all I need now is..............

 



I have just come across this picture of a tree we had in out garden in Spain
and I realise that all I need is some gin, tonic, ice, the blue sky and the warmth of the sun and I will think it is summer in the UK!

uniform ...or not?

A short time ago we had a large group of children in the Cathedral for an education day.
The Dean welcomed them all wearing full fig of long black cassock and brightly coloured cummerbund
and they all enjoyed his sense of humour as he welcomed them to the Cathedral, the Archdeacon, similarly attired wandered around having just done a daily Service.  Then one of the Canons came to tell the children what was going to happen
during their day with us but he was dressed in a plain grey suit.  After the meeting and greetings we split the children into groups and off we all went to different areas to take part in the activities and to enjoy ourselves.
I was just getting to know my group when a very worried little blonde girl put up her hand and said
'Miss, I really don't think that man was Canon Robert'
I assured her I knew Robert and that was definitley him and asked why she should think he wasn't who he said he was and she said  'Well he wasn't wearing a uniform so he could be anybody couldn't he?'
This seemed to amuse all the other children and I knew I would have to rescue her so I told her she was a very good girl and never to be ashamed or embarrassed to ask people to prove who they are as we have all been told to.  She was happy with that and looked at the other kids with a look of distain but it got me thinking - do we trust people in uniform more than those who do not wear it and should we?   I thought of a friend who went into a psychiatric hospital and the state his confused and worried mind was confounded by the fact that none of the nursing staff wore uniform and really could only be recognised by the size of the bunch of keys they carried around.   He came home in the same state as he was before being admitted and I am sure that the simple fact that he did not know who to turn to for help led to his delayed recovery.
All the children in the UK wear a uniform of sorts and I am so glad because my grandaughter who lives with me would NEVER get to the school bus if she had to select an outfit for the day, every day.

Beautiful Bristol

 This is a picture of the Council Houses in Bristol - do they really need all this room?
I know lots of boring items appear on their agenda and I appreciate the fact that
they sit and discuss for hours on end but whenever I pass by I always think what
good accomodation it would make and how much money the council would raise
    by selling the building for up market homes right in the centre of the city....
...........only a thought! 

please leave me alone

Why do the servers suddenly decide to 'update' these blogs without our knowledge?
Why fix something that isn't broken?
It has take me some time to understand how to upload my pictures and even compose the text.
I am not very IT literate but I do get used to using sites only to find when I get the hang of it
it has been updated 'to make it easier'...............is it just me?    Grrrrr!

Raja Ram MohunRoy 1772 - 1833

This picture is of Bristol Cathedral and in foreground stands the statue of Raja Ram MohunRoy
an Indian reformer who died whilst visiting friends in Bristol.
I always feel like making a bow to him as I pass him by very often as he is a great hero.
As a religious and social reformer the modern day Indians owe him a great deal.
Whilst working tirelessly against what he saw as superstitious and unjust practises in his homeland such as sati (the practise in which the widow was burned on her husband's funeral pyre), caste rigidity, polygamy and child marriage he also fought courageously to get the British Government on the side of giving welfare to the Indian nation which they ruled and for the education system, such as it was, not only to improve but to include girls.   He died at the age of 61 of meningitis whilst visiting friends in Bristol who were supporting his cause with the Government but not before he had seen the Hindu Nation ban sati for ever.  He is buried in the Arnos Vale Cemetery in southern Bristol.   Lots of visitors from the Indian Continent visit his grave - he lived and died a hero.

football crazy

One good thing about England being knocked out of the European championship
was the demise of these silly little mittens that appeared on all the car wing mirrors.
Once it was pointed out that the flags attached to cars were coming adrift and therefore a danger to other road users some wit came up with these 'cute' little mittens.
I hope some other brains are designing some other symbol for the next tournament. 

weeds or flowers?

This lovely picture is of the Morning Glory that grew in a great mass all over the bottom
of our garden when we went to live in Spain:  I loved it and stared at it through the kitchen window and through the bedroom window every day and took numerous photographs.
We, that is all the people who lived on our hillside payed a small sum each which allowed us a few hours work weekly from the man, Juan who looked after the whole hillside
I was horrified one day to find him hacking all the beautiful Morning Glory down to ground level.  I ran down the garden to ask him to leave it but he told me 'pero son las
malas hierbas senora'  'but it is a weed senora' so I tried to explain that I loved it anyway
so could he leave it but he was having none of this nonsense from a newly arrived
foreigner - 'no van a crecer mas de la casa'   No, he couldn't leave it or it would grow all over the house!  He knew native plants and I didn't so when he said it would be just as big next year I had to believe him and of course it was true -  I had to struggle with his knowledge at Christmas though when I came back from the shops to find he had cut back
a 6 ft hedge of glorious Poinsettias - I cried. 
When you live in another country you have to deal with many different and to you strange
customs.  I never got used to the great love the Spanish have for Nispero fruits or Loquat as they are called in some countries.  They were brought to Spain more than 2000 years ago by sailors arriving in ports in the Valencian region and they do actually grow well wherever citrus grows.  I hated them as they tasted sour to me and I could only think they could be used to make a pickle but the Spanish adore them and the aforementioned
Juan would be my very best friend each year when I invited him to strip the tree and take
them away.   It all adds to the spice of life as they say.