Saturday 31 August 2019

Simply add water


The river Hull in these parts is basically an extension of the North Sea and as such is subject to the same tidal ups and downs. Which means if you don't much like being stuck on the the muddy banks then wait a while and a soothing, reflective brown influx will gently lift you up. 


Weekend Reflections are here.

Friday 30 August 2019

A Devilish Plot


... and so it came to pass the news that they had dreaded... Parliament to be prorogued! It's a coup, I tell you, a very British coupe (sic). A devilish plot to undermine the Will of the People. The people being a small portion of those who were in a minority three years ago and have filibustered and conspired to thwart the decision by the majority to leave the corrupt European Union. MPs simply must have time to debate this issue, three years not being enough seemingly. It's unconstitutional, though the Queen signed off on it and it should happen, and indeed has happened regularly for three centuries, to each and every Parliament . 
I think I have never seen so much stupidity parading itself in righteous indignation. So many public figures making total fools of themselves. So many empty threats to do this, to do that. I don't know what you can make of MPs who threaten lock themselves into the chamber of the House of Commons after prorogation and refuse to leave. Suit yourselves, mate, it still not a sitting Parliament. 
Opposition party elements have met to decide who amongst them should be the next Prime Minister after a vote of no confidence (which they haven't won yet, nor yet put down a motion Parliament being still in summer recess). Will they chose the leader of the opposition? Here's a man who has promised on becoming PM to only be there a while, "Make me "temporary" PM", he pleaded, like anybody believes that or anyone with a brain would put that mad man in charge of a sweet shop never mind a country. Or perhaps it will be the ancient right honourable member for Nottingham, the Father of the House, a man known for wearing suede shoes and boozing and playing jazz records, which makes him eminently suitable for the job. This conspiracy or coup, as you might very well say, against the will of the majority is of course, they say, to uphold the will of Parliament. (and there in lies the rub, for this Parliament is the problem, it has failed to carry out the will of the majority).
The Speaker of the House of Commons, a man who by tradition has "neither eyes to see nor tongue to speak" has spoken in a most unconstitutional way and demonstrated once again his bias and his unfitness for the role. 
There's a petition (isn't there is always a sodding petition?) to stop the whole thing. A petition to be put before Parliament, which will , of course, be prorogued ... The local paper headlines that "thousands" have signed it from this region, the truthful headline would read that hundreds of thousands haven't signed it. But truth sells no papers nor is it yet click bait.
Others who imagine themselves to be leaders of some left wing insurgency (bless them for they know not what they do) are claiming mass demonstrations up and down the country to "stop the coup" ... erm two men and their granny and perhaps a dog (the dog voted leave but now has no choice) outside a town hall in Manchester or Birmingham is hardly an insurgency. It's just, well, pathetic. 
Indeed the whole Remain thing is just a pathetic display of petulance by those who feel themselves entitled to have things their own way. They are a bunch spoilt middle class brats, some with the funds to have their day in court where they will find no solace (the government has broken no law other than the one that says no government shall do what it says it will do;  for that is truly unheard of). 
And so a madness has befallen the losers and apoplexy has struck all the right people. It is both an unpleasant and yet delightful spectacle watching the headless chickens run hither and yon. The devil must be having a good old laugh, I know I am.

Thursday 29 August 2019

Butter and Eggs


This is common toadflax (Linaria vulgaris) growing by the side of a busy road. It's by no  means a rare plant and is a favourite of bees who need to be fairly strong to get at the nectar hidden in the snapdragon like flower. The plant has many names relating to the colour , butter and eggs as I've indicated but also bread and butter, butter haycocks and yellow rod. Other names seem to be local folk making stuff up to please themselves so here's a small sample of alternative names: brideweed , rabbit flower, bunny mouth (?) and calf's snout (??). My favourite though, among the many names, has to be dead men's bones which might possibly relate to the practice of using the plant medicinally, who knows?

Wednesday 28 August 2019

Leni Riefenstahl without the uniforms


I took this a few days ago by accident almost as the camera was playing tricks and I needed to see if it was working properly. So anyhow I notice that this annual shindig, the Freedom Festival,  that started as a one-off one-day thing a few years ago has now grown and grown and grown an awful size to a five day "celebration of arts, community and humanity". Do any of these need celebrating? I think not, arts should be suppressed and certainly not state sponsored (not a penny), community is a word used by crooks to get elected and humanity couldn't give a monkey's for Hull or its stupid festival. Should the taxpayer be coughing up for this? I am certain not. Nevertheless the grasping arty types, filled with a sense of their own entitlement, demanding (because hell they're celebrating art innit? and the community whatsit called? and the humanity thing yeah, oh the humanity!) and getting their grants from the numpty Hull City Council and other agencies filled with taxpayers hard earned money. The event is, of course, a load of phoney baloney batshit! It's five nights of torch lit parades (think Leni Riefenstahl without the uniforms or the stage direction) and clowning around likely to appeal to the community and humanity innit.

Tuesday 27 August 2019

Quis custodiet ipsos custodes?


Four years ago Humberside Police were given the worst possible efficiency rating and were condemned as inadequate. Public confidence in the force was the lowest in the country. Last year it was reported that the same force had failed to record thousands of crimes every year. (Let's just forget about this, shall we, nothing to see here, move along now ...) The new PM has promised 20,000 new officers for the country so no doubt there'll be even more sitting at the nearby Costa coffee hut on Clough Road just opposite the inordinately expensive new headquarters, looking menacing at anyone who gives them more than a casual glance.

Monday 26 August 2019

You only live once


So you're 18 years old, you've attained the maturity that comes with adulthood (Hah!); you've passed your A levels (or maybe not ) and now you are wondering where to spend your thousands of pounds of student loan debt. And so you ponder the standard of your future education, the standard of your lecturers, what degree you are going to take, the amenities of the town, the accommodation and all the other petty considerations but having done all that what is going to sway it for you to come to the city of culture? Could it really be that monthly gym membership is cheaper than London? Gosh! well that clinches it then ... 
Given the choice, at 18 years of age, between three years in Hull or three in the Big Smoke (or indeed any other proper sized big city in the UK) paid for by a debt I most likely will never have to pay off  I would be on the train out of here quicker than you could spit ... and you can stuff your gym membership! Hull is all very nice in parts and no bad place to live but London it is not and it does not come close. I don't want to say this is no town for bright young people but it doesn't have anywhere near the offerings of big cities. Small town Hull will still be there and the cheaper gyms, should you ever want them, when the bright lights pall ...

Sunday 25 August 2019

There's a pink one ...

                      ...and a green one
And a blue one and a yellow one

Coltman Street's Victorian villas have had a new coat of paint and were looking a bit special and not at all ticky-tacky though they do have a touch of sameness about them.
Note to avoid parking on a double-yellow line (an offence punishable by excommunication and forfeiture of  all lands and titles) it is considered perfectly OK to park your white van on the pavement.