Christmas Day

 

Happy Christmas to all my friends

Goodwill to all, well except in Shops....

The lass at the Tesco checkout told me how this was the usual Christmas crowd in today, all miserable!  'Tis the season of goodwill to all men' said I.  She glared and indicated it was not like that in the store.
She was of course right.  As I bumped into another woman I apologised telling her that I was "Just pushing you out the way" in the Christmas manner.  She agreed and we mentioned the battle wandering between the aisles as trolley after trolley attempted to replay the 'Battle of Kursk.'  Women in shops appear not to notice there are others around while the men forced into pushing the trolley unwillingly are often far too courteous and therefore pushed aside by said women.
I carry a basket and avoid them all.  A lesson learned long ago.

The Monday joy has been hampered by the light not working in the fridge.  It took a while before I realised the whole thing was struggling.  Naturally I have filled the freezer with Xmas goodies, well sausages.  However, the landlords old fridge, which I have never used, lies beneath the bunker.  I opened it, wiped it down, it not having been used for 23 years, and have transferred the fridge stuff to the old fridge.  Only two things fit the freezer box however.  
Having done that, I checked the cable, the fuse and moved the fridge freezer and now it has come on again, but no light.  It has some power but not much, I wonder why?  I checked on the internet and now am more confused than ever so I am eating the thawed sausages and anything else movable and awaiting developments.  Mind you, those folks flooded out of their houses have bigger problems than I at the moment.  I wonder if Boris will visit them...?

Having been graciously given a lift I proceeded to the Carol Service last night and in between coughing fits did my duty as requested.  The evening went off well as expected and all stuffed themselves with mince pies afterwards, especially the kids.  
Of course I had arranged the Christmas card hand out in a well organised manner, naturally al the right people had a card and naturally there were a dozen from folks I forgot!  Now I have to seek out several cheap good cards for some and seek out online cards fro the others.  Every year this mix up happens, this time because new folks are around mostly, no matter how organised someone gets missed.  I could of course lie and claim to have given the money spent on cards to charity I suppose, but that would never do.  Guilt might make me give money...

Hey Ewe!

With Christmas approaching, you may have missed that, the shopping centre had the usual donkey and sheep gathered for show.  No reindeer this year, they must be appearing elsewhere, yet the kids, and indeed many adults, loved the sight of such animals at close quarters.  
Considering the town is only about two miles from one end to the other and is then surrounded by fields, sadly all too often now filled with developers lining their pockets on homes people here cannot afford, fields which once were filled with sheep and cows as well as the agricultural produce we often see today.  Many remember the cattle market in full swing, this went on into the 60's at least, the High Street lined with men standing alongside their Bull showing him off to the crowds while trying to sell.  Whether sheep were still seen then I am not sure but the older generation would be keen to be reminded of what was once a twice weekly market, animals and all.  
One of the problems Gordon Brown had to deal with early in his premiership was the outbreak of 'Foot & Mouth which struck this area hard as many animals were seen not far from the town.  Vast numbers were destroyed in an effort to curtail the disease and many farmers did not return to animal husbandry for many years.  So it is rare to see live sheep so close to us and we all enjoyed it, the sheep just chewed and ignored us for the most part being used to being shown off, mum ewe of course happily content with her new born lamb, three weeks old.  The farmer told me he did not expect a lamb at this time but the ram, he has one ram for a hundred sheep, lucky boy, the ram somehow got near mum and lo a lamb appeared.  There was another 'lamb' three months old hiding at the back but this was almost full size, they grow quickly.  Mum was a sheep designed to produce meat, the hidden lamb designed to produce wool, the difference was striking.  The wool eater just hid and chewed away ignoring the prodding of young fingers.    
Some of us know more about sheep than can be found here of course...

Eye Opener

I still think that 'Specsavers' sponsoring Scottish Referees was one of the great marketing moments in history.  Suggesting referees get themselves down to Specsavers and get glasses is a wonderful thought, and anyone who has been made aware of the Scottish referees bad sight over the years would appreciate this a great deal.  It must be there is a special deal with contact lenses for such men, there are those that certainly require them!
However having broken my 'indoor glasses' a while ago and failed miserably to repair them and now having stood on my outdoor pair I have been forced to join the referees sitting waiting in the local 'Specsavers' to have my eyes examined.
When I first had my eyes tested I think I was 13, just about 20 years ago by my counting, this entailed being dragged by my mother up near Haymarket where I underwent the reading of a chart business and whatever other tests they had at the time.  A pair of reasonable NHS glasses adorned my features and have remained there ever since, not actually the same pair I mean.  Today I was met by one of the attractive young blondes and after a short wait was placed in front of a machine that tested my eyes for a variety of eye problems and also (for a mere £10 more) various diseases.  As the girl had rattled of a long line of unpronounceable diseases and faults and tilted her head and flung her long blonde hair back while looking at me with her big blue eyes as she asked if I would pay the £10 I found myself saying "YES!" before my wallet realised what I was doing.
Having been scrutinised by two young blondes machines she raced me upstairs to Mr Diu who had more machines for my eyes to stare into.  In times past these men would use a hand held light and scrutinise the insides of the eyes, today he did similar while his machine looked for things he could not detect.  Having scribbled his results he showed me on the computer screen just how healthy my eyes were ('for an old man' he implied).  It made me realise that while I am healthy I am not fit!  No serious problems to be found there.  This is a relief in many ways and more so when the check took so little time. 
Back downstairs to my Welsh blonde, poor lass suffers domestic abuse, she was living in Camden in the centre of London and her man made her come all the way out here!  I told her such abuse as moving a young woman into a dead town was worthy of a jail sentence, or at least compensation!
She told me she was not young she was almost 27.
Let that sink in!
She believes she is getting old!
I told her I could not think back that far.  I reckon that takes me to 1978....
While I sat shaking with memories of wasted years she gently took all my money.
Each time she offered an 'advantage' she looked into my eyes and blinked here blue ones and I said "Yes" without really listening.  Her smile added £30 for non glare glass and something else which I was sure was free when I came in, but her smile made me forget.
I left with my receipt awaiting delivery early in the new year, till then I wander the dreich streets with tinted glasses to keep the light from the rain clouds above hurting me.
Mind you, I think next tome I go Matron will have to come with me, it might save me money...

Tuesday Twaddle

The day is dreich, rain much of the morning and little fun to be had although these two on the neighbours roof appear content.  I wandered around Sainsburys attempting to find things, they have moved everything for reasons unknown, and enjoyed the battle with old men driving trolleys they did not understand, old women barging into you as if you did not exist, ignorant women gossiping where you wished to obtain things, they then glare at you when you insist they move is a straightforward manner, crowds desperate for goods they already have too much off and little me in the middle of this.  A mad rush next Monday or Tuesday for the goods that will cover Christmas, I expect that if any store opens on Boxing Day the same people will be back in again filling the trolley while grumbling about lack of cash. 
I meanwhile was merely concerned to meet the Amazon man who attempted to contact me yesterday.  I found him today, blocking the pavement and struggling with the ipad type computer that requires a heavy thump to work properly.  Interestingly his had a crack on the screen and after his fifth attempt to get the screen to change I understood why.  Poor man was trying his best.  As he was delivering a bottle of 'Highland Park' whisky all the way from Orkney they now insist my date of birth is recorded, just in case kids drink it I suppose.  This took longer than driving all the way from Bulgaria where I deduce he came from, his screen had Cyrillic writing, and Russians are all living of Putin's money so I suspect Bulgarian is his nationality.  Eventually the deed was done, he passed on his way with his white van and 500 more drops across Essex to deliver, the rain and ipad not helping. I know how he feels, I have been there, and I sympathise with him and all those others racing around crowded streets for little pay.
I failed to tip him right enough...

Monday Mumping

Forcing myself out to the Saturday market for an urgent visit to Tesco, what kind of a fool forgets bread the day before? I found myself caught in the rain.  Naturally after I got home the "Passing shower" as the man on the radio warned us from lasted until then.  Shortly after dripping my way home and seeking out the 'big coat' for winter blue sky appeared.  This did not improve my mood.  I met the postman on the way back, he also sought out the weather man early on, all postmen do, and was not happy with his forecast.  Usually I must say the BBC get this right but on occasion it goes wrong.  As indeed did the postman's opinion of the weatherman.   

With the sun dying in the afternoon I had to venture out again for those last minute presents.  The main items have been dealt with long ago and the small things for little people or the occasional gift these have taken much longer.  Eventually, thanks to 'Poundland' I managed to complete the job - or so I thought as when I began to scribble on here I remembered another!  I think I will go back to the old idea of falling out with people in late November which leads to reconciliation after the new year.  That way saves much spending!

This morning, after a Sunday off, watching three football matches and sitting around like a slob,  I woke feeling almost human again.  As I ventured through from the 'west wing' I began to list the few jobs requiring attention, the tidying up of the mess, the last card to post and paying in to the bank on Christmas cheque received.   Note that, paying in!
As I considered the options in the dark, dank room I stepped on my glasses that somehow found their way under my feet.  Now irreparable I had to add 'Specsavers' to my day.  This has been coming for several months now and I kept putting it off as I hate such things as eye tests.  These are never satisfactory, something is always not quite right, and it is always my fault.  However this was now out of my hands.
So I posted the last Xmas card, I bet there is another tomorrow, I paid the cheque in via a machine at the bank, well on the second attempt with the teller girls giving me that look, and wandered around to a nice young blonde in Specsavers who treated me as she does her granddad and booked me in for Wednesday.  
To get their I had to wear the 'other pair.'  These are the tinted glasses I got for the hot summer days which fill the middle months of the year.  I never needed these while in Edinburgh!  So, in spite of fearing I would look too 'cool' for this town I wore them under the grey skies above.  Nobody noticed, except when I fell off pavements.  
I must say it is good to feel almost human again.
Almost.

What is he up to?
Boris has given his friend Dominic Cummings the right to change the way the Civil Service operates.  Hmmm.  Dominic has long wished to fiddle with this and other aspects of the nation, the monarchy, the constitution and so on.  Also how parliament works.  Hmmm this could be interesting.  Rumours abound, none of them healthy, and we approach a situation under Boris such as we have not seen for a long time, if ever.   The voters who wished for an end to EU rule, control of fishing, better farming, sovereignty and no more black people coming into the nation are about to get a shock, not just from the bills they will pay under the new NHS!

 

Boris Palmerston...

Boris likes to compare himself with Pericles and Churchill.  Pericles the great Athenian leader, who caught the plague and died in the middle of a war, and Winston Churchill, another great leader, one who did not die during a war.  However every so often I consider Boris to be more like Alkabiades, a chancer who led the people for his own advantage, and the great Victorian Prime Minister Lord Palmerston.  
Palmerston, an Irish Lord and thus able to sit in the 'House,' was a very hard woring tough man.  He was also devious, a womaniser and as such Queen Victoria would not let him in the house.  I see this man, while hard working and efficient unlike Johnson, more the man Boris copies.  He had little in the way of morals bar 'Me first,' and his desire to make use of one of the queens 'Ladies in waiting' against her wishes and while resident at Balmoral with the queen in residence did not go down to well with those around him.  He was 55 at the time, she 22 and unwilling!  
His scandals, and they were many and well reported, made him popular with the people.  The more the queen objected the more he was liked.  Something about Boris gets a similar response.  His morals are non existent, his plan similar, yet his cunning gets him into a position of power, his popularity soars.  This gibbering wreck has not confounded people, many said he would be PM one day, the sad thing is that this has happened.
His cry today of supporting 'working class voters' reminded me of Palmerston.  He spoke to a gathering of artisans indicating that these bricklayers, carpenters and plumbers could one day reach up to his level at the top of the aristocracy.  Lies, all lies!  He had no wish and no intention of losing the aristocratic grasp of power, indeed while he made many social changes he refused to consider a reform act and enlarge the franchise.  That arrived only after Palmerston died in 1865 with Gladstone and others seeking to create such an act.  Boris appeals to the workers who voted for him, he offers answers, peace and money.  He claims to protect the NHS, jobs, economy and anything else forgetting that his promises get forgotten, he lies blatantly and he cares not a jot about that.  Even if like Palmerston Boris gets arrested making a fuss attempting to reach one of his unwilling  girlfriends, he was 80 at the time, I doubt this would hinder his popularity, indeed it might enhance it.  Only once the birds come home to roost will Boris be exposed and this could take time.

      

The Hangover

These are the people responsible for Boris's victory, the sheep! By the million they came out in their plastic macs and braved the rain to destine the UK to disaster.  While Boris celebrates many of his voters are found to be informing those of brown or black hues that "We won, you are going home!"
This is unfortunate when home is south London or Doncaster, I wonder where the council will get all the houses from?   While a bit of a joke in some areas it reveal the deep reason the majority voted fro Brexit, race!  Thirty years of lies from the right wing press pandering to their xenophobic attitudes and English supremacy, added to by the fear of an Islamic take over, has resulted in a fear of the EU and a demand to end immigration before our 'white state' has been removed.  Now many thinking people consider the EU a bad idea but the power of the vote was emotion and the sheep fell for it.  The media set them up and they followed on.  
Now we await Boris!
Already he has told Nicola she cannot have an independence, her reply would have been put in a full and frank manner to the lying incompetent but I am sure he got the message.  His friend Trump and other such gangsters would have been called by Boris, hopefully in making and receiving all these calls he did not accidentally phone one of his ex-wives or girlfriends by mistake.  Address books can be complicated can they not?  
So while we head for destruction the Labour Party sort themselves out, 'sort themselves out' being Labour Party talk for 'infighting.'   The squabbles within Labour have always been deep and full of resentment, no matter the cause, and while the Tories offer a pretend unified front the Labour Party have never bothered with that and grumble openly.  This could take some time.   
The reasons the non sheep had for voting for the Tories is unclear.  Some did not wish to leave the EU but voted for a known liar anyway, others considered Corbyn unfit, and the oppositions lack of policy also aided the movement of voters.
Worryingly the end of 'unity' is at hand.
After the second world war there was an agreement that things must change, allowing for different parties view on how such changes ought to come about, this attitude remained until Thatcher in many ways.  Her money first idea killed that and encouraged selfishness, always available in society, and developed this individualistic approach so much that the sons of Thatcher have made use of this to get to the top.  Divide and rule, encourage blame, point the finger at the cause, whatever that may be, and at no time offer a real united front against the real cause of any problem.
Worse still, the brandy got knocked over...

Duty Done

I did the dirty deed and entered the rather quiet polling station and placed my cross in an appropriate box.  The pace had been steady, busier early on, but voting was proceeding quieter than I expected in UKIP land.  The rain which had started just before I entered I hoped would put the sheep off voting and give our man a chance to remove our sitting MP.  Little chance as I see it, his majority might be dented but too many sheep for him to lose sadly.  We await the result trembling as always. 
Before voting I coughed my way up to 'Biscuits' to meet my museum friend.  Over expensive coffee and chocolate cake, she had a brown lump of something, I avoided this, we then put the world to rights, exposed faults at the museum, blamed the correct people but avoided the discussing the vote.  She sadly is a sheep, blind to anything other than Brexit like so many around here.  Logic does not change them, emotion leads, nothing Boris can do will alter their vote.  This is beyond the normal pattern of voting for a party, this runs much deeper and is a kind of blindness.  I talk here of thoughtful, wise, intelligent souls, many in the church are included, who follow blindly whatever the result.  A most interesting situation. 
Tonight I will lie awake, possibly brandy sodden, while listening to the drivel on the radio as results begin to arrive.  This may lead to more brandy than I stock!  My friend met me this morning as she is one of those who counts the vote.  So she will be abed by now, resting while preparing to count sheaves of papers correctly.  As our man is James Cleverley, a minister, they have been informed to wear white as the TV will be on hand to record the result. 
I thought the combination of 'Polling station' and 'Dinosaurs' went together rather well myself... 

The election, morning coffee, feeding myself and sleeping off the stress of voting has meant nothing else has been done.  There again there appears to be nothing happening elsewhere, the rain does not help, it is teeming down, and with no political mentions on TV because of the vote, I fail to see this stopping the right wing press offering advice as to how to vote however, there is little of interest occurring.  I think I will go back to bed....

The End Nigh, Brandy, Mouse....

Tuesday: Two days till we vote for the wrong government!
From then on we will despair of the mistake, blame them for it, not us, and ensure 'I never voted for them, no matter what I said before the election.'
The leaders are telling greater porkies than ever, Boris ignoring children on hospital floors more than ever, everyone offering billions here and there with no accounting and yet, when it comes to the vote, it is clear the vast majority appear willing to vote like sheep!
A couple more days of screaming headlines, lies mostly, misinformation, accusations and then the great climax.  A hung parliament.
Then we go through it all again in a couple of months...
Sadly the lying incompetent Boris looks like he might win, although there is hope in Uxbridge where he might lose out to a local man.  If only!  I wonder if he hopes to lose out so he can avoid responsibility for his mess?  Very like him, also like him is an arrogant approach that takes victory for granted so choose which you prefer.
All this rot takes a back seat to the news the Heart of MIdlothian have got a new manager and now the world, well Edinburgh, is filled with hope.  That is good news.

 
Up again last night coughing.
Felt not to bad during day and cleaned many things and sorted much out.  Then had to sit up all night.  Blasted thing will not go away.  Nothing helps.
So I opened my Christmas gift to myself, paid from those Sainsbury vouchers, in a bid to see if this helps.  In no way does it help but it tastes better than cough mixture. 
Weather rough, people rough, wind howling along.  
Good news on the mouse however.  The screams from next door indicate the mouse cannot break through my defence line and has moved back there.  John, the workman was in yesterday telling me she had been afraid it was a rat!  She went home to mother, her man obeyed her and followed.  We now await the next move by the mouse.  I lie awake, well I probably will tonight, coughing, and l will be listening out for teeth cutting though aged wood.  However I think we have won!

Cough!

James and a Mouse...

There is one clear error on the front of this book.  The xenophobic English refer to 'James I' even though the author himself states clearly he is called 'James the VI & Ist.'  This is the type of English contempt that James himself suffered from the English parliamentarians and their nobles.  

That said the author does a reasonable job with this book.

While stating he never liked Jams he looked into him and found much to admire, and there certainly is much.  James remains a mixed up character.  His upbringing was cruel though he became well red, speaking Latin, French and much else by the time he was 5 or 6.  Too many beatings from a tutor who constantly criticised his mother, Mary,Queen of Scots, had run away not long after he was born in Edinburgh Castle.  This meant he was pronounced King before he was weaned.  The nobles took care of him, mostly however those that did tended to die, either in war or mysteriously.  Being Regal was a dangerous occupation in the 1500's.

Being a short book we hurry through his squabbles with the Scots Kirk, his tendency towards Bishops never went down well, his move to London where he was welcomed and greeted by all.  His early success in ending war with Spain and in Ireland although he did tend to find it easy to spend money he did not possess.

His marriage to Ann of Denmark was not a great one, seven children arrived somehow yet most died before they were two. years of age.  Henry, who was destined to be King died aged 18, Elizabeth and Charles survived though Charles did lose his head of course.  While James could negotiate and be patient Charles could not.  James wrote many academic works including justifications for the 'Divine Right of Kings.'  How much he believed in in practice is debatable but certainly Charles fell for it and it cost him.

James wrote much in the way of theological works yet managed to spend his days hunting, sharing the coarsest of jokes and drinking far too much for a 'man of the cloth.'  Indeed most of his life was spent hunting, alongside a few chosen friends, mostly male and their behaviour was far from pure.  His youth may have been responsible but his bible reading, good though this was, failed him here.

This continued throughout his life.

His hunting may have been to keep him away from his ministers, however the work followed him wherever he was hunting and his duty was observed.  Possibly the peace of the country was preferable to the business of London, certainly less people to bother him and Parliament was a trial to him, as indeed it is to anyone who wishes to rule by themselves.

While welcomed at first James soon fund much resentment from Englishmen that Scots, 'foreigners,' were running their Parliament.  Such xenophobic emotions have never left the 'English' Palace of Westminster.  Proof, as if it were required, that Scotland must be independent from this grasping southern kingdom.

This is an ideal book to get a grasp of King James VI & I.  Other books will be of more depth and a differing impression possibly received but this is a good starting point.  

Whether he died grasping his last boyfriend is however is debatable...

  

Running behind time today as a visitor arrived before I was half awake, it was just after nine after all.

Then I had the household stuff to do while also discovering where the mouse had come from last night.  The brute had found a weak point and pushed his way through the wire.   I wonder if he has been reading about 'Colditz?'  Anyway, another bag of wire has gone in, more spaces blocked up and nothing edible will be left out tonight.

It would certainly be better if I had a cat.  However such a place as this, plus a main road outside my door, does not make that a sensible idea.  No nearby cats to borrow either.  I wonder if 'catnip' would put him off?  Either way I noticed small square chunks of poison in the shop and may well be baiting him with those  soon!

Lousy Mousey

Another mouse trauma has arisen.
While some have the joy of Boa Constrictors, Tarantula's and other poisonous beasts here in the cold wilderness of Essex mice and pigeons are out lot.
The pigeons have been thrown out and often sit glaring from the neighbours rooftops into my window, the mouse however has yet to learn his place.  His place is elsewhere!  He will learn it soon.

A few days ago I was irked by scratching, not me but the mouse scratching at the carpet.  It took a  day or two to actually discover what he was up to and keeping a light on all night chased him away. 
Two days later the neighbour knocked on my door asking if I had mice.  
The cheeky chappie had gone next door looking for nesting material, he had taken no food from me, and just chomped portions of his girls clothing.  He called in the Rat catcher who did his thing, sent in a bill, and left.
Two days later I noticed the mouse had returned to me.
Thanks a bunch!
Yesterday saw me moving heavy furniture so I could get down to the skirting floor under the old wall heater.  Do you remember those things filled with bricks?  The idea being they took in heat at night and released it during the day, total failure and costing a pound a day at that!  Under here the skirting board bends away slightly.  Aged houses have several such faults.  The mouse had increased the gap thereby avoiding the 'steel wool' I filled the gap with a while ago.  Yesterday I put the rest in place and suggested he try getting through that lot.  Other areas he had been chewing at were also dealt with and that night I went to bed content in his removal.

Very early this morning, around 8:20, I arrived in the East Wing.  A glance around revealed no sign of 'Mousey Mouse' so I burned my toast and cheese in the normal fashion.  I then looked through the grubby papers, Facebook, Twitter and my empty emails.  This of course takes time.  
As I returned my mug for refill I noticed the yellow container with several small potatoes within lying there empty.  "Empty?" Thought I?  Empty indeed!  The brute had got through the prison fence and gone off with seen small potatoes!  All of them were now lying down by his gap, the failing steel wool brushed aside!
Grrrrrrr!  Thought I.  This means wandering up the road again.

Breakfast was somewhat hindered by this revelation.   I stared out awaiting an easy answer, there was none.  So, soon afterwards I was off up the road, on a Wednesday when the market draws in the crowds, hoping not to bump into people who talk all day and say nothing just like I do, and was delighted that while the temperature remained low the sun did decide to reveal itself.  
Having wandered around the usual shops I finally fell into the 'ironmongers' I suppose we call it, one of those shops that sells almost everything, and found my way to the 'steel wool' piled in the corner. There was until recently a similar style shop run by an Asian family, possibly Bangladeshi.  This was a great shop, filled with the products of Chinese plagiarism it contained many things you needed and lots of things you did not realise you needed until you saw them on the shelf in front of you.  Cheap and cheerful friendly family with very little English between them, I loved that shop!  Then B&M opened nearby and killed them off.  They could compete with the popular local 'ironmongers' up the road but not with a big store also and sadly they moved away.  Now we also have a 'Poundland'  come to the town, and while they have the basics they are not like the Asian shop.  Still I give gift cards at Christmas, I hope 'Poundland' do them! 

Armed to the teeth with wire wool I spent some time face down filling in gaps, then cleaning the other new found spaces that the brute uses and finally, having hoovered up the mess, I was satisfied.
A trap is set, if he comes he has only one place to go for his potato, one of which is set before him, ad if he gets through the 'Hindenburg Line' I may have to either obtain more wool or obtain rat poison.  For myself!

I suppose it livens up a bored life.  But I was not bored!  I suppose it keeps me busy.  But I was busy, not actually doing what I ought to do but I had plenty to do if I had done it.  Instead my day has been wasted with this brute.  Of course if it works then he will be off next door again.  They are young, they can do the caring for the mouse, not me.   
Now with that attended to, my dinner burnt, all else pushed aside I can turn to watching the football undisturbed except by women on facebook demanding my attention for small things.  These women have no care do they?

    
  

Xmas.

'Tis the season to be jolly!'

'Christmas comes but once a year

 and when it does it brings good cheer!'

There can be no doubt these words were written by a madman!  
Today is the first Monday of December, most of my Christmas cards have been posted, most will have arrived by today.  This not only avoids the Christmas rush it reminds those at the other end to send me one also!  As they collect their post guilt and panic will begin to arise and then the consideration of cash while a rushed list of names is scrawled somewhere.  A list that will be amended when the forgotten are remembered later.  

I reckon I require one or two small gifts for young kids of my acquaintance, nothing expensive as they will already have too much, just tokens, and possibly one for an adult and some things for my sisters parcel, full of junk usually.  Most disappointed with the charity shops this year, nothing suitable was found at the weekend.  I may have to visit those in town before finishing my Xmas shop.

I hope you have started yours...

  Al Jazeera

There is little positive to have come from the Terrorist attack of Friday bar removing the election from the front and indeed middle pages of the media.  A lone attacker, influenced by a minority reading of Islam kills two people working in rehabilitating those caught up in crime and terrorism.  Some degree of irony in there.  

Sentenced to 16 years, but allowed out in 8, and freed early on licence because he was not considered a threat has allowed the politicians to spend much time blaming one another rather than finding a mere secure way of dealing with such persons.  

Personally I would suggest let him serve his sentence, that however might be too radical for some.  Cutting his sentence half way through could be dropped, but some would object.  Not letting him out on licence early might also be an approach but again that makes me sound like a 'Daily mail' reader, and that would never do.  Still had such a situation been followed two useful people would still be alive and being useful with several others no longer wasting time in hospital and missing useful work.  

To suggest spending more on the constabulary, prisons, probation service and anti-terrorist work might be seen as expensive.  This is true, however the cost to society and individuals with such incidents occurring might be greater, but not however recorded in government fiddled statistics.  Had this been the case we might have better prisons, less re-offending, more rehabilitation and less terrorists walking the streets.  Just saying like...

Famous: 1914 - 1918

This has been an interesting second hand book.
On Remembrance Sunday I read my portion of the service which included items from individuals life experiences during the war.  Richard van Emden was the man who had gathered, or actually his wife,gathered the material which we used.  So when I saw this book I had t have it as I was always interested in the war experiences of these famous men and these were for the most part real war lives.
Harold MacMillan, later to be Prime Minister spent considerable time lying wounded in the field, between two lines and with conflict chasing past him.  More than once he was wounded and for the rest of his life had trouble walking and little use of his right arm.  He still made it politically and we could do well to have him back today, he would be appalled at his party under Boris.
Ralph Vaughan Williams joined the RAMC, possibly because of his age, as a private and served on the western front and in Salonika where he achieved a commission at the age of 45!  Always 'unkempt' he failed further promotion because of his lack of consideration for such niceties as tidiness but he remained a popular and efficient officer.  His music reflected his war, while climbing the slope with the ambulance wagons towards the line he noted the countryside and the colour of the sky from which he began to develop his 'Pastoral Symphony.'  It was a war scarred vista that brought out the music, not a sweet countryside view as many think.  The war was not something he ever forgot.
J.R.R. Tolkien like the rest never got over the war, though he wrote little about it he manifested the war in his writing, most clearly in 'Lord of the Rings' where many see reflections of the war exposed.
John Christie, more famous as the murderer from '10 Rillington Place' did indeed see time on the western front during 1918 but his service records are somewhat dubious.  His claim to have been gassed and wounded are not exactly well documented though extremely likely as is the fact of his many small crimes which followed him during his life.  Christie was a mixed up individual, his life complicated and while war service may have encouraged a maladjusted life style it probably made little difference but did offer him an excuse on occasion and allow him some leeway while in a courtroom.  He was hanged eventually, unmissed by anyone it appears, in 1953.
Not all 'our boys' are 'heroes.'
Tom Denning was one of five brothers who enlisted, one dying in action another failing through TB while in the Royal Navy.  Tom Denning, like all good barristers very good at maths, and he joined the Royal Engineers in 1918 as he thought his maths would be of benefit, indeed they were.  Careful maths study enabled him to dig a tunnel from two directions and find much pleasure in them meeting exactly as planned, not easy in wartime.  Denning's war was fought during the 'last hundred days' as the allies pushed the enemy out of France and Flanders.  This required the erection of bridges and pontoons over canals and flooded rivers, always under fire and as he passed the sight of dead and dying men all around, from both sides.  
After the war he resumed his legal profession becoming the second highest judge in the land and famous for his exclamations throughout his time.  His most famous work was the Report into the 'Profumo scandal' of the early 60's.  Denning died in 1999 not long after his one hundredth birthday. 
C.S.Lweis, A.A.Milne and many others are mentioned in the book.
A piece on their war time experience, some background info and in my view too little critical examination, even allowing for the few pages available.  Their failings are glossed over, which in such a book may be understandable but it does appear to avoid controversy somewhat.
I enjoyed the book however.  Each chapter was readable and shirt enough to stimulate more study and saved time reading about the less interesting people.  Clearly all found the war affected them for the rest of their lives, some more than others.  If you listen to their music, read their books and read about them somewhere you can better understand how these men viewed the world.  
Well worth a read.

Happy St Andrews Day

  

Stupid Man in the Dark Rain

"Only a stupid person goes out into the dark, in the rain.  Especially when there is no need to do so"

You are talking to a stupid person. 

It crossed my mind that as darkness falls shop lights stand out, go take pictures.  Great idea!  There was no rain when this thought came to me.  However, out I went, into the downpour, cheerfully splashing through the puddles that arise on pathways that are supposed to be flat but are anything but.  Crossing the park meant meeting many such puddles and in the morning I suspect many an individual will grumble loudly as they walk the dog before the skies turn to gray.

As the 'rush hour' had ended, much improved by an accident at the roundabout that ceased almost all movement for an hour, much hot air in the atmosphere as people made their very slow way home, as folks had mostly gone and the rain drove others indoors the streets were quite empty.  This was helpful.

  

I could have remained wandering for a while and ventured down to the big church where the local candidates, including Mr Cleverley, a Tory who does not live up to his name but has reached cabinet level, is appearing.  This goes against the grain for Boris who I note has been replaced at Channel 4 TVs Leaders debate by a melting block of ice set in a Conservative Party symbol.  Boris is not keen on meeting people who ask questions.  Andrew Neil at the BBC has interviewed two leaders, a third on the way, but Boris cannot make a date?  His own constituency has not seen him for a while and he refuses to meet at their local debate.  Possibly he ought to take up running, he is good at that.

However there is a good chance he will lose at Uxbridge, maybe he wishes to lose?

  

Listening again to the Beatles 'Rubber Soul' album I was struck by the passing of time.  In 'You won't see me' there is the line 'When I call you up your line's engaged.'  A reminder of the time when to stop an incoming call you took the phone of the hook.  That does not happen today.  I suppose what they call 'voicemail' takes over or just ignoring the call, numbers of callers often displayed these days.  It just made me think how long ago this tremendous album was made.   December 1965 it appeared, long before we were born, yet it remains a great album, I think George claimed it was his favourite.  I read in the dreadful online 'Daily Express' that John thought the 'White Album' best, mostly because Paul disliked it as he was not in charge!  Paul preferred 'Sergeant Peppers' in which he was in charge.  Hmmm... Ringo preferred the second side of 'Abbey Road,' but I am not sure what he thought of the first, "Peace and Love," probably. 

Standing in the shop doorway I was a wee bit tempted to enter the 'Swan' but as it appeared only three people were making use of this recently re-opened pub I deferred.  That spot is where the market began in 1199 with a variety of locals dropping stuff in that area and trying to flog it to one and all.  King John was pleased as he got the taxes from it.  At some time a pub arose, when I cannot discover, but round the back a later addition is dated 1590 but whether it was a pub or a dwelling for one of the rich I know not.  I think myself the house came first and the pub later, it does not look like a success at the moment.

The problem with social media is that it does not go away.  Whereas in times past it was difficult to find something written in a newspaper or said privately in a pub or even at a public meeting, a search of past papers takes time, nothing can be proved in 'pub talk' and things said at meeting are difficult to obtain conclusive evidence about, today anything said can be fund quite easily.  So, daily we are finding candidates from all parties being hounded out because of things said many years ago in the press or on social media, no wonder so many false names abound online!  Boris apparently claiming single mothers produce poor quality children is a case in point, his child, the one he ignores and pretends does not exist, is now all over the social media, but not the Tory press, I wonder why?

I must go and delete my history...

I am not convinced by the sparkling town Christmas lights.  This does not reflect a booming economy.  Or indeed a council or town centre willing to spend money to encourage visitors.

It has been mentioned that Trump is visiting troops in Afghanistan, telling them the Taliban want a deal.  It may never cross his mind what the troops think of his visit, privately.  They can now tell the folks back home they have sat near the President of the United States, many relatives will ask "Where was your gun?"

"TAXI!" 

Time for home, this rain gets everywhere, even in my pockets...