Sabbath Snow

With freezing hands, I forgot the gloves, I hobbled down the road this morning.  Last night it fell to minus 4 they say, and the place was white with frozen glory.

Normally, we would not notice just how many spiders webs are hanging about us, but today all was revealed as the dew thereon froze overnight highlighting where the beasties had trod.  The mechanical knowledge of wee creatures that are born, find a corner, and design a web so intricate that engineers today would find baffling is something to admire.

 

 

The warm hearts at the kirk were welcome but a great many remained at home, thus avoiding the walk or drive across icy highways.  Enough of us gathered however to murder six songs, some of them mercilessly, and enjoy the piano playing, I think by Les Dawson!  

 

Tonight however, to the delight of children everywhere, and to the annoyance on grown ups, snow has descended upon us.  Snow, which they say will fall until six in the morning, now blankets the area.  Traffic, such as it is, slowly passes, leaving long trails on the road and exasperating many drivers, though the one who passed just now has no worries it appears, either that or no brakes.  

The heating is on, I am fed and cosy, now to spend time praying for the many friends who have serious troubles.  Why so many at one time I wonder?  Who knows, but age has a play here.  My friend Jesus however, knows all.

 

Cold Stroll

 

Clear skies above and frozen temperatures below, an ideal  winters day.  However, for those who had to walk, drive or cycle to work across a frozen white landscape their impressions may have been unwelcoming.  

The peely-wally moon struggled to be seen in the bright morning air.  Continuing his journey unmindful of the 8 billion below he hung above slowly disappearing as the sun rose higher.  Now taken for granted by us all but in the past early man watched the moon and the stars above circling the earth.  He calculated his journey, not always understanding the difference between a star and a planet, but very early on had worked out how they rotated above us, possibly understanding that we two rotated and moved through space also.

As I was passing, I decided to take the lift to the top of the car park where the frost whitened the layout.  Few park here, most prefer downstairs, inside, and free from chilly weather.  I wanted to see how the sun lay across the houses.

A light blue haze hung across the houses blurring the distant electricity pylons, the ones that power the homes and enrich the power companies.  The heat comes not from the radiators but from opening the bill every month!  It is nice to know the men at the top of such companies will not need council benefits to heat their houses.  

Under these whitened rooftops live some 40,000 souls.  I know this for a fact, partly because of the 2021 census returns indicate this, partly because each and everyone of them was in the shop early this morning stocking up for the weekend and Christmas!  December is a time when shopping must be done the minute the stores open.  Waiting until later means meeting the 40,000 and this includes the kids at the weekend.  

The dads, usually abused by the chattering classes in the media, were out in force once again.  The trailed behind them kids of to gatherings, organised or individual, shops, parties, special events, and things which cost dad lots of money.  One was seen somewhat bewildered by one lass, about 7 years old, who was much in tears though dad did not seem to understand why.  His perplexed expression was a picture.  I winder if he ever sorted this out?

I fought through the crowd and crossed the deserted park.  The grass was beginning to show green by this time, the dogs would be pleased, and the sun was reaching the furthest portions of the grasslands, easing the frost away, though by the time I write this scribble it is already back to zero degrees around here.  It was so cold in the morning I had to open the windows to let the freezing air in to warm up the house!  I might use heating tonight...

Cold, Grave Birds

We awoke to temperatures of minus 1c this morning.  The field opposite had a white sheen of frozen dew, the condensation covered the windows, and while the heating was on the moment I opened the rear window I quickly closed it again!  Too much at 7:30 in the morning!  I wished to rise early and search one particular shop before the crowds gather.  I took the long way round and popped into the graveyard behind the old Congregational Church in the hope of some sunshine glinting on the frost.  I was in time for the birds seeking nourishment, though they insisted on flitting around quickly making it difficult to picture them.  This was the best I could manage, the Robin sitting on the end of a grave deciding whether or not to leap down to the cold grass below.  I caught him just as he leapt behind the solid grave.  This looks like one designed to keep graverobbers out.  Before medical science was better organised medical students would acquire bodies for research, often fresh from graves.  The Ghouls would strike at night, which is why some cemeteries employed guards during the dark hours, and dig up the body and sell to a 'doctor.'  Thus many graves have iron fences, brick walls, or solid brick tombs atop them.  Today, these gather ivy and moss and are welcome perches for the birds of the district.

I searched the shop, every shelf, up and down, all along, and back again.  Naturally what I wanted was not on offer.  The only other likely place was not likely either.  Aint life grand?   Instead, I bought chicken bits from the local butcher, and listened while the girl explained to another customer about the lack of turkeys this Christmas.  With 'Bird Flu' present, and an incompetent government dumping Brexit on the nation, the farming world has been suffering badly off late.  "Turkeys," she said, "Might be available, but if so they will cost an arm and a leg!"  This bothers me not, I eat any old thing at Christmas, but for women like the customer this is important, though not important enough to break the bank.  No reason for turkey at Christmas anyway, just be grateful to have something to eat, and heat on which to cook it!

Is this a Rook or a Crow?  Rooks are usually in a group, Crows individual, and the mob we have around here tend to hang around in two's and three's, so I never know if they are Rooks or Crows.  Maybe they do not know this either?  My beautiful, highly intelligent, and nature loving great niece claims it is a Crow, and she should know.  So I am going with that.  While the Robin was dancing about below, this man sat high up in the tree planted at a graveside many years ago.  He appears untroubled by the cold, well fed, and well able to look after himself.  

How about a blurry, cold, Blue Tit?  Lots of them around here.  Clearly such places, usually quiet, are ideal for wildlife.  Small though it is there are many birds, and a squirrel took off as I approached and sped up a tree into the wilderness there.  I suspect the only thing they fear, apart from one another, are the kids coming out of the church hall.  A kinder garden takes place there, and the approach of toddlers and mums would scare anyone.

 

Joy Filled Freezing Wednesday

Joy at last yesterday late afternoon, Parcelforce collected my box a week late and took it in the right direction.  I expect it to arrive at the destination, a mere 400 miles away, sometime around March!  Joy also when the postman arrived today with a weeks supply of post.  One for someone who does not live here, one a charity, one money coming to me, one a Christmas card, the first so far, and a week late copy of 'Private Eye.'  Of course the parcel from Southampton, sent ages ago, has not arrived, nor has anyone else sent things to me.  I sit here, wearing those fingerless gloves to keep warm while surrounded by candles for the same purpose, looking for the parcel van to stop.  I await in vain.  

The temperature has indeed dropped this afternoon.  The cold from the north was not here last night, it will be here tonight however, and it has already begun to lower the temperature.  Up north snow may fall, here the freeze will be a pain, however, we will cope, as long as pipes do not burst, heaters fall over, and whisky coffee does not run out.  The simplest way to cut costs is to drink hot coffee/tea, place hot water bottle behind back, wrap something around rusting knees, and be happy.  This cuts running costs considerably, as long as you do not have to move about.  Also, as all women know, this is the time to do the ironing!    

Yes ironing, the woman's job not done by women here.  I keep asking for help but get rude answers.  Women I find are very susceptible to taking chocolate, receiving gifts and compliments but hesitate to actually do anything in return.  Tsk!

Last year British Gas sent me a form insuring my gas boiler for a year at no charge.  I found this unusual as I did not request this, nor do I require their insurance.  I ignored the letter, dumped it and moved on.  Today, I received an update asking for £92.76 for another years cover.  Now, I will dump this easily, but how many will be caught out thinking they always covered their boiler this way?  This is a British Gas scam and I wonder why this is allowed?  A free years cover you did not request, followed a year later with a chance to pay through the nose for another years cover?  With the vast profits these crooks are making I suggest they offer another free year to all those who already pay for such cover!

I certainly will not.

Parcelforce and PlusNet Upsetting the World, well me!

I'm peering into the distance.  I work on the basis that the harder I peer, the sooner the 'Parcelforce' man will appear.  This is a similar attitude taken by people standing waiting at bus stops.  As you pass you will notice them staring hard in the direction from which they expect a bus to appear, the harder they look, the sooner the bus will appear, or not as the case may be.  

So I sit here and peer.  

I ought to be fiddling about with the router, though 'fiddling' is to be understood in the terms of 'mass murder,' rather than 'fiddling.'  Once again the brute cut out during the football, five times while Brazil were exhibiting super skill against the Koreans.  My language was not biblical, my attitude not forgiving.

The intention was to call 'PlusNet' this morning but I hesitated until I have tried all the combinations, pulled all the wires, and shot the 'Outreach' engineer.  Unfortunately, or it is fortunate, I have had to await the, as yet unseen, 'Parcelforce' man.  Otherwise I may have been seen hanging around telegraph poles awaiting men in yellow Hi-vis while dangling a variety of weapons sufficient to make the Ukrainians jealous.  As it is the van has yet to appear, my parcel lies awaiting below, and he is rapidly joining the telecoms engineers in my estimation.  This parcel ought to have gone last Tuesday but was refused as they were on strike Wednesday and Thursday.  Insert 'I support the workers,' and 'Grrrrr,' here.  

Having discovered this brute was only giving 20.04, no wonder it is slow, I switched of the router, switched off the laptop, allowed both time to cool down and decide if they wished to work properly or not, then restarted them in due course.  The speed 'leapt up' (this is a misnomer) to 35.63.  Now this is of course better, and may enable watching the football today, however, it ought to be around the 60 mark!  Insert another 'Grrrrrr,' here.

Now I have a life, indeed it could be better but I do have one.  It is also true much of my life is lived through this blessed laptop, therefore when it fails all comes to a halt and I am exposed as trapped on a desert island.  I write a blog on here that few ever read bar those 'spiders' clawing information for Amazon, Google, Facebook and other chancers, but it is fun and an opportunity to shout at the world.  Indeed it was better in times past.  Some have died, some ran away, others drifted off onto Twitter, or family, or even a life themselves.  The rude repartee once enjoyed has lessened considerably over the last few years.  This is a pity.  Of course a great many got bored reading this codswallop, and who can blame them?  I read this and find myself yawning also.  

There is blue sky out there, though the remaining leaves are freezing off the trees.

Rishis Sunak, the temporary PM, is in hiding, Keir, the temporary leader of what was once the Labour Party and is now the red Tories, has decided to attack migrants, not support the striking workers, and probably wants to lead the Tory Party after the next election.  He has all their policies!  What a disgrace, so desperate to become PM he has sold the workers and runs after the Brexit voter.   His Gordon Brown led 'Devolution' amendments have failed miserably in Scotland, as they would.  Not that Keir cares, on the 'Red Wall,' matters to him.  

So the strikers continue to strike, on the railways, the post, the nurses joining them then the doctors and the paramedics.  December under the Tories with only thy right-wing press supporting their corrupt party is a terrible thing.  Of course Boris is behind much of this.  He is stirring rebellion, once Sunak fails at the polls as he must do Boris becomes the one to lead the Conservatives again.  Unless he is in jail of course.  It is time for Sunak to release the 'Russian Report,' and finish Boris.

December Sabbath

I stumbled off this morning to the Kirk in spite of the easterly wind opposing me, the distance apparently increasing week by week, and a woman invited to speak and lead communion as the vicar is still hiding far away in sunburnt India.  

No jealousy here.  

In the end all went reasonably well, I was welcomed by all the women, given a bag off leftover sannies afterwards for lunch, and Rosie spoke well and appeared to know what she was talking about.  Chatting to her afterwards I was impressed, an Anglican woman that knows God I thought.  A lift home and sannies, of various types, for lunch.  Then France beating Poland in the world cup.  No surprise there.

PRAYERS FOR A SICK PERSON 

O Father of mercies and God of all comfort, our only help in time of need: We humbly beseech you to behold, visit, and relieve your sick servant, for whom our prayers are desired. 

Look upon him with the eyes of your mercy; comfort him with a sense of your goodness; preserve him from the temptations of the enemy; and give him patience under his affliction. In your good time, restore him to health, and enable him to lead the remainder of his life in your fear, and to your glory; and grant that finally he may dwell with you in life everlasting; through Jesus Christ our Lord. Amen. 

Chilly Market Day

Another storming market day under the grey cloudy sky.  The wind chill made me wish I had worn the cap, the prices of some of the Christmassy stalls made me wish I was a top level footballer, then at least I could afford to but the home made gin.  

I did venture to purchase more Christmas cards for yet more names that appeared.  Do I really know so many people?  I also bought two more Amazon cards, just in case.  I have sent so much cash that next year I will be sending only Gift cards from 'Poundland!'  I also bought a £1 calendar, one of those 'One month to view, appointment calendars' to sit on the desk next to me ensuring I do not miss any birthdays as I have been known to do.  

I do this as if I had the money to cover it!  This, and sitting here with the heating sometimes on!  Is there no end to my callous regard for reality?    

Now I have just watched boring Netherlands defeat the USA, boring and efficient football has been their way since the 60s, I cannot see them end this now  Hopefully Argentina will sort them out in the next round, though they have to get past Australia, which they sadly will do.

Now it's bread and cheese for tea...How the rich live!

Pigeons as Bored as I.

I passed this day of wild excitement by visiting the shops and buying the wrong things.  Clearly my limited memory is going.  Not only do I make tea and forget to drink it, visit shops and forget to look at the list scrawled to ensure I do not forget, but I also fill the washing machine, add soap and forget to switch it on.  I expect any time soon to be found wandering around a park far from home while a police helicopter overhead tries to find me in the dark by use of thermal imaging.  This all depends on me remembering to actually go out of course.

I passed the old water tower, now used as flats, adorned by the local pigeon population.  This appears to be their gathering place, I saw them flock for a while later, possibly because of danger, possibly because the boys were having a laugh.  When in London, the view from my window took in the church opposite where pigeons lined the long roof.  The square tower belonged to the rooks and the few wood pigeons remained in the trees.  At regular moments the birds would gather and chat for a while before returning to their food gathering duties.  All organised, no union required, and this went on for years, and probably still does.  

As you can tell, nothing else happened.

More football shortly, this is unfortunate as it means I cannot hoover the floor now.  Shame, it will have to wait another week...

All the posting appears to be done, and I am ready for Christmas, are you?

World Cup Post Strikes

In spite of the postmen striking for the second day in a row I hobbled down to the Post Office and sent off two last packets, though that word does not cover the cheapness of the gifts.  The young lass smiled at me as always, though she was surrounded by two days worth of mail sacks full of items awaiting collection.  This was not helped by the man in the shop unloading a van's worth of items some of which were being dumped upon her.  

The strike continues, it appears to be having no effect on the Tory led privatised top bosses, the top man on £750,000 a year, who wish to amend the pensions, change the rota's, and altar every rule they can to save money and increase shareholders payout.  I doubt the workers, or indeed the railway workers and nurses also on strike for similar reasons will succeed.  The press is Tory controlled, the Labour Party (should it not change the name?) has distanced itself from the strikes in order to get the 'Middle England' vote, and it appears not a word about this was mentioned at PMQs!

Anyway, trudging back in the chilly sunshine I ate and slept.  Having cleaned some of the place today I was in danger of doing too much for my fat bulk.  With so much football taking time I have lots to do, and tomorrow will be another day of housework, possibly.          

Being the 1st day of December, the day I usually post my Christmas cards and parcels, I am a bit annoyed about the strikes.  Two items and one magazine are out there somewhere, no doubt being delivered soon, but I am becoming fretful regarding things sent and when they will arrive.  I support the workers, I understand how difficult life is for them at the moment, but it is a nuisance.   

So, I sit here writing cards, though all the posted ones are already awaiting posting, and these are mostly for the church people.  If I give these out early that forces them to present me with one!  No fool I!  

I know await the Costa Rica showdown.. In 45 minutes they will be playing their last game at the World Cup, against a desperate German side that are close to going out!  Costa will give their all, they may even score a goal, but can they possibly beat, and eliminate a German side?  We live in hope.

St Andrew

St Andrews Day: but where did he come from?

Andrew himself first appears with other Galilean folks at the Jordan where John the Baptist is baptising.  Large crowds were dwelling in the area, and Andrew, along with his brother Simon and many others later to appear in the gospels, were among them.  Clearly the sight of a prophet was enticing and clearly also they wished to hear and probably repent of many things.  Andrew himself had become a disciple of John and we are left wondering why a Hebrew fisherman would be so keen to repent and live a new life.  A fisherman's life is indeed hard, Andrew was a Hebrew with a Greek name.  This was not uncommon in Galilee as far as I know, far from Jerusalem, with traders and a wide variety of travellers passing through, the Galileans were more open to outsiders than their Jerusalem leaders, and still the Hebrews kept to the faith, in spite of many difficulties of the day.  So, why was Andrew here?  Clearly he felt some need to change his ways, a desire to be closer to his God, and possibly problems in his life of which we know nothing.  

Now the 'Lamb of God' had been baptised the disciples knew something was afoot.  When John indicated Jesus and cried ‘Look, the Lamb of God!’ Andrew and another of John's disciples decided to follow him.  They spent the day with Jesus and makes me wonder what was said.  Certainly Andrew was impressed by what he heard and immediately went to find his brother Simon.  "We have found the Messiah!" and he brought him to Jesus.  When Jesus saw Simon he said "You will be called 'Kephas,' Aramaic for 'rock.' (The Latin 'Petras' meaning 'rock' gives us the name 'Peter.')  This may have surprised Simon and Andrew.

Returning to Galilee the men returned to work.  I wonder what went through their minds?  Then Jesus turns up again, preaching by the shore.  Getting in to Simon's boat what he said inclines Simon to realise his sin, but Jesus raises him up.  Later, while they men were in their boats fixing the nets, a never ending job for fisherfolk world wide, Jesus called them to follow him.   Clearly their meeting with Jesus, his preaching, and the man himself enabled them to leave a decent employment to risk everything, including their lives, by wandering the land and leaving everything.  Some pull was very strong and Andrew felt this first.

Andrew was with the disciples from then on, though not one of the three who appear closest to Jesus. Yet Andrew is named as one of the twelve apostles, he is the one who offered the boy with a few fish and loaves when Jesus was asking how to feed the people.  And when the Greeks (diaspora Jews living outside of Israel) asked to see Jesus they asked Philip, who took them to Andrew, who then told Jesus.

Andrew appears only once more in the new testament, after Jesus had ascended he is with the brothers and sisters gathered in the room, hiding from the Jews, while praising God.

Very little information but we do see a man seeking a better religious life, finding the answer to his life in Jesus, and then offering himself by leaving everything and following him.  Clearly he had found a life such as he had not known before.

But what then?

In truth no official record has been found.  This is no surprise, Jesus is the centre of action in scripture, the works of the others are hidden from us.  There is some possibility that Andrew did visit the Black Sea area, even venturing into Ukraine and Russia.  The earliest manuscript appears to date to the 2nd century and there are rumours of him in Cyprus and elsewhere.  It is said he dies in Greece, and his relics have travelled about a bit as so many relics have done.  Whether these are indeed Andrews bones we cannot tell.  One story involves a monk landing on the Fife coast, luckily for him at St Andrews, and presenting the bones to the local king.  Another tale indicates the relics in Hexam, where Acca, the then Bishop, removed them when under pressure from his enemies.  He settled in Fife, though some claim Galloway on the west coast.

Does it matter?

It does to Oengus II who took to the field against Athelstan in AD 832 and called on God for protection as he was heavily outnumbered.  He promised, it is said, to make Andrew patron saint if he won, and the next day, with a saltire shape in the sky above, he won his battle and Andrew was appointed Scotland's patron saint.  It is also said by some that Andrew was already popular in Scotland, but does this matter?

Of course not.  Patron saints are dead people who some believe can hear prayer and give answers, or at the very least get Jesus to do something.  Scripture makes clear praying to dead people does not work.  You come to God the Father through Jesus the Son only.  Pray to him and answers may, or may not, appear.  Having a patron saint makes no difference to our lives, not one whit.  Why should it when we can talk direct to God himself through Jesus?  

Scots do not takes these tales very serious.  Bible readers can trace Andrew clearly, a man who believed and knew his God, but a day off for St Andrews Day would only be to worship Scotland, and to pull the nation together, few would expect a prayer answer from the great man.  I say great, yet we know so little about him?  Just reading the verses reveals the heart of the man, seeking God and finding him there at the Jordan standing in front of him, then spending his life following and proclaiming Jesus as Lord.   

The Beatles, Hunter Davies

 

In spite of the end to end coverage of the world cup, I have managed to finish a book.  This one, as you know, was published back in the 60s when the group were at the top of their game.  It has been reprinted and this one came out in 2017 so it covers, at the end, what happened at the end.

A big thick book, divided into sections  on each of the 'Fab Four,' both as they grew as a group and as they developed later, once 'Beatlemania faltered.

Now I appreciate my reader is too young to have known what is was to sit at the rear of a cinema while 'A Hard Days Night' was the film on show, watching both the film itself and the screaming wee girls who rose up every time Pauls face appeared on screen.  My objection to their hysteria was lost in the distance between them and I and the noise from the 'teenyboppers' themselves.

Males preferred John anyway.

We begin in Liverpool where the 'Quarrymen' began.  'The Cavern,' the 'Casbah,' and then the time spent in Hamburg are all offered in detail, detail according to the four themselves.  This included interviews with their families, who on the whole were supportive but soon fed up with the fans.  The tales appear quite open and as honest as possible considering the situation.  A situation in which every word uttered was interpreted and misrepresented by the media.  It was no surprise they hid away from the crowds at concerts, for many years.  It is no surprise they avoided interviews and if they allowed them refused to take them seriously.  The realisation that all questions were the same as last time, limited regarding what they did, wore, ate, and 'How long will it last,' brought a cynicism regarding the world outside these four.  

The touring years, from Transit vans to aircraft, hotel to hotel, did not allow for enjoyment much.  The cost of fame is not something most of us could endure.  It is too their credit they treated it all as a game, refusing to take anyone seriously, and distrusted all outsiders who wished to use them.

After the years of struggle and learning they progressed to an unwilling London.  Once however, they became big London was very welcoming.  London and the world and eventually the realisation touring had to stop.  They were tired, not writing new music, and needed to hide away in a recording studio.

New tracks, no directions, and the death of Brian Epstein, probably accidental, and then the trip to India with the Maharishi.  I think the same about him now as I did then.  George was already into Indian music, his mother loved it, and Paul and John influenced to some extent.  Ringo less so.

The 1968 book ends with them all in large houses (costing £20 - 40,000 at the time, around £2 -5 million today) appearing happy with their lot, at a distance from the fans, though the fans had also grown up by this time, and I thought a wee bit bored with life.  Having pots lots of money (don't mention 'pot.') does not make you happy if you have little purpose in life.  At the time they were still together and working on music.

Soon after things changed.

Yoko appeared, her outlandish Avant Garde style spoke to something in John.  His wife soon disappeared, John went into a new life, as indeed all were doing, and the 'Apple' concept went off its head!  Soon arguments, falling out, court cases and the results of bad management took their toll.  A split was required and the 'Beatles' came to an inglorious end.  

As time passed of course John was shot dead in New York,  George died, and Paul and Ringo survive, but must be about 80 now.   They continue, somewhere, money in the bank, living still the life of Reilly, but always considered a 'Beatle first, though this may not be how they consider themselves.

I liked this book, easy to read, very simple in places for the fans sake.  Good pictures, good interviews, but a sad feeling is left at the end.  Not only the break up of  a group of lads who were only being themselves playing music, but the wealth did not bring peace and love.  Even those we never knew around them, loyal and true, did not always end happily.  Some became successful one got himself shot dead in Los Angles.  And all who remained either died in due course or are old, like most of the fans.

The music remains however, music that opened up changes that may not have come without their innovations.  Music which attempted to change the world, but in the end offered just another failed enterprise.  We can now pick and choose which music to like to suit ourselves, the early 60s or the late, the music at the end of the Beatles or the individual tracks and groups that followed from them.  So much good music, much teenage angst, much outlandish and often written in a jumble of thoughts that needed more time.  

I will now go to my room with Beatles wallpaper, turn off the side light with the Beatles lampshade, get into my Beatles sheets under the Beatles duvet cover, and watch the football while listening to 'Rubber Soul,' or 'Sergeant Peppers.'

This books is good for all Beatles fans, well worth a long read. 

World Cup and Anglicans!

I wanted to get out this morning but the rain was teeming down.  I searched the weather men to find out what they were saying and found 'Light rain and gentle breeze.'  Lies!  All lies!  The rain teemed down, the breeze was wind, from the south and not so breezy, and so I remained indoors searching for second hand cars at cheap prices.  None were found, another dream shattered!  

Not going out I noticed a church stream on facebook from St James, Garlickhythe.  It would be easy to imagine this a made up name!   St James is just of the busy Upper Thames Street in the City of London, a 'Wren Church,' and one that claims to have made use of the Prayer Book of 1662 from then until now.  Hmmm...  Still, any port in a storm.   

I put up with this until 10 am when I switched on to the Japan v Costa Rica game.  This we all expected to be a rout, but happily instead Costa played well, especially under pressure in the second half, and even stole a goal towards the end and won the game one nil!  Naturally i missed the goal as I looked away at the time!  

This mean they are third in the table, Spain, Japan and now Costa have 3 point each, Germany in 4th place have 0 points.  Tonight Spain play Germany, a win for Spain, which is likely, will see Germany go out!   Costa have one more game, v Germany, if they lose tonight Costa are in a good position to embarrass them.  No need to open the brandy as yet Costa.

The recorded Advent service, the preparation for Christmas begins here, comprised the vicar, the verger, and a choir of four singing the service in a manner not likely to encourage vast numbers to attend.  Some of course prefer a religion that they can see.  In days of old there were idols to worship, some find it important to 'see' an object before they can pray, an invisible God who demands faith in him without such items is hard for many to accept.  I suspect this is also part of 'being English.'  This is what they expect church to be, a relaxed non obvious item church can be hard to understand.  In fact I was surprised when I first entered a Baptist Church and found no Black robed minister, no Beadle to lead him in, just a man in a second hand suit (it looked like) come from the back door and walk on and begin the service.  Nothing else makes sense now.  

Watching such a service, the elaborate Church, the singers, the young folks reading, I mentally compare this to the settings in which the bible originated.  A man dressed in fancy purple robes (no women will lead in this church I guess), candles for Christmas, middle class and excellent singers, I just wonder about the robed Abraham, David and Jesus and his mates, and this lot.  

Breaking off once again I return to watch Belgium v Morocco.  Again I find plenty to mumble about.  The close up of individuals faces, especially in the crowd, female referees!  Have they no pie stalls in Qatar?  Commentators and their mates exaggerating and talking baloney throughout.  There is always a lot to complain about in this house.  It's fun being a miserable old git!

The old git fell asleep and missed the only goal in the Morocco game also!  This is becoming a pattern.  

Maybe instead of watching more football I ought just to plan the week ahead, shop, spend, Post Office, spend, Parcelforce, spend, and maybe sort the Christmas cards out this time?  Maybe...

Saturday Sun and Football

 There was a pale sun shining through the thin cloud as I hobbled round to market this morning.  I went to obtain Thick Brown Tape for the pacjage I must send up north.  Luckily the cards I bought online from 'Etsy' arrived today, this means I can sort them out, send them off and finish others cards.  Only the one or two online shop left after this.  I boast to others about my good work, they are all very rude about it!  Apparently, though they have time, and have been aware Christmas is coming, they are not yet ready, many have not begun the task.  Naturally I rub it in, somewhat exaggerating my worth.  This does not win me friends.  

I had almost finished the bread I bought yesterday, this meant wandering into Tesco for a loaf, and only a loaf, but I accidentally bought other things, much needed, along with a, reduced price, bottle of Courvoisier Brandy.  I am not sure how that happened.  

When I got home I found I had forgotten the Brown Tape!

Fool!

 

Even I am wearying with all this non-stop football.  At the last World Cup I believe we only had three games a day at this stage, just like the Africa Cup of Nations also had.  Now we have four games daily until the knockout stage, and it takes a toll.  The routine has gone, things are rushed to fit in, and then the game is often ignored as other duties arrive.  I would love this if I were 15!  

However, one aspect is the chance to get involved with a stramash on Twitter about English football hooligans.  Naturally I trolled a wee bit, but the English are so imperialist, it comes out when you correct the media in that they are 'English fans, not 'British!'  Lots of laughs here!  The lack of knowledge about Scotland and the United Kingdom is apparent and all too easily brought forth.  Still, now I have several English enemies I did not have before, and one or two new friends.  It's all a laugh really.

 

Money, Wales and Clever Great Niece

Another day of rushing about to spend money.

At least I have found a way to spend an unusual gift card I received some time ago.  It has taken several months to find someone who will take it online.  Tomorrow I spend it!  

I had to purchase Amazon cards for some folks Christmas and birthdays.  When I got a note from my niece to say her daughter was getting her 'Masters' online, which meant I had to put aside watching Wales lose to Iran and go online to Edinburgh University to watch her!  This formal extravaganza, full of pomp and more pomp, meant watcher a line of clever people walk up, be doffed on the head by the man in robes, and pass on.  Luckili Rhiaan came on quite quickly, so I could return to watching the poor football.

However this does mean I have to send her a congrats card, which means put an Amazon card in with it, which means more expense.  It also means her dad and mum will now loudly reiterate the phrase used quite often in recent years, "Get a job!  A 'Masters' in Archaeology will not make that easy.  Looks like McDonalds again...

Wales disaster means they must beat England, and this does not look likely.  Tonight England imperialists take on the former colony of USA.  Which side am I on...?

 

Stanhope Forbes

 

Supreme Thrashing!

During the year 1707 the Scottish Lord's accepted many large bribes, retained their lands in England, and happily sold Scotland to English dominance without asking the people what they themselves wished.  The riots following indicated their position quite well I think.

Today the descendants of such Lord's have once again gone against the will of many Scots and bound Scotland to domination 'until England allows this.'   Any nation that has pride in itself will naturally be up in arms at this, not unexpected ruling, however, there appears to be online social outcry but little effective noise from the powers that be.  I wonder why?

The Scots government, led by the SNP, could as I understand it,

call an election based entirely on independence.  It would be good if those sitting as MPs in Westminster were also to resign their seats and force a by-election in each one.  Has Nicola got the desire for such things?  I do not believe she, her MSPs or her MPs have such willing.  Nicola enjoys being queen of the state, she cares little re independence, her power is more important, her MPs do not wish to lose £84,000 a year plus pension either. 

Once again Scotland is treated as a colony.  

Once again the Scots government will do nothing, while being well cared for thank you.

Once again England dominates a colony from which she dare not be free as she cannot pay her own way.

Once again Scotland loses out.

It is time for change.

I tried, honest I tried, but I could not watch Spain toying with Costa Rica.

As the thrusting, young, eager Spanish players warmed all over the unfortunate opponents I feared the worst.  Clearly this is not yet a Spanish side destined to win the World Cup, however, it is one with every chance this time.  

When the third goal went in and all over Costa Rica lunch was spoiled by the rioting natives I decided to join them, not in rioting but in looking away.  I returned to my Christmas shop.  Here I wished to make use of a voucher, from an unusual organisation.  I decided 'Waterstones' was the place to go online.  I searched, glanced back at the football to see the fourth goal go in, and looked away.  I sought books of solace, well anything really.  Every so often I glanced at the game, 5-0 now, I looked away.  I went through the rigmarole to pay and naturally the new voucher they say works is not represented here!  I paid anyway as well, I might as well.  With the post again on strike for two days they may be another Christmas present for me.

What?  Oh, 7-0 huh?  

OK, Costa were not going to win, this is the toughest group, and lots of goals will be sought at the Costa end.  Two more long games ahead for the goalkeeper...