Thoughts of a Nobody from Nowhere Important.

    I'm never sure whether the next post will come easily. Do you have the same problem? My life smacks of a somewhat repetitive humdrum existence (my choice in the main) so finding something of interest is often difficult. Today's 'action' on which to 'pontificate' thus was gratefully received.

    I happened to see the BBC's Star Gazing Live 'starring' Professor Brian Cox. (It coincided with Derby University unveiling a copy of Sir William Herschel's (1738-1822, the discoverer of Uranus and its moons.) telescope that has been proudly built on the university campus.) Wonderful except that fog prevented any view of a single star! We might be clever, but control of the weather has a long way to go.The models of the universe were brilliantly done, I learnt things (you must never stop learning) that made me view things in a different light.

    I looked up some facts and figures. Mostly beyond this geriatric's comprehension; the following has stayed with me.

    Out there is our universe. There are billions, not millions of stars in the Milky Way of which we are apparently a part. There are close to a trillion galaxies and that's just in the Observable Universe. The universe is around 13.75 billion years old; I'm 73 years old by the way, years that is! The edge of the Observable Universe is about 46-47 billion light years away. (Some parts of the universe are probably, since the Big Bang, too far away for the light emitted to have arrived yet.) From earth to the edge of our known Observable Universe is 46 billion light years in any direction. (Religious people, did God create all of the aforementioned, or just earth, the place on which we reside?) One other statistic stays in my mind. Evidently an Apophis Asteroid is going to collide with earth in 2036. Not 2022, 2032, 2042 but 2036.I find such knowledge mind bendingly difficult to take in. As I say so many times, 'What's it all about, Alfie!'

    My family and I (how very Royal) travelled to St Anne's for the weekend. A distance of around 115 miles each way. We visited Fleetwood, Blackpool and Lytham; all very enjoyable, quite an adventure. It made me aware what a confined, cocooned existence we live nowadays, my wife and I.

I live in a bungalow on the outskirts of the town of Derby. In a normal month I will shop, visit doctors and dentists, the theatre, the library, the pub and friends etc within a five mile radious. Some days I will write, eat and sleep solely within the confines of my home and garden; all within around thirty paces.  I have one daughter and family who lives in the same street; their house is around one hundred yards away, (Note, no metres allowed in my life!) Within the year I will visit places of interest but it is unlikely any place will be over two hundred miles from home. No criticism of any of you leading exciting lives or visiting exotic places. My life might, to some, be somewhat pointless, but is, after all, my life. I hope you are as happy and at peace with the world as myself.

      Life is for enjoying, not to be taken too seriously;  if we can raise a smile and help each other, how ever parochial as we pass through, that is indeed a bonus. My/our purchases from our recent excursions might give food for thought.  The photograph was taken in Blackpool's Madame Tussauds. I know, I know Christmas has come and gone but we couldn't resist the reindeer. One final thought. As I moved 'Santa' from the shop, the two of us seemed to cause both consternation and hilarity as I carried him to my vehicle. Come to think of it, my appearance seemed to attract comment as I wandered around the north west! But never mind, if insignificant me can bring a little cheer, why not indeed!

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Helping the North West's Economy and a bit of Deja Vu.

My wife and I (Now doesn't that sound regal!) have recently spent a delightful three nights on the streets of St Annes. (In our motorhome, not literally on the streets!) The weather was horrific; it rained, the wind blew and it wasn't exactly hot but who cares. We visited my daughter, son in law and grand-daughter, we shopped, people watched and a good time was had by all.

We, motorhomers are none too popular in this corner of the north west. Parking on the streets mean we have no hotel costs, which no doubt galls the hotel trade. Possibly the reason there is a profusion of signs in Blackpool in particular reading simply 'cars only'. And it's getting noticeably worse. A pity as my wife tried to boost the local economy on our visit, and I wasn't too far behind. So what did we spend.

For a start there were pubs meals in Wetherspoons: my two sausages, two bacon, four slices of toast, two eggs, a slice of black pudding and a tomato, £3.99; brilliant. Plus numerous cups of coffee and tea. Then there's the gluten free food (my wife's a Coeliac.) Biscuits, cakes, even gluten free liquorish sticks. A petticoat from Fleetwood Market (my wife's purchase, honest!) and posh leggings plus a bright red handbag bought in Blackpool. (My wife again, silly!) Chocolate bargains and other sweets from Freeport. A red coat (no other colour considered) from a charity shop and some serious spending in between; a seven piece bed set, not cheap but well worth the price. Oh, and a fur hat each, very fashionable for 'geriatrics' and worn at Derby County versus Portsmouth FC!

My wife's the main spender in our house, but I didn't do so bad either. An Elvis musical figurine purchased will take pride of place in my 'bar'. (Plays a non too musical version of Love Me Tender') and I couldn't resist the cruets imprinted with pictures of Cliff, Elvis and the Beatles. To complete the 'spending spree, books from my favourite charity shop, Barnado's in Lytham, price five for £1.99. (A Spread of Over 40's Jokes; A Handbook for All Word Puzzling; a book on Crime and Detection; The A-Z of Behaving Badly and Britain Land of Contrasts. Add fuel before returning home and I reckon there's £2oo plus gone into the north west economy; recession, what recession! Please think twice, north west councils, there's a lot of us and plenty of places that would welcome our 'dosh'.

And so to the deja vu. (See post dated 23rd April 2008). We spent the last hour of our short visit in St Annes. Hurrying back to our rather expensive motorhome we espied outside B and M a somewhat forlorn seller of 'The Big Issue'. I did the usual, avoided eye contact and hurried past. The wind was blowing, it was cold, my pockets were nearly empty and I needed the warmth of my 'motor'. And so to home, back to my comfort zone, a smashing break, but its home where we're happiest. Except that I retraced my steps before I left St Annes, had a chat with the young man outside B and M and bought a Big Issue. Evidently he was Romanian, selling the Big Issue with quiet dignity to keep body and soul together in a foreign, not always hospitable country. I am not interested in the arguments concerning immigration issues and the rights and wrongs of 'our country'. All I know he was a pleasant, dignified young man. I was glad, for whatever reasons I had returned and purchased one of his papers.

On People and Places.

We've just been away in our motorhome for a few days. Our travels may not be in the same league as George Orwell's (Eric Arthur Blair) but I've enjoyed the change.

We called at a scrap yard near Preston on the way up. Don't let my wife ever tell you I don't take her anywhere interesting. I'm sure many a lady would like to be taken round a scrap yard! I bought two brass signs for my bar. Corny, yes, but they amuse me. Why ever grow up when you don't have to.

We stayed the week on the playing fields of King Edward VII and Queen Mary School, Lytham St Annes, courtesy of The Camping and Caravan Club (Lune Valley D A). Within sight of my daughter's home, literally across the road. An ideal situation, close but not under each other's feet, so to speak.

I hadn't realised how elderly many caravaners and motorhomers are. Smashing people in the main, many in their seventies and no small number eighty plus. Brilliant that so many ' oldies' are still active in this day and age. Though I doubt that all drivers following cars and caravans on our crowded roads would agree.
St Annes up the road (And Lytham for that matter) have a gentile, affluent feel about them.. My mother in law, well into her eighties loves them. She says they have a better class of charity shop than most. (I counted six at least in St Annes, charity shops that is, not mother in laws!)

Whereas Blackpool, not too far down the road has no pretensions of grandeur. Many people in Lytham and St Annes are rude about Blackpool. snobbery to a degree, but I can see why. I must admit I have seldom seen so much obesity, so many people smoking and so many tattoos for many a while. And that was only the ladies! (Only joking). I met a delightful man and his father who lived in Stoke on Trent, the son had had retired this week after thirty eight years in teaching and they always holidayed in Blackpool. Stoke, Blackpool and thirty eight years in teaching, the mind boggles! Nevertheless I like Blackpool.

Fleetwood is unique in its own way. A port, though perhaps somewhat in decline, not particularly attractive, certainly not pretty; it's biggest claim to fame appears to be its markets, Tuesdays, Fridays and Saturdays. The numerous parked buses testament to the many day trippers who descend on the markets week after week. And I have never seen so many geriatrics, and geriatric aids for that matter in one place. The market heaves with ancient old dears intent on a bargain and woe betide anyone not quick on their feet who momentarily blocks their path in the search for the holy grail. If I have learnt nothing else from this short break, I have learnt that the average age of the British population is high in the extreme. Either that or they've all migrated to the north west.

I did meet one interesting young man by the name of Andrew. He wandered over to our motorhome on the seafront at Fleetwood. He insisted on telling me a large proportion of his life story. Andrew is twenty seven, married into a travelling family, with children and has recently moved from Rochdale, having run up several hundred pounds in debts owed to the council. (I was unclear as to whether the money is still owed.) He and his brother make a precarious 'living' collecting scrap metal with the aid of an old van. evidently 'scrap' is worth around £170 a ton but was £200 not long ago. Andrew had recently been arrested for 'stealing by finding'. Taking scrap without permission, even though it's been lying round for some considerable time. You learn something everyday if you're prepared to give a little of your time.

Andrew was waiting for a friend who was 'in front' of the magistrates in the nearby courts, (a favourite parking spot of mine) charged with numerous motoring offences. Ok, so Andrew was not 'the sharpest pencil in the box' and maybe he'd had a drink. But he was totally friendly, polite and civil and no, he didn't 'tap me up' for money; I am ashamed that I considered that might be his motive. We shook hands and parted, Andrew informing me that his ambition was to move his family up the coast to a quiet life in a nearby village. I hope his dreams come true. (Back home we are visited by three different groups collecting scrap metal on a regular basis. I have not seen this happen for many years; it must be a sign of austere times.)

One other memory. Life consists of millions of individuals seeking contentment, success, pleasure in their brief lives. The punk groups in Blackpool, there to attend concerts in the Winter Gardens were a joy to behold. A non conforming, colourful, good humoured presence, piercings and Mohican's to the fore, they were a joy to behold; thanks lads and lasses, you made my day.

And at the end of the week, what did we take home. Five books, second hand from a charity shop and a pair of shoes each, new, though in the sales from a 'proper' shop and a cardigan for the wife (that sounds a good swap to me). A watch (I never learn, can't get it to work yet but there's hope) plus some meat of all things, both from a car boot sale. (I hope the marks on the meat are not made by a saddle.) Plus a Colocasia Black Magic and a Musa Santa Morelli from a garden centre. Oh, and memories to savour on the dark nights ahead. Roll on Christmas!

As Bob would say 'Times They Are A-changin'

I sometimes wonder if there really are two species in the world, 'them and us'. A feeling reinforced by a very recent uncomfortable court appearance.

I have been 'in the dock' so to speak several times over the years but never as a defendant, always to give evidence, even subpoenaed on one occasion. Yet I have never been comfortable, seldom happy with the treatment I received from all and sundry, including defending solicitors. On at least one occasion overcome by feelings of impotency as my word has been challenged as to its truth. I would not dream of lying under oath, the old 'upbringing' thing I suppose. And as to why I should be surprised that others have no such qualms regarding distortions of the truth I have no idea. But there is obviously a lack of morality in some, though not of course everyone than divides society and bodes ill for the future.

We did not enjoy our visit to court. It was extremely costly for a start, no legal aid for us. We were obviously mere participants in a system weighted again ordinary God fearing mortals. Not so our feckless, debt owing contagonists, encouraged I suspect by a clueless government to opt out of responsibility for their own inadequacies.

A learned judge erred on the side of our 'poor' adversaries, aided and abetted by not one but two gentlemen available to those without the means to pay (Yearly continental holidays take, oh so much of your income). It was of course a done deal, the two legal sides had concurred as is allowed, the judge 'slapped wrists' and we were out in under five minutes. (The learned gentleman did say at the beginning our our 'sitting' that he had a telephone engagement in five minutes so that didn't exactly leave time for a lengthy debate!) So who's massively out of pocket due to someone elses irresponsibility, us of course.

Some months ago my wife and I sat on the seafront at Fleetwood, right ouside the magistrates court; we were there many a while. The sea was great and the occasional boats interesting. But neither could compete with the constant flow of miscreants entering and leaving the courthouse.

Laughing, joking, some with cans of beer to hand they entered the building as their turn came. (On enquiry I was told the cans are taken off them but have to be returned to them as they leave the building.) I kid you not. Not all were trustful of the court officials and some hid their 'supplies' in nearby bushes. Which incidentally doubled as a toilet on several occasions despite our astounded presence. No sign of fear, shame, anxiety ever crossed their untroubled countenances. So why were we so apprehensive throughout our visit to court; to be searched for weapons via a scanner I found particularly perplexing. Perhaps we should attend court more often. Lessons from 'regulars' would lessen the aprehension. Perhaps two or three pints of Marston's Pedigree might help; there are toilets INSIDE courts after all. But the answer, I fear probably lies in avoiding the legal professions wherever possible.

I read through this blog and wonder when a blog becomes a rant. It reads like a Daily Mail editorial, worrying for an ex-left winger who thought he was going to change the world when he was twenty five. But Grumpy Old Ken's allowed a grump occasionally. I promise I won't do it too often. Plus I'll let you into a secret. I feel better for it already!