From a galaxy far away...


...comes a host of seemingly rapidly
moving objects, undeterred by the
Doppler Effect. Are they daleks...
spaceships...ET's ON MISSION?

1. 2. 3.

One of the characters featured here has returned to the family home.
Could it be #1 who is saying, "This is what I am having, what are you going to have?"
Or is it #2 who are saying, "Life is just a larf, innit?"
Or is it #3 who has a very limited vocabulary, so must be a teenager.

This fierce, in-your-eyes looking creature called Berry is really a softie, some might say, a wimp, who it has been discovered rather likes his creature ( I use the term advisedly) comforts. He likes things to be without change or alteration. 2 days ago he was sleeping in Evie's room and the window was open for him to be able to go out into the garden for whatever reason. In due course of the day he did this. Later I happened to go into the dunadan's room next door and there this same Berry was on the window sill as usual waiting to come back in. "I always come in this way," he seemed to say, " so don't be trying to fob me of with the other window even though I know it is open." Cruelly I ignored him and returned to the open window of Evie's room and called him. He did deign to come, but honestly what can one say? Then yesterday a new bed arrived for Evie, to await her return to the family home, and there it stood with no bedclothes on it this morning. Outside the room a rather wet Berry loudly complained about something though it wasn't immediately clear what. He got a bit of tlc in our bedroom until it was necessary to stop as he got his claws out. I went to the bathroom and on exiting discovered him hovering around Evie's room, casting meaningful looks at the new bed. I couldn't believe what I was beginning to suspect, but I had to test it out. Sure enough as soon as I put the quilt, a couple of pillow cases and a bathtowel over the quilt since he was still damp, Berry immediately jumped up and curled up there for the rest of the morning. Now we know why he runs away from the streetwise black and white cat which periodically comes into the garden and at the sight of which he flees rapidly, usually back into the house. That one is not the same as the other black one which has twice come into the dunadan's room, and a couple of days ago came and mewed at my feet upstairs in the kitchen as he stood by Berry's feeding bowl. Whether it was already empty or he had just emptied it of Berry's remaining portions I don't know. So no wimp there. But Berry - you just gotta believe it!

Sing for your Supper?

Isn't this a cute Menu board? Spotted in the cafe section of the London City Mission's new arts centre in Limehouse. It does beg the question as to what you get for other numbers!

A runway?

Does this not look like a runway to you? I think it does, and in one sense it is. It is of a certain station which shall remain anon. at which we were told kindly but firmly that taking photos with a flash ain't allowed. I had already taken this one before hearing that moratorium but later the camera let me down and decided to break the regulations which is why we were then so advised firmly but kindly. And in what sense do I think the aforesaid is a runway? Well, simply that I took the photo and then had to run(a)way, except that we didn't but calmly made our way elsewhere. (Well, what can you expect from a Dad joke?)!

Correction of Correction

Re that blog below, you click on the 'bekayem' link.

Correction

By mistake I have written a blog on my other blogsite 'Misky' instead of this site. Could I prevail you, dear reader, to click on to it as it was intended to prompt a bit of thought and debate.

A Fairy Castle?

Did you know that you can see a fairy castle in London? Well, here it is with all the essential ingredients of turrets, roofs, multi-complex stories and a lovely colour tone. It is a shame it is slightly blurred, but then it may mean that Queen Titania had cast a spell to ensure no-one was able to get an absolute perfect copy to sell on ebay and so encroach on her privacy and relative laws.

Miss Leading Headline

The other day I was intrigued by an Evening Standard billboard which announced 'SKUNK FLOODING LONDON'. In my pedantic mood I thought, 'Shouldn't that read 'Skunks flooding London'? Even so it seemed a strange sort of phenomenon, which would be made much more of if it was really true that there were thousands of the darned critters galloping around the Metropolis. So then I thought, 'In that case can it mean that a sole specimen of the species has a very serious bladder problem?' The imagination boggled at this and I left it at that. The light dawned a day or two later when I saw the word used in an American detective novel in the context of drugs! It must be a very smelly drug!

('Thank you' to Wikipedia for the photograph)

Is this another stairway to heaven?

John ends his gospel with the declaration that he supposed the whole world could not contain all the books that could be written about the many things that Jesus did. I feel a little that way when going through London with the camera. I see so many things that one could take a photo of but surely there is a limit to the number of photos that the computer can take, even after editing, that one must surely need to keep buying new computers to take them all.

Today I was looking at buildings in Oxford Street and Soho Square, and the lighting display in The Plaza Shopping Mall. In the Square there is great variety for such a small area.

Whatever one says about London it is not at all boring!

A local feature

No guessing for this occasion! This picture is of the clock tower at Highbury Barn in Islington. I like it as as a structure and I think it bears some similarity with one of Evie's latest photographs, viz. that of Blackfriars Bridge, in its construction or materials and painting.
During the Peasants' Revolt of 1381 (Wat Tyler and all that) when the peasants of Essex and Kent and elsewhere rose up against the Establishment because of their hard lot in life and went a-rampaging around London, some of them came upon the manor house situated behind the houses in the background and burnt it down. The place then became known as Jack Straw's Castle, after the London leader of the revolt. In the 18th century a new house was built, which has now also gone. Then the area became a place to rest and take the air and a Tavern providing entertainment called Highbury Barn was built to the right of those houses and a few yards up the road. Rather like modern-day comedy programmes this went from gentility to scurrility and was closed in 1871. Nowadays the entertainment (genteel or otherwise) and the revolts and suchlike are provided by the local football team, whose ground was once called Highbury, being only just down the road but now is much a little further away.

3 Bridges

I feel I am getting quite classy with this view of three bridges. All the more remarkable for the fact that the viewing screen on the camera was dark and I was standing not that far from Blackfriars Bridge at the time so this was on maxizoom. There was an unusual amount of river traffic, a little of which you see here, due, I am told to the Thames Festival. The boat photo above was intended to appear after this text but didn't and I don't know how to make it.

So where can this be, apart from not very far from the previous mystery building?

more of the same

This is another view of the previous photograph. By the way, the picture of St Pancras got on site by mistake before I had edited the script. As I wrote then Iam still trying to get the hang of this procedure.

a London landmark

I have taken to the road in the local area and ealswhere in London again to capture the odd view or two, but try not to comapare the quality of the results with those like Evie and the dunadan witht heir superior efforts untill I have got the hang of it

new skill 2A

As you see I failed to achieve what I set out to do yesterday, which was to put two pictures on to the one blog. For some reason once I had done the first picture I was unable to return via the image icon to call up the next picture, and instead have had to do a separate blog to put what is referred to in the 'new skill 2' as the 'second picture'. Any suggestions on what I should have done will be welcome.

new skill 2

This time I have looked at the art of putting more than one picture ( or image as the blog technical bods call it) on the blog and here is the first. It follows on from the Beresford Road picture in providing a new view of what once was a familiar scene when our little cherubs were at Primary School. And equally follows on from Evie's 'when we woz young' photo theme. I say familiar but in fact the trees will be decidedly bigger than when they knew them, but I do like the way they frame the entrance.

The second picture has no character or merit at all that I can see. It shows the site of the other half of the Primary school where the big boys and girls went. What you see is, believe or not a block of flats. The original building was demolished and the new school is actually underneath these flats, and is reached by a totally different entrance. No playing on the roof in this school!

A new skill

We have a new skill - if skill is what one calls it. I had this sudden inspiration to take photos of our area which are associated with our introduction to London life. So today I took some photos of buildings and streets we became associated with soon after we moved here in 1970. The featured photo is of a road which leads away directly from the first house (or rather flat in a house) that we lived in. When we arrived the houses in it were selling for £7,000. I doubt whether they will be going for much less than £750,000 now. We now live at the other end of this road. We often come down to this end particularly to cross the road for buses and despite all the times we have done this and looked across at the street we have never seen how the trees in the foreground have made an arch. It also wasn't till recently that I discovered it has a gentle gradient up to the roundabout at the other end which is quite taxing when you are either ill or extremely tired and carrying/pulling a heavy case.

As it has been a long time since I wrote I hope that if any of you have been patiently dropping in at the blog to see if there is anything new will not be disappointed at what is breaking the cyber-silence!

change of circumstances

I started writing the blog as a place to comment on The Times news and letters . Although I did not do as much as I expected, it may now be impossible for me to do any. Why? Because the newsagent from which we had the paper delivered has closed due to some leasehold problems. They may or may not open again. The paper lad enterprisingly fixed up a job with another newsagent and we can continue to receive papers from this source, but since we are going to be away it would not be worth starting up with them until our return. In the meantime we are not missing the paper! It means I can't waste so much time after breakfast before I start moving, what with reading it, doing a crossword, a sudoku, and they've just introduced Codeword, another puzzle. I do puzzles from a book anyway. The g.l. has expressed her decided opinion - she does not miss it either. Sons 1 and 2 have not mentioned its absence (have they even noticed it?) So if this blog manages to crawl along it will be from other inspiration, which has been sadly lacking lately - everybody say, "Aaaah!" Meanwhile them as're going on holiday, pack your suncream AND your wellies and parka and furboots, it can get a bit nippy in Blackpool this time of the year, I'm sure.

e.x.p.m.blair

What a legacy! the now ex pm blair is reported in the Times as saying he faces greater danger of assassination in England than in Baghdad where he went a-visiting without body armour. What a legacy from him whose electoral catchphrase was 'tough on crime and on the causes of crime' and who once told a hoodie to pick up some litter he'd just dropped on the street (but with the Special Branch chaps looking on it wasn't so brave really), and his new home is to be highly secured apparently, much to the disgust of the neighbours! Tell it how it is, Joe, we face that every day.

Challenging walks

Have you all been missing me? If so you've been very silent about it. No inspiration comes from the Times Letters - the original spur to this blogging affair. But have been trying to obey Doctor's orders and get walking more so it's often up and around Hampstead Heath smartly, without the good lady as well as with her. The last 20 yds or so up Parliament Hill is real steep, but then along comes daughter and pushes buggy with two Toddlers on board and makes easy weather of it...! I used to think I walked fairly fast at times, but find lots of young, and not so young ladies pass me with the greatest of ease - just as they used to when I went swimming, yet their effort seemed effortless. Oh well, anno domini and all that.

If you live anywhere near London, like walking and want a real challenge, then I know just the thing. The G.L. and I are going out most weeks to do something we have completed already, the 'London Loop'. This is a walk of 150 miles which follows very roughly the outer perimeter of the capital, a sort of ramblers' M 25. As I said we have completed it twice, following the guide book published for the purpose. This third occasion is the challenge - we are doing it in an anti-clockwise direction which means following the instructions in reverse. I assure you with every honest breath I can muster, that 'tis no easy matter; even though we've done the route twice before, we are seeing it from a different perspective and it's not always recognisable or signed, even with the help of the guide book.

Essex calling

La famille Erulin kindly provided the transport, driver and company for Grandma, Grandpa and Tati Evie to visit the area nearest to my ancestral connections. This is a tiny village in Essex near Walton-on-the-Naze called Kirby-le-Soken. My nearest confirmed ancestor, Great-Great-Grandfather John was born there in 1810. However he was in Colchester by 1840, but until then our ancestry were sons and daughters of the soil, ie agricultural labourers. Our invaluable photographer Evie took some useful photos. We looked for buildings recognisably earlier than 1850 and found at least two, one 1700s, and its neighbour 1600s, which despite makeovers particularly showed their age in their roof and chimneys. The pub we patronised, the Red Lion, and which kindly let us use their car park for a picnic lunch as the weather was inclement, was also of that era. As one of the church musicians I was particularly impressed by the stained glass windows triptych in memory of the honorary church organist for 17 years, and whose surname is mine, though as he lived only in the 20th century his connection may be remote. But they are fine windows of two singing clergy and a muse of music, possibly Saint Cecilia, the patron saint of music, and two organists of 19th and 18th(?) century respectively. He had a smart grave also near the entrance to the church! The local Forge allowed us to take photos of a map of the village as it was in 1923, and it did not look as if it had changed much from 1823 comparing it to an older map I've seen. After a brief detour to Walton to show granddaughter number 1 (number 2 was asleep) a very cold, grey North Sea we returned home to beautiful sunny weather, as is always the case!

future slightly less bright

Re blog below, dunadan told the good lady (see comment) the dryer is making funny noises! Yeoow back to it! It's because it has this habit of shedding its drive belt or something from time to time, the time seemingly always around a holiday, as it is tomorrow, so delaying the call-out for the engineer to come for the nth time - he knows the route well. It and the washing machine have well justified their annual breakdown cover fees over the years, the only appliances for which we have taken the provision.

new era

Musings 67 recorded a blog on May 16 sorrowing over the passing of certain useful pieces of equipment. It inspired one anonymous donor to wax poetic, but hopefully amused others. The new era sees us with another second-hand piano provided in exchange by the kind Chappells of Bond Street ( though they are now located in Wardour Street, also off Oxford Street and once the home of Ivor Novello and worth going into just to see the architecture, especially the first floor piano showroom) and that for the same price as the original despite being more in the shop; a new fridge-freezer after extensive research and bought not from a big retailer but a little Turkish shop in Chapel Market (for those who know Islington) with very friendly service; and a new printer that actually works courtesy of Argos. I don't usually go to Argos for electrical goods so will be interested to see if the good lady's choice is spot on and we will all lead a pleasant and fruitful life together. So far the future looks very good.

technology is wonderful...isn't it?

Technology is wonderful...isn't it? Its creators persuade us so easily that there is nothing better for our lives, to make them easier, smoother, satisfying...And in great measure they are right, until the stuff breaks down. And why is it that they all do it at the same time? So now we are printerless, freezerless and, almost, pianoless! The printer has hassled us for months and now has just given up the ghost completely (We bought it early last year but lost all proof of purchase. What a bummer!). The fridge freezer has given what one supposes must be dutiful service for 7 years and now the freezer part has packed up after sounding as if it has been uttering a death rattle for several days. I bought the second-hand piano from Chappells in February and now their chief piano technician recommends we change it because of several major problems that have come to light only through playing it, so it's prayer and charm offensive time!

A Paradox

Now here is a Paradox, furthering 'are edukayshun diskushun wot we've bin 'avin'. It is said often and loudly, not least by the cultured presses that people to-day (or is it today?) can't spell good. This may be so. But what is paradoxical is that there are (or rather is, number being singular though common parlance tends to use the plural form, perversely - or higgorantly) a large number of puzzle books and crosswords around for which a perfect ability to spell is a must requirement, if they are to be satsfactorily completed. That they exist is a sure testament to the fact that the editors think they are worthwhile. The only exception is the morning London Freebie the 'Metro', which dropped its crossword despite protest a year or more ago. So somebody out there can spell, even if it's not you.
Hwvr dnt wrry snc th grks cldnt spll prprly. THY 'CTULLY WRT WTH CPTL LTTRS LK TH JWS DD WTH HBRW, and even iffe I vandaleyes the llangwidge yu can stl undestand watt im wrighting and aparently shakespeer had sevral wais o' speling his nam and itte didde notte doo himme eny harme.

barking mad

Another item in to-day's paper - in addition to the alcohol one. A young man in Newcastle was being told by the local bobbies not to use bad language when he turned to some nearby barking dogs and growled at them instead. For this he was arrested, found guilty of upsetting them (the dogs, not the cops) and fined. The sentence was quashed on appeal. It reminded me of why I never never bark at dogs. As a young man myself I was doing the christmas postal round in a village on my bike. I passed a barking dog and barked back at it. I tell you I was tormented, chased and barked at by that dog for several minutes until I eventually managed to shake him off. I did not dare stop - and I was going up a long steep hill too.

under-age drinking

An alcohol charity, Alcohol Concern would like to see parents prosecuted for giving under 15s alcohol to drink due to the rise of over-drinking in that age group. Naturally government says it not a good idea as all systems are in place and society has turned a corner. Was it Newton who stated that for every action there is a reaction? There are indeed two sides to every argument. My own parents drank but in moderation and to put us off it they gave us three children a swig to drink at around the age of one! Sister and brother said yeuch, but yours truly licked his lips and said more. In the end after the age of 18 yours truly hated the stuff which he had had occasionally over the years, whereas bro and sis were content with the odd pint. Then as parent myself we had no drinks in the house and now all four children like their occasional (?) tipples - and for all I know their topples too - but only since they were 18! So who's right and who's wrong?

Ancient History

The powers-that-be are seriously considering dropping Ancient History from the curriculum. I can't understand the thinking behind this. The decision-makers have clearly forgotten that for a teenager (the group targeted) anything that happened yesterday and earlier is ancient history. So to drop it would cut quite a large slice out of the process of historical research.

royal action

Royal Action - or not, as the case may be. Poor Prince Harry. Works hard to train to do his bit for the country and there is a doubt whether he should be allowed to do it in the hot spot for fear of death, kidnap or undue extra attacks. Apparently it's ok for the poor squaddies so to endure. Meanwhile if they don't do anything so dangerous as stick their head above the parapet the royals are fair game for paparazzi to hound them and editors to have a go at them for their wasted, luxurious lifetstyle.

more on suspicious packages

Readers with good memories will recall that on Feb 28th I wrote of my wife and I seeing a package on a tube train and wondering whether to report it or not, with the risk of great disruption or a loud bang. Well today we had our answer. On the Tube again on a different line the driver announced that a suitcase had been left on the train and it had been reported, and an inspector would collect it at the next station (name given). So two minutes later we drew into the station, the rail official came into our carriage, took up the case by the handle and trundled off with it. The train then proceeded on its journey. No delay, no evacuation, no loud bang, no disruption, no bomb squad. Trouble is, I worry too much.

On the M25 (or off it)

I had an interesting email yesterday from a lady at Guildford Cathedral. In 1997 I started visiting places within and outside the M25 that I thought would be of interest to anyone wanting a fun day out, or a need for petrol or a pleasant hostelry which welcomed children and a myriad other things. As I was on my own and had other commitments it took a long time. Eventually it was finished in, I think 2003 though possibly a year or so earlier. However I didn't think it was sufficiently of publication standard so I put it on the web. I hoped people would find it when they used Google. Unfortunately I did not use a good web package and I found it inaccessible from Google, so it has languished unknown and unloved in cyberspace ever since! unless people knew the website address, which I had never advertised. Now Guildford Cathedral recently closed their Brass Rubbing Centre, and deleted all record of it from their website, but some people still found references to it turning up, so through www.everyclick.com she had been tracing those sites which mentioned the centre so that she could inform their owners to edit out any reference. So after all this time the dear old project has had a reader. Unfortunately since the software was rubbish I threw it away and cannot get into the site myself now to edit it. It does include an address to contact me if people want themselves to suggest edits - as the lady of G.C. had done - little good as it may be, unless I buy a new design package.

God and Britain

A couple of Times columnists in the past week have mentioned that for a person to talk about God is a real yawn and turn-off. One of them did put it in the context of secular Britain. So for Zach Johnson to be the winner of the Augusta Golf was an opportunity for him to say thanks to God and for columnists over here to stifle the collective yawn. But in the USA such a person is so common as to pass without comment. What does that say about us Christians over here for whom it is so difficult to express our faith and joy in following Jesus.

Son-in-law

There is much to be said for one's daughter getting married when the consequent son-in-law is such a dab hand at decorating - as well as floor laying - and said daughter willingly removes the two little 'uns away to a local park to meet up with friends. So thanks very much H and A (following the modern practice of not giving full names in public to save embarrassment or worse) for today's show.

Koo to hevs

Koo is reported as saying: "I didna like the sound o' that hevs person. A tone of some disparagement, I say. Why should we cows not speak? I hear tell the hevs has Scottish blood in her. ( Must ha' been greatly diluted.) I think there is also a touch of Kooism in what she says. Just let her come here and she'll get the point - with the help o' my horns.

Arathorn meets the Koo

Arathorn: Hello Koo.
Koo: And a good moo to you, young man.
Arathorn: That’s a nice compliment.
Koo: It wasnae really meant to be. But I’m glad you took it that way.
Arathorn: I’ve come up from south of the border to bring friendly greetings from Gerrie.
Koo: Gerrie?
Arathorn: Gerrie. You know, the cow you sent a few pictures to last year.
Koo: Och. I was forgetting. Greetings received with thanks, tell her, but I’ve got a bone to pick with her.
Arathorn: I’m sorry to hear that. What’s wrong? What’s she done?
Koo: Tell her she cannae spell my name.
Arathorn: Enlighten me.
Koo: Someone called dunadan – a weird kind o’ name to me – sent me a copy of the thing in July 2006 [see dunadan link] and I noticed that my name was spelt C.O.O.
Arathorn: Well, isn’t that right?
Koo: O’ course it’s not. Every self-respecting Koo doesn’t want his name spelt as if it’s a urprise. It’s spelt with a K. K.O.O.
Arathorn: Point taken. Is that all? Any other message for her?
Koo: Well, let me try and put this politely, young man. We ruminants need time to chew and digest, and have little time to moo with every Tom, Dick and Hamish that come along. Not like your Gerrie who might have a strange digestive system for all the talking she does.
Arathorn: Now, I wonder how you know she talks a lot…
But Koo has turned his back and walked off. Arathorn watched. The chat had not turned out quite what he had intended. He’ll need to improve his technique!

Plato rides again

Plato is alive and well in Lichfield it appears. Last November the BBC recorded two advance programmes in Lichfield Cathedral. The first was for Christmas with appropriate Yuletide decorations. The congregation then went home, changed into Spring clothing and returned the same day to record an Easter version. After complaints on the legitamacy of all this the Dean of Lichfield Cathedral is alleged to have remarked: "Not everything is what it seems". For those who don't know, the Dean is the boss of an Anglican Cathedral and his word goes. I wonder if the good Dean would apply his comment to other spheres...

a Letter to The Times

An ex-blogging Times correspondent stimulated me to write this letter to the Times, but it was not accepted, so my blogging 'raison d'etre' is fulfilled!
Ref Winston Fletcher's lack of enthusiam for blogging. I recently started because I was constantly reading letters in The Times which I wanted to reply to. Either I did not get round to it, or I was not sure if what I wrote would pass the keen-eyed editor's stringent standards or the Law of Averages dictated that I had little prospect of getting through. I toyed with the idea of writing them anyway and publishing them as "An anthology of Unpublished Times Letters", but decided that was a non-starter. So I blog them instead, along with other thoughts, which is satisfying. I get the occasional reply, whereas the one letter I have had published in The Times generated but one response, and that from a stranger. Naturally this letter will go onto my blog if it does not survive the journey to print.

Estuary English

Can all you guys out there with masses of street cred and a deep knowledge of the ever-changing English colloquial language tell me what 'Estuary English' is. And why is it called Estuary, and which estuary is it: the Tees, the Tamar, the Tyne, the Trent? And if it's the Thames which side of the bank, the Kent or the Essex (i.e. Southend or Margate)?

strange bedfellows

It's a strange expression that, isn't it? Does it originate from a more innocent age? But that begs the question, was there ever a more innocent age? Since the Fall of Adam and Eve the world has never been innocent. But that's not the subject of this blog. Rather it is the news that Lord Jeffrey Archer of Weston-super-Mare has co-authored a book that is NEWS! Forget the Da Vinci book! This book has come from one of England's pre-eminent novelists and from one "regarded by many as the greatest living biblical scholar" (so Ruth Gledhill in The Times). The book declares that some of Jesus's miracles did not take place and that Judas was trying to do Jesus a favour. And so on. The greatest de-mythologiser of them all of course was Bultmann in the post-war years. Such writers maintain that the Gospel records had as their purpose to give Jesus Messianic credentials. It is no new thing to de-bunk Christianity - it started early in the living memory of the disciples. What has for ever seemed strange to me is that the most zealous of de-bunkers, rationalisers, call them what you will are so-called members of the church. God has done a great thing for us, a kind and merciful and loving act of grace which has no comparison in any other world situation. He sent His son to bear our sins in His body on the cross, that we might be saved. The sheer simplicity of the act and the teaching of Old and New Testaments to explain it is truly marvellous. I'm no intellectual and very simplistic perhaps, but I find only awe and wonder in the story given in the Gospels. If God is God, why are so-called Christian scholars so keen to dumb Him down? The danger of saying 'this bit is not true' is to prompt one to say 'well how do we know that that bit is true'? And on what grounds do we say such things anyway? I wonder whether, when we say the creed which ever one we use, whether we shouldn't add a list of terms and conditions to it. I have never read Archer, I have never heard of Moloney and I saw a book in Borders that purports to put the lie to the whole story of Jesus.
Meanwhile that author, Moloney and Archer will have their day and be forgotten, but the Bible will continue to be read and its message transform lives. Deo gratia.

Retrospective sorries

Tis the season to apologise for the sins of our forefathers. But how far back do we go? And for what shall we apologise? For spoiling the global ambitions of Napoleon and so causing the French to hate 'les rotbifs'. For giving Bluthner insufficient recognition for his contribution at Waterloo in getting Wellington out of a pickle - or was it sauerkraut. For sending our undesirables to Australia making them so angry that they always beat us at certain sports. For sending nicer guys to New Zealand and being beaten by them too half the time. For Anglicans and Catholics duffing each others' adherents up in the name of Jesus who told us to love everybody, including our enemies. For the medieval kings whose idea of a continental holiday was a visit to Agincourt and Crecy. For the Normans who came and spoilt our Viking cum Anglo-Saxon heritage, although the Normans were actually Vikings two centuries earlier. For the Angles and the Saxons who came and duffed up the Britons so they had to run away to Wales. to be followed 1500 years later by the retired and second-homing descendants of the Anglo-Saxon-Viking-Norman-French, so no escape there. For the Romans who came and left, leaving lots of straight roads and ruined villas messing up the countryside. For the Britons who came from , so we are told by-those-who-know-these-things, Eastern Europe, so predating by circa three or four thousand years the current Influx of Eastern Europeans, so nothing new there either (what goes round comes round as ever), and thereby spoiling England's 'green and pleasant land'.

But the biggest apology must surely go to inflicting the United States and English on the world which everybody loves to hate even as everybody loves to wear jeans, go to Starbucks and watch Hollywood, for had we left well alone we could have had a French Etats-Unis or even a Spanish -though current language trends in that imposing country suggest that may not be too far away anyway-all of which sets the imagination a-wandering...My sincere apologies for all those who feel they should have been included, but maybe this list is enough for starters.

The next list should be about returning relics and artefacts back to the countries of their origin, and my vote for the leader would be the Elgin Marbles in the British Museum which look so hopelessly lost and out of context when like a Dowager they should be gloriously and triumphantly decaying in the brilliant Greek sunshine.

Can you believe it

Did you go to university? Well watch out! There is health warning! It could count against your children if they want to go to university! Ucas, the University and Colleges Admission Service is putting this question on application forms as part of their drive to get more applicants from working class families into higher education. Imagine the scenario:
Interviewer: Did your parents go to university?
Applicant: Yes
Int.: Tough, have a nice day. Next applicant please.
App.: But you went to university yourself.
Int.: I know, but that's the way of it.
App.: But...
Int.: No buts - it's all there in the rules!
App.: You wait till I tell Mum about this!
Int.: Tell her and I'm a dead man.
App.: Well. just face it, Dad, look what will happen if we don't tell her!!

Unfinished Reading

Do you read every book doggedly to the end? The Times this week published a list of the top 10 Fiction and Non-fiction books that people could not wait to put down and forget about finishing. For your interest the Fiction list is, in order of dismerit: 1 Vernon God Little 2. Harry Potter and the Goblets of fire 3. Ulysses by James Joyce 4.Captain Corelli's Mandolin 5.Cloud Atlas 6.The Satanic Verses 7.The Alchemist by Paolo Coelho 8.War and Peace 9.The God of small things by Arundhati Roy 10 Crime and Punishment. The Non-Fiction list is:1. The Blunkett Tapes 2.My Life by B. Clinton 3.My Side by DBeckham 4.Eats, Shoots and Leaves by Lynn Truss 5.Wild Swans by Jung Chang. 6.Easy Way to Stop Smoking by Allan Carr .7. The Downing Street Years by M Thatcher. 8.I can make you thin by Paul Mckenna 9. Jade, My Autobiography by Jade Goody 10.Why don't penguins feet freeze?
Do any of these strike a chord? Of the fiction list I have read only Captain Corelli and actually enjoyed the first seven-eighths, when the main action takes place during 3 years in the second world war. then it is totally and utterly ruined by the last eighth which covers the next 30 years or so. I am biased because I like happy endings and that is what that needed. A perfectly happy ending ocurring at the close of the war, and none of this modern stuff which the author must have felt was necessary to make sure that life is not always happy endings. Of the Non-fiction list I have read only Lynn Truss which I enjoyed tremendously because as the dúnadan will tell you I am always being peadantice about words and parts of speech.
Another book which I would definitely put on the list is Umberto Eco's "Foucault's Pendulum" which I bought expecting it to be as good as his "Name of the Rose" and found it to be totally incomprehensible. I did persevere with it to the end, though I'm not sure how but could tell you nothing about it now. Definitely a putdownassoonas you like book.

Pity Prince Charles

Pity the poor heir to the throne, Prince Charles.Why? He, like the rest of the Royal Family and also of church of England vicars can do no right. A Channel 4 documentary accused him of meddling. What this means simply is expressing his opinion on certain matters and trying to do something about them. Most of us are bar or armchair critics and shout our mouths off about things and then leave it to the other guys - or girls - to do something about whatever we complain about. I like the story, doubtless apocryphal, of a man reading the account of Isaiah's call to the prophetic ministry as describes in Isaiah 6:6. Thinking about it he fancied he heard the voice call out as in verse 8: " Whom shall I send? And who shall go for us?" To which he replied, "Lord, here am I. Send my sister!" If poor Charlie boy says nowt he is cursed as being a waste of space and taxpayers' money. If he 'meddles' he is going beyond any and every conceivable call of duty and is wasted space. Except that he is a good lad as far his charity the Prince's Trust is concerned, apparently. And what's that to do with C of E vicars. Well, did you read about the vicar who objected to the choir in his church so much that he sacked them, because they were not singing the songs that are written for the modern era, but more diffucult ones. Somebody has said that you should never get between a vicar and his organist/choirmaster (usually one and the same person). In other words the vicars can never please everyone and yet everybody expects them to be 100% perfect in every department, duly forgetting that there is only person who has ever achieved such exemplary status after whom the early Christians were nicknamed, but which name became a flag of honour - and should still be so.

A new piano

Today I bought a new piano. Second-hand, or as Chappell's, which is really Yamaha, coyly call it, pre-owned. My current one needs a very lot of money to recondition it. This new one is already in much better condition, requires little treatment and is two-thirds the price. Mine was old when I got it 50 years ago, the new is less than twenty years old in total. It was all very easy really. Too easy, in fact. However, desperate times require desperate measures so it is perhaps as well the transaction felt comfortably smooth and straightforward, because there ain't no satisfaction playing Bach or Chopin on a honky-tonk joanna, no sir! All of which made me too late for a comfortable meal before an evening class, so a hasty Kentucky had to suffice. But I survived and lived to write this blog.

what hits you hits me...

I do not quite understand one thing about criticism of Government and Council policies. When either body passes laws that involve the members of Joe Public paying extra money, such as congestion charges or parking fees, or creating more nasty road bumps or whatever, the papers will come out with plenty of criticism, repeated by different interest groups to explain why such policies should not be implemented and so on. Yet I can't help thinking every time, "But here, wait a minute, won't the policy-makers themselves be affected by those decisions? They too will have to pay the increased tax, join the NHS treatment lottery, bump over those nasty roads. So what hits us hits them too." Should this be of comfort to us? In the case of money MPs are covered by juicy pensions, but not all things are to do with money. And local councillors do not have a fat pension at the end of their stint in office but will still have to pay increased Council Tax or parking fees, and so on. Or am I missing something?

Hair today, gone tomorrow

One of the signs of increasing age used to be that the policemen look younger. Since it is not so frequent to spot these elusive creatures another sign must be sought and I think I have found it. Namely, hair loss. When one has had a full mop of hair for several decades a visit to the barber provokes the consequent comment, "Oh, you've had your haircut!" Not remarkable when such visits might amount to only one or exceptionally two times a year. The difference in tonsorial distinction is quite marked. However last week I had my haircut, the previous occasion being around last October, and only one person commented, and that was my good lady when I sort of postured my hair in front of her - and I had previously told her I was going. It seems then that the considerable decrease in thatchiness has rendered it impossible to observe that any difference has been made. Which fact of course will no doubt lead to the ancient joke,"I'm going to get my hair cut." "Ok, very nice. Which one?"

Meanwhile I notice from our blog comments that Scotland seems to be a popular place - and I have to admit to some bias in the matter as the good lady is herself Scottish through and through, despite having an English father, who did make Scotland his home, and despite deigning to marry an Englishman and living in exile in England ever since. However do not fear Ken Livingstone will not venture to Sctland, he is enjoying his fun too much in London. I understand the latest wheeze is to gate the whole of London to make it greener. The mind boggles.

suspicious packages

Another dilemma day today - you will recall I recently had one involving our cat and his tormenting a mouse. Today it involved people and a package. We are exhorted to report suspicious packages to appropriate authorities. Today as we got on a tube train to travel from Islington to Edgware I sat down on a folding seat. Before doing so I asked the passenger sitting on the neighbouring folding seat if the carrier bag containing a box next to him was his. He shook his head and carried on reading. So there was I, sitting on a seat below which was a suspicious package. Que faire? as my French son-in-law might say. I said to my wife sitting in the next seat, "Shall I get off at the next station and go to the driver and tell him about the package?" (We were sitting in the front coach, and nowadays Tube traains do not have guards.) It would mean that our - and thousands of other people's journey would be delayed, for everyone would be evacuated, the line closed and the bomb squad called, no doubt. Would I be loved for it if they came and nothing dangerous was found? On the other hand if I did nothing and there was something dangerous and it went off...What would you have done? What in fact classifies as a 'suspicious' package?

A topic keeping the Times letter writers and columnists happy is Marriage. That is to say, in England the number of those who get married in church or registry office is falling. Co-habitation seems much easier and cheaper. I am not going to discuss its pros and cons now, but comment on those who say that one disadvantage of tying the knot at the altar is that married couples are worse off in the taxation system. That may be the case, but if plighting one's troth in a formal way, with a commitment for a lifelong union, is affected by one financial nuisance, then doing so suggests one has a shallow conception of marriage.
Now that could stir up a hornet's nest...!

mobiles on buses

An amazing letter in theTimes today. It is nearly half a column long, which is in itself impressive. The correspondent recounts the mobile phone conversation she heard from a bus passenger in the seat behind as to how she the said speaker would be spending that week-end. It lasted half-an hour and was directed to half a dozen different numbers. I am hard of hearing in lower tonal ranges and so have the capacity for selective hearing - useful in some situations - but when I do hear conversations, sermons, instructions of even a minimal length I am hard-pressed to be able to recount what I have heard, let alone remember it all and make a worthwhile letter out of it!

A scenic muse

Nothing has appeared in the post in the past few days to inspire a muse, even though Berry the cat had his inspiration with a m(o)use, which quite a-muse-d him I think; I did forget to mention that he also mewed because the mouse did not run and so give him sport. He should have looked at this picture and mused (mewsed) on its quiet peace and reflected about things. Anyway it seemed a pleasant thought to put a picture on blogline, and after much trial and effort on the part of myself and my good lady we finally gave up and asked the dunadan to supply the knowledge which he was graciously pleased to do. It is located in Scotland, ye ken; in fact it is Loch Ken - and any connection with the current mayor of London is strictly denied. (Looking back at this sentence I perceive a slight ambiguity about the word 'it' in 'it is located'. This could apparently refer to either 'knowledge' or 'the dunadan' but actually refers to the scenery portrayed on the picture. On such trivial misunderstandings do wars occur and friends fall out.

Cat and Mouse

Well I told you didn't I that these things could take a life of their own, and so it is today...Instead of my first musing being on the Times it's on Berry the cat. Berry, a several years old Tom has just caught his second mouse in two and half years living with us. The first we found dead on Evie's bed but today's was very much alive and HE JUST PLAYED WITH IT!!! Then when it hid under the washing machine he just waited patiently for an hour until it ventured out again. Alas it was no Tom and Jerry outcome for the puir wee crittur, but rather loss of blood and a gradually feeling of the inevitable. On several occasions it played possum in the middle of the floor, as if hoping that Berry would think it gone away and abandon the chase. But a gentle pat destroyed such vain hopes. After an hour of such cavortings I was faced with a dilemma - moral? ethical? I know not. I watch a lot of nature programmes and the word is non-interventional. Let Nature, natural behaviour take its course. Should therefore I let Berry have his pleasure until the mouse expired and become an ex-mouse or should I take steps to put it out of its misery? To intervene or not to not to intervene what would you have done?

Introduction2

This is my second attempt to overcome technical inexpertise to get started out on my first blog step. They said it would be easy, but some of us out here in the real world have an infinite capacity for proving them wrong. So in case this does not work again I will stop here and press publish and hold my breath!

Well would you believe it, we got a result...nay, the result required. So I wonder why pressing Save failed, or was it because I altered the time. It matters not, I'm here and henceforth hope to add my ha'pence to comments arising from the London Times letters page, and articles therein. this is because I'm always thinking of responses, but the chances of being published are slim and I feel I just have to write something...