A Second day (well actually it is still the first...)

Climbing the Matterhorn meant that he and I had little enthusiasm for anything but lunch.  So it was off the beaten track to a beaten track at Hartland Moor where we scoffed lunch and rested bones.  This type of moor is somewhat bleak in my view, the purple stretches for miles into the hills in the far distance and small beasties crawl here and there but few birds fly by and in my mind there is no obvious beauty to be seen.  To observe that requires careful searching into the scrub to find the many insects that live here but at first sight I see it as somewhat bland.  This did not stop people, aged and with dogs, appearing out of nowhere and disappearing in similar fashion into the distance.  The road is quiet and apart from a selfish female cyclist who would not let us pass on the narrow road, he man moved aside, few other vehicles came that way.  A good place to stuff the face when the sun is shining.

Then it was time for the beach!

Raised in Edinburgh, a city that slopes down to the Firth of Forth, I love to be near the sea.  Growing up we often heard the deep long blast of the foghorn based on Inchkeith and often we could see the light from the accompanying lighthouse turning around.  The advancement (?) of lighting and creation of blocks of flats where my old school once horrified they surroundings would hinder both, if indeed foghorns actually sound thee days.  The smell of the sea and the light produced by the action of light bouncing of the water does lift the soul I say.  There is something about the closeness of the water, the end of land and the reaching out to whatever lies way over yonder that speaks to us in some way.  In times past few lived near the sea as it appeared dangerous, only sailors and fishermen would venture near, but today the majority love the sea, crowded beaches show that.
Naturally the woman of the party despises the seaside and prefers moorland and forest!  This is good however as we dumped her on a seat at the front knowing she would retreat to the car and sleep the day off.  We trekked on bravely.

Swanage is a small town in a bay which gathers an enormous number of visitors.  Possibly it is comparatively cheap, I suspect it is not that cheap to live here, but lots of UK visitors were noticed.  There again Bournemouth and possibly Swanage attract young folks to 'Language schools' and Bournemouth teems with such types and maybe there were some among the throng here.

We did not venture far, the break in the buildings ahead offered a seat and a 'Heritage centre,' a well run small and very well set out museum resplendent with history and well informed volunteer helpers.  I am very impressed with this place.  If collecting stones, those shiny things kids love is your thing this is the place to go, they have thousands, this is the 'Jurassic Coast' after all.

We sat listening to a group of men in English shirts informing the world around of their inability to hold their drink while we cogitated on the number of 'Fish & Chip' shops advertised or seen in the small square.  The Jewish man who apparently began selling chips with his fish in the 19th century did not realise he was introducing the UK's main lunch when he did so.  The pesky foreigners keep changing good old English attitudes and it really must stop!  By the way it was supposedly an Italian, one who had walked all the way from Italy, who late in the century introduced Scotland's first 'Chippy.'  When you consider how in the last fifty years the UK now eats Indian (often Bangladeshi actually) and Chinese (are we still banned from saying 'Chinky?') you see how the nations eating habits have developed with the introduction of foreign Johnnies into the country.
 I await the popularising of Middle Easter cuisine in similar fashion however that may be limited by cries of 'Islamic Terrorist!' every time you went in for a falafel.  The gulls however cared not what you ate just as long as you ensured they got their share.

The sun shone brightly but there was a haze limiting the sight of the Isle of Wight.  At times it was almost clear but rarely could we see the lower end.  The sea itself was somewhat rough as the wind roughened the tops of the waves while the tide came in our direction.  The sea is very much colder than it looks and those tempted into it discover this fooled by the warmth of the sun.

 
Surprisingly few yachts were out there and this was good weather for that kind of thing.  Were the owners all off making money in the city in this heat I wonder?  Few craft of any king out there while we meandered about and headed back via the shops.  Lots of small shops still surviving in spite of business rates and greedy councils but a lot of them were, shall we say, tatty?  Lots of pap on offer, ice cream and chips, not at the same time,  and all the other requirements of holiday makers and their kids in the sun filled cheery seaside.  I wondered where these people resided?  On returning we found our madame still sitting there, now people watching, now gossiping with strangers, very like her.  These strangers were holidaying nearby, were others doing the same?  Swanage does not appear to have many obvious 'Bed & Breakfast' places, maybe I juts did not look. 

Then it was time to sail the seven seas, or at least make use of the Sandbanks Ferry.  

Timing it to be just too late to board we waited in the sun while people clambered out of cars, avoiding the massive chains that keep the ferry stable, and photographed their surroundings.  The young men on their jet skis bouncing upon the waves somewhat carelessly were less interesting than the madman trying to reach France by paragliding there on wind power.  He would be lucky to make the other side, which he would not do if he ran into the ferry from Boulogne.  It amazes me when you see the size of the ships which enter this narrow channel into Poole Bay.  Huge ships arrive and park themselves way over the far side of the bay yet in other parts the water is only a few feet deep.  For several thousand years men in boats, from dug out canoes to car carrying ferries have deposited their loads here, one of the reasons Many folks have made use of the hill upon which we found Corfe Castle and where I must have left two stones of ugly somewhere on the way up.  

Brownsea Island, not somewhere I have been but maybe if we could walk further we might venture onto one day, not this week mind.  Fampusly owned by one woman, famous for the first Boy Scout Jamboree (girls allowed but no boys allowed in Girl Guides for some reason) and we watched the ferry (yet another) pull away from the Island and make of round the bay.  Maybe next year but I doubt his missus will be up for that!  The island is now another National Trust property.

The Sandbanks Ferry has been running since the 1920's, a fact which surprised me as I always thought it a Victorian achievement.  £4:50 gets the car across in a few minutes accompanied on occasions by the sound of someone aboard informing a yachtsman or sailboarder of their opinion regarding how close he could get to a moving ferry chain.  Most big boats work the passage well.  
If you ever have too much cash floating around pass it on to me and I will buy one of the flats where I will waste my life watching the ferry move back and forth day after day, that is how active my body wishes to be these days.  I note one available for a mere £950,000 which appears to me to be a bargain that must not be missed. 

In the distance Bournemouth towers above the cliffs while on the beach thousands frolic in the sun, we will be there tomorrow.  Just think, around 1850 nothing much but bracken and a small stream, the Bourne, had its collision with the sea here, known as the 'Bourne Mouth' the name has stuck but now from Christchurch at one end to Poole at the other how many thousands cram into this place day after day?
I do like it however.

Corfe Castle Trip

Pack, repack, forget something rush to station. Unhappy sour people, previous train not arrive.  Busy lonely staff tries to help, gives tickets, explains again, surly responses.  Stratford means using lift to avoid stairs, then using stairs to get to right platform!  Fast Jubilee line, London people mix with globetrotters making an interesting sight, but not one to see every day.  Waterloo, miss train as platform to long and train driver ignores late passengers rushing towards it.  First on next train, comfy seat, coffee, read book, look out window at obscene high rise flats/offices then warm green fields, stilted dry crops, country life, blue sky and sunshine.  Arrive, welcome, sun reaches over thirty degrees, eat, rest, settle in, then out seeking life!

Shall we go here, there, here, there, over and on but in the end we go.  On way we change mind and in bout of stupidity stop at Corfe and enter Corfe Castle.  

Broken down by Cromwell during Civil War (how can any war be 'civil?') and left in bits ever since the solid entrance gates indicated a slow gentle wander up to the Keep.

Lies! All lies!  The gentle slope went on for ever.  My knees and his hip indicating displeasure as we climbed ever upwards surrounded by tourists of many tongues and not a few dogs and pre school children, I prefer the dogs!  

   
The gatehouse has many indications that this was not the most welcoming place.  Built around a thousand years ago with a Keep built of Purbeck Limestone at the heart created by William the Conqueror's son Henry I to defend the entrance to the land from the bay nearby.  The castle stands impressively atop the hill offering clear views for miles around and ensuring a strong defensive offering to any would be invader or local rebel.  The name 'Corfe' comes, as you know, from the old English 'ceorfan' which means 'cutting,' as the hill on which the castle stands cuts through the ridge of chalk hills on which it stands.

The archers view from inside.  I expect the floor was of a lower level in King John's time and that makes me wonder what may lie beneath?  I wonder if they ever attempt to look or will they consider it not worthwhile?  I suspect they know better than I.

Henry I indicated how loving his family was by imprisoning his brother Robert of Normandy in the castle, by then one of the strongest in the land and others were to follow the delight of being held here either in some degree of comfort or in the dungeon.   Both King John of ill repute and Henry III kept Eleanor of Brittany confined here as she threatened their position, typical woman!   She did survive however twenty or so of her Knights were not so fortunate.  

    
I think this was the medieval manner of keeping fit, you build a castle on a hill and get fitness by clambering up and down stairs and walkways day after day, cheaper than a local gym.

The castle was designed to look good as well as be efficient but Cromwell's men did very well in removing any possible defence capability with their gunpowder and engineering skills.  Massive walls these may have been but they collapsed well enough when pushed.

With too little information, too many visitors swarming around, school classes being educated about the civil war (by a lass of Indian descent) and the lack of breath caused by climbing this high without falling over the edge it gave little time to cogitate on those who dwelt herein during the castle's lifetime.  What was that door upstairs leading to?  Was it merely defence or did a king or queen live there?  If the kings life was somewhat sparse in comparison to 'Buck House' today what was life like for the workers, soldiers and the farmers providing foodstuffs and profit round about?  

Some residents today are doing very well.  In the nooks and crannies of the castle the Jackdaws were happy enough.  This was had been hovering in the breeze (breeze he says!) much of the time when not chattering to his mate.  He (or is it she?) looked contented enough.

 
A town naturally grew at the foot of the castle and the stone built houses are delightful to admire.  The break up of the castle has led to many stones appearing within these houses, occasional TV programmes venture into such and that which once graced the homes of the powerful now grace the homes of the well off.   These houses do not come cheap.  Is that stone tiles on the roofs?  
In past time these would have held the staff working in the castle, however their homes would probably have been rough stone with earth roofing, earth floor and somewhat inadequate sanitary arrangements.  Passing time brings improvements and the cattle, sheep and fields brought many wealth and comfort.

 
It would be possible to spend all day taking photos of the castle and searching the history.  One photographer was very keen and worked away taking several shots at various settings to get the right result.  Good for him I thought and later when I realised I had my camera on the wrong setting I became somewhat jealous!  Stupid boy, that means I have had to play with the pics somewhat. Bah!

One teacher had her enraptured class, well most of them, sitting in front of what was called the 'Gloriette.'  Judging by the Gothic type windows I considered this a chapel at first but 'Gloiette' means 'Little room' and this usually goes with a garden.  The 12th and 13th century building works appear to have been for comfort and enjoyment as much as for defence.  I loved the windows however I have no idea when they were added.

In a small dark room of to the side I suddenly noticed deep with the hole that at one time supported a floor beam sat this white dove.  Quietly but warily she watched our movements.  It was much darker than the picture shows and she appeared content while masses passed by unseeing.

   
Near the main gatehouse stood several huts which employed the castle carpenter and here the stonemason.  The area immediately after the entrance would once have teemed with workers, food areas, horses and soldiers going about or avoiding their business of the day.  At weekends now the castle puts on a variety of medieval or civil war re-enactments.  I wish I could be there at that time.  Speaking to the man on duty he answered one or two of our questions and appeared very knowledgeable and interested in the history and the visitors, it was a good response to find.

I wonder if King John or one of the Henry's ever slipped and fell and cursed as he made his way down to the gate?  The pathway is hardened to make life easier but in truth walking to the side was better, I slipped less!  

The 'Trebuchet' shone here is still used in exhibitions.  This brute can throw stones, balls of fire and dogs and horses collected leftovers over 300 yards, that's about three long football pitches.  The ball when it lands in the castle can be a bit messy.
During the English Civil War the end came for the castle.  Lady Mary Bankes held he castle for her royalist husband, in spite of Dorset being solidly parliamentarian, and withstood a siege during which see suffered two casualties and the attacking for suffered over a hundred!  However duplicity brought the end. One Colonel Pitman arranged to leave the castle and bring in a hundred reinforcements, however he returned with parliamentarian forces and having sneaked in (how do you sneak in and out with so many men?) he waited until the parliamentarian force attacked and then turned on the defenders.  Generously once they had surrendered Lady Bankes and the garrison were allowed to leave and parliament voted to 'slight' the castle leaving it in the present state.

When we set out we had no intention of visiting Corfe let alone the castle.  However as we ended up in that direction, don't ask how, we stopped and then entered.  This was done as they possess the cards from the National Trust and by offering me the son's card I too entered this way (devious I say).
Neither my knees or his hip realised how steep the clamber up would be, normally healthy people would survive and many aged and decrepit folks were up there along with us breathing heavily and hobbling along cheerily.  It was well worth the effort, not just because I could play with the camera on a wrong setting, not just for the views or history but because it was worth it!  We both were glad we made the effort while she wandered the shops and sat in the car people watching which is her latest hobby.  
The National Trust now own the castle and keep it in good shape, considering much of it is falling down.  The staff were friendly and efficient, the work well maintained and the education side clearly beneficial as school parties arrive and can clamber up and down and pretend they are knights, kings and queens and medieval folks.  Rather than than me when medieval folks did not have a microwave!   Corfe Castle is worth a visit however I would suggest going before the kids are released from school.  I enjoyed it.
Then we moved on....

Blurred Blue tit!

You Lucky Lucky peepul!

I have just returned from a few days in the south coast penthouse where I have toured the beauty spots and climbed the Matterhorn, or so it seemed to me.  This means I have over TWO HUNDRED photos to post! 
 You lucky, lucky peepul!

Hello!  Hello!.... Operator! I've been cut off!...Hello....?

    

Sabbath Muse

Trundling down to church in the sunshine was an unusual experience today.  I found my tinted glasses and looking like someone from Hollywood I ventured forth.  Surprisingly nobody noticed me.  This was a bit awkward, at least while using the zebra crossing and indeed on the way home where I failed to look properly crossing the road and almost went under the police car.  The fear of thirty pages of paperwork meant he said nothing and moved on.
Soon people will begin to hate the heat that never ends, water companies are already threatening hosepipe bans and crops are failing in the fields, so Tesco can increase the price.  The red backs will soon have folks grumbling at the doctors  and the incompetent government will be given the blame.
Living on this island allows great scope for grumbling.

Amazon

Another book moves from the reading pile to the read shelf.  Very good it is too!

Far too many grumble about British generals and their apparent failings, this book, written by people who know as opposed to those with an axe to grind, offers us men in high positions with great responsibilities and carrying the same ambitions and failures we all have.  It shows these men to be human and far from willing to waste men's lives.

Haig himself is not mentioned, these are the army commanders, men who rose up the ranks to the top, some during the war and others in the field.  All had some sort of war experience, Sudan, India and the Boer War among them, all served at home and abroad.

The charge of uncaring generals wasting men's lives is often thrown around in the UK, never elsewhere for some reason, and these men were ordered to remove the enemy from France, therefore they had to deal with what was in front of them in the only way possible.  Tactics changed constantly over the period, weapons improved, yet the chief strategy was the same, siege warfare. 

There was no other choice.  The nonsensical waste of time and effort in Gallipoli and Salonika, ordered by London not the army, cost many lives but orders are orders.  The war could only be fought in France and Flanders nowhere else! 

For all the grumbles re generals, something that did not happen elsewhere and probably began with Lloyd George the one time Prime Minister trying to pass the buck onto the generals who followed his orders, it must be remembered that 70 or so generals died during the war, several of the leading army commanders suffered wounds and not only did they participate in holding the line with meagre resources against a vast German army in 1914 these were the men who finally pushed that army out of France and Flanders.

A good book, well written and worth reading.

 

Weekend

The heat is terrible!
This does not suit me, I am so glad the football forces me to stay inside.  Indeed when there is no football I must stay inside and do the things undone by watching the football.  Actually few got done but the place smells better once the windows are opened.
Not much in the news, not counting the £319,000 given to the Scots Tories from an 'unknown' source, that is someone not recognised, with no apparent offices and therefore who are they and why such a donation?  It appears the Scots media ignore this as they do so many other things.
Michael Gove by the way has made it clear the many millions given by the EU for Scots farmers is not available to Scots farmers, it appears to no longer appear.
Then they complain Scots don't support England at the World Cup!
So many around here cannot understand why Scots, Welsh and Irish should grumble, this reveals an amazing lack of understanding on their part and this is also a reflection on the papers they read.
 
Interesting that after the hype that flowed merrily when England defeated the worst team in the World Cup this all dissipated overnight after the England and Belgian squad teams met and England lost.  Those many cars and vans flying England flags appear to have disappeared since then.  Heads down and even Germany going home has not lifted the spirits.  How strange this is, England see Germany as their rivals!  Germany does not see England is this way, I suspect they regard Italy, France, Brazil, Spain and the like as their rivals but the English imperialist never dies. 
However I have enjoyed many games and several great goals today alone.  Those goals remind me of how I used to play...

Babylon

Amazon

In between the never ending football, starting soon once again, I have found time to read another interesting book about the days of long ago.  Paul Kriwaczek's book on 'Babylon' is more than 'Babylon' this book stretches back to Eridu and works its way forward to Babylon and onwards...

The author himself was born in 1937 and his mother was imprisoned along with her son in 1939 for the crime of being Jewish.  Somehow she escaped and ended up in London.  Paul remained proud of his Yiddish heritage with his own views on their origins.

Kriwaczek spent some 25 year working for the BBC, which explains some of his outlook, mostly for the World Service and with an Asian slant.  However he trained as a dentist and then travelled widely.  He produced many TV programmes of an educational type and I doubt they would get a chance of broadcast today.   Too intelligent for those running the Corporation now.

I liked this book but found that while he traced the route form Eridu 5000 BC up towards Babylon he appeared to have a lot of his own opinions to add.  His secular humanist approach in which he has already decided that the bible, and he only quoted the Old Testament, the bible had grown out of the gods invented by man down in Sumer in days of yore and their story had become Genesis.  This is not an unusual approach, some clergy run towards this, and its main fault is the lack of the supernatural.  This approach is popular because it means man is in charge and God will not intervene, therefore we can do what we like, there will be no judgement, we are king!  Sadly having died recently he has found out too late his mistake.

His approach explains his use of the cringing BCE and CE dates, an idea introduced by middle class white people to put down Christianity rather than the idea of considering all peoples as they claim.  

This spoiled his book which offered a good deal of interesting details about Uruk, Assyria and the like as they grew, fell, grew again, and finally disappeared.  While well worth a read the author is neither a historian nor an archaeologist and in my mind this reveals why too many of his own opinions fill the book.

Something that I always avoid...

I much preferred 'Mesopotamia' by Gwendolyn Leick. and she had her own opinions also but much better evidenced.

Lazy Day

A quiet day at work, nobody came in!
The staff didn't even give me anything to do but the delightful boss made me coffee to keep me awake.  I spent time talking to the plumbers still installing the central heating and took a couple of quick pictures of our organic garden in front of the building.  One of the volunteers is into this type of gardening.

However this hard work still wore me out and I fell asleep in the middle of the football!  I think it was visiting Tesco and then carrying the heavy bag home in the heat that was responsible for this.  I had to buy a lot as the fridge was empty!  I forgot the beer which shows how tired I must have been...

Monday Mutterings...

Suddenly life is a healthier place.  
The football has shifted from one O'clock to three thus allowing more time for sleep and getting things done.  The ironing for one has been finished completely, well apart from one forgotten item, and the pile has been there for some time.  Even the rubbish has been put out, the only time I stepped out into the hot sunshine today, and to celebrate the new spare time I have left everything else for later.
That is how a good housewife works.

Boris has done a runner!  Our Foreign Secretary ought to be in the House tonight voting for the governments plan to create another runway at Heathrow airport.  However what does a politician do when he has told his constituents in wealthy Uxbridge & South Ruislip that he would 'Lie down in front of the bulldozers to stop the expansion' but tonight when he ought to be voting against this government for his constituents he has fled to Afghanistan!  No doubt this was arranged long ago, about 24 hours after the vote was announced, and this will be important in terms of world affairs but his constituents who do not want more aircraft over their heads may think differently.  These are of course the very people who fly from Heathrow on holidays to far flung places and conduct their business overseas whenever it suits them, they are the last folks to wish flights over their heads.
It appears Theresa May, whom you may have heard off, has a constituency in Maidenhead, this lies directly under the flight path!  Until recently she was totally opposed to the enlargement of Heathrow and is scrambling to delete her evidence but it remains available to geeks and now she is totally in favour.  Never trust a politician on the make!

Art or Absurd?

In between games last night I noticed the shadow on the wall. This struck me as interesting and as I took a few shots of this and attempted to get the colour right I ended up with what  call a 'work of art' and intend to offer this to the Tate Modern and sell for around two or three million.

As this will lead to an exhibition somewhere I am collecting similar but different art works which will gain me fame and fortune, however I need to find a name for such work and an explanation to reveal to the art lovers and their money what I am trying to say through this work.  You and I know I am saying "Give me cash!" However art lovers do not think like this so I am suggesting the first one concerns 'how light shines but we do not know what that light hides.'  'The brightness hinders our understanding of what lies behind the wall of glare that blinds us to reality.'
The second one s obvious to anyone with eyes that see. 'Calm, peace, serenity in a world of hostile intentions is always possible to one who sees.'  
I am glad I had that whisky now...

The abstract view is clear here.  Obviously this refers to the damage caused to the green earth by man's (never woman's you note no matter how many of their plastic things kill fish) misrule of the world on which he abides.
Just a straight million for that one would do.

Even the sky was at it as I trudged home from Sainsburys this morning.  High above the flight to Malaga the sky was telling us to always look up as the clouds hide the blue but it is always there! 

Will you come to my first exhibition, can you teach me how to talk middle class pap...?

Idiot!

Idiocy rules in this house, I made a post in a hurry this morning while waiting on the football, and now the football is struggling I realise I posted on the wrong place.  This post ought to be here but instead it is found here!   Photo Page 

Stupid boy!

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...