I've got history.

After so much time.

Coming back on the train. An hour and a half journeys time. A half century real time.

In an envelope photos. Photos I'd never seen.

My father young. My father with a dog. My father funny. My father cracking a joke. My father playing twelve bar blues.

Coming back on the train distilling information. He said this. He was this. And he did that.

I'm his sister and I knew this and I saw that.

My dad cried, and seems... everyone lied.

Photos torn. Photos stained.

I don't like you. Therefore; if I tear this photo we will no longer be together. There will be no bond. We are in this photograph. And now we are not.

White man take a photo. Black man say "you steal my soul".

I've just met my aunt after 32 tears!

32 years! That is.

Didn't want to change the mistake, typo, Freudian slip.

Two letters sitting together on a keyboard. Hit one means that. Press that means this...

What politicians should earn.

Politicians should earn £30,000 per annum! Plus a serviced flat in London.

The job would again become a vocation rather than a gravy train.
No one would starve...?

This means it wouldn't be just a job for the rich... who don't need any salary...

The middle classes could be MPs but only if they were dedicated...!

PLUS it would rid Parliament of the suffocating mediocre middle class dross -that is the Common's closed shop.

Ergo a mixed bag of humanity in parliament...

So:

The middle classes would be MPs only if they were dedicated.
The upper classes would 'cos they don't need the money anyway.
The 'lower' class 'cos it would be a goodly whack.

Mind you the upper classes and the rabble having a say... my god! the grey middlers would be a bit squeezed...

GOOD.

Now I know it's a good idea.

Mp's pay, it is not enough!

Apparently if MP's don't receive expenses then their pay will have to rise! They are already in the top 15% of salary bands.

Much is muted - mostly by MP's themselves that they should receive salaries commensurate with top earners in The City.

We were told (mostly by the bankers themselves)the earners in the city had such a wack because they earned our country loads of money and they -the financiers- would slide away to foreign lands taking their pile of stash with them and we, the rabble would be worse off as a consequence.

Well, MPs go get a job overseas, offer your skills to the world I'm sure there will be a queue for your services, and you and us will be better off for your departure.

A plague on all your houses.

MP's make rules for us; the hoi polloi. But suffer if those same rules are applied to them.

The Freedom of information act -with it's disclosures on the expenses of our "leaders"- was a worthy action but only for us not for them!

This is literally one rule for them one rule for us.

30 pubs are closing in England every single day, but in The House of Commons bar they can puff away to their hearts discontent. One rule for the cigar smokers of Parliament another for the rabble. Why wasn't this bastion of English traditions granted a dispensation on smoking whereby the Landlord/lady determined whether they hosted a smoking or non house?

Well that's my question and I'll answer it.

One rule for them one rule for us.

If you don't smoke or you don't like smoke don't accept the licensees hospitality. In short don't cross the threshold. Public houses survived the depression of the 30's but can't survive now. But it's a taboo subject -smoking.
Like immigration...

Things are afoot at the Shining and the Stupid...

Malcolm! What can you do?

Looks like Nicky is winning the contest.

Malcolm got stood down on a project today; he is mortified.

Things are afoot at the Shining and the Stupid...

Matt knows what he's doing surely? I mean is is associated with the politicians. And they are all so very smart aren't they?

But hey could be worse.

I’m experimenting with a new media. Combining the different techniques of painting with sculpture and clay modeling. It’s a long time since I picked up my paintbrushes...

But there is something there; not sure what it bloomin’ well is yet. The medium needs a little perfecting that’s probably what I’m finding intriguing. The result at best could be called a relief, (a relief it stayed on the canvas!) or maybe impasto...

Anyway I shall persevere.

Everything seems rather a chore at the moment. My body feels heavy. I’m forcing myself to do things.

But hey could be worse.

With just a bit of Malcolm thrown in!

This blog should be my autobiography! When I’ve read it it’s a big moan about Malcolm. Must be I just type here when he’s really pissed me off. I’ll try and continue with my original purpose in mind.

With just a bit of Malcolm thrown in!

I found this on the web; a photo of the Castel Felice this is the boat that we -as the ten pound poms- sailed to Australia.

My cat Lilly

I was trying to write a suitable epitaph for my cat Lil; all I've come up with is:

My cat Lilly
She was so silly.



This is a picture of Lil.

My good chum.

I miss her.

I should have asked the vet if she had a cat!

Sunday morning.

I feel like shit.

Lil didn't come home. Well maybe in body and maybe in spirit just not together in the same place.

The vet spoke on. Pointing out and prodding there at dear old Lil.

The vet pushed her rear paw backwards, Lil did nothing to return it to it's proper position. I righted her paw.

'The infection on her gum hasn't cleared up.'

I am such a ninny. She - the vet spoke. And with her every word and prod I shed a tear. She had a lump in her stomach... Drop. She is dehydrated... Drip. She this... She that... Drip drip. Drop drop. How many drops to make a river?

She said 'well we could put her on a drip...'

We were awash

But if it were my cat...'

I asked, 'So how do we do this?'

She said, ' we can either take her out the to the back room or if you want to be with her...'

'I want to be with her.' She left the room. And I held Lil tight.

When the end came it was gentle. Lil looking right into my eyes I rubbed her ears and said 'It's the end of our journey old girl.'

The vet administered the turquoise liquid. And Lil was gone.

I closed her eyes and Lil poked out her tongue. She always did have a sense of humour.

I should have asked the vet if she did indeed have a cat!