Amor Fati

I like it when I can agree whole heartedly with this wayside pulpit on the Baptist Church, Cottingham Road. Usually they are just plain old fashion bunkum along the lines of "If God is your co-pilot change seats" that kind of religious twaddle. But here the message is clear and true, some things have to be believed to be seen, further, everything has to be believed to be seen. Even Science believes in the validity of sense data and the regularity of nature before it starts with its experimenting. But this is just Philosophy 101.

Some things, however, once seen are quite unbelievable. 

Take for example, the Vaccine ... soon to be rolled out and pushed into the welcoming arms of the nation. I have seen the claims made for it, I do not for one minute believe a word. Oh the company has legal immunity should it start killing, maiming or doing what rushed and untested medicines do.

Or the Virus, I have read loads of evidence, studied the procedures, looked at the "cases", the "deaths" and still I do not believe.

Or Face Nappies ...

Or Lock downs ...

Or Social Distancing ...

Or Track and Trace ... this evil device rings you up and tells you your phone has come close to another phone with the lurgy (Turn off Bluetooth! ) and so you must isolate for a fortnight, so you cancel all appointments that have taken months to arrange due the Stupidity, close your business, prepare for hard times ... only two days later Track and Trace ring to say it was all a mistake ... this is a true story. Un-f*******-believable!

Or protecting the NHS ... let me tell a harrowing tale I heard yesterday from a friend of a friend whose mother-in-law died of undiagnosed cancer week or so ago. Undiagnosed because face-to-face GP visits only happen after telephone triage and this old lady somehow failed to get through the system. Her breast cancer spread up to her shoulder and neck ... anybody out there who has read Cancer Ward by Solzhenitsyn (it's not for the faint hearted) will  know what I talking about ... Just last week I had to go through several impassible hoops to see the GP mano a mano, first I ring up, no chance of even a phone triage appointment this week, hmmph so I lay on the agony and say the magic words "official complaint" and they go off to see what they can do, meanwhile I ring the NHS Healthline (I think there were ten binary choices mostly C-19 related before I spoke to a person) and they listened and say I should see a Doc ASAP (Hah! they, however, can email the surgery with this advice) ... a while later I get a call, the Doc will call me , he does, he listens, he fixes an appointment for that very evening and the process of getting a diagnosis was started ... we all know the long term prognosis, it's just a matter of time (Tic-Toc). You can see how frail old ladies who do not know how to push and  lever the system, indeed have never needed to, will just simply die by the wayside. They probably are thinking they can just turn up at the surgery and wait as in the bad old days ... Meanwhile, I do not know anyone who has died of or with, alongside or even in the same room as Covid-19 and only know of one person who has managed to test positive with the False RT-PCR test. (His verdict is that he thought it was a bad cold and was not at all bothered about it, so why get tested? but see below about People ). This huge leap backward is going on all across the country. Unbelievable in this day and age ... but at least the NHS is being protected, Gawd bless it!

Or anything any politician says ... weasel words we expect, a year of mendacity and manipulation, illegal, illiberal seizures of our liberties deserve the attentions of a "national razor". So today (December 2) we leave a notional national lockdown (honestly has anybody paid it any attention?) to go into a Tiers system, (cue cries of "it will all end in tiers" and so on). They just changed the locks on the prison doors. We are to be in the top tier 3 based on Hull and Hereabouts having the highest "case" rate in the country (somebody has to) back in the middle of November. It matters not that now the "rate" has fallen by 40%, no that "fall" will count as the "tiers" working ... 

Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira
les aristocrates à la lanterne!
Ah! ça ira, ça ira, ça ira
les aristocrates on les pendra!
 

Now where was I? Oh yes, people ...

Or people in general ... they are unbelievably gullible (I was going to say thick, yeah OK, thick will do it, stupid ...)  and victims of their own gullibility. They have the Faith, they believe in the Virus, they believe in the Test. They cry out for the Vaccine (so we are told), they believe all the precautions are vital, they demand all this and beg for more... and they will not be shaken from it.  Folk ("Wackos") like me are a threat to them somehow, we anger them because we do not share their fear. Never trust the People.

Or the Police ... no-one with an ounce of self-preservation would ever believe anything the police say. They  are too busy with fads to police the Law, allowing some demos not others, arbitrarily arresting people, illegally detaining people on their way to a demo (this seemed to shock youngsters but they would not recall the Miners' Strike back in the 80s when this was common practice) the usual garbage we come to expect from the boys in blue, at least they do not have guns or they'd shoot themselves.  Indeed, many do not even know what the Law is at present (indeed, who does?).

But now I'm rambling on and becoming like a silly old man shaking his fist at the sky ... but I've been away a while and I ain't coming back anytime soon, so ...

Or Global Warming ... 

Or Net Zero ...

Or the EU ...

Or China on the UNHRC ...(satire is long dead)

Or Biden won cleanly, fairly and legally ... it seems the wheel's still in spin on this one. I likes me a nice dirty, corrupt election, so I do. It shows where the powers really lie and clearly it's not with the electorate. But this is not my problem, so I don't care, no, really.

Or BLM ... yeah, right.

Or Antifa lalalala ... likewise.

Or Transphobia ... "people who menstruate", I mean really, come on?

Or MSM (Defund the BBC!) ...

Or adverts for coffee ... or any adverts, of course, but coffee adverts are the pits.

Or ridiculous blogs like this ... enough, let's have done with it, why keep dragging on with rubbish?

 

But fairies at the bottom of the garden are quite cute ...

“Mit der Dummheit kämpfen Götter selbst vergebens.”

 

I admit I haven't been paying attention to the news, the local news, any news, or Twitter or such like for a week or so, so when I wandered across to the local rag's site and was informed that this town had the highest number of "cases" in the country ... "by along way" was the sub-headline... my reaction was not one of great despond but more "Gosh and golly the old city of culture finally caught up with the nonsense that has been going on around parts of the world". This backwater has always lagged behind fashions by a year or so so this was pretty quick catching up, also the somewhat cynical thought passed through my mind that maybe there's Government money to be had from being so infected... "Oh save us and forgive us, Fat Controller, for we have sinned!"

Still, I wonder, how do they know this fascinating snippet? Why by testing, dear boy. 

But where are folk being tested? In places like this on Inglemire Lane, do try to keep up... 

So with so many new "cases", and new "cases" being but a small percentage of those tested, there must be lots and lots of folk being tested, then?

So how come, there is never anybody either going in or coming out of this place when I go past? Erm, no comment ...

I ask only to be informed.

You think I'm making this up, that I have some agenda ... frankly I don't give a damn, it's your game and I am most definitely not playing.

Government figures are for, I think, half a million tests per day, and I read this comes out at 150 tests per hour per testing station assuming a twelve hour working day, over two a minute... it's just not happening here or at many other testing stations. 

There has always been a Big Lie at the heart of this year's stupidity and it spawns smaller lies along the way to keep it afloat.

Oh then I read there are plans for "mass testing" of the stupid folk of Hull (what was the testing before then? ) anyhow this is with a brand new test, quicker and easier, and can be (and probably will be) administered by a squaddy on his day off ... the reward for going through this is 14 days house arrest if you get a "positive" result. So why would anyone with any sense put themselves through this? It's madness.  

Did I mention that we are supposed to be under yet another lockdown, the first having worked so well a second was the obvious choice ... naturally I am ignoring it, this time many others seems to be doing likewise. It's supposed to end December 2 but you watch it will be back next year, complete with new models of new plagues and the hope of a vaccine for the totally insane...

Anyhow the whole thing is boring and as someone once said even Gods struggle in vain against boredom.

.... and I seem to have forgotten that wise maxim of never believe anything you read in the papers... catch you later... possibly much later.

Something completely different

 I always keep all three of them turning, you can't be too careful.

 

The weekend in black and white is turning heads here.

Now slow yew down ma ole booty

A warning sign on the Loke near the Long Pond. Someone taking the initiative, good to see.

Photos by  Margot K Juby

This is all your fault

You know the story of King Canute (or Cnut if you wish, maybe even Knut ), he that sat by the sea shore and told the tide not to rise and was soaked for his troubles. The story as was told to me in my childhood was that Cnut (I think I prefer that) was so proud that he thought he could stop the sea but had to be given a lesson. Later I learned that the story was that Knut (prefer Cnut) wanted to show his obsequious courtiers that he was not some divine majesty and only a mere mortal so he set himself up for a foot bath. Either way, the moral of the story, to labour it for those at back of the room not listening; time and tide wait for no man or so the story goes ...

Why am I prattling like this? Well the modern Cnuts have set themselves up by the tide of Humber to raise once again the barriers to watery ingress and we can no longer pass or indeed repass along this Queen's highway as there's barriers erected and piles of what can only be called stuff heaped up on Nelson Street.

I think the plan is to extend the waterfront by a few yards and raise the tout ensemble to prevent tidal flooding to thousands of properties. There's a poster thingy to explain the plan but I think I'll wait until it's all done and the concrete set and we've had a surge tide or three before commenting.

Now I'm not one to guilt trip anyone but all this is because it is thought that sea levels will rise because you turned on your computer and read this drivel (it's all your fault didn't you know, everything is your damn fault, racism, Covid-19, inflation, deflation, ageing population (how dare you live so long?), rising birth rate, falling birth rate, STDs, white supremacy, alleged global warming, the next ice age, pedophilia and pornography, Donald Trump, face masks, unemployment, world war, famine & Brexit, pestilence, you name it ... all down to you and you alone). How could you let this happen?

Who Ya Gonna Call?

I must say it's been an exceptionally good year for neuroses.

Dear God,

Hi, how ya doing? Thought I'd drop you a line since it's been a while, well it's been a lifetime since they dipped me in that old holy Roman Catholic water and drove the devil and all his works from me ( we were having such fun) but in terms of the infinite less than just a tick. I know my mum (How's she doing, btw? I'm sure she's up there with the saints and all, what with all her faith, damned unbreakable faith) tried to point me in your direction dragging me off to church each Sunday and Holy Days of Obligation (nipping me when I was bored and naughty and sitting when I should have been kneeling) even sending me to a Catholic School ( no priest took a fancy to me sadly or I'd be much richer than I am today) but I got to six years old and it wasn't going to stick, sorry old chap, no hard feelings, eh?  ...
So I heard you were unwell, well I heard you'd died (was it really 'pity' that saw you off, was it? or something less serious? the nauseating Postmodern relativistic morality and the happy clappies and the apostasy of women priests would drive anyone off a cliff) I assume those reports were an exaggeration and you're just going about your merry, mysterious way; giving folk freedom will then punishing 'em for using it (teehee!)... 

Now if you're thinking your hearing has gone a bit dickey recently and that it's gone a bit quiet down here, no it's not you it's (who else?) the Government (you don't like 'em either? They think they are your gift to humanity, please tell them it isn't so, go on do a bit of smiting you know you want to. Do they tax you too and put you in a gag when you go shopping? I know, I know, where's it all going to end? Now don't pretend you don't know ... I can feel you smirking even behind that face muzzle) Anyhow they only went and closed the churches, first time in centuries even the old Black Death (thanks for that by the way) didn't close 'em. Yersinia sends her regards, I hear she's out in Colorado living with some squirrels but she always was a wild one.  So, yeah erm things are a little quiet down here atm, folk wary of each other, scared to admit that they really don't think this little flu thing (was that one of yours or have you outsourced plagues and pestilence to China?) is a big thing and they'd love to get on with their lives but the schools are closed ('til September, teachers can't miss their summer holidays can they?) so someone's got to stay home and look after the brats, and the shops are going to be a test if you turn up bare faced, as you intended, and the nauseated worriers play up and start moaning, I swear I'll take a stick to anyone who bugs me (I am, as you know, without sin so they'd better watch out) ... but you got your troubles I got mine, it's been good to talk, catch you again sometime, don't be a stranger.

Your old mate ,
                          Bill

Look, Duck and ...

The Avenues area, described by some wag as the Muesli Belt of Hull, is currently plagued by feathery fiends who cause untold harm to the economy, health, education and safety of the neighbourhood. Residents are wary of venturing forth lest they should come across a malicious mallard, the very sight of which is sure to cause respiratory failure, diarrhoea, apoplexy and general malaise not to mention corporal decay. Urgent research into a cure, a possible vaccine ( a quackzine? no seriously...) has shown adverse effects with patients reporting  webbing on the extremities and an irresistible desire to go paddling in Pearson Park. The Government assures us that the problem will be over by Christmas and is introducing legislation making duck pate compulsory festive fare. 

A Movable Feast

The Christian festival of Easter was cancelled this year; that quasi-pagan celebration of Christ's victory over Death was put to one side because ... well no real good reason at all; Government fear of collapse of health services (that didn't happen) led to panic, scaremongering, a return to medieval thinking, mass hysteria, media bullshit reporting, misuse and abuse of statistics, you name it  and it happened this crazy year and to get out of the grave dug for us by stupid, vain politicians (who seem at least to have stopped digging) we linger in this not free transition with illiberal regulations for anti-social spacing, reservations for the pub (for Chrissake!) ... and (useless) face mask virtue signalling social tyranny. It's the control freaks' wet dream ... 

PS the church sign has been removed after so many weeks and there's talk of the place reopening with every soul isolated lest they should spread this 'germ' ... I won't ask who made this 'germ' since, well, we don't want to go down the rabbit hole of theodicy on a  cold, damp Thursday in July.

Post hoc ergo propter hoc

"It's easier to fool people than to convince them that they have been fooled."     

                                                                                                      Mark Twain

We are told that the Fat Controller will be making an announcement on Sunday that might be the beginning of the end (or as he will no doubt phrase it the end of the beginning) of the house arrest phase of the great economic crash of 2020. The narrative all along has been to lock folk up to protect the NHS (and save lives as well it's just that that didn't work out so well, nor could it as we'll see). You can see how proud some folk are, nay not just proud but utterly convinced that their weeks of home confinement have somehow saved the NHS. But as any first grader could tell them this is delusion. There is no evidence to prove this nor can there be. There is no evidence that weeks of watching Netflix or whatever has saved a single life. No evidence for that but plenty that the whole thing has been a colossal wrecking job on the economy and the health and wealth of millions. The figures show that deaths linked to Covid-19 peaked on April 8 which means given accepted incubation periods that infections peaked before the lockdown came into force. Other evidence has demonstrated that the infection rate, the infamous R₀ had fallen below 1 before the lockdown. It appears that the campaign of hand washing and mild social distancing had done the job of killing off whatever was causing the infections but I couldn't say that for sure since I'm not going to ascribe effects to causes; that's not my job. 
No that silly mistake will be left to ministers, politicians, and the media who all should know better, and the vast majority of people who can know no better. They will claim that their sacrifice has paid off, that though thousands have died the totals were nowhere near those of the model produced by the now utterly discredited lockdown lothario Professor Ferguson of Imperial College, London. (I've read that other models elsewhere were equally stupid and subject to constant revision as the figures failed to rise but the Imperial College model was the one used here and it has been found to be a school boy joke riddled with amateur errors and produces utter rubbish, garbage.). They will gloss over the rise in excess deaths that cannot be ascribed to Covid-19 even with directives from Government to be as widespread and liberal as possible in ascribing cause of death to Covid-19. People are dying with Covid-19 who have never been tested, any old person dying with pneumonia has Covid-19 tacked onto the death certificate nolens volens. Which of course means the figures are unreliable and exaggerated.
As to the actual test, what can anyone say, that is anyone with a modicum of scientific knowledge of how things should be done. In the absence of any purified virus to compare assays against a huge leap of faith has been made that the results obtained after complicated manipulation of the sample of snot obtained by ramming a cotton bud up the patients nose (RNA extraction and reverse transcriptase, and multiple though variable amounts of DNA multiplication treatments) actually represent a link to the alleged culprit virus Covid-19. Though thousands of tests have been carried out no-one can say for sure they have measured anything real at all. It's all as I say reliant on believing the method to be infallible despite numerous reports of 80% false positives and almost as many false negatives. A reasonable person, never mind one with a PhD in Biotechnology (OK that's me, you can call me Dr Bill from now on ...), might be led to say the test was not fit for purpose.
So dear reader the shore is in sight... we will be told that all our suffering was worth it but we must not let down our guard (against what? The wizard of Oz? surely not Covid-19 which has peaked, is very uninfectious and has a mortality roughly that of flu, which we annually ignore though thousands die with it), that the Government's actions have been effective (post hoc ergo propter hoc gets 'em every time), that the Fat Controller walks on water (but keeps his distance). We will in short be lied to again and do you know what the lie will be swallowed (yum, yum it's just what they long to hear) and folk will go out tonight and applaud themselves like performing seals but there's more than a faint aroma of foul treachery in the air.

Fish and Chips

Fridays are usually the busiest days for chippies, some say it's a throwback to Christian dietary interference on eating meat on that day or maybe Friday was payday and money was available or, and I think is more likely, good fish and chips are simply delicious and irresistible!  This Good Friday, however, many chip shops are closed and I suspect they will stay that way forever due to Government interference on civil liberty. Life after this phoney plague and unnecessary mass house arrest will be dull and impoverished; you might almost wish you had died.

This jolly sign was on Greevegate, Hunstanton. No trip to the seaside is complete without some fish and chips so we dutifully consumed some in a restaurant just down the road from here. Well I have to fully research my posts don't I?

Sod this for a game of soldiers

Phone for the fish knives, Norman 

As cook is a little unnerved

Way back in the dim mists of time when I was but eleven years old a visitation of the influence, as the medievals called it, bestrode the world taking with it several millions, including some 30,000 in the UK. The so-called Hong Kong flu came, it saw, it conquered and then it disappeared. Did the world grind to a halt? Did they cancel everything? Did they lock up everyone? Did they threaten you with criminal sanctions if you sat in the park for a few minutes? No, of course not, life and death and Wimbledon and yes, even the Olympics went on as normal and hardly anybody mentioned it at all. I bet hardly anyone even remembers it. I only vaguely recall folk saying the usual "There's a lot of it about" but then they say that every year. Certainly there was no panic, no stupidity, no collapse of the NHS.
Today however a madness has spread quicker than the damn virus; thanks to the malevolent internet, stupid press campaigns, weak and vain politicians, corrupt governments (in particular China, a murderous gangster state on the brink of economic collapse), a bizarre credibility given to the Oracle of Imperial College London ("Half a million dead if no action taken, a quarter million if some action taken, maybe twenty thousand if you lockdown and crash the economy" , then after a week it became "maybe 5,000 or so and many would have died anyway" ... the moral as I constantly say is never mistake a model for anything other than an expensive guess).
Symptoms of the madness are a lack of clarity, of perspective, a complete loss of sang froid, panic driven self-incarceration, a withdrawal, nay a collapse, of normal social intercourse and civic life. The damage to the world economy is possibly greater than that of the depression of the 1930s and we all now how that turned out. All those silly things that you have done, social distancing, meticulous hand washing, hoarding of toilet rolls (what was that all about?), hiding in the bathroom for ten days ... all utterly pointless. The virus will get you whatever you do indeed it's quite possible you've already had it weeks ago and not even noticed.
So how do we get ourselves out of this tangled web? What's the end game? Do we sit here and watching repeats of football matches until July or whenever the Fat Controller is fit enough and back from paternity leave and suffer businesses large and small going to the wall just to "Save our NHS"? ... or do we grow a pair (such a fine expression!) and say enough of this stinking crap, we're out of here. Sod the lock down! Stuff your faulty repressive laws! Let's get back to living a life worth living and back to work and save our economy what's left of it.

"Is Everybody Happy?"

  "It's funny 'cos it's true"
                           Homer Simpson

Just look what joy Hull had to look forward to this autumn, being entertained by others' misery. This was before the dreamy happy times began and we all sat comfortably at home obeying the Fat Controller and being entertained by own wretchedness; running sweepstakes on the mounting but quite normal deaths from pneumonia, diabetes, old age and so on being twisted into something so deadly serious we simply must collapse the entire economic/politcial/civic system. I see the FC has caught the WuFlu (along with the Health Secretary, you really can't make this stuff up!)... serves the fat bastard right, should have washed his hands more though I doubt all the perfumes of Arabia would sweeten his podgy paws.

The Butcher and the Baker

Back to Hunstanton for a rare scene these days, high street bakers (Mr Bun the Baker!) and butchers shops. I hope the current madness doesn't push them into oblivion like so many other small businesses; it's not possible for these guys to "work from home" or "self isolate".

The Hovis trademark derives from the Latin phrase hominis vis, the strength of man something which is being sorely tested by collective not to say global numptiness.  This is a bit of an antique sign, I haven't seen one like this for years.

Alios delectare iuvat

Something I noticed during our short stay in Norfolk are the delightful, decorative signs that adorn villages and towns in these parts, usually depicting a motto and a scene from the history of the place or some local landmark. Hunstanton's features the famous sun setting over the sea, that I (and everybody else) mentioned, and old Edmund and his wolf. The motto, as you no doubt know, means "It is our pleasure to please others". Sunny Hunny certainly pleases.

You can see a collection of these signs here.

This, for comparison , is what we have across the road for Cottingham. A bit small and dull.

The South Gate, King's Lynn

I suppose in a rational ordered world this vestige of medieval urban protection would have been cleared away and become nothing but an entry in obscure historical chronicles. A wee sign informs us that this was put up in the early 15th century clearly to bottleneck the flow of carts and horses causing tailbacks over the river Nar and along Friars Street as toll charges were levied and collected on traffic. The sign mentions that the gatekeeper was also "keeper of the muckhills" but thankfully does not elaborate on what that might mean ... The small doors on either side show where pedestrians had had enough and were allowed through. Later on London Road was developed and was as you see it is twice as wide as the gate. So there it stands covering half a road serving no useful purpose other than being a delight to the eye, an oddity in the blandness of modern life.

The gate is open to visitors during the warmer months but not on a chilly  Sunday afternoon in February.

The stone clad frontage is to impress visitors, it's really a brick building similar to the North Bar in Beverley.

The South Gate was the site of the town's gallows where poor unfortunates were hanged if they weren't being roasted in Tuesday Market... Margot suggested these orbs might be the restless souls of the condemned hovering about the place, I think it's just a stinky picture ...

Here's the wee sign I mentioned earlier.

The building is, of course, Grade 1 listed. Here's more by folk who know what they are talking about.

Uniform Rip Off

A strange thing today on the local TV news; a Labour MP calling for more competition and openness in business: the business, that is, of selling school uniforms. A fine scam this; where a school is legally allowed to demand its pupils wear the school uniform (I'm not happy about even this but there's more...) and then demand that the uniform is bought from a particular shop or supplier. The school having a deal with said shop is, of course, profiting from its own regulations... Naturally such a practice, enforced monopoly, acts to no-one's benefit but the school and the shop. Many poor parents are finding uniforms prohibitively expensive (for each child between £255 for primary school and £340 for secondary school; that's per year ...I'm sure you'll agree this is  absolutely ridiculous! ) and this restricts their children attending the appropriate school. Simply buying a cheap uniform and stitching the school badge (as my mother did for me way back when I went to school) is not good enough for the money grubbing school who now require the school logo on socks! on blazers, on trousers! probably on the underpants ...

By way of a reaction to these scandalous practices and high prices a system of recycling uniforms (called Re: Uniform) has sprung up centred here at the Methodist Church on Cottingham Road/Newland Avenue. 

So a bill is being presented today in Parliament, the Education (Guidance about Costs of School Uniforms) Bill, I think every parent in the land will be wishing it to pass ...

Bonsoir old thing, cheerio! chin chin!

Two score and seven years ago our fathers dragged us into a Continent, conceived in Error, and dedicated to the proposition that all men are created European...

Three years and seven months after a majority voted to leave the EU the UK is now, at 11 pm January 31st 2020,  leaving that damned institution. There will be muted celebrations I expect, this is the way things are done here not with a bang but a whimper. Still, a Brexit Party house just a few doors down is putting out the flags in a show of Union rags to put the Mall in London to shame. Now I wouldn't want you to confuse me with those sentiments. I wouldn't have that Butcher's Apron on my property. I wanted to leave the EU but I'm no mad British Bulldog patriot, je ne suis pas un rosbif! I do not feel particularly British or English (I've never, ever felt European, I don't know what it means to feel such a thing, it's an invented identity that has no history or meaning) I'm just a Hartlepool lad a long way from home ... but I digress, anyway I had no choice in the matter, ma and pa just left me here to sing my song. No. I just want this country to be responsible for its own mistakes and its own successes like any other independent state. Make our own laws, pay our own taxes, spend our taxes as we see fit, trade freely with whoever will trade with us, kick out the bastards in our Parliament every now and then and make our government humble and sore afraid of the people. Not too much to ask, I think, just some basic independence.

It might be thought appropriate here to say that I wish the EU well without us ... well no, sod 'em, if you'll pardon my French... They and their vocal friends in this country have done their best to delay, thwart and obstruct the will of the majority. They are dangerously antidemocratic. This is absolutely unforgivable and will be their downfall. They still think they have some right not to have their noses rubbed in their defeat. I sincerely hope the sensitive souls are suffering. I look to the rise of other successful Leave parties across the states that remain trapped in the humourless and historic absurdity that is the European Union. This will no doubt happen but vita summa brevis spem nos vetat incohare longam ... 

“The lips of the tyrants are trembling and pale, 

In dismay they are dreading the shock, 

Of the millions who, bold in the truth of their cause, 

Are as strong as the adamant rock!”

The weekend in black and white is here.

Repairing

In much the same way that out-of-works actors are not "out-of-work" but "resting" this shop is not "vacant" but "repairing". This photo was taken some while ago (it has lingered in the draft folder for years) and I believe the shop has been "repaired" and reopened, it may well have closed for repairs again such is the style these days.
I read a piece in the Times the other day about how a town in Scotland, Paisley, had dealt with its empty shops by converting them into flats and accommodation and had somehow revitalised its town centre from the scourge of retail desertion. The major retailers aren't going to be coming back ever so why not? Hull City Council however continues to double down with plans for even more retail space on the soon to be demolished BHS site. Maybe they don't get the Times in the Guildhall.

Forgotten Evangelicals

Blogger allows you to make draft postings and somehow this picture has been hidden away in the "draft" for so long I've forgotten what I was going to say about it (maybe something witty about fishers of men, or has that been done already?). So I thought I'll just leave it here and if anything comes to mind maybe I'll add it later. I can tell you this is in Bridlington and it's tucked away down a steep alley way close by the harbour but then you might guess that from the sign.

The weekend in Black and white is here.