The Shadows

It's great. If you look at 'Is Anyone Out There' - a few blogs back, there are now three comments. Not that any of them are considering anything I may have said (one does suggest I can be ignored). The pleasure is that they are now talking amongst themselves.

It all started with liars. Civilisation is the worse off because people lie. It was suggested it was the worst of the deadly sins.

Politicians are often labelled as liars, but I have just an edge of sympathy for them, because their time in office is often too brief. They are emphemera, at least that's the way the British Civil Service mandarins think of them.

They are right. Politicians are useless. They spout platitudes. They are rarely held responsible for any decisions taken. Invariably they are given two choices by their advisors. A good one, and a bad one. The good one is that preferred by the administrators.

We are all slightly mad, allowing nerds to make decisions that affect all our lives. And we've allowed them to get so entrenched that they can take 50% of all earned income, and still we don't complain. Even we they take us on wars which are nothing to do with us.

It's British administrators who enforce silly European laws, which the rest of Europe happily ignores. It's these people who insist that all boxes are correctly ticked, and never consider anyone to look outside the box.

I had to get outside a big box the other day. I got on a bus with my senior bus card. Presenting it to the driver he said, 'I can't take that. It's out of date.'

So it was, I'd given him last year's card, and not the new one, which had just arrived. 'I've not got any younger,' I said. But he was adamant, and I had to get off the bus, walk home and get the newly-issued card.

Why do I need to renew a senior citizen's bus pass every year? Providing a photograph each time, filling in long forms, providing documentary proof of my age?

Perhaps it's because I look so young?

States

It's like having a twin. The Other Trevor is following in my footsteps, he's now living in Spain, working at property management. I did that once. Hopefully he'll not make the same mistake as me, and come back to Blighty.

Interesting concept: the nation state. I'm not sure how much longer it will last. It's likely that real power will shift towards China over the foreseeable future. Although I published a book a few years ago, one based on the Mayan calendar, which has been running for over 28,000 years. It's full cycle comes to an end soon - not sure if it's 2008 or 2012. The latter would tune in well with the Olympics in London.

The Mayans suggested we would then turn into another life-force, an altered state that no longer required a body. So, prepare to vaporise.

When I last looked at the voter's register there were 26 Trevor Lockwood's registered in the United Kingdom. One lives in the village, Bramford, where my own family were living 200 years ago. We may be related, but will he pay my bills?

We may all be linked as Lockwood, meaning an enclosed wood, is still in Yorkshire. It's now part of Huddersfield. Sherrif Hudder was upset when John Lockwood ran off with his daughter. He chased him for over a year, finally catching up with him. John put up a good fight, killing off most of the posse (yes, they are not an American invention). He was drawing back his bow to finish off Hudder when his beloved mistress cut the bow-string (family ties are stronger than bow-strings).

John picked up his baby, preparing to flee. Hudder shot an arrow that passed through child and man, killing both.

So, none of the known Trevor Lockwood's are direct descendants of poor John of Lockwoode, killed 1215 by Sherrif Hudder, who turned his pasture into a field that took his name (boo hiss).

NIMBY

It was such a lovely day, and my hay fever decided to stay at home, so I spent some time on the allotment this morning. It was glorious. I removed a few weeds, did a little digging, planted the rest of the leeks and took the centre 2-3 bulbs from the shallots. They are often very loose, ready to pick, and removal helps the remaining globes to expand a little more. Replanted some rocket, picked a few raspberries, dug up some potatoes and a couple of beetroot, and the world looked so much better.

Wish that was the case for everyone, but it's not the case. NIMBY is an acronym for Not In My Back Yard, and I keep wondering how I'd react if the Danes or Saxons (Germans), or even the Romans (Italians) suddenly turned up in East Anglia and said that God had given them this land, and as they had lived here hundreds of years ago they were going to take over this land.

I'd not be able to prevent that happening, because World Powers, would support these invaders. I'd be pushed, with the promise that I'd be able to form my own country on the piece of land the invaders didn't want.

My reaction would be 'sod off' you'll have a fight on your hands if you try.

The invader, with World Support, would disregard my protests, and invade more of my land, squashing me in to refugee camps, making me rely upon foreign aid in order to survive.

Somehow I'd be obliged to accept this situation.

Over my dead body.

More butter on your potatoes anyone? You'll need to keep your strength up, I've heard we are going to reclaim France next week.

It gets better

Every day there's a small improvement. Today two people have commented upon my Blog, one suggests that I'm disposable, but I'll cope with that, as the only certaintity in life is that we will all die. Sooner or later? Whenever let's hope we don't know too much about it.

On the longest day we met on the beach (the bit that's not been dredged and sold to Denmark) for a chat, drinks, food and to play a little music. One person spoke in tongues - and we'd like to discover which language she was speaking, as she's always drifting off into this nether world. A linguist living somewhere near Felixstowe would be useful. I suspect it has a middle-eastern origin, but what do I know. What's certain is that it a language, as it has some structure, and phrases are repeated.

It's fascinating, and warrants some investigation. I wonder if it's a breakthrough from another dimension, or a genetic throwback (we have physical characteristics passed through generations, why not other attributes, such as memory)?

Better stop, or those that believe I'm a crank will send the white coats.

Wish someone would invite me to a strawberry tea. It is Wimbledon Fortnight, and although I have little time for tennis (the ball syndrome) I do like strawberries - and tea.

Monday

What a great day of the week. I woke to the sound of rain, the air was fresh, even the hay fever decided to relax.

From some sort of national obligation I watched TV as our football team, England, played Ecuador. I even carried on to see parts of the Portugal and Holland game.

It's depressing. Drunken louts who only find enjoyment from booze and when their team beats another. The media grab hold of an isolated incident, and make it into a crisis. I'm cynical enough to know that the red-top (popular) press will give these silly young men so much beer that they'd do anything. The mob can easily be stirred. It could happen. Although give young Englishmen enough beer and mock courage and they'll believe they can do anything.

There's been so little trouble at the World Cup in football, and it is a World Cup, even the USA fielded a team that was good enough to get to these final stages, that I'm unimpressed with a few plastic chairs being thrown around.

The German police took the right action, rounding up anyone who was causing trouble and locking them up for three days. They missed the game, they missed all the fun before, during and after the match. That's the best punishment there could be. Nobody wants these louts.

There's a part of me that wants England to lose. I'm not sure we need our young people to copy the lying, cheating, over-paid young men who are today's gladiators.

Is there anyone out there?

Once upon a time I had a web site, upon which I displayed well over one million words that I'd cobbled together. Thousands visited the site, but few responded.

That's the great joy of the Net. We are all satisfied by this new democracy. Once we can set aside Mammon, and ignore religious zealots, both of which are impossible ideals, we have the chance to make real choices.

Would you choose to live here? You have the choice. That's a privilege open to all those who have the technology to read Blogs.

If we can get rid of the two snakes: one red, one white, that encircle the earth all day and all night, then the pollution that helped create that sunset will disappear, and you will no longer want to live there.

That's democracy.

Crankiness

An anonymous commentator says my hay fever is caused by crankiness.

Does anyone have a cure for that state?

If not I must stay indoors until the season ends.

No wonder that contributor wants to remain anonymous.

Is the football on yet?

Pass me a tissue.

Read with care

I do wish people read my scribbles with my care. I complained about friendly fire, only to be accused of suggesting that friendly nuclear bombs had been dropped. That was not the case - there were different sentences.

Why don't folk give me an answer to my hay fever instead?

The experts are suggesting it may be genetic (not in my family) or the lack of exposure to pollens as a child (I was born surrounded by fields, walking through the grass every day of my life).

Pollen may be the irritant but I suspect it has more to do with my susceptibility, which may have been heightened because my body is now subjected to an inordinate number of strange chemicals. One researcher suggests that a new chemical is introuduced every 20 minutes. The east of England, where I live, gets all the rubbish carried in the wind from the rest of the country, especially London which is just 70 miles due west.

Again, so I read, southern Britain has some of the worst air pollution in Europe, if not elsewhere.

And another of my critics wants to know why I want to live elsewhere.

Peregrine Worsthorne, a noted columnist, now says that he is no longer in love with England. I agree. The place is going to the dogs.

I've spent the day talking to the Arts Council. They award money to artists. The system is so bound up with red-tape that they have lost all vision. It would be more productive, and cheaper, to give any artist who asked a small sum of money, a few thousand, and see what they produce.

Control should come after the event. Not before. How can imaginations soar when the artist must be able to describe the potential market for their work, and have an established reputation before awards can be made?

A new Age of Enlightenment is not likely.

Summer

The weather - a perennial topic for an Englishman - remains variable. For one or two days it's hot, but the humidity remains high, and then we have a belt of rain. My allotment is running wild, but should produce good results. New potatoes, and perhaps the first mangetout could be on the menu tonight.

It's encouraging to know that England is producing something. Talk recently, amongst my circle of friends, is of excessive immigration and lack of exports. A survey in Lincolnshire shows that most farm-workers who arrive here, mainly from Eastern Europe, want to stay. 56 langugaes are now spoken in a county that once had difficulty in speaking an understandable version of English. These workers are encouraged to arrive because they are cheap. Not because English workesr will not do the job, but they want to be paid a decent wage.

Big business, and that includes our farmers, wants cheap labour. Politicians concur, accepting this argument without question. However if the immigrants stay they are no longer cheap. They demand housing, schools, and will encourage their dependants to also come to this green and pleasant land.

The argument then suggest that such immigration is great because it creates rich diversity. Drive through our large urban conurbations and all have ghettoes where immigrants congregate, and feed upon each other, having little contact with the indigenous residents.

There is no real attempt to ensure these people integrate. Many, in the past, have never learnt to speak English.

Britain was called Great Britain when we had between 10-30 million people. We now have at least 60 million, and the government is encouraging most of them to live in the south-eastern corner. Roads are crowded, tempers frayed, and we are beginning to waddle around like turkeys fattened for Xmas because most restaurants sell junk, our supermarkets sell processed junk in cardboard boxes and chips must go with everything.

I want to live somewhere else. This country is no longer mine. It is peopled by selfish immigrants who only want to exploit this country for what it can give them, and their extended family - most of whom live abroad, although many are trying to get here.

The global village does not work for the Little Englander - who has practically everything. We have nothing to gain by these policies. In fact we have much to lose, as the country's wealth is watered down and dissipated elsewhere. Shangri-La must be found before it is too late.

Hay Fever

Has anyone out there got a cure for hay fever? I'm plagued at this time of year. It must have something to do with increasing pollution levels because I was brought up in a field, surrounded by pollens of every kind, but in the last five years I've had hay fever.

It's awful. I try the generic my quack provides, I've eaten honey all winter, started with homoepathic tablets until it became unbearable.

This affliction is ruining the quality of my life.

Out damned spot! I want rid of ye.

Here We Are Again

If it can happen, it will. Thank goodness we don't rely so much on nuclear bombs as we did when it was (falsely) believed the Soviets wanted to invade. Now only a few people are killed when an idiot drops bombs in 'friendly fire'.

British Telecom kept me away from the Net for three weeks. I now return with a new computer and a broadband connection that is 4 times faster. Goodho! The viruses can now get in that much faster.

It's like moving house, there's so much stuff on the old machine, that I can't transfer just yet - anyone explain how LANs work? Mine doesn't.

I'll be back