While glancing through the online 'Daily Express' today the comparison with words often uttered at Remembrance services crossed my mind. 'They died to set us free,' they say, yet where indeed can we find a 'free press' I ask? The 'Mail' is owned by a Lord living in France dodging taxes, the 'Sun' is owned by Rupert Murdoch, not renown for an open mind, the 'Express,' now owned by the 'Daily Mirror' remains as it was, but worse, and the 'Telegraph, losing sales fast,is now up for sale as the two headbanger owners and sick off the losses. All these papers peddle the same opinion. All feed the minds with half truths and lies. Objective journalism is hard to find anywhere. The 'Guardian' and 'Daily Mirror' set themselves on the left, the Guardian full of middle class wishful thinking in amongst some good writing, the 'Mirror,' bar the opinion, is just another 'Sun' offering celebrities, tits, and nothingness. The 'Times' has some journalists but is another Murdoch paper and limits their opinions to his will. Some say the 'FT,' which my wallet stops me reading, does have an original opinion, I know not. The rest of what passes for a 'free press' is limited, small minded and full of lies and half truths, anything to sell. A search amongst online journalism finds far too many are leaning too far too the left, a few to the right and once again far too little objective journalism. It makes searching for actual open minded opinions difficult and time consuming. The most interesting items I read are those in 'Private Eye' laughing at how stories get published. There information regarding the true nature of the story or the reason it is offered can be found. It does not leave faith in journalists today. You will note I ignore the TV companies, they are just as bad.
For your political entertainment tonight. Eddie Mair plays with Farage magnificently.
This morning I participated in the remembrance service, reading the appropriate words, the silence, the 9 page 'walk' which he had come up with. This meant standing a lot reading in public, how scary that turned out to be! I thought it would be easy but I was so nervous at first and only settled down as went on. Not good! However we got through it and many a thought was brought to the surface I discovered later. Very interesting response.
Then walk home and after a quick bite off to the gardens for the remembrance event. This is where I discovered how the Rotary Club can help. Once there the spot where I usually stand to take pictures was roped off. Luckily the man who this year is 'top dog' in rotary circles was there to offer their wreath and it just happens I know him from the museum. He spoke to the commander of the day and soon I was past the rope and in position with the generals blessing. He may not be a general but he was in charge.
The usual military style gathering, the dignitaries arriving last behind a piper. An enormous turn out of young folks, training corps, scouts, and the variety of lesser organisation led the way in followed by the masses. Several hundred, some in uniform, many wearing service blazers, caps and medals, and one or two now in wheelchairs who were standing not so long ago.
The rotary dignitaries! The laying of wreaths gets longer each year. I sometimes wonder why some offer them, but annually they are represented. Naturally, Police, fire, St Johns and such like are there. Various military organisations, and today at least one individual offered something. The important folk went first, then a long list was read out and one by one those present came forward. Two High schools were represented, one of which takes this on so much that their remembrance service was put out on the BBC a few years ago. It annoys me so many claim kids no nothing of war yet these guys no more than most 'Daily Mail' readers ever will! It did cross my mind that skirts that short were not however worn at the school I attended!
The usual marvellous turn out. The local vicar, High Church, worked his way through the service well and within three quarters of an hour, not counting similar time awaiting the start it was over. The troops marched away, though whether those under twelve could be called 'marching' can be disputed, and they headed up to St Mikes for the proper, evangelical, service as always. A short march past afterwards and all was over. I however did not follow them to St Mikes, two meetings a day is enough and I wished to lie down and eat pizza.
Now, the brain is to tired to think, this I was told today, is not unusual for me. Yes, it was a woman. I sip cheap brandy looking for strength and read my book looking for sleep. A good day is over.
Too cold and too lazy to do anything today. I wandered about in a sunshine that possessed no heat. The town was bright and the light makes even dreary areas look decent, however while young men sauntered around bravely in pullovers or tee shirts normal folks wrapped up. I felt sorry for the Legion me, those not dressed in camouflage gear had to appear in blazers. This is why most broke the army rules and had hands in pockets most of the time, they must have been freezing! Appearance however is all for such people, the Legions image must be maintained. Lots of cadets around selling poppies, lots of folks wearing them. One post on Twitter came from someone explaining why they do not wear poppies. I see no reason for people doing this, the whole idea of fighting wars fro freedom is to ensure the freedom to wear or not wear a poppy. The Legion makes this clear and opposes forcing folk to wear them, quite right to. However the 'Daily Mail' and 'Express' reader will stir it by demanding action taken by the none xenophobic who dare not to wear one. Always the same people, always the same response. We wore them when young in the 50s without thinking about it. They appealed less in the 60s when we wished to avoid wars and 'Give peace a chance.' The cry was 'Make love not war,' although round my way it as more 'Make Tea not war!' We then had Ireland! That brought troops into our minds again. Then there was the Falklands conflict, that reminded many soldiers were a good idea, even if Thatcher herself was not. By then I had taken to reading about the Great War, a war we genuinely knew little about, and I became entranced in the many stories that arose from the conflict. It was later I realised many others were doing the same thing, we found our history without having it shoved down our throats.
A variety of events brought people round to remembering their history, the centenary of the Great War also helped, and now most people understand something of two wars and what happened after them. How deep this goes time alone will tell. Tomorrow I have the Sunday service, 9 pages of readings between three of us! Then the 2pm remembrance at the memorial. Around 500 usually gather, the 'high heid yins' also attending. The police are always on the watch for terrorist attacking, this time it may just be people yelling abuse at the MP!
The day began dreich, mist shrouded the world. A cold chill swirled around the room, I let it do so and went back to bed. Enthusiasm for work did not arrive and after tediously slogging my way through the boring papers, facebook and the more interesting Twitter I found it was almost lunchtime. However I felt the need to work and cleverly ignored this and did some poor exercise instead. I am getting used to aching. I picked up the paperwork that lay before me. This concerns the readings for Sundays Remembrance service at church. "I have marked your bit," he said indicating this on the front page, "Just there." As I perused this it suddenly struck me there was 'my bit' one each page. A quick calculation indicated NINE pages! He had of course disappeared by now! So today, once again, I ran through the readings hoping the girls doing their (lesser) bits are also practicing. This will be easy enough, just sections from men who served in the Great War, or their families. Normally no emotion is involved, I did however find difficulty with one bit, a piece I have read before. In this a ten year old walks up the hill with her father, he sends her back and he walks away to his barracks. She never sees him again. Even though I have read this before it touched me greatly in a way the death of 2000 soldiers could not do. I suspect this is because of all those girls in the family, and the 'granddad' age at which I find myself.
It is cold in this hovel, very cold, and I thought I would wander out and get some warmth. I was wrong! It was much colder outside, the first time this year, and the westerly wind did not warm me in any way. However I, reasonably clad I thought at first, wandered abroad. This took me through the charity shops for some Christmas shopping and on into the shopping centre. Here a display was put on by the 'Royal British Legion' and I got my eye caught on a 'Royal Enfield' .303 Rifle which was on display among others such weapons. I got talking, indeed mostly listening, to the chap there and spent a good while discussing things, including his relation to several people on my war memorials. It is always good to meet such folk. Whether he thought the same I know not. However the cold was hitting my back and i decided to run for cover indoors, where it actually was warmer now I had been outside. Tonight I have had the heating on! It appears global warming has pushed the jet stream further south. This means air that ought to be freezing Norway who can cope with it is rushing over us who cannot. This must also be bringing the excessive rain leading to floods in many areas. Thankfully that avoids us.
Thursday and nothing has been done. Sloth has impaled me. Reading William Dalrymple has not helped. I picked the book up and am a quarter of the way through already! That includes searching online for pictures of the places he passes through. The enfeebled parliament has not helped. With the shouting matches only beginning most has passed me by. Indeed, as we know what they are saying there is little point in listening. I awoke today to my MP obfuscating on the 'Today' programme. Nick Robinson, a well known Tory, could not get him to admit offering a false impression of an interview of a competitor online was wrong, could get no apology, and could not get a straight answer. My MP then went to SKY and refused to appear. Kate Burley then apparently asked an empty chair the questions he would not answer. She got similar replies to Nick. My MP stood by 15 feet away but would not appear. Add to this a 'row,' possibly encouraged by the devious advisor Dominic Cummings, caused by refusing to publish a report every legitimate authority says ought to be published, has been unwise. The report may well indicate Russian interference in elections, possible payments to the British Conservative Party or may just be another distraction from all the other corruption we are all so used to. Meanwhile, Farage, the rabble rouser with no purpose, screams loudly in the background. Possibly he is afraid Brexit might happen, then how will he earn money for doing nothing?
This book was written after the writer travelled around the middle east in 1994. In some ways it becomes dated by this but in others it lets us into the area today as it has not really changed much for four or five thousand years, just the names, tribes and religious beliefs changed. The Turks and the Armenian's love one another just as much today as they have done in the past, at least those that live. Islamic groups shoot and kill just as efficiently as the PKK in Kurdish areas. The army or police take bribes and assault with ease and little fear of reprisal. I suspect it is similar today. Only a quarter of the book so far and now heading into Syria. I bet he would not go there today!
Not long after eight this morning I left Sainsburys and wandered through the town, today being Market Day I wanted to see what pap was on offer. As you can see nothing was on offer! The Wednesday fruit stall was out on a Saturday but the two Saturday fruit stalls were not. A fish van could be seen in the usual spot but nothing else. I wandered around the corner to find the town quiet, even at that time Saturday is busy, and no stalls to be found. Not even the van with the Key cutting man was there. All had taken the day off because of the threatened weather. A couple of years ago, you may remember, bad weather attacked the nation, the press and many others were upset that they had not been warned. In fact there was little to be done, weather forecasts had spoken of problems and these had been greater than imagined. Today, with a months rain falling occasionally in a day, 'Yellow Warnings' are being posted for the slightest hint of poor weather. We are under one now. Winds of 40 miles an hour accompanied by rain showers were to blow us away, knock down trees, houses and scaffolding and kill us all. It has not happened. Certainly high winds have passed through here, 20 - 25 mph I would guess, and reports elsewhere of occasional gusts of much higher winds have been heard, the disaster foretold however has as yet not revealed itself. I think we have moved away from caution into a world of neurosis. Storms are now given silly names like Nigel or Suzanne rather than just 'Storms.' 'Yellow Warnings' are less to warn than to avoid blame when storms arrive. This could in time lead to complacency as the warnings constantly are overblown, the same people of course will be first to complain! As we speak the wind is around 15 mph, no rain is falling here and dog walkers watch their charges ruffle the piles of leaves all around the park. Almost a normal Saturday in November, but with very little of a market to attend. Tesco and Sainsburys will be happy however.
Most unfortunate. For much of this week the papers have been filled with fawning items regarding England's win in the Rugby World Cup. Day after day it has taken up much space in the online press but I suspect this will dwindle somewhat as the day passes by. I note some have covered the loss well, making it a loss, not a defeat you note, that is the tactic well known to those who read reports of Rangers and Celtic games, and apart from not liking the referee, why? there appears little reason for the English hordes to whimper. Mind you, I have just noticed the sporting fashion in which the losers refused to wear their Losers medals! Refusing to wear them like decent folks would do? How petty! What does that say about this game, this team and xenophobic Englishmen everywhere? Anyway, it's only rugby, a game the 'Hooray Henry's' play, not real people...
In spite of the many items screaming out for my attention I have spent some time this afternoon writing Christmas Cards! Today is the 1st day of November! I like to be organised, these will be sent off on the 1st of December, partly to ensure they get there in good time, partly to remind others to get mine written out and sent back to me. Of course not all is finished, gift cards for many have to be obtained, looks like Tesco or Sainsbury's for those, and then almost all will be complete, though my wallet will not be happy. When I saw the 'Private Eye' advert I realised that two packs of their cards would do the worst of the job, each then costing me £1 each! Cheaper than the shops where all begin at twice that price. Most cost more than that and the fancy ones considerably more. One friend I know designs his own. This began when the kids were small, one sheet A4 paper, fancy design, cartoon, kids drawing, folded into card shape and off it goes. Must have saved him vast sums of cash, especially as the family were all talented. I have resisted such an endeavour as I lack the talent. It is to be regretted the election was called after the cards were designed, that could have been fun.
I think this picture represents the future of the NHS after Brexit or another Tory government. The denials from the present Health Secretary, whatsisname, do not offer conviction, especially as Boris and so many other right wing nutjobs in his presence seek an insurance based system so they can cash in on the shares. My Brexit store remains ready, Corned Beef, Beams, Tea etc, but it is not possible to stock up on medicines in the same way. Indeed a friend, a radiographer, informs me of the vast number of aged medicines destroyed by the NHS, either badly stocked or donated by patients who do not know how to safely dispose of them. Supplies in the NHS has always been a place for backhanders and individual progress. Once Thatcher divided up the NHS the opportunity for price increases matched that of the growth in 'friendly chats' with those responsible for buying for the NHS. I was in the wrong department!
I have been looking around but failed to find any photographs of Boris 'Dead in a ditch.' Once again his promises have failed us. This I must say is a disappointment. Now I am not the kind who wish to see politicans 'dead in ditches' but he did promise, just as he is promising vast financial input into the NHS, education, police, prisons and everything else, I did think that as he did so he could at least keep one promise, the 'ditch' one, and show how trustworthy he is. He has failed to do this and I am somewhat disappointed. There has been the usual weeping, wailing and gnashing of teeth as several women MPs have decided to stand down. The fact that many more male MPs are 'leaving is of course ignored as this does not sell the grubby papers. Amber Rudd, in spite of her Tory credentials could have been a successful minister but did not appreciate having Boris as boss, that reveals her intellect. On the other hand, muttering about the difficulties of the job, pressure and abuse Nicky Morgan has also stepped down, this less from abuse one feels than from the fact her career has reached an end and off she will go using her name to line her pockets at some Bank, financial institution or business somewhere. Not much of a politician but knows where the money lies. The Bigger 'Beast' among those leaving, either by choice or Party opposition will appear regularly on TV and radio, enjoying retirement while keeping their opinions well to the fore as whoever ends up in charge hears their mistakes and lies being analysed. Ken Clarke will lead these, although the Lords is where he will end up, Hammond and others may well join him there.
Tomorrow people will be wondering why on earth they spent so much money on halloween. Most have no idea where it started nor why, most see it as a kids party, few comprehend the waste of time and money involved yet this commercial event brings in the cash. One absurd night a year costing how much? Consider the time spent in shops stocking the tacky items on sale, the time putting them out, then hiding them the next day. Consider mums forced to shell out for plastic tat by kids who tomorrow will mutter about plastic pollution! What a waste of time. Of course we went in for it as kids...
December 12th, a time when my Christmas shopping has been done, the cards sent off, the wallet empty, and a trip round the corner to vote for a loser in the General Election. Last night, around 10:10 pm, I switched off the radio. A Tory MP, no idea who, they are all the same, was refusing to answer a question, any question, while spouting the Tory line whether he agreed with it or not. I could not take any more. For 43 days we must endure lies, counter lies, newspaper lies, slanted reporting, more lies and a huge growing number of 'experts' explaining to us what is actually going on, all of course giving different answers. Luckily we all know what each and every MP is saying, "Goes a Job!" Brexit, the good of the nation, the nations future, all these take a back seat as prospective MPs tell you what you wish to hear even though they know they are lying, you know they are lying and yet they lie in the desperate hope the majority of crosses on the ballot paper will be theirs. People of course vote emotionally, not logically, they vote for the party the 'Looks after us' rather than a thoughtful consideration of what is best for the nation overall. This time many will vote for Brexit, many others will vote against, there will be changes in some areas because of this. Brexit of course, as I was told yesterday, is only opposed by the 'intelligentsia.' Naturally I concurred and bowed my head in acceptance. This is the first time I have been referred to amongst such company. It may be the last. Intellectuals, the dumb, the sheep and those who vote for the first time, will all be steadfastly reading every word pushed in front of us during the next few weeks. I will not. We know where the parties stand, most know their MPs opinion and only in marginal seats, or those where a change is possible, will folks really take an interest in the half truths and lies on offer. I need not, our man will be returned, the sheep will come out, however his huge Brexit majority will be diminished as he has put advancement before the constituency and will suffer for this. He will however keep his well paid job. I am now off to avoid the papers...
The Tory MPs allowed themselves leave to guffaw at the green tie worn by Corbyn at Prime Ministers Question Time. They thought this a good reason for ridicule. Theresa May apparently was less keen and was noted hissing at them to take note, the tie was green in respect for 'Grenfell' and the dead from that fire. Imagine Tory MPs being out of touch. One was so far in touch he made it clear the reason the Conservatives beat down the desire to give the vote to 16 & 17 years old's was a simple one, "They will not vote for us!" He understood.
Church today was enjoyable, other than falling over young Alfie and almost breaking both our necks. The young ladies rushed to save me, an action which upset the 9 year old as they ignored him while ensuring I was still active. Quite right too! Having made the decision to walk, either walk or fix the bike first, I hobbled down the road in a bright warm sun. This brought out the motorbikes and Sunday drivers off for a drive, enabled those of us with a warm coat to wear over our jackets, and the footballers to break sweat, and very occasionally, bones!
The under 16's here are pursuing their football dream of glory, even if they only make it to the smaller leagues, and if not enjoying themselves as they labour on the sloping pitch. How I wished to change places with the goalkeeper! Alas I merely wandered home and watched the professionals fail to play any better than these lads were doing this afternoon.
Boris is quiet this weekend, he must be up to something!
Before the rain and in between the football I scurried across the road on a dreich day looking for inspiration. All I found were leaves and a few twigs blown from the trees by what the weather man called a "Strong Breeze." I would like to know his definition of 'Storm!'
Rust coloured leaves are appearing everywhere, plants, trees and bushes are shedding heavily those that would compost make. Rust coloured trees, rain clouds, dark skies, this is what a poet called a season of 'Mist and mellow fruitfulness' or some such. This proves that Victorian poets were slightly off their heads just like today's poets are! John Keats was it? He lived in a big house in Hampstead just of the Heath, he could I suppose, always send the servants out to see what the weather was like over the road...
The shop on the corner was offering these gourds to passing trade. I am not sure if any sold. What on earth are they? What would you do with them anyway? The Pumpkin has become important at this time of year as the nation falls for yet another commercial money grab. When we were young, us poor people did not know about pumpkins, they were some foreign thing found in the USA, and when we went 'guising,' and not very successfully at that, we would use turnips, the inside scooped out and a face cut on the front. The candle was easy to find, we always kept spares just in case, and when lit we cheered. Why? Who knows? For kids it's all fun. The church even had a 'Halloween party,' I remember ducking for apples and attempting to eat a treacle tart hanging from a rope with hands behind my back. We were so hungry we were happy with that. Now I see what is behind it I avoid it but would like to see the church offer an 'All Hallows eve' instead. What me heretical...?
I hobbled off at high speed to the bus station for the 11: am bus. As I approached the digital readout said 'Bus 70: 15 Minutes.' What? The changed the times again, however they have not changed the timetable on the shelter I noticed. So I had to hang about while the driver decided whether to arrive or not. After a short eternity he arrived. The questions arise while the time draws near. "Will he arrive?" "Has there been an accident?" "Is my watch right?" "What is that women saying about 'delay?'" And so on, but he arrived early. The drivers changed over, the bus departed, ignoring an old man struggling to catch the bus, and bumped its way inexperiencedly along the busy route. This driver was either new, transferred from London or just inept. We made it into town but at the lights he jiggered us forward almost inch by inch as if this would move the standing traffic in front of him. Definitely a London reject.
I clumped down the street, passing the occasional policeman, a wide variety of people of all ages rushing to and fro, it was noon, and the aroma of takeaway lunches from the snackbars. Passing through the shopping centre I entered 'Primark' to check the price of jeans, my pair were £6 last time I was in, and discovered no matter what that all jeans/chinos/trousers were made for those with waists no greater than 38. I was going to enquire where the fat man's stuff was but the assistant looked uninterested and indeed washed out by his labours. I moved on.
At last, climbing the stairs to the non fiction books, after stopping to check the many tables with 'Buy on get one Half Price' where I did just that, I then browsed carefully. This did not take long, I wondered about the cash in my pocket and how hot the plastic bit was before I bought too many. Then raced downstairs to proffer my Gift Token and my green card to accumulate points which will be beneficial in the future. I like this shop in spite of those critics who claim they are limiting the scope of the choice of books. Possibly this is true, I cannot tell, however they have sufficient for me at the moment.
Sauntering around the many tented stalls that now fill the paved High Street I considered their cheese, their pies, bread, veg and other delights then spent £3 on a hand made Malted Loaf just so I do not require attendance at Tesco when I got home. £3! That was not the cheapest, one type of bread cost £12.... I mean really!
So, the books obtained, with bread in the bag I headed to my next regular stops, G.C.Smith, butcher at the Chelmsford Market. This supplies me with sausages and chicken for the freezer at a mere £20, while along the rows we find a small cheese stall with a couple of shelves packed with huge chunks of cheese at reasonable prices. 'Mark's Cheese and Eggs' stall has a great variety on offer, however as I proffered my £20 note, apologising for having nothing else (I only spent £4:50) the cheery lady said that did not matter as "We don't give change on Friday's." We then discussed the lack of a notice to this effect once they had brought me round and lifted me off the ground. They don't like people lying around in case folks blame the cheese. Anyway I like these two stalls and have been there regularly, allowing for long periods in between and will be back when the freezer demands this. I might however raise my cholesterol level from 4:3 to much higher if I am not careful. Then I hobbled back to the bus, waited for ages, then in an almost empty bus made it home, knees aching, wallet empty, but sufficient foodstuffs obtained, books to add to the 'To Read' pile, and a happy sense of getting out of town for a change.
The internet is a wonderful tool for investigating people. On occasions nothing turns up, the quest fails as we know too little about them to seek a source for information, on other occasions information falls out of the web like stuff from an overflowing cupboard. Today I was lucky in one search! My new neighbours are very quiet. This makes me suspicious as they are young, the folks below in their early20's, the couple next door late teens. A quick search for her next door offered little and his name has yet to be discovered, however a visitor yesterday indicated something about them that needs more knowledge. The visitors, too women, the leading one very efficient, the younger one learning how to be efficient and er, 'firm.' These appear to be social workers, that explains how the kids can afford the rent and have as yet avoided selling drugs and offering blaring bad music to the world. I now suspect he has left prison and will be on some sort of rehabilitation work, one of them, possibly both, certainly goes of to work daily. The folks downstairs were much easier to investigate. Their mail does not have the flat number on it and so I noticed their names, these names are found on facebook, that source of much information for personnel officers worldwide. She was found, usual girly stuff, and he it turns out is a police officer! That explains his funny hours, his good behaviour and determination not to get caught out somewhere. 'Well, what do you know?' This is very interesting as it shows the reason for good behaviour. Now I must try to get to know them better and elicit more info. Not that I am nosey or anything, I just like to know what's going on...
This afternoon, suddenly inspired by Suzah's brilliant photo blog I rushed out into the remains of the afternoon sun in a van attempt to copy her. I failed! Avoiding the shenanigans in the House of Commons I had spent the day in meditative practices, or dozing as they call it, not counting the three tracks from 'AC/DC' that I played to wake me up and get me going of course. That sufficed to enable me to visit Tesco and risk a checkout lass with a cold. Standing as far back as possible finished the job and hobbled home in the sunshine. There, while the sun glinted of the rusting leaves I read the panic stricken media informing us of wild winter weather, storms and gale force winds plus snow! Possibly the media have not understood October before.
So I wandered across to the Public Gardens so kindly donated by one of the Courtauld's in 1840. This, once part of their garden, was well lit in the late afternoon sun. Even better the wee kids were not running around screaming as they were being dragged by their anxious mothers to various primary schools to collect the bigger members of the family as they left school. Once again we must make the most of the days as next week they are on holiday again.
You do realise that as darkness falls and the shops fill the shelves with Christmas stuff yet another year is ending? Two months and a week or so to go. I'm sure time did not go so fast in the past.
Trees grow at a slow rate. I suddenly realised today just how big that tree actually is. The man below, hidden to our right, knows just how big the tree is as he has raked up the fallen leaves and knows he has to do it all again very soon. These must have been planted in the 1840s I reckon, as I think that is when the garden opened. By 1880 when donated to the town (I am guessing at the year as I canny be bothered looking the date up as they are on record next door) these trees would have been decent size yet neither the garden designer nor the owner would ever appreciate them full grown. I stood for a moment and wondered at the huge size of trees, this one spread out, others going almost straight up, and enjoyed them. Reminds me of the tree seen on Dave's site recently during his French adventure. Now the dying leaves fall to the ground, annoying many who have to remove them, and remarkably quickly the bare trunk will stand stark against the sky, all rather sad in a way.
The Holly is preparing for winter also. Large bushes appear, usually with red berries but I wished to get a dark line against the sky for an effect. Comments on a postcard...
