Thankful Thursday

I am nonplussed by the situation, a situation in which even the squirrels will not jump over the railings, cross the busy road, climb up the walls and offer me a gentle back massage.  They appear keen to do this for one another.  Possibly they have been reading the responses I have been given from a variety of femalehood who rejected the opportunity to do this little job.  These were not very ladylike I must say.
However life is getting better, today I stumbled up to Sainsburys before 7:30 to collect the basics required to keep me going until the weekend.  This shop is not far away but having carried a small bag back home I think I can feel the effect on my back.  Still, I will be OK soon, it is the people who have pains that cannot be traced and lead to long term hospitalisation that I feel for.  It came to mind my time in the infirmary in 1974.  I was asked to help set up the 'ironing board.'  I looked at the sister and she giggled before a nurse took me to the bottom of the ward where a contraption, like an ironing board had mysteriously replaced a bed without me noticing.  (I was busy elsewhere)  Here we put together what was just two rather thin pieces of strong wood, like an ironing board, and obtained a patient for whom this was intended.  The man lay down on the bottom board, hard and unyielding, the board, not the man, and as he lay staring into space the second hard board was lain above him.  By tightening the screws on this torture table we turned the poor man over every two hours.  He was to spend three weeks with us on this board in an attempt to clear his back problem.  I have no idea how it ended or whether it worked but I hope never to develop whatever he had developed.  Poor man.  
Anyway the cough woke me at five this morning and by six I was having breakfast with the remnants of the stale bread.  I then visited the store, had a bath, boy I needed one, and after having read several chapters of my new book and the water getting cold I did the laundry!  What an exciting day! Was your day as good as this?
Having been unable to do anything this was indeed a relief but I feel not quite with it yet, showing just how much of a wimp I am, and I am planning my return to exercise next week.  Funny how during November I was exercising and beginning to feel quite good.  One cough from a friend and here I am standing at the undertakers up the road checking prices!  
Tomorrow I will just sit and read all day...

BBC

When you play at war accidents happen.  Men get jittery and fire before they see the enemy, others automatically respond, on occasion some care little and open fire anyway.  Now it appears the Ukrainian passenger jet shot down after leaving Tehran airport might have been accidentally destroyed by Iranian anti-aircraft fire.   176 persons, some Iranian, were lost. It would be all to easy to say "Trump, your grandstanding caused this!"  But I will not say that.

 ITV

I wonder if Harry really thought this through.  Just because your bint says it ill be OK does not mean it will be OK, especially when she does not know what she is talking about.  Grumbling about press coverage is understandable, sue them I say, but 'stepping back' from being royal does not work.  The grubby media will be even more desperate to seek you out, the chances of 'earning a living' is just nonsense, and the desire to keep all the houses and rich lifestyle with the income is unworkable.  
If they give up royal duties this means losing the wages that go with it, they do not appear to have considered this.  Who will employ them?  Or who will make use of them, probably that is a better question, and now the Piers Morgan's of this world have tasted blood and these men will never stop, even if the law says they ought to.  Life is not going to get easier Harry.

Oh me Back...

It looks like this will be an interesting year.
So far the cough has not left me, I have had a run in with a lout, my arm aches and my knees continue to bother me, and now I have a bad back.
The other day, while dosed up and coughing, I had an encounter unexpectedly in Tesco.  This irked me somewhat and I was less careful of what I was doing.
Saturday night, while my cough developed into a new level of horrid my lower back began to stiffen.
Why does it take 24 hours to come out?
By Sunday, little sleep from coughing and much aching in the back from the same I remained indoors watching cricket.  This was OK.  It reminded me of the long gone days of BBC covering the cricket, always better than anyone else I say.  With Brian Johnson and his gang on the radio I had the set on all day as I pursued my studies (pretentious moi?).  The BBC were always somewhat laid back while watching cricket, the weird folks in the crowd, the pigeons, people carrying trays of beer while the crowd awaited the spill, all good and proper.  Sky coverage here is also quite good.  They do keep offering computerised images of balls in various places around the wicket but these do not distract. There is always time to find Charlie Chaplin in the crowd.  So apart from the response by South Africa, still 326 runs required but not collapsing England style, I have actually enjoyed this boring game quite a lot.  Some of it I am even beginning to understand.  
However, every time I stand I ache and while things will improve day by day I am not happy. 
My arm still has an ache from Christmas, my back has joined in, my cough still hates me and my knees are enjoying the rest. 
I cannot wait for what will go wrong next.

Ah, world war three, that's what happens next!
Boris, who has eventually returned from holiday in Skegness or somewhere has got to work.  Dominic Raab, the sleepy Foreign Minister, was on duty over the weekend, his first response to Trumps murder of the Iranian thug was one calling for 'de-escalation,' a fancy political way of shouting 'Leave him alone, it's not worth it.'  Soon however the Yanks were grumbling about a lack of support from Europe, I wonder what caused that?  A quick call to Boris, a quicker call to Raab and soon the UK message was one speaking of how awful the Iranian was.  But de-escalate anyway.
Donald has pushed his luck here, he now knows the 'allies' will not encourage a war just because he is getting impeached and an election is looming.  The French and Germans have spoken to him, in full and frank tones I suspect, and made clear what he ought to do.  Whether he was listening I know not.
Have you ever wondered if Twitter would withdraw the Presidents Twitter account?  He threatens war and this could be breaking their rules.  I bet many have complained but so far he keeps twitting, as indeed any twit would.  Excuse me, I have to go check mine...

Glasses

This lunchtime I stumbled down to the crowded 'Specsavers' shop to collect the new glasses.  Sadly, the young Welsh girl was not on duty and after waiting a few minutes the boss pushed me through and a handsome young man dealt with me.  This was not what I wished!  A delightful young blonde who flashes her eyes and smiles is what I wish for, not a handsome 20 something with a probable 1st in advanced maths, highly intelligent, liked by all the girls, will progress to some high rank in the civil service or business earning asses of cash and remain popular with all.  When I meet folks like that the word "Sickening," goes through my mind...pah!

Anyway, having arrived a few minutes early and found the shop crowded I expected to wait a while. However the woman in charge got me seen to (a lot of people claim I need to be 'seen too.') by the Aryan gent and efficiently he also rushed me through and soon afterwards I was once again outside trying my long vision as I made my way home, tripping over the pavements.   In all I was home in 30 minutes, often while getting new glasses it takes that long in the shop.
Now I just have to get used to the things.  The outdoor pair appear OK, I find they are never quite right but not worth fussing over, and the indoor ones allow me to almost see the TV from here at the laptop.  It takes a few days to get to know them, I expect to fall downstairs a couple of times this week...

As there was no football live last night, none today either, I lowered my expectations and turned on the cricket.  I did this when I noticed England were struggling and as this is always appealing to me I began to watch intermittently.  I just finished writing about 'Specsavers' turned on the cricket and England got a wicket!  Grrrr!  South Africa were doing so well and may have thrown it away now. Tsk!
One thing I notice that surprised me was the players wearing numbers on their backs.  This looks somewhat tacky to me.  Helmets and such like make sense but I see no need for numbers.  Cricket followers arrive for the day, prepared for everything.  You see them with hampers for lunch, blankets for cold, sun cream for warmth and binoculars to watch the tea room and spectators in other parts of the ground.  Why the numbers?  Tacky I say.
The bright sun, which came over today, and blue sky and the mountains in the rear are wonderful to see, as indeed are the occasional exotic bird which appears feeding on the ground occasionally.  All this is to my mind more interesting than the cricket.  However as South Africa are slowly catching up with England's feeble score I am quite happy.  This makes a change from watching football in the rain.

  
Now is the time to check that insurance policy.  I suggest the bit about 'Iranian Terrorist Attacks' should be updated.  The 3 year old orange man in the White House has done it this time.  There are many reasons no-one has suggested taking out Soleimani before now, so why has it happened?  The idea that this stops known planned attacks is a somewhat weak excuse, even if some attacks were planned, and the thought that a small war against Iran might aid his chances of re-election this year cannot be ignored.  He is not the first US president to risk his own men's lives as well as thousands of others with them just to keep his job.  Nixon persuaded the South Vietnamese to withdraw from an armistice Lyndon Johnson had arranged on the basis that he would get a better one.   
 The war continued for another 6 years costing 20,000 US troops and how many others, did he care I wonder?

Tit-for-tat is al very well at a low level but when you take out such a man as he you go up a level and risk outright war.  Iran has no choice but to retaliate, and powerfully.  Many of their people will demand this.  Many more will become willing to sell themselves for their nation, both in the middle east and abroad.  Did the trigger happy clowns around Trump really think they could do this?
It is clear they did not discuss this with any so called ally.  The UK were not informed, it is clear they are not keen on this adventure either.  Had they been informed a clear strategy would have emerged, "Don't do it!"  Maybe that is why they were ignored? 
Something will happen, sooner or later, but some senior person may well be dealt with by an Iranian group.  

Be Happy...

New Years Day

I tried the Garfield style for a while today and filled my time by drinking tea, eating 'Black Bun' and watching football.  Though to be honest my mind wandered here, there and everywhere while doing so.  There was little response outside.  A dog or two was seen in the park opposite walking the owner, running free and full of joy, the dog not the owner, while gray clouds hung overhead pretending to be in Edinburgh.  

Around eleven I was desperate to be out of " or whatever as they pass but in the past ten years many from outside have brought their London ways with them.  This means people are less likely to offer such greetings and the mob I saw were clearly of that grumpy mind.  Even the dogs ignored me, the preference for strange aromas found round the legs of park seats appeared more delightful to them than my presence ever could.  

I stumbled into the edge of town, accidentally collecting £100 from the bank as I passed, noted that 'Iceland,' 'The Edinburgh Woolen Mill,' 'Sainsburys' and the Bookies, the usual suspects, were open but little else as far as I could see showed its face or moved.  Sullen people moved slowly, grim faces in the slight chill, eyes not indicating anyone was at home, even the birds were missing bar one white pigeon, no leftovers from last nights takeaways for them today.  So I returned home to feeble football, filling in the second calendar dates, removing the many Chinese spam links that appeared late last night and began to read one of my new books.  Question, why do Chinese spam merchants think we will understand them?  Are they not aware that their squiggles mean nothing, indicating little to outsiders?  I suspect I know what was on offer however. 

The 'Roaring Twenties' have begin but they appear a bit slow at the moment...

Hogmanay

On his last album John Lennon had a song which included the words:-
"Life is what happens to you when you're making other plans."
Today the plan was simple, first off breakfast, then Tesco for last shop off year, then ash, shave, fall asleep.  Simple and straight forward.
So awakened by a coughing fit before seven am, forced up when half asleep, struggled around to Tesco by 10:30.  The place was busy, many kids wandering around putting things into mums trolley, mum swiftly returning them as she walks.  However as I left the house I noticed one of those Royal Mail 'You were out' type cards scrunched up in the letterbox left from yesterday.  The ratbag!  This meant that after Tesco I had to limp all the way down to the sorting office for this very important and unexpected parcel.

This parcel, unexpected but hoped to be something expensive, turns out to be a picture calendar of 'The Broons' that would not fit through the door.  Thirty five minutes of hobbling, a few minutes with a miserable fat bloke, too fat to deliver mail, and all for this!  Naturally my sister did not mention she was sending this, though she usually does send a calendar, but mention was there none, and I have just finished filling in all the birthdays on the cheap calendar I bought myself.  Bah!
Sadly this interrupted my planned day and now I suppose I will have to sit here and avoid doing the many things I planned.  What were they again...?  Ah, sleep, well maybe I will manage that one...

  Edinburgh Evening News

    
Hogmanay is the Edinburgh word for drunken hedonism.  Not that I would ever had anything to do with that.  In my day it meant gathering at a pub, then near midnight being where the  crowds gather, outside Tron Kirk then.  It appears that these days the Edinburgh toon cooncil wish to make it more appealing to foreigners, foreigners with money, so not only is the Hogmanay celebration packed with fireworks and famous bands the previous evening a torch light parade marches through the toon.  I the late 60's they did not allow us burning brands, the constabulary thought it unwise!  
Anyway, some think the present day show is merely to bring in foreign cash, which it is, and preparations for the event take precedent over everything else.  Even to the extent of cutting down the Christmas tree that stands at the top of the 'Mound' and replacing it with an advert for 'Johnnie Walker whisky.'  The tree ought to stand until the 6th of January but clearly money talks and the tree, with the Christmas spirit, goes with it.  A mistake I feel.
I will loiter in my bed tonight, possibly with John Barleycorn to keep me company, possibly asleep. The hedonistic days are long behind me, although at one shilling and eleven pence a pint (two shillings and  penny on Friday and Saturday nights) there was a lot less hedonism than there is today. 

The year is passing, let us go forwards...

  

The Future and the Past

At this time of year there are the annual jobs to be done, clean the sink, throw out rubbish and fill in the birthday dates on the new desk calendar.  At least one of these jobs is now under way.  There was a time when I used to rush around cleaning the house before Hogmany in the usual Scots style until one day I discovered why we did this.  The cleaning of the house was an effort to kick out all the old demons and prevent new ones coming in.  Quite how this worked I never discovered and as it was superstition I decided it was not a requirement, now I don't bother and just do what is actually necessary.  Today I will begin to scribble in the dates, tomorrow I will remember the ones I forgot.   
Another year of joy and happiness nears the end.  I hope some of it went well for you.  The cough has taken almost five months of my life this year, the weight has refused to diminish, the knees refused to improve and my brain is failing in the usual manner.  Otherwise all is normal.  Next year promises more political lies from Boris, the failure of his present ones, and Brexit, if it 'gets done.'
The Far Right are rising throughout the west, only the churches in some areas appear to be aware of this, in the US one magazine has come out against Trump, in Hungary some evangelicals are opposing the leaders policies as ungodly, and in the UK many churches are following passing fashion and keeping quiet.  How sad.  I will prepare for the new year, indeed I might even have a bath, but I see no reason to go mad about it.  Hopefully it will be better than last year.

This is an interesting book, what with the election and all the hassle therein.  
Plutarch, writing in the late 1st century, discusses the famous Greek leaders, Theseus, Solon, Pericles etc, giving us a rather illustrious picture of each.  Considering Pericles was active in the 400's BC he has to read something into much of what primary sources, if any, he finds.  It is bad enough now researching men from the past imagine how little written works Plutarch found, and how biased could those be?  
What I got from the books was how similar to today politics in Greece happened to be.  There was dictatorship, or leadership if you prefer, forms of democracy, and men always willing to fight their way to the top by fair means or foul, just like today.  The only clear difference was that back then a leader had to lead the army in war if he was to be trusted, all had to be Generals of one sort or another, today they fight by stabbing in the back only.  All these men had to lead from the front and once the 'democracy' such as it was, was installed they had to persuade their listeners that their way was correct.  
It is at this point I found myself reading today into Athens.  
The speaker who could, using his friends and many a dirty trick, convince the people that his propaganda was the correct propaganda would win the argument and the people would follow.  So many time however the people followed the leader then changed their minds when things went wrong.  When all was well they voted for him, the black stone against the white in the jar.  If the war, or whatever enterprise they had been called to, failed the people quickly voted once again, often removing, fining or exiling the leader.  Democracy is great, innit?  
Some leaders of course deserved such treatment, Alkibiades a most obvious one.  Boris Johnson claims Pericles as his hero, Alkibiades is nearer the mark.  The people followed him when winning, brought him to trial when losing, praised him, feared him, and eventually when hiding among the Persians his Spartan enemy had him killed.  The Athenian people would have killed him anyway by this time.  Boris needs to be careful...
The people were followers at all times.  They thought they had a democracy, one for the actual 'citizen' that is, not the majority in the state, yet they were led then as we are now.  Today the press lies on behalf of the owner, the media follows who it will, the people obey the message, sometimes willingly, sometimes without knowing it.  Goebels is alive and well today as he was in Greece thousands of years ago, the style never changes.  
I liked this book.  While not a quick read it was interesting, and while Plutarch had little evidence bar others writings the book gives an insight into ancient Athens thinking, leadership and the failure of democracy.  Today whoever owns the media, TV, Radio, paper and social runs the world.     

Sunday Ponder...

While sitting in church, listening to a man with a tea towel on his head impersonating a shepherd talking about heavenly choirs, I found myself trying to work out what day this was.  Being here on two Sunday's and one Wednesday upset my mind clock.  Was this Wednesday or Sunday?  It was still Christmas, mostly the same people, and similar songs.  
If I felt this way I wonder how the curate felt, he had to arrange all these services, including amending today's as he could not work out how to have an 'all included' service while discussing massacring children, so it was shepherds and angelic choirs instead.  Still it went off all right, all appeared happy, and many still have time off next week.  
On the way home under a sun hidden behind thin clouds I passed many a Christmas decoration.  Several houses had blow up snowmen, penguins and signs saying 'North Pole' and a reindeer or two outside their doors, all lit up at night.  My first thought was 'Penguins do not live at the north Pole.' Maybe I was being pedantic but it appeared a pint worth considering.  If those celebration Christmas, the 'Christ Mass' could get things correct in small areas maybe they might appreciate Christmas for what it actually represents.
OK some monk who's name I forget decided to appropriate the midwinter festival by adding Jesus birth to it, a failed attempt to end hedonism, and in truth Jesus possibly was born in March or April maybe, a time when the shops are less busy, but here we are with Christmas at er, Christmas.
Whatever the date the entry of God into the world, he lowered himself to the position of a child, enduring the world as it is for around 30 years and then after a 'sinless' life laying down his life, being separated from contact with his father for the first and only time in eternity, and suffering physical and spiritual pain all because we are the imperfect ones and required his sacrifice or we are lost forever, whatever the date, he deserves a better remembrance than plastic snowmen and penguins far from home.
Of course, he also deserves a better response from those who claim to know him...

Slob Day 2

Slob Friday

The world returned to a semblance of normality today and I hoped to spend much time lying around like a slob.  However first thing I had to stumble down to the sorting office to collect a parcel.  The postwoman will not knock loudly enough on the door and twice I have not heard her knock.  She thinks she is funny that one!  No tip next year!  
Back home I opened the parcel knowing what was inside, my sisters offering of Scots new year food stuffs.  Black Bun, Christmas cake, cream, well Carnation milk for the pudding, and a bag of popcorn.  I am not sure about the heritage of popcorn myself.  Black Bun is however important, and these days very expensive!  I note she forgot the miniature whisky, I may drop a hint re this, subtly...
Now I sit around like a slob, refusing to tidy the mess, clean dishes or make any move that requires effort and answer Christmas emails while stuffing fatness down my throat.  I am convinced this is bad for me, but the sell by date is close and we don't wish to take risks do we...?

 

Boxing Day

It is always satisfying to find presents that meet our requirements.  Books aplenty will always be acceptable in this house, and one niece is successful in supplying my wants each year that way.  Her method is a simple one, she asks her son what book she ought to buy and he, from a distance, is always on top of the job, never a failure so far.  A book discussing clouds, from the great 'Cloud appreciation Society' is always welcome.  The sarcasm from someone living 400 miles away is not unknown in my family, quite where she gets her ideas I fail to comprehend.  Still it was a worthwhile xmas rummage through rustling paper yesterday, I was very satisfied and pleased all was perfect.

 
Unlike today, where gray clouds cover the land, yesterday began with a walk in bright sunshine to church.  There I was greeted by many women, kissed many times and welcomed by all my ladies.  The fact that I handed out chocolate possibly had something to do with this? Many were missing, some surrounded by grandchildren or families elsewhere, some sick with the cough.  The time together was good, although the tears when the preacher pinched a car from one child was unfortunate, and soon we all moved off to lunch.  It took some time to refuse the many invitations to lunch, or drinks at least, I considered it better to leave families to argue alone rather than join them  I was happier by the time I left than I have been for some time, a good day after all.

So taken was I by Xmas messages I allowed my dinner to burn.  The crispy burnt offering did not taste as I imagined but beggars and choosers meant I ate it anyway.  Later, as the sun dipped down, I wandered the quiet streets snapping shots  of the deep blue sky.  Strange looks from the few out and about were ignored.  

Afterwards, still smiling I ate my Christmas pudding with brandy sauce.  I then ruminated for a while.
I had no choice.  

All in all I had a very happy Christmas day, I hope you had a decent one also.

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.