Stone.

I suppose my love-affair with Stone dates back to when I was billeted right next to a huge towering medieval Cathedral for several years.

The Cathedral, which took hundreds of years to complete, is entirely constructed of Stone. Every single piece of Stone being hand hewn from a quarry 42 miles away in Northampton-shire, transported, then hand carved in situ. A massive undertaking.

I used to wander around in awe, admiring the details of the tiniest bits of carving, that most people never saw. It was, and is, a miracle of human endeavor.

Later, in France, I worked with a Stone Cutter, carving medieval style  'openings' for domestic buildings (windows, doorways, fireplaces, etc). I had been taught Stone Carving at my first Art College, by a man who had worked for Eric Gill.

These days I walk past my local church twice every day. It is built of Flint, with Stone detailing.

This beautiful, but simple, corner masonry (above) is a good example of the basic work involved. Most would walk past it without paying any attention to the workmanship, but it is a lovely piece of work. It was built when all that a Stone Mason possessed was Hammer and Chisel. Every piece of stone had to be firstly shaped into a flat sided block before the actual carving began.

Stone Cutting is very satisfying, but is also back-breaking. Once the lumps of stone are cut, they need to be lifted into position, and that can be 'painful'. I'm sure that my Sciatica is partly caused by lifting crazy weights into place. We always worked in the same way as those medieval Stone Masons had worked centuries ago. No machines or hoists.

Persia/Iran

 

I first became aware of Iran (Persia as it was then) through a school-friend, who's father was posted there as a senior UK Air Force Officer. The Shah was still 'on the Peacock throne' at the time, and it was a friendly country. They still had some strange ways (public hangings, etc), but the The Shah himself was a great social reformer, and changed the country into a serious, and respected, international competitor.

Sadly in 1979, after the Iranian Revolution, the country fell under the control of religious leaders, and general repression returned. Women's rights were eroded, and again they were made to cover themselves with the Hijab. The equal rights established by The Shah were abolished, and women once again became invisible, gays were thrown off rooftops, and any opposition was seriously punished.

Now, after more than 45 years of social decline and oppression, the country has once again revolted, and it seems that they want a return to the more liberal 'good old days' of The Shah. His son, who has been in exile, is ready to return, and it is already rumoured that The Ayatollah is preparing to escape to his beloved Russia (like Assad before him).

One can but hope that the Iranians themselves take charge of any change, and that very basic human rights are returned to ALL their citizens.

I wish them 'Good Luck'.

Please don't call me 'Mate'.

 

Much like in the US, where people seem to constantly refer to each other either as 'Bro' or 'Dude', here in the UK it isn't uncommon for people to refer to each other as 'Mate'.

To say I dislike this is an understatement; I find it unnecessary and rude. Recently someone asked if I was "oar-rite mate"; of course I didn't reply. The least I expect of people is reasonably correct use of the language, and some respect. A simple "Good morning" is all that's required.

Correct use of 'English' is slowly eroding. It is not uncommon to hear people saying things like "Yeah like, y'knowatameen like". Dreadful. What sort of language is that!

It really makes one wonder what ENGLISH TEACHERS are doing in our schools! I quite understand that children no longer read books, and that 'public speaking' and 'debating societies' are seen as elitist; but could children not be taught how to speak 'reasonably' correctly? When they write essays, do they sprinkle their work with 'yeah, like, I mean, yeah like....'? And if so, is it ever corrected by their teacher?

How to speak, Basic maths, English history, and The preparation and cooking of Chicken, should be the basis of the 21st C school curriculum.

And no more of this "Oy, mate" business. 

Before you ask, yes I AM suffering from a severe bout of perfectly understandable intolerance this morning!

 

By gum, it's Begum again.

This woman's face is infamous throughout Britain; and she's back in the news!

She is Shamima Begum, the silly London schoolgirl who ran away to Syria to become an 'ISIS Bride', and support the Islamic terrorists.

She left the UK in 2015. Just 10 days later she was given to, and married, Dutch Terrorist Yago Riedijk. 

Begum worked for ISIS as an 'Enforcer' in the Morality Police. She caried an AK47, and made sure that all women were correctly dressed/covered; or else! A really charming young lady!

She allegedly had several children, all of who seem to have mysteriously died. Having eventually been interned in a Syrian detention camp in 2019, her UK Citizenship was revoked, and she adopted her husband's Dutch Citizenship.

However she is now (understandably) desperate to return to England, and has tried to do so for the past few years; to no avail.

Currently the ECHR (the EU's Court of Human Rights) is trying to enforce her return to Britain. However, foreign courts have no jurisdiction over the UK's courts, so she stays where she is!

Begum now says that she regrets her support of ISIS (surprise surprise); it has brought her nothing but trouble, and of course she would love to be back in freedom-loving, democratic, Britain. But, as everyone knows, she made her choice, and must live by it (as do we all). 

She can say how terribly sorry she is for all her past actions till the Cows come home, but it's action that counts; not idle words. No-one believes that she could have supported terrorism one minute, and not the next.

Here she is now, dressed like the people she previously assaulted, as a charming 'Enforcer'.

Known terrorists, and their sympathisers, should NEVER be allowed into the UK. Could someone make sure that our government understands that!

I would love to describe what I think of people such as Begum; but libel-laws prevent me!

 

Favourite Present.

I bought Billy just two Christmas presents this year. A bag of 'Beefy' treats, and this rubber Lamb.

What more could a Border Collie desire than his very own Sheep to round-up, and control. He loved it at once, and they became inseparable. 

The toy is made of soft rubber, and had a very annoying squeak.  

The fact that it was so popular also made it an easy target for destruction, and it is already in bits.

The squeak has been silenced, and the legs have already been mauled. I've noticed that the inside is filled with wool (very apt), and, frankly, it has become a 'hazard'.

So, I'm sorry to say that it has been binned! Billy has been looking everywhere for it, but to no avail.

Will I buy him a replacement? No, I think not. Too noisy, and too flimsy.

 

Kimbo's Kippers.

It's been a while since I've eaten any Kippers. 

I used to buy those supermarket vacuum packs, with the integral pat of butter, which, for a while, was the only way of buying them.

The last one I had was awful. It tasted totally artificial, and put me off for years.

Then, a couple of days ago, Kimbo arrived with these.

We were supposed to enjoy them together as a very early breakfast, but something 'cropped-up' and I ended up eating them both by myself.

They are 'Artisan Kippers', and came (like the others) in a convenient boil-in-the-bag vacuum pack. 

Compared to the commercial supermarket variety, they are chalk and cheese. These one's had a genuine flavour of natural smoke, and were totally delicious. I don't know where he bought them, but I hope he goes back for more.

The only down-side I can think of, is the lingering smell that always accompanies Kippers. One really needs an outdoor, dedicated, Kipper Kitchen!

Kimbo is in Budapest.

 

England, my England.

I came across this photo recently, and it took me right back to my childhood. This is exactly what England looked like when I was a wee whipper-snapper.

There were no E-bikes on the pavements, no-one carried phones in front of them, no-one wore rucksacks (unless they were off on a hiking holiday), no-one wore earphones all day long, and mass immigration had yet to commence. Most families were yet to own a TV; my own family certainly didn't.

Men wore shirts and ties and took pride in looking smart, Woolworths, Timothy Whites, and Mac Fisheries were still on every High Street, small children wore Chilprufe coats, and pukka 'Prams' were still common. No-one ate or drank in the street, and no-one dropped litter. Burger-joints were still unknown, and Supermarkets were still a rarity.

There was no Graffiti.

People aimed high. They wanted to be the best dressed, the highest paid, and the most successful and respected person in their community. Dumbing down had yet to be invented.

'Grooming Gangs' had also yet to be invented, as had 'Yardie' gangs. Hoodies didn't exist, nor did all-over body tattoos. Those with 'Mental Health' were looked after in special homes. 

No-one outside of a Football stadium would have been seen dead wearing training shoes or a sports track suit. And women didn't walk around half-naked.

Nor did people openly take drugs in the street, or walk around with open beer cans in their hands.

WW2 was not long over, and people wanted a better life. Everything was simpler. You went to school, got a job, married, bought a house, and lived happily ever after.

Sadly all that has changed over the ensuing years. I wonder why? Whether it's better or worse these days is another question!