Swine Fever. A Message to the Nation.

We are seemingly in the throes of a serious worldwide pandemic that threatens our very existence. Not since the dark days of the Second World War has our nation seen such a threat from beyond our shores. I refer of course to the invidious Swine Fever. We need to fight on two fronts.
Firstly we need show the world our normal British, Churchillian spirit, adopted in times of hardship and extreme duress. In times of war the bulldog spirit comes to the fore, we become an invincible spirit feared of no one. I believe once again the time has come for us to lead the world. Our leader, Mr Brown whitters on, seemingly in control, smiling benevolently. But, to paraphrase the spirit shown by Dad's Army, 'Who do you think you are kidding, Mr Whittler.' We need firm leadership if we are to survive.

We need action based on sound, modern, scientific facts. Times have changed but so have we. All is not lost. We have at hand modern technology. We have also at our disposal the latest in survival techniques. Plus, most important, we have the ability to draw on our past glories. Let it never be said that in times of calamity Great Britain was to be found wanting. Mindful of the governments dithering I offer the following, well tested survival advice.

To you pig owners out there, check your animals carefully for any unusual signs. Mine are pale, perhaps due to the cool weather we have been having of late, but they are perfectly healthy. Perhaps a 'rash' statement in the circumstances, but I am assured this is so by the leaflet issued by the government think tank hastily convened this week. (Pork Rearing Answers Temporary Solutions. Think tank known as PRATS for short.) Plus the majority of the population who are not pig breeders should avoid the temptation to run around muttering 'swinehunt' under their breath. It is not helpful and merely shows an inability to forget the past.

Secondly we need to use common sense allied to modern, trusted British equipment. Stay indoors to avoid contact with the dreaded lurgy. If you can afford it, turn on a gas or electricity fire. If not, chairs, tables and interior doors burn well; this after all is an emergency.

Keep a close eye on any changes in your skin colour. If need be photograph yourself daily. I am sure most of you have a darkroom. After all, who can afford to light every room nowadays. Take your blood pressure hourly. If there is any change, take to your bed and stay there, modern technology makes a stay in bed almost pleasurable!

The problem where children is concerned is obviously of the utmost importance. Again take advantage of modern technology. Weigh any infant daily, and do not be seduced by silly metric measurements. Remember, fourteen pounds is one stone, two stone is one quarter and so on.

There should be no problem with children's health providing you are an organised mother. You will of course have to hand basic medicines, castor oil, rhubarb and magnesia and a pot of jam to help these down. Children need a daily bath (cold water in summer and tepid in winter.) A large brown pickle jar filled with water and equal parts of bay salt and Tidman's sea salt added to a child's bath, coupled with good wholesome food should ensure a child's well being whatever the hardships endured. Find ways of passing the time. A few lantern slides will provide collective amusement, whilst your stereoscopic pictures will make any incarceration more bearable.
A singsong will help pass the time, and more important will help morale. The young amongst you will no doubt gustily join in renderings of We'll Meet Again, As Time Goes By or A Bicycle Built for Two. Very modern choices, but remember, granny and grandad might well prefer the likes of Down at The Old Bull and Bush, Burlington Bertie from Bowe or Who Were You with Last Night. They might be more anxious than you in these troubled times, always remember, you too will be old one day!
If, and only if you have, for any reason to leave the comparative safety of your four walls I must reiterate the importance of dressing accordingly to keep this scourge of the 21st century at bay.
Stay by your wireless and wait for the government's pronouncement that all is well once again. I am sure they are working on it to the utmost of their ability, at least that's what I'm afraid of!

Keep a stiff upper lip and combined with perhaps a little divine help we can once again ensure 'They'll always be an England'. And if all else fails send for Joanne Lumley. Thank you.

All together now
'When Britain first at heav'ns command
Arose from out the azure main;
This was the charter of the land,
And guardian angels sang this strain;
Rule , Britannia! Britannia, rule the waves:
Britons never shall be slaves.

Happy Days

Its not only onions that have a tendency to repeat. Television at this time of the year is also full of repeats. Saturday, the most popular night for viewing and what are we offered? Have I Got News For You, Foyle's War, Dad's Army, Benidorm, Law and Order, all repeats. Plus Big Brother highlights, excruiating even first time round and Glastonbury, The Best Bits. Oh, and two films well past their sell by date.
The television remains off and my wife reads as is her wont. Pride and Prejudice by Jane Austen; The Cat Who series by Lilian Jackson Braun; any Dalziel and Pascoe mystery; Morse, Sharp, Holmes, their adventures are constantly devoured ad infinitum, morning, noon and night.

Fretful I ponder how to amuse myself. What would granny have done, between bringing up eight children, cooking, ironing and attending chapel, God willing. (Plus presumably a lie down when possible.) As soon as I thought of granny the answer was there in a flash, look at the stereo cards of course.

I remember many an evening as a child sat in grannies parlour, looking at 'grannies pictures'. The 'need to know' syndrome might be popular today. But did we children of the late 1940's care that we were looking at examples of stereoscopic images viewed through a stereoscopic viewer. Or that it was invented by a Sir Charles Wheatstone in 1840. Or for that matter realise that stereopsis is most commonly referred to as depth perception. The only thing we cared about was that we loved looking at 'grannies pictures'.

I retrieve the battered box still containing those treasured cards. A little faded, some inevitably yellowed with age, several marked by grubby fingerprints from bygone ages. But most are still viewable. (Many years ago the original viewer fell apart from constant use but I found another in a local auction, no doubt placed there by the fates that surround us all.) I carefully place the cards on a table and the memories flood back.
Pictures of places: Wales, Ireland, the Isle of Man and the Isle of Wight; West Cliff at Ramsgate, seaside and countryside, literally up hill and down dale. Plus nearer to home Chatsworth, Buxton, Matlock and Haddon Hall. We as children had hardly if ever visited such mysterious places. A trip up local fields with corned beef sandwiches and a bottle of pop was as far as we went from the village but we could but dream.

Another popular subject viewed with interest were those that showed the working man in his glory. Particularly favoured were pictures of coal mines, traditionally relevant to Nottinghamshire and Derbyshire at the turn of the century.

A proliferation of pit props that were ideal subjects for three dimensional viewing. Each and everyone viewed with awe and not a little admiration. I view the pit bottom once again and marvel. Nostalgic memories but a sombre reminder of the hard life led by many, a life of physical toil for doubtful reward.

Yet wonderful though these all were, our favourites were those depicting humorous or dramatic scenes, some obvious, others too subtle for childish minds. Romance was often depicted in a gentle, innocent way. 'Love Laughs at Locksmiths,' 'Love in a Tub', two titles with obvious appeal. 'Waiting for Santa Claus' had charm, whilst'Not a Drop till You Kiss me' had a cheeky appeal. The youngest amongst us were alarmed yet still fascinated by two men confronting each other, entitled 'Friend thee had better move', though we never did truly comprehend 'A Jew and a Quaker at work. Experience of either was way beyond our simple village experiences. The subjects were varied in the extreme, and our delight endless.

Particulary seached out time after time was 'Boys bathing', our first experience of people with no clothes on! Perhaps the Victorians were not as prudish as history would have us believe! For once repeats were acceptable. Big Brother, eat your heart out.