to arise, and me, myself and I falling over the bin which I moved out of the way under my feet.  Much cleaning required, dust removed, more cleaning required and then change the bookcase contents.
To remove videos from 'A' meant moving 'B' close but not too close, space small.  This meant scrubbing 'B' just to ensure fit for use, then transferring videos, all numbered in wrong order, into place, finding there were too many for 'B' and then moving 'A' which liked to fall over when being walked while 'B' being heavier, and containing half the videos, liked not to move.  Once in place, sweat dripping off me for the first time this year, I finished the content sorting and humped 'A' into place by my bed.  Scrubbed, hoovered, dusted, and all in place I then moved books from proper full sized bookcase 'C' which was overloaded into 'A.'   All this took time and effort, and you know 'effort' is no longer a part of me, but eventually all was in place, clean, packed and the necessary repairs completed.  
The more I try to develop this place bit by bit over the years the more I wish I had just bought proper furniture at high cost in the first place.  It would stop this house looking like a junk shop.  There again if that was the case I would appear out of place I suppose...

 

Rambling...

An old foto that caught my eye at the time.  I wonder where I was?  
The media is so poor today.  Holiday time allows for 'fake news' to arise but all we see are deaths, rapes, crime and absurd folk doing things that kill them or others.   The good things don't sell papers and anything good is always made sickeningly sweet that it makes you puke.  Sentimental rubbish, girls boobs or death and destruction fill the dying press, yet little knowledge regarding the Brexit collapse that will soon be upon us.  I already have three tins of corned beef in the stockpile!

 
I know where I took this, Spitalfields before the middle classes gentrified the place.  Now the run down houses and derelict market are full of trendies with expensive tastes.  Offices blocks and refurbished houses, very expensive, abound and of course Liverpool Street Station is round the corner.  Weavers have been here for hundreds of years and many buildings reflect something of this. Who inhabited these I know not but I love the shutters, especially the ones that block just half the window.  What a great way to keep people out.  Some of these go back to Georgian times and I understand one or two are preserved in aged fashion and these would be worth a visit if ever up that way.  Spitalfields huge church was used for many years as a place for down and outs (a much better term than homeless) but these were removed as indeed were the rotting coffins in the crypt (a messy venture I have somewhere on a video) and now the place is a glowing marvel.  I wonder if God is there now?

The little darlings enjoyed themselves today, except for one three year old who was removed by an irritated grannie who decided the darling was not behaving correctly, and as always happiness reigned.  Busy day with kids and mums, phone calls and making mistakes, visitors and their questions.  Then it is home to stare at the laptop wondering why there is no football on!  
Poor show this.

 

Normal Weather Today.

Weather normal today, rain most of the morning, no sun, and occasional dry spots, dank and dreich but warm, a normal Summer in Edinburgh that.  I dealt with this in the manner I grew accustomed to while in Edinburgh - I remained indoors.  
Here indoors with the aid of a newly obtained cheap bookcase I cleared lots of videos from the floor,  the floor they have been lying on for about 18 months since I painted the room.  Of course my delight at my bargain (huh!?) was somewhat dimmed as the videos are about an eighth of an inch (ask your dad) too tall for the immovable shelves.  However it cleared a space, bar the dust, and soon I will be sorting other items that have lain around for too long without being attended to.  
Well I may leave that until my exercise kicks in again.  You see I keep starting this exercise business and find it does me good, however there is always a problem interfering and I end up missing out and have to start again.  So tomorrow while the washing is churning around the machine, while I watch something interesting on TV or laptop, I will once again stretch, moan, lift and moan, stretch and follow the old order once again.  If successful I may become strong enough to lift Calvin's commentary on Genesis and begin reading the thing.

While awaiting the football this afternoon, the Heart of Midlothian won by five goals to nil as you may expect, I indulged an old habit, no not that one, I went looking for portraits.  I have not taken such photos for a long time, there are no girls around here, and I found myself in the mood to do just this while the rain fell outside.  So I perused the web stealing poses in which to imagine I may one day find someone daft enough to let me practice this art.  I have taken many attempted portraits over the past hundred years and three have been worth it, I think I need practice.   At least it gave me many ideas, some above my station, and one day I will have a model and maybe actually get the camera set properly, we wait in hope.

Tired Rain with Calvin...

At last a wee break in the weather.  For what appears to be months the temperature has kept itself very high, the winds from the Sahara bringing their heat to us and that part of the world on the receiving end of higher than usual temperatures as far as I can see.  Global warming, mostly man made, is hurting us.  In Essex yesterday and possibly today 35% has been seen, my front room, which faces north, reached to just over 90%!  It was unusual to move about and feel the air in the room warm as you walked through it.  I suppose all these naked and near naked bodies sweating away have actually done themselves some good by allowing the skin to breathe, however for those looking in this could have been an unpleasant sight, shall I offer a photo of me perhaps..what?...oh!

Tuesday was a very busy day and finished a tiring week for me.  Running around to seek items for the opening of the exhibition wore me out and on the day I failed to eat properly, as you do.  For the next three days I have been almost dead, lie not helped by making a mess of the photos I took of the kids.  At least one woman hates me, one more than usual I mean.  It is a funny thing but if you eat and sleep properly your mind works better, if you are lax in such things life degenerates somewhat and problems occur.  Maybe Donald Trump needs a new cook?  My mind is almost normal now, what's that you said...?

  
The curate and I got around to discussing Calvin's commentary on Genesis as you do and in the end we both bought a second hand copy to investigate.  I had found a translation from 1847 by the Rev John King online and considered it somewhat difficult to read, the form of language being Victorian.  Therefore I found the book on Amazon to aid the tax dodging billionaire's profits while paying just over £9 for the privilege.   Today I sauntered early down to the sorting office for the book the postman did not wake me up to deliver yesterday.  I sauntered back clutching my prize and cheerfully opened it up to discover this version was a 1975 print of  the Rev John King's 1847 translation that was free online!  Sometimes I wonder about my stupidity!

Drink, Preach, Sun.

I awoke before six this morning.  I usually do when totally knackered.  It was not possible to sleep, I had little interest in the 15 minute 'Farming Today' sexist programme.  Edited and presented by females each time yet all the farmers who do the work and male, typical BBC.  This did not interest me, neither did 5Live's giggling girly presenter nor the male who found her hilarious.  Radio 3 offered opera, TalkSport offered mindlessness constantly interrupted by lengthy adverts all in a fake Lahnden accent aimed at white van drivers in the south east.  I rose, knees unhappy, and struggled through to the east wing.  Stirring up the dust on the floor, I really must hoover soon, I found the kettle and attempted to make coffee but unthinkingly made tea anyway.  Here I noticed the French Brandy bottle on the shelf, I was sure it was half full when I came in yesterday.  
The day has been spent unsuccessfully sending mums the pics I took of their darlings.  Unsuccessful in that some have said 'This is not mine!'  Others have not replied and one has sent her pics to my boss, my boss is now under the channel tunnel on her way to a month off!  (She has become 40 and feels old, pah!).  My brain is so tired I am leaving it to congeal until things sort themselves out.  Maybe I ought to just finish the bottle.  I dare not ask how the rest are doing.

Update, by six this evening I think I have sent the photos I took to the appropriate mums. I await complaints... 

A man was arrested for preaching outside St Paul's.  Cathedral staff apparently complained about him reading from the bible.  He has a loud voice and upset the 'peace' of the cathedral.  This is not the first time this has happened and a policeman did indicate it would be ''remiss' to move him on from a place of worship.'  The cathedral now allows him to speak for 30 minutes at a time.  How nice of the.  Possibly they could read, preach and offer the bible themselves rather than be a tourist attraction.
Personally a quick look at most cathedrals shows many to be very far from God and possibly allowing the National Trust to take over those that are failing would be one way of saving the CoE a vast fortune.  Some of course are Christian based but not all and it is easy to tell the difference simply by looking at the bookshelves to see what they sell.  A great many were begun during Norman times less for the glory of God and much more for the indication that the Normans were in charge!  While these are tremendous buildings to visit proper churches are usually small with less than 200 members.  There again how many actually attend Sunday services at such places apart from tourists trying to avoid the entrance fee? 

A cheery face has just informed us that the heat will remain and Friday possibly will reach 36% in East Anglia, which is this region.  I suspect I will not be going anywhere soon.  It may also lead to thunderstorms, lightning and pouring rain, which will run off rather than soak into the ground.  So while being burnt to a crisp we will be cooled down by monsoon like raindrops.  I am looking forward to visiting Tesco....
However the sun has been too hot too long, global warming is a problem the rich money grabbers deny while slapping factor 50 sun cream over their inflated bodies while on their yachts.  We will see much more of these weather changes over the next few years.  While I like some warmth I think 70-75% is good enough and a room touching 88% is not a happy place to be.  The daft folks sitting in the sun will be crowding the doctor and chemists for weeks to come.  The little sun I have seen has left me scratching the itch and possessing a reddening nose.  Not bad maybe but we need a cool breeze now.  There again I did a washing the other day and all was dry by evening.  

  

Opening Day

Amidst pirates, a large elf, Cinderella and characters aplenty the grand opening of the new exhibition concerning children's stories was my destination for the day.
Mums and kids soon arrived, only one problem re the kid scared of pirates and crocodiles with Jack Sparrow and a crocodile the first thing he saw!  Otherwise few problems beyond the normal with kids.  There appeared to be thousands of them but this could be a miscalculation caused by the rushing around and general mayhem. 

Of course in the hall we had some furry creatures.  Not all furry and I refused the invitation to cuddle a giant cockroach, I preferred the hairy rabbit that I did eventually get my hands on, she was not impressed.  The skunk remained asleep throughout the day hidden in his little hiding hole.  

The Queen and I stood outside Tesco in the glaring heat offering leaflets to all and sundry, dressed as we were, sadly no photos of my garb, we did however draw some glances when we ventured inside to obtain ice creams for the rest of the staff.  I paid...monarchs do not carry cash.

Face painting was as always popular and the kids were happy to queue, not sure the mums were.  
The kids were happy, some stayed for hours without grumbling.  However my knees gave out after two and soon enough I slogged my way home and attempted to sort the photos.  I am knackered and my knees ache. I will sleep for a week.

Camulodunum Trip

Dragging myself out of my pit I raced slowly into Camulodunum today on the zimmer free bus.  This because I wished to peruse the many charity shops in that rich and prosperous town.  This indeed I did but was again frustrated by all charity shops refusal to stock items that fit me!  Usually they are too small, today the only option was to big.  That does not happen often and I suppose I could grow into it but I wish my weight to go in the other direction.  I slogged around even visiting 'Primark' the new shop that sells things cheaply, though I noticed that in the three years since I last visited prices have risen and I am sure the Bangladeshi workers have not had a rise.  Possibly they have made the sweat shops safer since the last disastrous fire there a few years ago.  However I did require cheap jeans and I have them, they fit, sort off, will they after being washed however...?

  
Lunch was taken at noon in a surprisingly quiet pub, £4:65 for a pint of 'Maltsmith IPA' indicates why. The drink was indeed good and worthy of buying again but not at that rip-off price.  It was clear this was an evening venue (Called 'After Office Hours') and aimed at twenty somethings with too much money and not enough brains.       

The modern trend of vast empty spaces and few seats as folks crush together getting cheap thrills and meeting the right people.  The wooden flooring was genuine in pubs I used to visit in days gone by, not s clean and much busier at all times of day, not just overpaid trendy types either.  I suppose we were the trendy types then, sad innit?
Next time I will go back to the 'Hospital Arms' they are just as unfriendly but considerably cheaper.  When I think of it a similar but busier pub down the road was the one I used last time, the beer wasn't so good but cheaper and the girls better looking and alive.  I'll remember that for next time I am charity shop searching.

The bus was of course ten minutes late.  We stood at the stop grasping our varied travel cards and coins glaring hard towards the buses parked just around the corner willing ours to move out.  I retook my seat and allowed the remnants of the beer to chase around my body giving some sort of life to my weakened knees.  It did not liven me up much.  Eventually he  came and I was afraid the women would start shouting at the driver and he would respond by closing the doors and running but they were wise enough to shut it and clamber aboard while they still lived.  

The view, while enjoyable, was not at its best.  The grass in many places has withered and green fields were the colour of the wheat and barley seen in many other places.  Those crops while many were being gathered in are smaller than they ought to be as the several weeks of drought at the wrong time have not helped them.  Here something green, cabbage possibly, difficult to tell when moving, was a decent colour but small in size as seen from the omnibus.  The crops are being gathered and tractors of enormous size block the roads cheerily and very soon such produce will be enabling Tesco to increase their prices 'because of the drought.'  It is rather a shame as it spoils the view somewhat but there again just being out of town and watching the fields instead of the hovel in which I live is a needed change.

Nothing to Say

Nothing to say so here is a picture of a Ferret Scout Car...just because...

Grass...

I find early man fascinating.  These people wandering about the earth had to feed themselves by the 'sweat of their brow' and those with gardens know how hard that work can be.  Yet ancient man fed himself, sheltered and clothed himself, and eventually built cities and expanded across the globe.
I find using the hoover hard enough...
However some thing's puzzle me, who was first to drink cows milk?  Who discovered flax could be turned into cloth?  Who stood looking at grass and worked out which grasses could be made into bread?  Let alone who ploughed into the water and discovered rice!  We take such things for granted but for many years early man had to work them out for himself.  Looking at the grass the gardener has allowed to grow in the gardens I began to puzzle over such important questions, this of course not being connected to Francis Pryor's book 'Home' which I just happen to have begun reading.  

Imagine yourself growing up in a family somewhere on earth, you needed a family to give you birth, and with the whole world before you the search for existence begins.  Already the family have discovered much, a nomad existence following the herds, killing one every so often as required, seeking water, carrying all the treasures of the house, if you had one.  Are there pet animals?  Donkeys were not domesticated until around 5000 BC or was it later?  If you possess anything it must be carried as you move.  How often do you move?  I suspect that each day means an effort to seek an improvement in the tools and materials you use and eat.  Fruits come in season, who plants them?  Experimenting all the time with new foods and materials how quickly does your technology advance?  
Then there is pain and sickness.  Early man has been shown to have attempted brain surgery in many parts of the world.  Sickness would kill children early as it does still in too many places, and what pain relief do you have?   A nomadic existence has its drawbacks but this does not mean you do not think, indeed the opposite as considering the options is often urgently required.  There must also be many philosophic questionings when looking at the world around you or the heavens late at night.  
And what about those living by the sea, the view from there must change the mind set and be very different from those living high in the hills or in a desert.   
Francis Pryor and his type find a great deal of information regarding such as those living in the Fens in days gone by but what about those so much further back, so little is known about them.  Leaving no writing is a bind really as the diaries would be very interesting and travelling about hinders research into them.  Times and dates are often spurious, these change from one 'dig' to another I notice and opinions vary according to taste often enough. 
I think I must have been on the grass this afternoon...!

A trip round all the charity shops today did not aid me in my quest for an outfit for next weeks opening.  The suggestion of Mr Grumpy could not be achieved neither could the Child snatcher from some film I have not seen however that appears a good suggestion.  Some sort of nasty children's story character sounds good if I could think of one.  However the walk through the parched gardens was uplifting, big fish as well as Goldfish in the pond, some flowers bright and cheerful and this rose on the way down there hanging over a wall.  It makes you wonder when you consider the variety of 'grass' that fills the earth.

Thoughts...

Wandering about the shop today I had to ask myself who writes this stuff? 
There is a lot of it about and it appears to em to be selling very slowly.  It may be when the main summer exhibition, aimed at kids, opens next week the mums will decide they need something like this to keep them going for six long holiday weeks.  I suspect however a bottle of gin might be better.
This sort of thing leaves me imagining a wee girl surrounded by MIlls & Boon books, lots of women's mags across the floor and dreams of a Prince Charming filling her head, at least a Prince Charming that will let her do what she wants!  It does not appear to be the writing of one who spends her working hours at Tesco checkout.  'Love without limits' just wait till the child is teething at three in the morning or when you are on a crowded bus, see how the love flows then darling.

I am not sure what is inside the jar, Novichok possibly, and while the sentiment has some grounding in truth again I wonder re the individual who creates such items.  I believe them to be female, middle class, work from home, craft oriented and with limited knowledge of the real world.  Possibly they write birthday cards also!  However I suspect they are making a bomb selling these to similar females in overpriced shops in all the best places.  Quite what made her in the office imagine we could sell these I know not but being female she sees something in such as this that I fail to understand.  

 
We need to dress accordingly for next week and so far I have little idea of what to do, her suggestion that I go as 'Mr Grumpy' did not meet with my approval, it did not seem to fit...
So for the next couple of days I will search the charity shops for an idea, a cheap idea...

End of World Cup 2018

Well praise the Lord that's over!
I was beginning to think it would never end.  For weeks I have been trapped indoors while watching people kick lumps out of one another in an endeavour to win this trophy.  Now at last I can save electricity and switch the TV off until something else important comes along, like another football match.  The TV will be used sparingly once again as the fifty or so channels offered by Freeview are mostly junk and a sad reflection on human kind.
Good things came out of the WC this time however, the enthusiastic flag waving of the English as their team headed for another anti-climax was worth watching, as indeed was the come down when they got stuffed.  The overall performances were reasonably entertaining and the use of VAR to determine decisions enabled lots of argument.  In the end Croatia were robbed by such a system and lost out to a decent but far from great French side.
Now, when does the real football begin...?

 

He has left the country and it has not been a moment too soon. Interesting that reportedly Prince Charles and his son William were supposed to consort the queen during his visit but both refused!  A game of golf with Andrew was cancelled and few wished to be associated with him unlike Obama who had them queuing up to meet him.  This is why the queen met the ignorant oaf alone, a very unusual happening, just as well Philip was unable to be there as he would have made his opinion known. 

On his way out Trump failed to reveal where he obtained the £200 million he spent on a failing golf course in Ayrshire.  There again we know little about how he gets his money and if indeed he actually has any money.  Trips to small tyrannical rich men may well have obtained cash for him but the question must be is it his and what has he done for it.  Maybe we will see his tax returns soon also. His meeting with Putin will not equal the dim Regans meeting with Gorbachev, once again a foreign leader has Trump hanging on a piece of string.  Watching Trump reminds me of Robert Maxwell and I wonder if he too will one day disappear off his or someone else's yacht any time soon.

Another Book Finished

Blunden's war memoirs are not like other peoples.  They discuss his two years as a young officer spending time at all the best places, Bethune, Ypres, Somme etc, his regiment the 11th Royal Sussex being moved from one jolly spot to another.  With each move less and less of the original members remain and the 'feel' of the regiment alters as time passes.  
It is that 'feel' rather than a day by day account of war that we find in the book.  Some go into great detail of battles and the regiment and the people involved yet while those are clear enough Blunden wishes to write for those that were there as they alone will understand what life was like at war.  The book offers many asides in passing, the dead lying around a battlefield from six months or more before, the description of Ypres or the Somme, the broken villages in comparison to those well behind the line and of course the comradeship of a battalion facing daily danger.  'The 'feel' of being there is real and it is understandable that many regard this as the greatest war book of its kind.

 

Blunden later claimed he had survived two years at the front because of his small stature which is unlikely.  He did avoid serious injury although on several occasions he walked away from a portion of trench which then received a direct hit causing losses.  In writing this book he does mention his venture forward on patrol one cold dark night at Thiepval where he and his batman accidentally came upon the enemy front line.  In the dark they two face the fire of an enemy believing they were under attack and therefore unleashed a torrent of rifle, machine gun and a variety of artillery shells upon the foe.  The foe, both of them, ran helter skelter in the dark desperate for their nearest dug-out and eventually falling into one at some distance.  Working their way slowly back to base they were greeted, much later, with surprise as the sheer scale of the response convinced their Colonel that they were dead.  The enemy action meant a planned attack, one the battalion did not wish to make, was cancelled and Blunden mentions this in his book also later revealing his batman obtained a Military Medal for his part.  Blunden forgets to mention the Military Cross he was awarded also.    
His poetry is attached at the end of this book.  Sassoon believed the war had affected Blunden more than any other poet, which is saying something, and his poetry is amongst the best of the war.
I liked this book and recommend it to any who know something about the war.

     
Here we see the England side sneaking home after the anti-climax of their world cup venture.  While the media grasped at the famous victory that was never to be the hopes rose and flags abounded everywhere.  
None are seen today.
The excuses abound instead, some media attack the manager, players and anyone but themselves but as yet quite gently, after all it is not truth these people offer but what they consider the public wish to hear.  As soon as possible they will stick the knives in, none can escape.
Still, it's been a giggle innit...?

Friday Frolics

I was forced out of my bed early today as I was off to see one of my babies.  This wee sweetie came to the museum with her mum, a one time exhibition putteroner.  Now as a full time mum she is happy and this wee thing has her dad hanging on the end of a string.
This meant getting up before nine this morning, even though I was tired, and being ready to meet them around noon, or near enough.  This is a strain on my painful knees and my urgent requirement for beauty sleep.  It was worth it as I am now in love!

The mouth has done it again.  It no longer surprises us to hear this clown spouting ignorantly about this country.  To criticise the policy of the home PM, offer support to a failed ex-cabinet member who wishes to take her place and claim the nation is in a mess reveals a man with no tact, little intellect and something to hide.
What he hides is in fact open to all, his working with Boris Johnston, the owner of Amazon, Cambridge Analytica and his friend President Putin to separate the UK fro the EU to satisfy their greed.  The fact that so many have allowed this to happen reveals the real state of things in this country and the west at large.
The lies told by Trump to get elected, encouraging racism against Obama, lies re Hilary and Mexicans let alone his bombastic talk about making an already great country great again ( a line stolen from Regan and many other liars before him) reveals something of the stupidity and lack of biblical knowledge amongst the white middle class in the USA.  A man who abused women, has been married four times (the fifth is on the way), who lies and cheats gets elected only by people with no morals.  It is easy to see why he likes Boris Johnston.
Now he is welcomed by a failing PM who understands that leaving the EU is a disaster but will push it through merely to keep her job!  The nation will be bankrupt for generations after this yet these people, all millionaires with vast resources in foreign tax dodging off-shore accounts, care nothing.  They will sell out the nation for the sake of themselves.  This is a Conservative Party policy and has been the policy since Disraeli!
What will the UK get from this?  Nothing!  Trump gives an interview in the 'Sun' yet today calls this 'Fake news.'  How can you trust such a man?  Theresa May, the worst PM since David Cameron, refers to a special relationship with the US knowing that this is a fallacy and has always been such.  Of course we work together on many things, we share many policies yet always the US uses this for themselves.  Until now this was a subtle truth now it is out in the open under Trump.  Whatever comes out of this unwanted visit Trump will claim a victory and the UK will lose out.  Even worse is he encouragement this visit will give Boris in his desire to play at PM, and that will be the end for us all.

   
The kids exhibition takes shape.  Clearly 'Alice' is involved in some manner, on the opening day I might go dressed as he Mad Hatter or possibly a white rabbit.  I will have to do something on the opening day.  

Nice Day...

As I teetered my way up to Sainsburys this morning I glanced around the slowly filling car park and failed to notice any English flags today.  Possibly they were all over in the corner, beside the recycling bins...?  The social media was far from sociable today, only Scots, Welsh and Irish appeared keen to comment on last nights game, sullen resentment appearing to be the approach from English quarters.  I like that!   One chap gave the sad "Scotland didn't get there" reply and I saw him off with "UKIP are raging!"  Now he will not speak to me, him being black and that I mean...
However the suggestion that Nicola Sturgeon ought to make July 11th a national holiday in Scotland has as far as I know not yet been debated in the Scots Parliament.

A man masquerading as a US president has been found wandering the streets of the English capital surrounded by high security.  Police for many areas have been drafted in to protect the public and Humphrey the Downing Street cat has hidden itself away after hearing comments about Trump and his love of 'pussy.'  
There have been some daft US presidents, in the 19th century one or two were not exactly civilised, but in recent days we have become used to a more sophisticated politician than the market trader now in that office.  Others have brought opposition, Reagan and Dubya among them but none have been regarded in such a low manner than this lout.  What a shame for decent Americans.

Apart from ensuring Englishmen suffer I have done little but waste away today.
I think it was worth it!