Not much going on this week. We went on a run today with the Porsche. It's been a real grey flat and wet January day. A day for more coal on the fire and lighting the candles! However, no matter about the grey day, we went to a little tearoom at the bottom of Sutra that lies about 1,000 feet above sea level, and we drove into snow. We haven't seen snow this winter and it was a joy to see. What is it about snow? When you have the advantage of sitting by a window watching it fall there is nothing more magical on earth. The snow was lying on the fields and the trees silhouetted against a dreich sky.
Apart from that, the random thought of the day is that I have a friend who I think has some pure genius life skills. One is, she never puts a lot of fuel in her car in case it gets stolen. It won't get far without petrol. Another friend decided after her TV broke she couldn't afford another so she linked her tablet to a projector and watches it on the wall of her flat. (The ins and outs of exactly how it all works I don't know. Intend to find out on my next visit.) Imagine though, no £150 TV licence. Every day is a school day. I'm hoping to add a Lizzie story in the next couple of days.
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It's oor national bard's birthday this week. He and his work is celebrated here and all over the world. Suddenly everybody knows at least a wee bit Tam O' Shanter, we've all sat on the horse and felt every beat of its frightened manic dash over the bridge, the witch hanging to its tail. I heard it first in primary school. I must have been no more than 11. The teacher read it out in the pure scots it should be read and explained it line by line. The memory has stayed with me. What of this man though? Aside his poems and music, he was a womaniser with bastard children. That could not have been the best of reputations at the time, yet still women fell in his wake. I imagine him to be a weak man who couldn't stand up and admit his frailties and couldn't/wouldn't have an honest relationship with a woman despite his many conquests. He must have lied and told stories to these women. Was he an honest enough man to unite all these half siblings, were they all brought into the family fold? Did they all celebrate New Year as a family? I don't know the ins and outs of it, but, if it happened today, he would have a certain amount of celebrity and would probably have a headline in the Daily Record from time to time and maybe even a morning on Jeremy Kyle. It's just a thought. It's a thought though that took me to who financed these children? I don't think he was a rich man, being on the breadline on occasion. Today, his name would be well known to the benefits agency. This thought took me to the 1980's and the political landscape of the time. Remember Maggie Thatcher? She hated one parent families with a vengeance. She led a witch hunt that made life nasty and stigmatised a group of poor people, (I mean financially) who were struggling to make do and bring up their children. Remember the launch of the child support agency? Well, I've got no problem with the concept of man paying for his children, but, what if Rabbie met Maggie? What fun! So anyway, that was the train of thought chugging around my head when I wrote When Rabbie Met Maggie. I'd love to see it. I'll be adding this title to the list in a day or two.
Well, I just feel like a rant really. I don’t want to go on about the seriously sore face I had two weeks ago, it’s not the most important issue. What is though, is that, I physically presented myself to the reception staff at the local health surgery and got turned away. The pain that surged up my face as we drove up the high street was excruciating. I knew that to go back to the dentist I would be offered a prescription for Ibuprofen or Paracetamol. Anybody in the throes of acute dental pain will know these drugs to be ineffectual.
Sorry, I’m waffling on, what really worries me is that a doctor’s surgery can turn you away. I’ve been fobbed off on the phone often enough for the same problem, but surely in our wonderful NHS this shouldn’t happen. I’ve been talking to a health care professional who tells me this happens regularly to vulnerable adults, especially at the weekends. He deals with drug addicts and alcoholics, many with accompanying mental health issues. At the very best they may manage to get themselves to A&E to lie on a trolley, but more likely to be propping up a wall on some corridor. Or they are picked up out the gutter by the police and spend a night in their custody establishment with en-suite. At least they are warm and dry. What has happened to us as a society though? When did we stop caring? Have we lost all compassion? I don’t know.Looking at life on a global scale, I think man has lost humanity for man. Happy New Year. rWell, I've already broken promise to myself in that I would write a weekly blog. Due to a dental infection and a visit to the dental hospital on New Years day i felt pretty ruff. On the mend now though and was just having a thought coming along the road, do you remember years ago at new year you first footed everyone pretty much as soon as the new year came in. You wandered up and down the street with your bottle of vodka and toasted everyone you met. You weren't the only person on the street doing that. When you bumped into Peter you would let him know you were visiting Dave and Phil was in next door, had already been to yours and probably you'd see everybody in Lizzie's down the road. It was just like that. At new year if you had a light on you had an open house. Either that or sit in the dark!
I remember on Ne'erday walking the mile from one sister's house to the others with a trolley full of booze clunking along the street. We'd walk a certain way as to avoid the cobbled road of church street. Well, we didn't want to embarrass ourselves!We'd have all the bairns in tow and just have a great night with songs and poems, whisky and vodka, a rum or babycham, (remember babycham? Probably the first alcohol i tasted) Every year we sang I am the music man and had all our instruments to" air" play. We'd have stovies that had been sat on the cooker all day. The nicest stovies we'd eat till next year! Any way, i don't mean to rabbit on, but, you know what's happened this year? I think it's probably now that im a middle aged old fart, i've just arrived home in the afternoon of today and first footed my family with a box of biscuits. Ok they're chocolate, but so much has been lost? Shouldn't the children of yesteryear be organising the new year doos now? Haven't we brought them up properly? I'm gutted. |
AuthorI enjoy writing short stories and reading yours. I'm always amazed at where our mind can take us. I think it is therapeutic to let your mind wander off and free itself of personal drudgery. Archives
March 2020
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