TURNIPS ,TURNIPS EVERYWHERE1

Sitting at my desk the view today is of the trees at the edge of our garden being tosses about furiously by a very boisterous wind, our lovely delicate silver birch is bending alarmingly but even more alarming is the movement of the massive cypress which appears to be moving in several directions at once.

Even through the double glazing it's tortured creaks and groans are plainly audible and the lawn is littered with small pieces of the tips of it's branches.

It is also perishingly cold and we have had a few snow flurries here in the valley, the hills around us are white over and it looks distinctly like there is more snow on the way.

Great clouds are scudding rapidly along against a blue sky , then in a moment the sky becomes black as ink and dispenses hail, snow and freezing rain by turns. This is not a good day to be out of doors!

Unfortunately I was obliged to do so as I had an appointment at my Doctors surgery this morning, and a damned unpleasant journey I had of it, buffeted by great gusts of wind by the time I reached the top of the hill my face was frozen.

A high sided wagon came clipping along the road and as it breasted the brow of the hill a huge gust of wind caught at the tarpaulin which covered it's cargo. The wagon lurched across the road heading in my direction and I swear that my life flashed before my eyes in that brief moment.

The flapping tarpaulin must have caught at the tail gate fixings as all at once the road was showered with dozens of very large turnips which rolled about causing mayhem as car after car swerved to avoid them.

One large turnip bounced between the wheels of two cars like a football being passed between two players and had I not been in peril of my life I might have found it more amusing at the time, now of course I feel able to have a quiet chuckle, remembering how that turnip rolled about the road.

The driver of the wagon recovered from his panic attack and alighted from the cab of his vehicle to make the tarpaulin secure again, unable to move as my way forward was blocked by turnips and a tail back of cars I watched as he struggled against the force of the wind as he grappled with the fixings.

The tarpaulin billowed like the sail of a ship and the man was hard pressed to keep his feet on the ground, but at last he managed to make all secure and to the accompaniment of a dozen hooting car horns he drove off, his load considerably lighter than before.

The commotion had  been noticed and by this time quite a crown of people had gathered, some had disappeared for a moment to return with a bag or a basket into which they proceeded to load the errant turnips and I wondered how many households would be served with turnip mash or stew at dinner.

Soon all but a few badly damaged specimens had been spirited away and with the road clear and the traffic back to normal I made my way home, at last.

As a consequence of my long sojourn at the top of the hill in the teeth of a freezing cold wind I was quite unable to get warm and in spite of several layers of warm clothing, a huge roaring log fire and the central heating at full blast it was several hours before I stopped shivering long enough to cook dinner.

During that time I drank a considerable amount of Scotch, the first to settle my nerves, the second to warm me up a little and the third because I was enjoying it. In spite of being ever so slightly squiffy dinner passed of without incident, I used a pork fillet to make pork Wellington which I served with jacket potatoes and salad,I could have just made a stew I suppose but I am invariably more creative after a few drinks.

In any event the boys loved it, which is all that matters.

So now after a hot shower and a cup of hot chocolate my hot water bottle awaits and I shall not keep it waiting any longer. Goodnight All.

THE CLEOPATRA S A CRITIQUE.

In the grim dark watches of last Saturday night, unable to sleep, in pain and bored out of my brain I idly searched the U tube archives in search of something interesting to watch,what I found may well have scared me for life.

God help me! I fell foul of a dreadful epic in eight parts entitled “The Cleopatra s” , made in 1983 and missed by me entirely when it was first aired, as I had a new baby at the time and was embroiled with nappies,bottles and sleepless nights. Would that I had remained in blissful ignorance of this atrocity for it is without any doubt the most ghastly T.V drama I have ever watched, and believe me I've seen some rubbish!

The plot line follows the fortunes of the many Cleopatra s, their reigns, their marriages, the numerous matricides, patricides , fratricides and regicides they committed during their life times, along with other tortures and treacheries too numerous to mention here.

I had my doubts about the production from the moment it began, why, I wondered(and I still do) was the title music of the Scottish folk variety when the subject matter was Ancient Egypt? In spite of this the cast list was a role call of actors from such august establishments as the R.S.C so I quelled my unease and continued to watch.

What followed was so compellingly awful and at times unintentionally hilarious that I watched all eight episodes, I have seen more dramatic Corn flake commercials!

Richard Griffiths, one of our finest actors, recently deceased and much missed manfully ploughed his way through some truly atrocious dialogue, even his undoubted professionalism was not sufficient to disguise his disbelief at some of the lines he was expected to deliver with a straight face.

He was aided and abetted by such brilliant actors as Robert Hardy who did a creditable job of giving Julius Caesar, in spite of being hampered by some desperately camp performances from the likes of Graham Crowden and a veritable host of peculiar wigs and false beards, the historical accuracy of which left much to be desired!

Indeed many of the men's “syrups ” Looked as if they had been borrowed from the English Civil War series “By The Sword Divided”, I kid you not.

As for The Cleopatra s themselves what with all the girlie chat with their hand maidens “incidentally Charmian and Iras had the kind of accents which would have been more at home on the set of “East Enders”) and the constant stuffing of their faces with grapes, dates, melons and God knows what else a less Majestic bunch of chavs would be difficult to imagine.

Most of the real action took place “off” as it were so that such events as The battle of Actium, were not seen and most of the murders were only heard, blood curdling screams and groans peppered the dialogue like lead shot in a pheasants backside. Severed heads appeared often and from time to time a strange jingle, which sounded exactly like the arrival of an Ice Cream Van was played to signify ….some thing or other! I could continue for several pages with similar comments but that would place me in danger of becoming repetitive.

Now I can hear you asking “Why did I not switch off” ?  The  answer is I just don't know. Throughout that awful night one direful episode after another kept me engrossed, perhaps in the forlorn hope that it might improve and by the time I realised that this was not about to happen it was too late...I was hooked!This series was so bad that it made “The Tudors”appear learned! In spite of this I advise you give it a try. You will be amazed at the cast list as I was and if I admired their talent before I certainly take my hat off to them all for managing, without cracking up completely to deliver what must be some of the worst dialogue in the history of British Broadcasting, so that if the BBC lasts for a thousand years, men will still say ,this was there darkest hour! I expect many of them would be appalled to know that their hours of shame were still being aired. Evidently it was not buried deep enough, and it's mummified corpse still haunts the poor souls who placed their credibility as actors in jeopardy by appearing in it, not to mention poor unsuspecting victims such as myself......you have been warned!

AN EARLY MORNING DRIVE.

After another night with no sleep at all the last thing I needed was an eight O clock appointment at a hospital located over thirty miles away down a maze of country lanes, I freely admit that I was dreading it.

Pa has been so much worse these past few nights and I so much pain that it tears me up to watch him suffering so much, when I can do so little. I arranged that he should see the doctor today while I was away at hospital.

Before the crack of dawn I dressed and waited for my taxi to arrive,my darling son had refused to remain in bed and as I drank my coffee he arrived in my room with a plate of the most gorgeous and very welcome hot buttered toast. Suddenly the whole feeling of the day changed and as I munched away my spirits lifted and things did not seen quite so bad,

The taxi ride was wonderful, the views spectacular, There had been a sharp over night frost and a low mist hung over the frozen fields. On one side the moon was still brilliant ,silvering the frosted furrows and the stark branches of the trees. Out of the mist rose The Wrekin, mysterious and magnificent, a vision straight out of a fantasy.

On the other side the Welsh hills in purple shadow were being flamed by the rising sun and as we travelled the rising mist began to clear revealing the mountains beyond tinted rose, even the frost took on the tinge of red, as the sky colour deepened to the exact shade of a Bullfinches breast. I was spellbound.

With a five hour schedule of tests, examinations and questions ahead of me I paid my driver, gritted my teeth ,walked through the doors of the brand new orthopaedic unit and went in search of a coffee machine.

What amazed me utterly was the speed , efficiency and real care the process was carried out, in stead of having to leg it around miles of corridor from imaging to E.C.G. to Pathology then back to the consultant all the tests were performed by one person in a well equipped room in record time.

A short wait a few more forms and then another examination by a nurse to ensure that my skin was sound and to check that I had answered all the questions and answer any queries I might have.

Now for the bad news, the nurse told me that I had a heart murmur and would need to be examined at another hospital before my operation could go ahead but that since my blood pressure, blood gas and the E.C.G had all been perfect I was not to worry about it Hmmmm! Easier said than done , still I am not the panicky kind and when after seeing the Registrar I was allowed to go home, was joyful to say the least. The whole process had lasted a bare three hours.

The drive home while not so spectacular as my early morning journey but a drive in the countryside is always a pleasure to me. On my arrival at home there was freshly made coffee waiting for me and my son had everything in hand for a lovely dinner so I had nothing to do but rest for an hour or two. For which I was very thankful indeed.

I relieved to hear that Pa's Doctor had given him Morphine in a liquid form which should not only ease his pain but also help him to sleep, since our surgery has it's own dispensary Pa already has the stuff and can take his first dose tonight. Oh how I hope it works as we both need to get some sleep, things cannot go on as they are for we are both exhausted by the lack of it.

Thanks to my wonderful son today went better than I could have hoped,and if my scan on February 26^th is OK I shall have my surgery three weeks later. Fingers crossed.

A LESSON FROM HISTORY

When I said in a recent article that the Islamic nations were about five hundred years behind the times, operating in the same way as the Christian Fanatics during the Inquisition I little thought how soon my words would be proved correct, I wish with all my heart that I had been wrong.

In burning alive the young Jordanian pilot they have shown to the world their total lack of respect for human life, and their intolerance of any opinion but their own. What is most chilling is their ability to carry out these atrocities in such a calculating manner, not in the heat of battle but with the design of drawing attention to their cause and , they hope striking terror into their enemies.

I have news for these murdering animals, it is not working. We are sickened, we are disgusted but we are not afraid.

I said that Western Governments had seriously underestimated the capacity of the Islamic extremists for violence and cruelty and that they would stick at nothing in order to get their way , and that is true. They wish to rule us all, they want to impose their diabolical twisted version of the faith of Islam upon the rest of the world and they have been trying to do this for almost two thousand years

Yet they are mistaken if they believe that such actions as we have seen, the massacre of Christian children, the burnings, the beheading will fill their enemies with fear. In fact in the use of such extreme cruelty they run the risk of alienating not just The West, but the more peace loving Muslim Nations, the true followers of Allah of which there are many.

Perhaps this is their true crusade, it could be that it is they who are afraid that they are losing ground to those who's faith is true to the word of the Prophet Mohammed, those who believe in peace.

I recently exchanged views with a young man who wrote so eloquently of his faith and his belief in the truth of his religion, that I began to hope that the agents of terror, who twist the words of their Holy Book to further their own ends might not prevail. In spite of what has happened recently I still have that hope.

We must never give in to the temptation of believing that all of Islam is evil. The young Muslim men and women who have been radicalised by such organisations as ISIS are as much the victims of their ruthless teachers as those who's lives they take. These young people hazard all, for what they believe to be the truth, while their cowardly leaders stay well away from the firing line and this willingness to give their lives for their belief is common to all faiths, history teaches us this fact over and over again.

Yet for every one of these misguided youngsters there are thousands of young people who do not follow the teachings of those who desire to plunge the world in to darkness and it will be they who will prevail, if we are wise enough to trust them.

The practitioners of my faith were, in the past burned at the stake in their hundreds for their beliefs , they were burned by Christians, both Catholic and Protestant, so as you see Christians can hardly take the moral high ground here.

Islam, like Christianity began with a good man and some great ideas,it began with truth ,honour, peace and love. Centuries of schism and corruption have made such inroads into this simple truth that those who founded these faiths would not recognise in today's form the faith for which many of them died a martyrs death.

I cannot see how a practitioner of either faith in it's true form could reconcile the killing and torturing they use to further their cause with the words of their God. I do not recollect Christ telling his followers to slay their enemies, quite the reverse and yet for two thousand years Christians have committed such atrocities in the name of God in the same way that Islamic State does today,

If in all this time nothing has been achieved, if all that blood has been shed and innocent lives sacrificed for nothing,there can be no chance that these inhuman practices from a time when mankind knew no better, will be effective now.

If we are to survive we must learn from history that tolerance is the only way to achieve lasting peace. We must learn to share the earth's resources fairly. We must respect each other, beliefs and we must learn above all to love each other, no matter what faith, colour or caste we are, or we are doomed, to destroy this lovely world of ours and everything in it!

If mankind cannot do this then it is to be hoped that one or all of these hypothetical Gods will wipe mankind from the face of the earth with fire, flood and pestilence.......while there is still a world to save. Amen.

MORE ABOUT "SNOOKS".

Our tame Pheasant Snooks is still leading a charmed life the grounds of our home, each weekend when the local shoot takes place the sly old bird roosts in our shrubbery, in fact for the past week or so he seems to have been here so often that we began to think he had moved in.

This morning we had even more cause to think so when he turned up with no less than three female birds in tow.

The four birds strolled about the lawns quite happily all day feeding royally on the wild bird food which we put out twice each day. Snooks watches the ladies with a proprietorial air which leads me to believe that they are his chosen harem for the breeding season soon to come.

When ever he looses sight of one of the females he calls to her with that distinctive croaking sound so redolent of Autumn and Winter in the countryside.

His antics entertained not only the human inhabitants of the house today, our two cats were very much interested in the new arrivals and both Moth and Twiggy spent more time out of doors today that they have for months. Both cats kept a wide birth as Snooks is a “big fella”, quite the largest male Pheasant I have ever encountered and very beautiful.

Towards dusk he rounded up the ladies and they strolled off into the deepest part of the shrubbery to spend the night perched in the branches of an ancient apple tree who's trunk is wound thickly round with wild Clematis and Ivy, and surrounded by a thicket of Hazel, making it safe from the odd roving fox.

We have great hopes that this little group will, in the spring become a family with lots of cute little Pheasant chicks disporting themselves about the garden, You can believe me when I tell you that everything possible will be done to ensure that it will be so.

No pictures at the moment as I have been unable to get the birds to stay still long enough, they bob their heads incessantly and this blurs the picture, any suggestions as to how to get round this will be gratefully received.