tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-74535841995565248692024-03-13T02:18:42.376-07:00Phil's wondrous world of mystery.Based on years of experience, a place to put the world to rights.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.comBlogger48125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-80661830315573037602016-09-25T06:37:00.001-07:002016-09-25T06:37:43.436-07:00More roller boots<iframe allowfullscreen="" frameborder="0" height="270" src="https://www.youtube.com/embed/Mgw9beOXp6k" width="480"></iframe>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-53783042919570083442016-06-04T01:04:00.000-07:002016-06-13T09:05:00.364-07:00Grey days and boredom.<p dir="ltr">God knows what has happened to the British summer. It's been grey and wet since Tuesday. Boy am I bored. Certain other things are exacerbating the boredom but I have no wish to go out into a cold wet and grey world.</p>
<p dir="ltr">As for those things adding to the boredom, following a long dreaded operation on my eye, certain things are unavailable to me. I can blog on my tablet but my computer monitor is a blur. I cannot get my eyes tested for glasses (They fit standard distance lenses in cataract surgery, you still need glasses for reading etc.). till the other eye is done and then that has to heal. It is worth it. My eyesight was almost 0 but writing is, for the moment, a limited pleasure.</p>
<p dir="ltr">Reading can be achieved by holding a book at a minimum of 4 inches and a maximum of 6 inches away, and does not make for a comfortable position.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I also have to see my mother today, though my daughter is going with me. It is still not much fun as my mother has Alzheimer's and is not communicative or appreciative of attempts at conversation.</p>
<p dir="ltr">I may sound ungrateful about the eye operation but I am not. In the long run it will be great to see clearly again. I am sure it will be better weather soon. My mother may be more like her old self today. But all in all it is not shaping up as one of the most exciting days of my life.</p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-554779230380422862016-05-25T03:15:00.000-07:002016-05-25T04:53:31.219-07:00We can-but should we?<div style="text-align: center;">
<img src="https://s-media-cache-ak0.pinimg.com/736x/4f/f0/65/4ff06584e9b94f59ac86b874d0b13e7a.jpg"></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Please don't assume this is an attack on science and progress. Far from it. I love science and the wonders it has given us. I am no luddite. I wouldn't be using this computer if I were. I look forward to driverless cars which are carbon neutral. I love the fact that relatives and friends across the world can communicate instantly. I like the idea of robots to perform the unpleasant tasks, though I don't think they will if ever they reach the level of self awareness. However, I do have reservations.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">The question in the title is relevant. We have spent a fortune in search of the <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Higgs_boson" target="_blank">Higgs-Boson</a>, something which has virtually no relevance to our everyday life. We seek the origins of the big bang. Again not really relevant to me here and now. </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">One of my favourite scientific thought experiments <a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Schr%C3%B6dinger%27s_cat" target="_blank">Scrodingers Cat</a> was designed to show how matter, the cat, could exist in several states (Live, dead or presumably non existent.) until observed. It was in all these states simultaneously until you collapse the possibility waveform and open the box. You can't actually do this experiment because you would just end up with an angry and frustrated cat which, due to the booby trapped box may also be dead. Common sense tells us that all this is so much rubbish and, again, is only relevant to bloggers who ramble on about weird experiments. Really it was just a way of thinking about the actions of particles on a quantum level and trying to relate them to a macro event. Even the inventor of this experiment used it to express the things he saw as ridiculous in quantum theory of the time.</span><br>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><img height="200" src="https://sincyscience.files.wordpress.com/2014/06/schrodingers-cat.jpg" width="320"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Space exploration may be necessary to our future but is very expensive.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Internet technology and the devices which are used to access it are very relevant to us but there is a price even to them. There are many who have mental issues due to the social isolation involved in long periods of communication via machine only. They do not develop social skills. I am sure many modern children's issues are exacerbated by this. There are issues with Pedophilia, scams, crime and radicalization too. Many actually believe everything they see on the net so these things are easier for the perpetrator. You need to develop filters and even a certain cynicism. Some never do.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I love archaeology but we spend large amounts on digs and equipment to tell us tiny details of our ancestors lives.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">I guess this is O.K. all the time we have the luxury of the money to pursue these things but some science led theories which are now becoming reality scare me,<a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-14432401" target="_blank"> Fracking</a> is an instance. The idea is to release the gases from the Earth by pumping high pressure water through fissures deep underground. There is no correlation between the two but an increasingly high number of deep holes in the ground are becoming an issue all over the world.</span><br>
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<span style="font-size: large;">U.K.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><img src="http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2013/03/02/article-2286909-18621F9F000005DC-196_634x414.jpg" height="261" width="400"></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Milwaukee.</span></div>
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<img src="http://ichef-1.bbci.co.uk/news/624/media/images/72711000/jpg/_72711266_72679827.jpg" height="220" width="320"></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Guatemala city.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">They have appeared in many other places too. Now i am not saying this is a result of fracking, it is not and fracking is only now becoming a reality, but these must be due, in part, to mankind's need to impose his will on the planet by draining marshland and building in places not suited to it. These are usually deep but fracking is an activity which takes place much deeper.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">Now my logic tells me that these fissures are filled with gas and oil for a reason and that removing it will result in either a vacuum or the filling of these fissures with water, which is notorious for eroding rock and earth. So if these collapses are happening already and deep down we create more weaknesses I can only see it getting worse.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">You hear people saying we should put the brake on sciences and put the money toward social problems, like feeding the starving and housing the homeless. This is an invalid argument. Stopping all scientific research would NOT solve these problems and some research is essential to food production, health an so on. I do not think throwing money at social issues will ever solve them. I do think we should look at some scientific research and evaluate costs, benefits and relevance to real life. Do we really need to work out exactly how and when the universe began or try to work out when it will end. We cannot do anything about it and both the beginning and the end of the Universe are separated from us by billions of years. We need to have somewhere to go to if our Earth becomes overcrowded so shouldn't we try to work out ways of making Mars habitable before trying to find a distant Earth ready made.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;">This all sounds silly and it is a little tongue-in-cheek but I feel a time may come when we will need to address the issues facing us in real life, here and now, before contemplating the topography of our navels and the likely effects on time of a black hole billions of light years away.</span></div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-87760007066876480822016-05-17T03:55:00.001-07:002016-05-17T04:54:56.469-07:00"What's all this EU stuff about?" Says Johnny Foreigner.<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25.5px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
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<a href="https://community.ebay.com/ebay01/attachments/ebay01/archivenewtoebay/23810/1/mappa_eu.png" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="248" src="https://community.ebay.com/ebay01/attachments/ebay01/archivenewtoebay/23810/1/mappa_eu.png" width="320"></a></div>
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<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25.5px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
I know that many non Europeans, I.E.Americans, Australians, Asians etc. are having problems with the U.K. and this absurd (To those not directly involved!) idea that we want to leave the EU. Most Europeans are of similar mind. Why would we want to leave? I think it depends on your perception of the EU. I would like to explain why I have a problem with it and why I feel it is in Great Britain's best interests to leave.</div>
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First you have to try to understand the mindset of the average Briton. We are not racist but in 2 major conflicts we stood alone against a Europe controlled by Germany. We are a proud independent nation and, like our American friends, value democracy. The EU claims to be democratic and indeed has a parliament of elected members. They vote on proposals from the European Commission. However many, myself included, feel that the commission, being unelected is not Democratic. Many feel differently.</div><div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25.5px; margin-bottom: 24px;"> I feel that you cannot please all the people all the time and that 20 odd countries will never share similar agendas and ideals. Some EU officers have openly spoken of their dislike for the U.K. The contempt with which we are treated was shown by the meagre concessions offered to us when the referendum on leaving was mooted. We are also perceived as a non team player because we have refused to join with directives before. We refused to join the Euro common currency and are resisting any moves towards further integration.</div>
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The fact is we can stand alone in many areas. We do not need a superstate and a common army. This does not endear us to those countries who definitely do need these things. The myth of those who wish to stay with Europe is that Britain cannot stand alone in many areas. Security is one, the myth being that we will lose intelligence from Europe if we leave. This is frankly stupid. No one will refuse to share intelligence which could save life. In fact security will be reduced if we stay. The open borders policy will mean that, when Turkey joins the EU there will be a direct route from Syria (And ISIS.) to Calais a few miles from the U.K.. That is frightening. It is designed to allow for free travel but would allow free access to terrorists too.</div>
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Our dear Prime minister has tried to scare us by telling us that the E.U. is the only thing standing between us and a third European conflict. I think he shot himself in the foot on this one. it is totally unbelievable and has, I am sure, shown his other pronouncements to be as ludicrous as this one. We are founders of NATO, G8 and G20 with power of veto. These organisations are more than capable of looking after security.</div>
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Open borders and Migration is another issue. Imagine if you will that the U.S.A. has opened it's borders to allow free travel from any country in north or south America (including Canada.), that anyone from those countries can migrate to U.S.A. without any paperwork apart from a passport. Imagine that many claim welfare as soon as they arrive. Further they take these benefits and send them to families still in the country of origin for years. Imagine the burden placed on the welfare budget.</div>
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In Britain we have free healthcare. They can use this too, as soon as they arrive placing strain on the infrastructure of the N.H.S. Other services become overwhelmed.</div>
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To return to our American analogy, now I would like you to imagine that the U.S.A. can make laws, but that directives from Canada would, as enshrined in the Greater American union constitution, be obligatory in the U.S.A. Any purely internal laws would need to be in line with GAU law. Furthermore all those countries who have had a chequered past with U.S.A. could vote on GAU laws which would not be in their interest. For instance Mexico could vote (and persuade others to vote) to instigate a trade deal which would be very detrimental to the U.S.A. The <a data-mce-href="http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/comment/what-is-ttip-and-six-reasons-why-the-answer-should-scare-you-9779688.html" href="http://www.independent.co.uk/voices/comment/what-is-ttip-and-six-reasons-why-the-answer-should-scare-you-9779688.html" style="color: #00aadc;" target="_blank">TTIP deal</a> currently being negotiated in Europe is seen as a way of slipping privatisation of the British National Health Service in by the back door. To my mind it is all about profit over fair play. No wonder Mr Obama wants us to stay.</div>
<div style="color: #3d596d; font-family: Merriweather, Georgia, 'Times New Roman', Times, serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 25.5px; margin-bottom: 24px;">
All this is My opinion but there are other reasons I wish to leave. We were originally asked, in the 1970's to vote for membership of the EEC (European economic community.). There was no mention of losing sovereignty, common currency, common army. There was no mention of political integration. All this will be done with no mandate from us if we stay. If you wish to know how high-handed the EU is just look at the way Greece has been treated in order to be rescued from their financial woes. They have been made to fell like the losers in a war, a subject nation.</div>
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We are a great nation, we have the 5th biggest economy in the world and are quite capable of standing proud on the world stage. The EU need us more than we need them. I remember as a teenager being able to find a job with no trouble, indeed I was offered many. Now, since the migration began, there are 60-100 applicants for every job. We were paid according to worth. Now any job is paid at the basic minimum wage because migrants will work cheaply. In a capitalist nation that ensures that bosses would much rather employ migrants than British Citizens.</div>
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All this is opinion. There are those who feel that this is xenophobic nonsense. I have seen the effect of the EU and I do not like what it has done to the U.K. All I want to do is to persuade those who think we are mad to even think of leaving that there are some very valid reasons to wish to do so. I don't think that the U.S.A would willingly sign up to the restrictions I have described and I am voting to leave. I hope this gives you some idea why.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-8961649290324227702016-05-16T08:27:00.002-07:002016-05-16T08:27:30.246-07:00Put it on wordpress so it might as well go on here too.<br />
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<span style="font-size: large;">I am posting a few pages from my ongoing novel, just as a sample. Enjoy.</span><br />
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><span style="background: transparent;">Stone
castle in Kent-seat of the De Reigner family</span></b></u></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><span style="background: transparent;">1276</span></b></u></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Sir
Marcus De Reigner, The Earl of Kent, stared pensively out over his
lands from the strong walls of his castle. The fields and villages
stretched as far as the eye could see under a hot summer Sun. He
could see the men working in the fields, like so many ants. The odd
Church spire could be seen amongst the hills, roads and trees. His
eye unconsciously followed a cart making it's way slowly along a
narrow track towards a farmhouse. It was loaded with barrels but the
driver seemed in no hurry. No one seemed to be in a hurry. It was too
hot for haste. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">The
walls and keep of his home were made from the flints, so common in
this part of the country, and immensely strong when used for
building. The buildings within were set out in ranges against the
defensive walls. Some were the homes of servants who shared sleeping
accommodation. Many housed guards and officials of the Castle. The
bailiff had a cottage on the grassed and cobbled Bailey. All were
roofed with local tiles, giving the buildings a reddish appearance.
The great Keep rose above all, it's towering crenelations inspiring
confidence and trust in all the inhabitants. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Marcus
was familiar with this view from the walls, he had been born in this
castle. He had learned to use a bow from seasoned archers within it's
walls. He had played in the fields he could see from his vantage
point.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">At
the entrance to the Castle several men stood talking and Marcus
wondered idly if they knew they were being observed. He recognised
them all and knew, should the need arise, that they would leap into
action. Apart from patrolling his lands for outlaws and guard duty,
they had little to do. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Like
the walls of his castle, Marcus was solid and reliable. His family
was an old one which fought with the Conqueror when he invaded this
land. For generations now they had been favoured by his successors
and were trusted allies. They had much land, some granted by various
monarchs as tenants-in Chief and some they had bought in their own
right over the years.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">They
also had the living of several parishes on their lands. They had
gifted some to sons of families who had chosen the ecclesiastical
life and thus had put those families in their debt. They were, in
fact, one of the most influential families in the county of Kent and
also held lands all over England.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Marcus
had been blessed with 2 sons before a fever had taken his beloved
Wife and it was these children that he was thinking of now. The
youngest, Phillipe, favoured his mother, with blonde hair and eyes of
green. He was a sturdy and affectionate child, just turned 7, golden
haired and bright. He was polite and well spoken.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">His
older son, Godwyn, was the image of his father. Raven black hair and
a strong square face topped a well muscled and co-ordinated body. He
excelled at sports and games and had told his father that he wished
to fight in the Kings wars. God knew he would get the chance soon
enough. The King always seemed to be warring on some country or
another. Marcus felt his eldest son would have been more at home in
the great days of the Crusades. He was now 12 and would soon start
training in earnest for a military career.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Marcus
sighed and walked towards the great central keep. He was proud of the
castle and his standing in the area. He loved his two sons and wanted
the best for both but today news had come which filled him with
dread.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">The
King, as always, was demanding money for incessant wars in Europe but
was also facing trouble from Scotland and Wales. Today he had
received a message telling him to report for military service. It was
an honour but also a burden. One did not turn down such requests,
specially from Edward who had a fearsome temper and spread his anger
liberally.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">The
men at the gate were also going with him. The Castle had not been
under threat for years and soldiers who had nothing to do often
became lazy but he let them rest for now, they would soon be called
on to serve again.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: medium;">His
sons were too young to be left but he had options. His late wife had
had a brother, Myles, and he had shown some skill for organisation.
He was also literate and numerate. Marcus had been thinking about the
problem while he stood alone and had decided to leave Godwyn,</span>
<span style="font-size: medium;">nominally in charge, with his
uncle as a kind of regent. The boy would offer to go with him and the
thought made Marcus smile. He had some training with weapons but he
wouldn't last a day against an army of fully trained veterans. No, he
must learn his duties at home. Marcus knew he wouldn't live forever
and Godwyn needed to be ready to take over.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">More
of a problem was Phillipe. He was too young for anything except
education. Marcus trusted his older son but knew that having his
younger brother around would distract him from learning how to manage
the Castle and estates. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">He
resolved, reluctantly, to send his younger son to a Monastery which
would provide a good education. He was unsure if the happy child
would ever make a Monk, Friar or Priest but time would tell. If not
there was always the Universities. Oxford was well entrenched as the
senior University, having been founded not long after the invasion by
William, but the town of Cambridge, in the fen district to the north
of London, also had a well respected university. It had been founded
at he beginning of the century and was rapidly gaining a good
reputation. Phillipe could do well with a start like that. A training
in Philosophy, logic and rhetoric could open many doors. Even a life
as a physician could be lucrative.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">He
felt sure this was all for the best and there was really no choice.
His eldest son would learn to be a man and his youngest would sow the
seeds of a scholarly, or at worst clerical life. It occurred to him
that his children may not like being separated but this was his best
course of action. He was sure of it.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">This
issue had been worrying him since the messenger arrived and he had
turned it over and over in his mind. His sons were dear to him and
wanted to ensure they were safe and happy. Having made a decision he
strode towards the living quarters in the Keep. He went to the small
room that he used when he was conducting business. Sitting in his
favourite chair he sent a messenger for the parish priest and asked a
servant to fetch Myles, who had quarters in the range of buildings
bordering the bailey. He had acted as a scribe since Marcus married
his sister and had continued after her death. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Hopefully
the Cleric would know of religious establishments providing
educational facilities. Even if he didn't know, Marcus felt sure he
could find out. That part would be easy. Myles was a different
matter. He was not a confident man and may need to be persuaded.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><span style="background: transparent;">Chapter
1</span></b></u></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: small;"><u><b><span style="background: transparent;">1445-Sittyngborne
in the county of Kent.</span></b></u></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Sittyngborne
was shrouded with fog on a cold morning. Puddles in the street
boasted a crust of clear ice over the mud beneath. The figures of
early risers engaged in various activities seemed ghostly until they
were almost upon you, then appeared suddenly, as clear as day. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">The
sun would struggle to burn of the fog by mid-day if at all. Winter
had come early to this tiny town on the north downs of Kent and the
fog itself sent a chill through the bones. The guard on the east gate
shivered, looking forward to his relief arriving. There was a warm
fire in the guard house and they would be having breakfast about now.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">He
had heard sailors who plied their trade along the tidal creek and up
to London gossip that the Thames was likely to freeze. There was even
talk of a great frost fair, where Londoners would indulge in business
and pleasure on the frozen river itself. It was rare but so was the
arrival of the north winds which bought these conditions so early. At
times the great city was cut off in bad winters. If it's early
arrival was anything to go by this year was likely to be one. It
would be hard on those who relied on trade with the city.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">A
few hardy souls were about. A hawker up early to get the best patch
and a merchant on his way to open his small shop walked along,
peering into the white mist that shrouded everything. They almost
bumped into each other.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Near
the Creek was a small building with a wooden frame and simple stone
built chimney. The framework was covered in wattle and daub. The
thatched roof was in poor repair. Bits of the dry and cracked outer
covering were falling off in the freezing conditions. Windows and
doors were covered by bits of sacking. It was built on what was
little more than a large garden, almost barren now, but the state of
this plot was the last thing on the mind of one of the two occupants.
The other was barely aware of the world around her. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Inside
the hut Philip Reyner sat on his dirty straw mattress. He was a small
child. His oval face was framed by unruly brown hair, shaped roughly
like a pudding basin and his ears were hidden beneath it. He had
green eyes over a thin nose and a narrow mouth His arms and legs were
well muscled for a boy his age. They got a lot of use. He was thin
but that, also, was to be expected given his situation.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Numbers
meant little to him but if truth were known he could not have been
more than nine years old.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">The
family dwelling had two small rooms, the first containing two small
straw mattresses on the floor. One was his and one his Mother's.
Apart from that the only other furniture was an old Chest, a stool
and a table. There was a small fire in the hearth, barely enough to
warm him on this cold night. The sounds of the livestock could be
heard in the other room, separated by a curtain of old sack cloth. It
hadn't always been like this, once they had lived in a cottage with a
kitchen and bedchambers. Philip sighed at the thought. He had known
hardship and sorrow but tonight was the worst of his young life.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">He
held a Ring in his hand. It was his only legacy from his late and
unlamented father, Matthew, who had died of a mysterious infection
four winters before. No-one knew what it was. The town gossips had
attributed it to everything from the pox to the plague. The town had
seen people suffering with various ailments. They thought they knew
the symptoms but this was different. Towards the end he vomited blood
a lot. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">A
physician may have provided a diagnosis but they were expensive, very
expensive. The apothecary took some eggs and milk in exchange for an
unintelligible diagnosis about humours being out of balance. He had
bled the man and assured his family he would be well in a few days.
It was not common practice for an apothecary to do this but, aside
from the cost, Sittyngborne boasted no Physician.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">They
might as well have saved the food for themselves. Medical cures
rarely worked, even those prescribed by a Physician. The Apothecary
who attended Matthew Reyner had a large shop in Sittyngborne near
the 'Lyon'. He often boasted medical knowledge so they had taken him
at his word. He may have put more effort into saving Matthew if he
had been paid in coin but it was doubtful he could have saved the
patient even then. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Philip
often wondered about the Ring he held. It looked like Gold to his
young eyes but he had never really seen any before. Even so it had to
be worth something. Could they have saved his father if they had sold
it? After his father had died he had asked his mother that question.
She had answered that the Ring was his legcy, or something like that
and that it had been in the family for many years. She also said it
was important, though she did not know why and She would not sell it.
</span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">In
any case Matthew had been a drunken sot. He seemed to blame everyone
but himself for his laziness, drinking and womanising. Mary had
suspected that that the illness was God's punishment and it was his
sins that killed him.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">So,
Matthew died and his wife scraped together the cost of a poor burial
by selling a little of their produce. After the rents and the tithes
there was barely enough to feed them that year. They were reduced to
eating what little they found or could scavenge. They had once farmed
a few strips of land around the town and it had provided a good
income but then his father gradually sank into the mire of drink,
gambling and whores. He was able to exchange the tenancy of his
fields, one by one, for cash. His neighbour Master Tyler was hungry
for land and took all that he could get. Mistress Tyler felt a little
guilty that her husband took advantage of Matthew's situation and
tried to make up for it by making small acts of charity and sending
Mary cast off clothing for her and Philip.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Things
settled down eventually and they actually found life a little easier
without Matthew. They would never admit the fact, it would be
disrespectful. He had been absolved of his sins and if God forgave
him who were they to argue. Even so It soon became apparent just how
much Matthew had been spending when they found they were able to
amass some coin in the following years.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Sighing,
he replaced the Ring in a small bag around his neck. The bag was a
Yule gift from his mother, she had made it from some spare leather
and it contained all those things a small boy treasures.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">They
had managed well until his mother had found a growth where her breast
and armpit merged. Such things were rare but she had seen it in
elderly people. They usually wasted away quickly and invariably died
within a few years. She had not mentioned it to Philip, hoping she
was an exception but after six months it had grown considerably and
she was losing weight rapidly. She bowed to the inevitable and
consulted the apothecary. Once again he blamed the humours building
up and bled her. When the lump didn't go down he bled her again but
it was an expensive business. If it had been working she would have
used all her meagre savings but the treatments were obviously not
achieving anything. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Philip
had heard his mother discussing it with Mistress Tyler and asked her
about it and she saw no point in lying to the boy, if things went as
they had with the other sufferers he would have to know. She told him
about the growth and that it was likely to be the death of her. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">He
overheard another conversation between the two women a few weeks
later about a man in a nearby town who claimed to remove such lumps
with a knife but he charged more than the physicians. Rumour had it
that more patients died than survived but it offered a chance of his
mother recovering. He was sure the Ring would raise enough for the
operation and offered it to his mother to sell, but this time she
became angry and told him that she would never sell it no matter how
pressing the need. She had also said that, if it was God's will she
should die, she would accept it. </span></span></span></span>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">His
mother lost more weight, becoming little more than skin and bone. She
seemed to be in pain most of the time. The symptoms got worse as
time went on. Even Philip could foresee the inevitable conclusion.
And today God had called her.</span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">After
a night of listening to his mother's pain filled attempts to breathe
and offering what comfort a boy could offer to a dying adult, she had
called him to her.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
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</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="background: transparent;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Hold
my hand my beautiful boy.” She said weakly. “I go to God soon, I
hear him calling now.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">He
held her hand which was almost skeletal in keeping with the ravages
of the disease that held her prisoner.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="background: transparent;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-size: medium;">When
I am gone fetch the Priest, he will do what is needed. I have saved</span>
<span style="font-size: medium;">some money in the Chest, enough
to bury me. You will not be in debt for my sake.....”</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Once
again she drifted off into a troubled and pain filled sleep for an
hour or so. Just before dawn as the light began to show through the
sacking covering the tiny window, she started as if remembering an
urgent errand. She panicked when she saw Philip was gone from her
side. The boy rushed over to her and held her thin hand again. Her
voice was so weak he could barely make out her words.</span></span></span></span></div>
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</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="background: transparent;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My
son you have kin over Maydstone way, find them, they will help. They
are in our debt. I must go to God now.....I am sorry to leave you to
face this harsh world alone...”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Tears
rolled down his mother's face as she kissed her son for the last
time.</span></span></span></span></div>
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</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="background: transparent;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I
Love you my boy......” She whispered and then with a dry rattle in
her throat she expelled her last breath and her eyes turned flat and
glassy.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Philip
cried over the still form of his mother for what seemed like forever
but eventually he laid her hand down and closed her eyes as he had
seen her do for his father. He kissed her cold forehead and sat once
again on the mattress to wait.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">As
soon as it was as bright as the fog would allow he went to the large
Church of St Micheal near the spring at the east end of the High
Street. He took a moment to kneel before the statue of the Virgin. It
was set into a niche in a buttress of the Church and offered the
parishioners a chance to pray when no services were in progress
inside. He dutifully prayed for his parent's souls, but his prayers
were hasty because of the nature of his surroundings.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">He
was in the midst of grey, lichen covered and ancient gravestones. It
was scary enough at night but in the fog it seemed eerie and
menacing. His imagination peopled it with ghostly apparitions hiding
behind each stone. As soon as he felt he had prayed enough the
literally ran around the walls of the great Church, expecting a
skeletal hand to grab him with each step. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
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</div>
<div align="CENTER" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br /></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: medium;">He
wiped his face with a dirty hand on the way but all he managed was to
spread the dirt on both. The Priest, a kindly man who had visited
both his parents when they were ill, was in the Church porch
unlocking the great wooden door. The boy tugged at his black robe</span>.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">He
told the man of his mother's death and the Vicar, Father Mark, went
back to the hut to perform the necessary rites for her. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">The
Priest was out of breath when they arrived at the tiny structure. The
boy picked up a wooden cup and offered him some beer from a small
barrel which he accepted. He drank it, though it proved to be very
bitter, and when he regained his breath he thanked the lad.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">He
bent over the body of Philip's mother. She had taken on the pallor
of the deceased. The Priest muttered words the lad couldn't
understand as he made the sign of the cross over his mother's chest
several times. Afterwards he sat down and tried to offer comfort to
the boy. Philip spoke very little. This kindly fat man was the same
man who preached about sin and hell fire every day and small boys
always had sins, imagined or otherwise, on their conscience. He was
intimidated and his tongue refused to co-operate.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="background: transparent;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Your
mother was at peace with God, she had already confessed her sins to
me when I visited a few days ago and was absolved. Now we must make
enquiries as to what we can do for you, young Philip. Have you family
nearby, friends of your mother possibly?.”</span></span></span></span></div>
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</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="background: transparent;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;">Mistress
Tyler.” The boy said shyly. “She lives up the lane.”.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">That
appeared to use up his meager store of words but the Vicar knew the
woman well. She helped in his magnificent Church. It was not far. He
had time before mass to visit her. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
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</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Father
Mark broke the awkward silence. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="background: transparent;">“<span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;">I
will see her on my way back and discuss your sad case with Adam
Smith, the Sherriff's man and we will see what can be done. Mistress
Tyler will no doubt bring you when she comes to mass today but it
will take some time to arrange things. Come and see me tomorrow after
Morning Mass.”</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">After
the Priest left Philip set about the daily routine. It was not much
different today. He had been used to doing the chores alone since his
mother's illness took a turn for the worse. He was no stranger to
hard work. He was often out before dawn gathering Chestnuts and
picking up windfalls in the orchards which proliferated in this part
of Kent. He had even worked in the fields during harvest. His mother
often went fruit picking, taking Philip with her. These were his
favourite memories of his mother, industriously picking apples and
singing or telling him stories. It was all this and his mother's
hard work and prudence that kept them from starving. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Even
so he knew that someone like him would not be allowed to continue to
farm the land. His home would have to be given to someone who could
make the most of it, not a young boy who would be incapable of
working it alone. He sensed his time here was nearly over. He had no
idea what would happen next. Philip possessed a quick and questioning
mind. All the time he was carrying out his daily jobs, he was
thinking about different futures and where he would end up. His
thoughts presented scenario after scenario for his consideration.
None seemed as good as this tiny hut with his Mother but that was
over now. He looked around while he worked. The Sun had broken
through the fog now though small patches lingered. Apart from that
the hut was bathed in a weak wintry light.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">With
the animals fed he thought about finding his friend Ned, (Mistress
Tyler's youngest boy.) if only to get away from his Mother's body.
He knew it was not Mary, According to Father Mark her soul was with
God, though his treacherous mind started asking questions about that
too. It was the shell that remained which scared him a little and he
was sure it made a few odd noises. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Before
he could set off to find Ned, Mistress Tyler and her youngest son
walked down the lane towards him. Ned was a few years younger than
Philip and wanted to play, seemingly unaware of his friend's grief.
His Mother ordered him curtly to show some respect and sit quietly.
It was awkward, Philip would have welcomed the chance to discuss all
this with Ned. His mother bustled around tidying, though in truth
there was nothing much to tidy. Mary's body emitted a low grumbling
noise. It was extremely loud in the silence. Mistress Tyler, who had
seen death many times, ignored it. Ned, like Philip, was fearful of
it's brooding presence.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Thankfully
Some men arrived with the parish coffin on the Tyler's handcart. They
took his Mother's body to the Church. Mistress Tyler, after ensuring
the place was clean, though Philip wasn't sure why, took him to mass
at mid-day. She was pious and attended services most days. He prayed
for his mother's soul but part of him wondered, irreverently, how
much more prayer it would need. The Priest said she was already with
God so he didn't see how his prayers would make much difference.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">After
Church he was taken to the Tyler's neat thatched cottage and seated
with Ned at the huge table for the main meal of the day. He sat
quietly and picked at his food while the family chattered around him.
Of course his Mother's death was the main topic.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">For
the rest of the day he endured Master and Mistress Tyler and even
some of the older of the 5 Tyler children ordering him about. It was
all bustle and rush.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Master
Tyler told him he would be staying with them for the night. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">Towards
evening Tyler went to tend the Reyner animals with his oldest son
Edward. They made sure the house was secure. All Tyler could do was
tie the sacking covering the doorway with leather thongs, the hut
boasted no real door. Edward Tyler proudly thought about their
cottage, which had a wooden door and crude bolts top and bottom.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
</div>
<div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: Times New Roman;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">This
day had been one of the longest of Philip's life. There was little
room in the home of such a large family so he was put in lean-to
where the animals slept, on a bed of straw. He knew his mother was
with God, he had been told so endlessly today. Only now did it hit
him, though, that he was alone and he cried, great heaving sobs that
racked his small body. They seemed to go on forever. His sobs
eventually subsided and tiredness took over as he slid into a
troubled sleep.</span></span></span></span></div>
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</div>
</span><div align="LEFT" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 100%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<br /></div>
</span></div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-53010004418853225472016-05-16T07:58:00.001-07:002016-05-16T07:58:52.064-07:00Writing should be enjoyable but not on Wordpress lately!<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="http://www.laurenmarinigh.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/frustration.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="http://www.laurenmarinigh.com/wp-content/uploads/2014/07/frustration.jpg" height="268" width="320" /></a></div>
<span style="font-size: large;">Looky here, I was on both blogger and Wordpress. I got more responders on Wordpress but less views. Thus, not having much time to keep posting on both I went with WP.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: large;">Roll on about a year and I have shiny new windows 10 on my PC but lordy it does not seem to like WP. Took me two hours to post 1083 words and 3 pictures. I had duplicated images, lost pictures, disappearing sentences. Pictures appeared and disappeared seemingly at will. I have typed these few words and linked to 1 picture in a matter of minutes. Granted the subject matter was not very serious but it is still much easier to use than WP has been lately. Think I might use Blogger again and see how it goes.</span>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-58933601337817299012015-10-26T01:38:00.001-07:002015-10-26T01:41:05.468-07:00How many stories are there? Less than we think I guess.Originally posted on Wordpress.....<br />
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As an avid reader and watcher of film I have often wondered if there are a finite number of stories in the human imagination. I am not saying everyone who has written a book or made a film is committing deliberate plagiarism. It is undeniable though that many films and books are retellings of older stories. Many are fairy tales set in the modern day and a large well known City. The same is true of Shakespeare's work. Romeo and Juliet, The taming of the Shrew and many others have been told multiple times in different settings.<br />
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Another repeated tale is that of the Hero, often a troubled or unloved soul, who battles against untold odds against an arch enemy of superior intellect and strength. Needless to say he always triumphs in the end-even if it takes a film trilogy for this to come to pass. This story is the basis of most super hero movies.<br />
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Even the Crime novel, no matter where it is set, follows the same pattern. Mostly these feature a baffling murder or death attributed to natural causes. A detective, normally with a sidekick, is assigned or works out that a crime has been committed. The sidekick is there in order for the slower reader/watcher to have things explained to them. After a twisted and tangled web is followed, with many false leads eliminated, the villain is revealed in a dramatic way. By and large the criminal is the most unexpected character and there has to be a twist in the ending. The hero must also be menaced occasionally.<br />
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An updated version of the Hero story is the type of thriller written by Dan Brown. The hero faces danger, violence and injury that would fell a lesser mortal. He/She is in pursuit of a theory based around an ancient document or artefact. His opposition is a person or group whose interest is in suppressing the aforesaid theory. They are also quite prepared to kill the hero and sidekicks (Once again for the slower reader/viewer!). After Mr Brown the market was deluged by books of this type and they are still popular but are essentially the same basic plot.<br />
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The Romance novel has seen a resurgence with T.V. adaptations of classics and, inevitably, the updated modern versions. These are largely seen as women's books or films and are concerned with the rocky path to idealised romance. There must be angst, there must be opposition to the match, there must be a mysterious enemy of the couple who will do anything to stop the union but in the end there must be marriage or the modern equivalent.<br />
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There is a new breed of Romance novel typified by the 50 Shades trilogy which is essentially a love story but explores the more physical side of the relationship.<br />
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The list goes on, Disaster movies, Horror and Science fiction. All of these have different settings but most have features in common with the core stories I have mentioned Even these usually include a love story, a ruthless enemy and a hero.<br />
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I know that there are some original stories which do not quite fit these things. Dickens Christmas carol is unique in my experience but is about redemption which is a common theme in the aforementioned genres.<br />
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The fact of the matter is that we like having our favourite tales spoon fed to us. A truly original novel is rare but they are unlikely to be made into films because they do not have the dramatic plotlines. As a book they are enjoyable but that is all they will remain.<br />
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Given the Hollywood habit of Rebooting even recent tales, especially in the Super hero genre, you have to wonder if the 'original' story exists. I am a writer but find it very hard to come up with a plot which has not already been done to death.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-47625443429563594392015-10-22T02:54:00.001-07:002015-10-22T02:54:09.195-07:00Something to look forward too.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My posts lately have not been full of joy but a Blog is about expressing yourself, good and bad. I have a personality which occasionally bogs down in semi depression and it helps to write about it in (I hope!) a humorous way.<br />
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However it is time to try to move on. I am basically a cheerful person and have been listing some reasons for cheer.<br />
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1. I am married to a lovely lady who puts up with me. She tries to fill all my needs and I do likewise.<br />
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2. While<em> </em>I am not rich I am not destitute either and have some luxuries which others would love.<br />
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3. For every bad day there are 3 or 4 good days.<br />
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4. Food. I love my food.<br />
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5. I love the Autumn and Winter.<br />
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6. Maybe, just maybe, it will snow this year. I love snow.<br />
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7. I love Christmas, you will find this out nearer the time when I will mention it every 5 minutes. If it snows AT Christmas my cup runneth over.<br />
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8. I have 3 Grown up kids in whom I have great pride.<br />
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9. I have 2 Grandchildren who cheer me up all the time.<br />
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As Ian Drury said.....Reasons to be cheerful.<br />
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<a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qcjh1a9Yoao" target="_blank">Reasons to be cheerful part 3</a><br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-18397478417345797802015-10-20T09:00:00.001-07:002015-10-20T09:00:52.672-07:00More bad luck......or is it?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I have mentioned several times about how my luck, such as it is, goes in cycles (Good then bad then Good!). I cam currently in a bad cycle but I thought it was coming to an end. How wrong can you be. <br />
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I went to see my mother in her care home. We had as enjoyable time as possible and returned to the car. It was parked with the wheels at an angle which allowed me to check the tyres. I had checked them when I bought the car and they had been replaced just before that by the previous owner. They were in good condition. Imagine how shocked I was to find they were now smooth on the inside rim. After a 1/2 hour drive home I took them to the tyre place and had them replaced at a cost we can barely afford. Once again I had, it seemed, been shafted. The tyres were both down to the metal layer and could have blown at any time. The previous owner had had new tyres but neglected to check the tracking. The tyre guy told me, rather condescendingly I thought, that the tracking was quite spectacularly out and this would explain the rapid wear.<br />
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Needless to say I resent paying for that mistake but at least the car is safe. It was this that made me consider this bad luck thing. Rather than considering the bad luck of having to spend money we really can't spare, maybe I should think about the good luck of checking my tyres before they blew, possibly at high speed. I guess every cloud does have a silver lining.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-71755394007049843052015-10-16T04:37:00.000-07:002015-10-16T04:37:07.789-07:00Vengeance is mine. Or is it just coincidence.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Aside from the normal day to day niggles that beset us, there are times in your life when it is quite easy to believe in a vengeful God punishing us for an imagined yet undefined wrong. This usually takes the form of a run of bad luck.</div>
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Another theory of mine is that you can only have so much good luck. Despite my comparatively comfortable circumstances, for which I am grateful, I often feel I am being given some bad luck to balance it out. This is never more so than with finances. Those who say that money can't buy you happiness fail to mention that having enough to deal with anything life throws at you is a big help. Having come from a poor family I think this type of luck is handed down and I am not likely to break the mould. So I repeat there has to be a balance. This last few days a case in point. A few things have gone my way in the last few months and I should have known payback was on the way. First some fairly important dealings with a government body completely failed to achieve their purpose and many plans were depending on the outcome. Now Mrs Bot and I both tend to get angry about this sort of thing and if we are particularly tired it erupts into very long and heated argument. This inevitably followed. We are accustomed to this once in a while but it is very unsettling. </div>
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Today I got up and took Mrs Bot to work at 6.30 am and the weather was cloudy but dry. During the course of the morning it began to rain. It was the type of rain my grandmother called 'Lazy Rain' because it doesn't bother going round you it just goes straight through. Now rain in the UK tends to be short lived but not today. I was shopping and hence jumping in and out of the car every 15 minutes, my clothes got very wet each time. My glasses got covered in rain and steamed up every time. Ditto the car windows. I have never used the heating in the car but it is good, as is the rear window heater. Thank the deity of choice for that. On my last trip I was to top up the cards which run my 'Pay as you go' energy meters. I have done this hundreds of times without a smidgeon of a problem. Today I put my debit card into the machine, Pin O.K. and remove card as usual. Then take the receipts. Transaction failed. </div>
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"It's O.K." Says the harassed till person, "It won't go through.". I am very stressed by now and the £15 I have just agreed to give to the energy company is a lot of money. How does she know it won't go through. They try it again and again it fails and again I am assured it won't go through. That's £30 if they are wrong and still no gas and electricity. I am sure they have experienced this sort of thing often enough to be correct in their assumption but I am not comfortable spending £15 elsewhere when, as I am given to understand, it is the energy company that is at fault. Luckily we have one or two days reserve.</div>
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Added to all this the fact that one of our appliances is partially non functional, our sofa is no longer in the prime of life and the vacuum cleaner smells of burning every time it is switched on and you have some idea of my point.</div>
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This cycle eventually swings back to normal but while they last these periods where little goes right are a nightmare. So if you are the Deity responsible I ask respectfully that you stop it and if it is the luck thing I'd better batten down the hatches cos it's gonna be a rough ride.</div>
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-83070744273423491502015-10-15T02:00:00.001-07:002015-10-15T02:02:09.456-07:00Blues.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am not normally a great one for admitting I am under the weather. I am not normally ill, beyond the effects of the stroke and other permanent problems. The weather here is that awful damp greyness so typical of Britain at it's worst. Altogether not the happiest of days.<br />
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For the last few days though I have had a backache which makes movement painful and my moods are up and down. Even turning over in bed is painful and I wake myself up 3 or 4 times a night. This exacerbates the mood swings and leaves me short tempered. Normally the idiots on Facebook are eminently ignorable but today I find myself railing at how infantile some of them are. They think themselves so cool with their rudeness and swearing or the casual sexism and racism (Black and white are equally guilty!!!!) It says so much about the moral decline of the world that these people with their amoral attitudes are actually proud of these childish posts. What happened to self respect.<br />
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You can see where I am mentally today so I will leave you with this thought. No matter how dark it is today, tomorrow may be bright. I hope so.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-60024349236365884862015-10-14T01:55:00.002-07:002015-10-14T02:07:52.544-07:00Winter cometh-And this year there are problems before it even gets here..<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The nights are drawing in and getting colder. Not too bad yet but Mrs Bot has decreed 'Yea I am cold, and ye shall heat the house.' Normally, no problem, but this year a obsolete boiler and replacement for same is causing more than a little angst. Given the modern preference for naming such things let us call it CHIP or Central Heating Instruction Problems. The boiler is OK it has several thermostats controlling it's on and off cycles. The water is on an 'On demand' basis. The problem is the controller. It has a simple on/off setting. This just switches on and off when told to by the thermostat, 24 hours a day. However we Bots dislike wasting money and heating empty rooms and also when we are snug and warm in bed. Therefore Mrs Bot further decreed 'Yea and verily (You don't think this is getting needlessly messianic do you?) Ye shall find me ye instruction manual and I shall program ye controller'<br />
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No problem, except that the bag containing the manuals has disappeared into the black hole that is the loft, never to be seen again.<br />
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On to plan B. I spend 15 minutes trying to read the part number, written upside down and sideways on a tiny flap. The writing is likewise tiny. Given my eyesight this is no easy task. I fire up my auxiliary brain number three, my PC. It is affectionately known as 'Bloody machine.' for it's habit of refusing to do anything useful until it has finished booting to it's own satisfaction. Much cursing later and the computer grudgingly agrees to do a search. One or two websites later and I know more about controllers. More to the point I have found an instruction manual. One click later and it laboriously loads the PDF file. A few more minutes and it is loaded. <br />
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'Nearly there.' I scream to myself. But dear reader you know better. The printer goes through it's not insignificant boot up and then refuses to acknowledge it has paper. I can see the paper but no, it is adamant. Fifteen minutes spent at floor level jiggling the paper and nothing. So I take exactly the amount I need, one at a time and separating each meticulously, and replace it. It graciously accepts that it now has paper.<br />
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Sixteen pages later and we have the manual. The actual programming will be done by Mrs Bot, who despite my mastery of all this computer stuff, cannot believe I will be able to program a simple controller with a manual.<br />
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It set me to thinking of our distant ancestors though. The process for heating was a simple matter of starting a fire-something they were expert at. No bloody manuals or computers either.<br />
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I was bought up with a real fire and I know they are warmer, visually very attractive and almost hypnotic. Dirty yes but they do say fire has a soul. I bet the central heating doesn't.<br />
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-45276090743455282932015-10-13T04:49:00.001-07:002016-05-18T01:56:02.344-07:00Are we dumbing down or am I just becoming Mr Curmudgeon?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I am normally very confident in my opinions and certainly not afraid to express them. This one is a case in point. Today, a blog I read made me certain that we are, as a nation, dumbing down. I would like to believe that I am wrong but I fear not.. <br>
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Cases in point.<br>
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1. 'A' level questions which would have been in 'O' level papers in my day.<br>
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2. Teens asked questions in voxpop news items to which their replies are worthy of a child.<br>
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3. Answers to similar questions which merely parrot the prevailing ideas on any particular issue without any supporting original thoughts.<br>
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4. Youths who have no idea of their own history (Often seen on quiz programs.)<br>
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5.Geeks who endlessly argue about which superhero is better or has better powers. I stopped doing this when I left Junior school. These guys live in a world of Games and Science fiction films, the real world does not impinge on their lives.<br>
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6. Those who believe that the money they receive from benefits are from some magic endless fund and never question whether they deserve it. This is usually followed by some incoherent comment about why a job is impossible to find for them though everyone else should be made to get one.<br>
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The list goes on. It rapidly becomes obvious that many young people today have no idea about Politics, their heroes are vacuous or violent fictional soap opera characters and celebrities with no real claim to fame and they cannot even express themselves without those dreadful Americanisms innit?<br>
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Go on Facebook and the ideas expressed by older members are often about politics and current events. Younger people post about said celebrities, post meaningless graphic jokes or parrot others who post (Often obscene) reactions to others.<br>
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I have strong Anti European feelings and wish to leave the EU as soon as possible. There are several reasons but a typical post from a younger person might be a graphic like 'Get us the F**k out of the EU.' followed by a comment, if pressed, like 'It's the immigration innit?' That is the extent of their explanation for their views. Interviewers have long learned to accept comments from youngsters but not to push them too hard for further explanations.<br>
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The most dangerous youths today are those who see racist information and who do not have the intellectual toolkit to realise they are being manipulated. Thus you have them being indoctrinated by the far right or terrorist organisations. They are ignorant of the futility of fanaticism and it leaves them wide open to this manipulation. <br>
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I am sure there are a lot of younger people out there who are not like this but they are definitely in the minority.<br>
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<em><a href="http://www.infowars.com/newly-discovered-eighth-grade-exam-from-1912-shows-how-dumbed-down-america-has-become/" target="_blank">Recenly discovered 1912 exam paper which would give me problems today.</a></em><br>
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<em>'They are Man's,' said the Spirit, looking down upon</em><i>them. 'And they cling to me, appealing from their fathers.</i><br>
<i>This boy is Ignorance. This girl is Want. Beware them both,</i><br>
<i>and all of their degree, but most of all beware this boy,</i><br>
<i>for on his brow I see that written which is Doom,</i><br>
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<em>Charles Dickens 'A Christmas Carol'</em><br>
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<em>I may be Mr Curmudgeon but I am sure that I have very good reason to fear the dumbing down of society.</em><br>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-26617784766211364272015-10-12T05:51:00.000-07:002015-10-12T05:51:18.029-07:00Busy, Busy, Busy<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Everything is turmoil Chez Lifebot today. One of the delights that life and advancing age have inflicted on me is a Cataract. This means, for those who have not had the pleasure, that my vision is poor and T.V has become almost impossible to watch from the place our present sofa resides.<br />
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So it meant that there is only one thing to do. We moved the sofa nearer to the T.V. If only it were as simple as that. Anyone who has done this will now that several other things get in the way. So it meant a complete rearrangement of the living room. Two or three hours, a major bout of hovering and much swearing later and we have a freshly arranged, hovered and tidied living room.<br />
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Cue our gorgeous but ever so slightly naughty 2 year old granddaughter. The toys cam out, the crayons came out, several books now decorate our carpet. The whirlwind that is Laicey has struck and all our good work is now a bit of a mess. Best I get the vacuum cleaner out again.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-90888176514902508482015-10-09T06:27:00.001-07:002015-10-09T06:30:46.773-07:00There will be fireworks.......Mr Curmudgeon rides again.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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Fireworks, Great aren't they? Organised displays are a lot of fun. Leeds castle in Kent has one synchronised with classical music. I have no problem if it is my choice to watch fireworks and I do understand that you cannot help hearing them around November 5th. I also know that all kinds of occasions merit fireworks. New Year, Guy fawkes night, Christmas and birthdays have all become worthy of displays. Why I don't know, we didn't need fireworks to celebrate at least three of those before.<br />
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OK so I'll put that down to change. What has changed for the worse is that there are fireworks going off for at least a week before and after some of these events. Around November the fifth there are fireworks nearly every night. Around Christmas there are fireworks randomly around the holidays. What this has to do with a religious holiday is beyond me but these days the same can be said for the season itself., We even hear fireworks at Easter.<br />
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So people have so little fun in their lives that they need to let off fireworks to celebrate anything. The shops start selling them in early September and I understand many companies sell them all year round. This would tie in with the multiple events they are used for.<br />
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We are in a state of Austerity and many people claim not to have money for essentials yet packs of fireworks start from about £20. They get a lot more expensive. So how on Earth can people justify sending all this money up in smoke.<br />
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When I was a child fireworks were pretty and if they were going to make a loud bang they were called bangers. Modern fireworks seem to be judged by how loud they are. Many would not be out of place on a battlefield. Often we are seated watching TV and we are subjected to a barrage of bangs loud enough to rattle the windows. Given that this can be any time of year we never know when. A neighbour had fireworks at his barbecue in the summer, presumably to celebrate his not burning the food. Those with pets and small children must dread this time of year.<br />
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There is also the unregulated nature of home displays. There is no doubt that Children can get far too close to fireworks and, in November, an unguarded, large bonfire. Ask The fire or ambulance services if you don't believe me. They have to deal with the fallout. These things are dangerous and should only be seen at organised displays. Much as you feel you know what you are doing, fireworks and bonfires can be lethal. Fireworks were invented in China as weapons. <br />
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Oh yes and before you buy a super banger designed to make noises akin to a field gun, think about those who are forced to listen to it and who may not enjoy it as you do. And keeping this up from 7 or 8 till well gone midnight is anti social to say the least. Go to a display!<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-52089606602826442882015-10-08T06:36:00.001-07:002015-10-08T06:36:53.954-07:00Me and OCD<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The picture above is a nice easy way to show what O.C.D. does, but if you don't suffer with it, you won't really understand. I am a sufferer and it is at times of insecurity and when I am tired that it slinks from it's cave. As an intelligent person it can be triggered by the smallest thing that I consider abnormal in day to day life. I offer this example.<br />
I was just going through my new phone's capabilities and had the earphones plugged in. Then the onscreen headset indicator, showing that it was plugged in, disappeared. Straight away I thought something was wrong. Now you dear reader would probably think that it was a software glitch and shrug it off. My somewhat twisted mind thought it was a sign that the phone was possibly broken. I unplugged the headset and plugged it in again. The indicator appeared and stayed there so I listened to a song or two and unplugged it. Then I thought maybe I had damaged the socket removing it and plugged it in again. This happened 15 to twenty times. A classic example of the cycle in the picture. Anxiety about my phone, compulsive action removing and replacing the headphones, very temporary relief from anxiety and renewing the anxiety by wondering if I had damaged it by my actions.<br />
My conscious mind knows there is unlikely to be a problem with a brand new phone, and the irony is that you are likely to cause more damage with this obsessive action of constant plugging in/Unplugging.<br />
But we are not finished yet, once I eventually convinced myself that it was OK I began wondering about the earphone socket on my tablet, I hadn't used it for ages. sure enough I went through the same ritual with my tablet. Another 15 or 20 plug/unplug cycles later and I managed to stop myself. Great, except that I tried both again first thing this morning and nearly slipped into the cycle again. Luckily, being more awake, I managed to stop it more quickly.after maybe one or two attempts.<br />
I won't even tell you about how much of this behaviour I went through setting the phone up. Every time I had a moment of anxiety about it's operation would lead to constantly using that particular function again and again till I was sure all was well.<br />
At one time I had the keys to my workplace and was entrusted to lock up. At the time I was in a fairly bad place with my 1st marriage and my job. It wasn't unusual for me to stand there locking and unlocking the door on the premise that the last cycle would finally convince me that I had locked the door properly. Then I started again, worrying that I had somehow not done it properly last time. Once the lock was dealt with there was the shutter. Once it was down I would lift it to check that the door was really secure and shut it again. I once stood there for an hour doing these robotic and unnecessary tasks. it took a major intercession from my conscious mind to stop it. Basically I had to tell myself I was being stupid again and again and eventually the mind won.<br />
I cannot tell you how tiring and soul destroying it is to try and convince yourself that your actions are futile while your unconscious is hinting about the disasters that will befall if you don't get it right.<br />
I don't suffer permanently from this but when it happens I am drained and irritable afterwards. Many see OCD as a comical disorder but, to sufferers there is nothing funny about it. Next time you watch a documentary and feel like laughing about the antics of the sufferer, bear in mind they are stuck in an infinite loop and getting out of it is so hard. Some live like this every day.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-74612910657115689872015-10-07T06:02:00.001-07:002015-10-07T06:08:54.417-07:00Why is theft still a problem-the technology of today should deter criminals?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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I was messing about with my new phone today when I noticed that one of the preloaded apps was actually useful (As opposed to the usual bloatware which the developer has paid the provider to include. It all takes up space on your phone and is 90% useless.).<br />
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The App in question is a bog standard antivirus. It does the job but also prompted me to set up a password for tracking. I have never done this before but I thought what the hell. When I logged on to my PC today I went to the site thinking it was a cheap and cheerful map with a large area circled showing approximately where the phone was. To my surprise the indicator of the phone's location was right where it should be. I could even change the map to a satellite image of the location and see my house. I often lean out of my window backwards and wave in case a satellite happens to take my picture but it's never happened yet.<br />
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This set me thinking. Of course I could find the phone using this, if it was stolen. Any mobile is capable of this using it's inbuilt GPS and the software is included. Tablets and many laptops are capable too. These devices are readily available for Vehicles, Handbags Children, Pets and so on. You just need some software to track the GPS devices. One system actually lets you log on to your stolen Laptop from another computer and take pictures of the thief.<br />
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I recently saw a news item about a lad who volunteered to have a GPS tracker fitted on release from prison then burgled several houses not knowing how accurate they are. He was soon behind bars again.<br />
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Home burglaries can easily be prevented with a simple alarm and camera system. they needn't be diabolically expensive. One company is now selling an App to make a discarded mobile into a home camera capable of transmitting images to your phone, tablet or PC. Even a simple thing like upgrading your locks helps.<br />
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As regards street crime, we all know that Shops, Businesses, Car parks, Public Buildings and most major streets have monitored CCTV. My wife's company monitors it's staff and outside it's premises all the time. Surely criminals know that the chances of being spotted at or near the crime are very good.<br />
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Smart water is a way of identifying your stolen devices if recovered or in a system where criminals are covered in it if committing a crime where it is used. It can only be seen in ultraviolet light but lasts for months.<br />
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There is a paint you can buy which looks normal on drainpipes or roofs. If it is disturbed by someone climbing on it the surface breaks and makes it very slippery. It also transfers onto the criminal aiding identification.<br />
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But crime is still with us-Why?<br />
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I think that it is the old Chestnut-'It'll never happen to me.' All the deterrents rely on you spending time setting them up, or money buying the systems and items mentioned. Many haven't got the money or don't feel they need to spend it on something that may never happen. That said, many councils offer smart water free or can offer security advice.<br />
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As for street crimes and CCTV, criminals by their nature are arrogant enough to believe they won't get caught but with modern technology it will become much more difficult to avoid arrest.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-5910235880774315672015-10-06T06:36:00.001-07:002015-10-06T06:38:42.807-07:00Of Shoes and ships and sealing wax, Of cabbages and Kings.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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In other words a few stray thoughts loosely bound into todays post.<br />
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Yesterday I took delivery of a new smartphone. Setting this up trumps anything else I need to do and requires all my concentration, hence no post yesterday. I now have it as I want it but It bought into sharp relief all the other things that the act of blogging has driven from my mind lately.<br />
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Thus this morning I sorted out some issues with my Tablet P.C. Then there was the oil and water in the car which definitely needed doing. Certain personal grooming jobs followed this. More jobs beckon after this which shows how addictive this blogging lark is.<br />
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One other thing which I must record before I forget. I visited my dear old mother last week and the staff were feeding her dinner. They were all from the first wave of immigrants into the U.K. Mainly they came from European countries Like Poland, Lithuania etc. and may even be 2nd Generation. Now we face an influx of refugees from Syria. A few years ago we were decrying the uncontrolled immigration from Europe and it is still an issue for me. We only have finite resources.<br />
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What amused me was the fact that these nouveau English were watching a news item abut Syrian refugees and were making the same arguments about keeping them out as we did about them. I guess being English is highly contagious.<br />
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Having Just thought of another job needing my attention I'd better stop randomly blogging and start thinking about something more witty and wonderful for tomorrow. However I would like to pay my respects to P.C. David Phillips, a police officer killed by a car thief running him down to avoid capture. He had a wife and 2 children. I hope it was worth it for the cowardly thief, David's colleagues will hunt him down.<br />
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Also my respects to the victims of the Oregon College shootings. If the shooter did commit suicide he is also a coward, if not the guy who shot him should get a medal. But if I may offer the opinion of a Brit, maybe this love affair between Americans and their guns should end. Too many have died.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-84775875432513079032015-10-05T10:51:00.001-07:002015-10-05T10:51:29.069-07:00No blog today<p dir="ltr">New phone, playing, back <u>soon</u></p>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-91990383656201134172015-10-02T05:14:00.001-07:002015-10-02T05:56:26.075-07:00Today I am channeling-------Mr Curmudgeon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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<span data-dobid="hdw">curmudgeon</span></h2>
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<span class="lr_dct_ph">kəːˈmʌdʒ(ə)n/</span><span class="lr_dct_spkr lr_dct_spkr_off" data-log-string="pronunciation-icon-click" jsaction="dob.p" style="display: inline-block;" title="Listen"><input height="14" src="data:image/png;base64,iVBORw0KGgoAAAANSUhEUgAAAA4AAAAOCAQAAAC1QeVaAAAAi0lEQVQokWNgQAYyQFzGsIJBnwED8DNcBpK+DM8YfjMUokqxMRxg+A9m8TJsBLLSEFKMDCuBAv/hCncxfGWQhUn2gaVAktkMXkBSHmh0OwNU8D9csoHhO4MikN7BcAGb5H+GYiDdCTQYq2QubkkkY/E6CLtXdiJ7BTMQMnAHXxFm6IICvhwY8AYQLgCw2U9d90B8BAAAAABJRU5ErkJggg==" type="image" width="14" /><audio data-dobid="aud" preload="auto" src="https://ssl.gstatic.com/dictionary/static/sounds/de/0/curmudgeon.mp3"></audio></span></div>
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<i>noun</i></div>
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noun: <b>curmudgeon</b>; plural noun: <b>curmudgeons</b></div>
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a bad-tempered or surly person.</div>
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After my galactic revelations yesterday I am back to my lovely self. Well actually I have gone the other way. I shall explain. Phil Towers is located in an area of (To use the delightful euphemism.) Affordable social housing, Someone who grew up when and where I did will know it better as a Caaaaaannnnncil estate. Younger readers my know it better as a housing association property. Basically it is rented accommodation for those who cannot afford to buy. There are good estates and there are the ones which were used in the 1970's. to re house people displaced in the slum clearances of the time. Other groups were also placed in them. Now they tend to be Family homes but also single parent dwellings. Single men or women and older couples live in flats in these areas. There are a high proportion of people who are on benefits.</div>
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Now I am not one to automatically assume that all who are in receipt of benefits are automatically anti-social. There are a lot of people who have genuine problems, or in this Austere climate cannot find a job. Many are victims of the Labour policy of rewarding people who produce children, thus causing an epidemic of babies with parents who cannot afford to keep them. There are hundreds of genuine people for every benefit cheat.<br />
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I like to judge everyone on their merits. However it is not of benefits I wish to speak. There is no doubt that the type of people who are on benefits tend to exhibit the kind of behaviour I am about to discuss but it is by no means restricted to them.<br />
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There is no doubt in my mind that many bought up in the 90's and Noughties has been given to understand that selfish behaviour and rudeness are quite acceptable in themselves but not in others. They are not effectively disciplined by doting parents. This may seem harsh but I have plenty of evidence and cases to study on this estate.<br />
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Example 1. There are many enclosed 'Courts' which are paved and have large green areas for children to play in. Yet many of the teenage boys who claim to be poor can afford motorcycles with no tax or M.O.T. (Yes I do know this for a fact, they openly boast of it.), and they wear no helmets or protective gear. They use these courts, which are blocked off with bollards, as shortcuts despite the danger of hitting children and pollute the air with these elderly machines. The noise is incredible and all summer you smell the oily stench of two stroke engines.<br />
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Example 2 There is a young man nearby who seems to think I like his choice of music so much that I want to hear it every day in the summer. Recently he had the music, which had heavy bass content, blasting through a boom box in the back of his car for 3 hours. It was drowning out my T.V. to such an extent that (To my shame!) I shouted from my window to turn the F*****g music down. Next I had an irate young man threatening me, waving a finger in my face, swearing and screaming that he could do what he liked. He did, among all this, say that I could have just have asked him calmly. To my way of thinking it was his behaviour which was the catalyst and he must have known that it was. However if I want to be known as a tolerant person he was right, I could have asked. I still feel that the mental torture of non stop loud music was a good excuse for my outburst but I went out and discussed it calmly. He accepted that and turned it down. Since then things have been better with him but there are many who play such loud music, day and night.<br />
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Example 3 and the reason for this rant. All our houses are, by their nature, tightly crowded together. It is possible to see that, on a day such as today, washing is out in nearly every garden. And yet one of our neighbours has decided to have a bonfire, putting out thick dark smoke. Of course this means all our washing will now smell of smoke. If we wished to have a fire where I grew up you always made attempts to let people know. <br />
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I know that the code we observed with our neighbours regarding potential nuisances when I was young are impossible now but there are things you can do. A fire can be lit at a time when washing is unlikely to be out. If you are doing something noisy such as DIY, a word to the neighbours helps. Sunday being a day of rest is long gone. I have heard people hammering on Christmas day before. A little consideration goes a long way.<br />
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This rant will achieve nothing. I have to accept that the code of behaviour I grew up with no longer applies. People do exactly what they want, when they want. Even if you remonstrate peaceably the discussion often turns ugly. Until parents once again discipline their children as I was disciplined things will not improve. Still we can always drug them till they are old enough to begin the whole cycle again.<br />
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<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-69897001138477463042015-10-01T07:24:00.001-07:002016-05-19T07:23:02.358-07:00Inspiration from space.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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My fellow sapient carbon based life forms, I know that life is sometimes not exactly as we would like it. We all know it. I know about depression and worries. I know that it is difficult to find your happy place when things go badly.<br>
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Maybe I can help. I was perambulating gently around what is optimistically named the Riverside Country park this fine autumn morning. I happened to look up just as the Sun cut through a cloud and it nearly blinded me. You can imagine I wasn't amused but it began a random chain of thought. It has to do with the futility of complaining about the Sun doing whatever it damn well pleases but also about miracles.(You should be aware I am in a more facetious mood than is usual for me.)<br>
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Out there is a bloody great Universe, you have no hope of learning much about it without a few million lifetimes or Warp Drive.<sup>1</sup><br>
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So somewhat smaller then. The Galaxy. Same applies. Maybe a few less lifetimes. Or a sublight spaceship and committing a fair few of your descendants to a lifetime in space.<sup>2</sup><br>
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Ok now we're cooking. The Solar system. Our neighbourhood. We have already visited another planet like thing viz the moon. Mars is coming within our reach. At it's centre is the Sun which is about 94.5 million miles away. This body provides gravity which holds 8 planets and hundreds of minor moons and asteroids in orbit around it. For my purposes the most important is Earth.<sup>3</sup><br>
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Now this wonderful sun radiates heat across these millions of miles. It reaches Earth with enough energy to cause us to complain how hot it is. Yet without it the Earth would be totally lifeless, plus you and the rest of humankind (Past and Present) would never have existed. It is the basis of our industry and agriculture, our lives are regulated by it's presence or lack of presence in the sky. All life depends on it.<br>
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Next then the Earth. it's down there beneath your feet, look down and there it is. Not much is it? But hang on. It revolves very fast generating gravity. You don't even feel the rotation but it's happening. Gravity. Stops you from flying of into space. Then there's Electricity. Properly harnessed it provides more heat and light when that pesky Sun goes. Properly chopped into little pieces it powers our beloved machines. Chop it up a little smaller and it provides communication between those machines.<br>
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Then we dig minerals, gases and metals to make more machines, specially those wheeled devices which we use to go 100 yards to the shop or do the school run. The oil removed from the Earth and grown by energy from the Sun provide them with their power. Gas provides cheaper heating.<br>
The atmosphere protects us (Despite our best efforts!) against radiation and stray asteroids. We are reasonably assured of that protection until our bodies eventually wear out. Maybe one day we will make new ones.<br>
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Not very inspiring so far? Well try to imagine all the energy and effort that the universe goes to in order to maintain the Galaxy. The galaxy does the same for the Solar system. The solar system looks after the Earth and the Earth looks after you. How can you think you are not loved or that no-one cares when all that energy has ben expended to ensure that you can live your life. It's bloody miraculous?<br>
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<li><em>It would be nice, if ever Warp drive or Matter transporters are invented, that those responsible give credit to Gene Roddenberry for the concept.</em></li>
<li><em>I like star Trek, Deal with it.</em></li>
<li><em>I've been there, it's rubbish</em>.</li>
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The galaxy song By Eric Idle, explains all this faster and with much more wit than me. Still Meh!Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-45122663918873354432015-09-30T07:46:00.002-07:002015-09-30T11:29:57.012-07:00How does the internet affect our daily lives and is there a darker side?<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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We all think of the internet as Man's crowning achievement as far as communication is concerned. We can do anything online. Shopping, easy, Banking, No problems. Anything that can be sorted out by two Computer systems and a Wi-Fi connection. Social media means families can talk without all that tedious visiting lark. We can play games on computers and games machines all over the world in real time. Even the Government are now cottoning on as to how much cheaper it is to get your computer to arrange Car Tax, Taxes and so on with their computer. So much cheaper than all those nasty, expensive civil servants. Banks, too, know that they can keep taking a monthly fee for day to day transactions which have no need of an expensive clerk. Convenient for all but once again removing the human from the equation. It is also underlining the huge amounts of money being paid by us with no real effort or customer service on behalf of the organisation or business.<br>
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But let's leave aside the greed involved, Greed is the defining vice of this particular time in history though we embrace most of the seven deadly sins with enthusiasm.<br>
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So it's a good thing, right, this internet thing. No need to go out to arrange everything. Just switch on your computer and everything's great. But what of exercise? It's no coincidence that we are the most obese generation ever with all the health issues that go with it. Everything you need is probably available a few miles from home and you never walk.<br>
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O.K. So that's a bit of a drawback but that's the only downside isn't it? Well there is the idea that every webpage must have targeted advertising. How many times have you waited for a page to load all the advertising bots simply to read a paragraph of text? On a slow computer or connection it becomes almost impossible. Webpages have to pay their way and we have to be advertised at if we are to buy faster computers to cope with it all. That is without all the nasty adware that downloads to your 'Pooter on the back of software you actually asked for. On my P.C. it takes 5 minutes to load some pages. All to sell more stuff we don't need. Greed again.<br>
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Then there are those nasty but oh so clever crooks who have worked out how to make money with criminal hacking of systems. They can take your cash, your identity and buy stuff on your cards. It's a constant battle against this new breed of criminals. With computerised devices getting smaller they'll even nick the computer too, given the chance. Hey and it's greed again.<br>
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'But..' You may be screaming at this point. 'Social media is good isn't it? We talk all the time." Here are some negative things about social media......<br>
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Your real friends probably account for about 1% of your contacts.<br>
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There are all sorts of ways of making you see advertising on Facebook and Twitter.<br>
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You are not socialising, you are sitting staring at a screen.<br>
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Kids particularly are not learning social skills they are effectively hiding behind a screen.<br>
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Kids who were being bullied used to be able to get away from it at home. Social networking takes this small protection away.<br>
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Swearing, explicit images, adult videos and all sorts of other nasty stuff regularly creep into your timelines.<br>
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Are you really sure that all the stuff you store on Cloud storage is secure? Those nutty conspiracy theories about Facebook etc. may be silly but you are trusting personal information, images. telephone numbers to a computer which can be hacked. It's information can be fraudulently shared. Do you read ALL those terms and conditions?<br>
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I do love the freedom of the internet but I am a hardened nethead. I understand the drawbacks and how to guard against them and it doesn't rule me. This morning I went for a walk, came home and did a bit of housework. I am writing this and then may read or watch a T.V. murder mystery.<br>
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If I go on social media I apply the same rules as if I were face to face! I am honest but polite, if I have a point to make I will make it respectfully. I know what I can share or not share. On top of this I am also a people fan. I love talking to people, sometimes total strangers when I am out and about.<br>
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I am all for the wealth of information available, the things I can do with my computer and social media with the freedom it brings BUT I also treat it with respect. It is like a dog who seems friendly but is likely to bite you if given the chance. Modern security software helps but you are responsible for being aware of the dangers. the Internet is a great thing but there is <u>definitely a Dark side.</u><br>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-90253851964549757492015-09-29T06:15:00.001-07:002015-09-29T08:31:22.658-07:00Ghosts and Idiots ruining serious paranormal research.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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As if the search for life after death is not wide open to fraud by people with knowledge of picture editing and competent in it, there are now Apps appearing on mobile phones which make it simple. Normally some knowledge of Photoshop or similar is necessary to make a good fake Ghost and it at least required some effort. Even so these pictures are usually easy to spot. Unless you have a very steady hand, cutting out the Ghost which is to be superimposed is not easy. The edges are noticeable and a human figure normally has bits missing. No picture of a human contains all the body and often fingers or toes, even the occasional leg or arm go missing.<br>
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As well as all this people always get the balance of believability versus detail wrong. Any serious student of the subject would tell you that full body apparitions are rare and that the reality of Ghosts is likely to be misshapen blobs of energy or E.V.P. (Electronic Voice Phenomenon.) So any clearly recognisable human apparition always awakens my scepticism. I do not believe in Ghosts but I would like to be proved wrong. I do know how to Photoshop though and I know the signs of a fake.<br>
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Now we have these Phone apps. There is an example of the above (Clearly not to be taken as real and an example of what can be achieved.) and a screenshot of one such app. These Apps quite openly state that they are designed to fool on social media, one even admits that they won't fool for long. <br>
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Now I hate users of social media whose aim is to get Likes, Shares or favourites by any means possible. Some claim that you are an idiot if you cannot do an ambiguous maths problem, some claim you are heartless because you do not share an emotive picture (Again often faked or with a story which cannot be proved. That child molester that hangs around schools is probably just a picture lifted from the net or someone who the poster has a grudge against.), and some just threaten ridiculous events befalling you if you do not send the post to all your Friends. All are designed to make idiots feel superior and generate attention.<br>
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Now these idiots can, with five minutes work, create a reasonably credible Ghost image and put it on a ghost picture group. The sceptical will feel obliged to point out that it is fake, the credible will instantly assume that the Ghost is real and is haunting any place you can take a picture of. Those who are not sure will say that it could be pareidolia but it is compelling.<br>
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Either way the attention whores on Social media sit back and have a chuckle at the way they have made idiots of their so called friends. Bear in mind my previous comments about believability though, if it seems too good to be true, it probably is.<br>
<br>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-73379743666792195152015-09-28T07:15:00.001-07:002015-09-28T07:18:23.751-07:00Just when you thought this paranormal stuff was rubbish.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
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The Video above is of a very obscure, long forgotten animated T.V. Series. I watched it as a child but didn't particularly enjoy it. <br />
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Two nights ago I dreamed very vividly about it. I also heard the theme music from 'White horses,' another forgotten series, in the dream.<br />
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I haven't heard anything about the second one but on a Facebook thread about 1970's T.V., and after having forgotten about it for decades, someone posted about Belle and Sebastian. How spooky is that? What do you mean coincidence? Yeah right!<br />
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I await a post on 'White Horses' Whoever is doing this please stop.<br />
<br />Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7453584199556524869.post-25178714936552460502015-09-28T06:51:00.003-07:002015-09-28T06:51:34.950-07:00Jack the Ripper<br />
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This is not going to be an exhaustive history of this case, there is just too much information out there to encapsulate in a blog post. I offer two links, the Wikipedia entry about the case and THE definitive website, the Casebook of Jack the Ripper. I also recommend a <a href="http://www.amazon.co.uk/The-Complete-Jack-Ripper-A-Z/dp/1844547973" target="_blank">comprehensive A-Z book of the case.</a><br />
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Here I just wish to confess myself a confirmed Ripperologist and to try to explain why. What is the fascination? The murders were gruesome but not excessively so by today's standards. The Ripper was a serial killer in the autumn of 1888 but not a prolific one. There were 11 suspected killings of women who were all prostitutes, only 5 of which are considered canonical and even one of those has been questioned as a Ripper victim. There are letters supposedly from the killer which are now considered hoaxes. <br />
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The fascination for me is the fact that, after 127 years we still don't know who committed these crimes. The Ripper's hunting grounds were the most poverty stricken areas of Victorian London. It is also his seeming ability to kill, mutilate and disappear within minutes that fascinates. At least twice he must have been nearby when his victims were discovered. There was talk of his being linked to that great British bogeyman, Spring heeled Jack. Some even suspect a demonic Ripper. The mutilations were nasty by Victorian standards.<br />
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The conspiracies associated with the case are well documented and the Casebook website will tell you all about them but I don't think we are looking at a famous Ripper. He is just an ordinary man driven mad by syphilis or his poverty stricken surroundings. Try one of the links, you may get hooked on this Victorian mystery. Or maybe you will solve this ultimate cold case.<br />
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<a href="https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_the_Ripper">https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Jack_the_Ripper</a><br />
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<a href="http://www.casebook.org/">http://www.casebook.org/</a>Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/16343753715268102913noreply@blogger.com0