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Posts by iantimothy1

Run Out of Luck

Pot of Gold

Pot of Gold

Frank looks at the bill and curses himself for listening to his friend. ‘It’s a great place to eat’ the words spin in his mind. The service slow, plates cold, a tough steak has given him indigestion.

Said friend asks ‘How was your meal at The Ivy?’ There are three possible replies. ‘Yes, Ok, but I wasn’t impressed’ – ‘No, I did not like it’ or ‘What a terrible meal, you’re recommendation cost a fortune and made me ill, I’ll never trust your judgement again, sod off and leave me alone.’ It has been a difficult day, having discovered someone has taken his summer holiday slot! Frank choses the last reply option, a friend is lost even though the restaurants chef is to blame.

Some time later Frank needs the lawnmower which he’d lent to the food critic ‘Can I come over to collect my lawnmower?’ ‘Fuck you, the mower wouldn’t start, I lost my thumb of trying to fix it.’ ‘Yes, but where is my mower?’ The phone is silent. The following week a writ arrives informing of an intent to sue.

The lawyer believes there is no need to worry about a claim, his advise is to give the documentation to the household insurers legal department. The fifteen minutes consultation costs 125.55, plus half a days work. Time which Frank has exchanged for a full day at the store this coming Sunday. During the drive home he remembers Sunday is the day of his sons 18th birthday barbecue. In a moment of anger he accelerates the old car onto the main road too hard and fails to see a motorcyclist overtaking a truck just before the junction. The rider swerves to avoid colliding with Frank, hits an oncoming van and is killed instantaneously.

Officer Vicky Oliver smugly informs the hapless driver ‘Sorry sir, the test is positive by one point.’ Drinking the half bottle of whisky late last night to ‘settle-down’ his worries over the lawyers appointment was about to become more than the hangover headache. Vicky guess’s he’ll be charged with causing the death of the motorcyclist whilst under the influence of alcohol.

Frank leaves the police station and phones the store manager to inform him of the days disasters. ‘No problem Frank, see you tomorrow.’ Tom the manager calls back ‘You haven’t forgotten Sunday Frank have you?’ In his mind he’s about to tell him to stuff his job, he manages to reply  ‘Of course not Tom, I’ll be at the store at six.’ ‘Ok’ a pause and Tom finishes with ‘You’re secrets safe with me’ Frank has killed a motorcyclist and Tom thinks he can keep the scandal a secret. No hope, not a one. He’s right, the motorcyclists wife discovers where Frank works and harasses him at the store ‘I’ll have to let you go Frank, the company cannot employ you under the circumstances.’

Frank is in the holding cell below the court. ‘Three years is a little high’ the convict is more than aware of the severity of the tariff and does not need to be reminded by the pimple faced lawyer. The divorce has been difficult ‘You never tell me anything, you’re a idiot Frank’ his wife’s last words. Nothing really matters anymore.

During the journey to the prison Frank curses the meal at The Ivy and not for the first time. He knows the missing chef never will be reunited with his family, he dug a deep grave out on the moors.

5 minutes to write 5 minutes to post FLASH story.

There Are Times – My Reality

You Still Live in France

You Can Still Live in France

There Are Times

I read the press. One should not dismiss what the journalist writes. One should learn to interpret what they are writing. Because in truth the majority are NOT journalists they are political puppets selling their souls and principals for the devil publishers shilling.

Everyone asks what would happen if they won the jackpot. I know, I know for sure. I would have an online daily news page called ‘Pie In The Sky’ and I would publish information so bizarre it would become a national institution. The journalists would be chosen from any genre and they would have a percentage share in the profits.

Rather than explain the ethos of the ‘Pie In The Sky’ allow me, the editor to write an example article.

Now Is The Time

Today the financial markets have recovered as the markets adjust to the Brexit referendum. Global stocks are a sea of green and positivity. Stirling is growing and is more stable. The world bank has agreed that central banking policies will remain or even become more beneficial to the UK.

The British broadsheets are still commenting on doom and gloom, the writers finding spurious lawyers aiding them to cause more national mischief. The 250 thou per year pundits are still writing about possible exit options which have already been ruled out by the European Union. In truth these writers are traitors to their country. The bold paragraph is not fiction by the way, it is part of an article written in the Financial Times today ’30 June 2016’. And whilst the facts of the market and the realisation in the banking communities that there is incredible world wide support for the exit. The British pundits are portraying doom and gloom. They wish to stir civil unrest, riot and the countries moral collapse by interpreting the decision was based upon racism or the choice of uneducated idiots. The damage they are doing to their country is catastrophic and will leave legacies as deep as the ones left by Thatcher after the miner strike.

Allow me to remind you of some sobering facts. In 1983 the Conservative party were losing members – from 1.4 million in 1978 to 400 thou by 1987. Their revenues were falling and they were in deep trouble. On the other hand the old Labour party was as strong as an ox. Their revenues came from union contributions and support, many of their candidates came from the real world of hard fighting and negotiation. The unions had to be broken or the Conservative party would be in deep financial trouble. Thatcher needed a target, a radical union leader who she KNEW would not negotiate, she assessed Scargill correctly. Her economic advisors showed her the Welsh mines, not too profitable and by their nature politically radical. So 50 of the mines were targeted for closure, all hell broke out. The miners strike was on and the press, bbc, and the pundits went to town and helped Thatcher slaughter the miners union and along with it create the wedge of false public opinion to ruin the trade union movement. Old Labour with their funds supply stifled was finished, mission accomplished. New Labour, the phoenix from the ashes appeared and as the incredible politician Tony Benn commented ‘There is not a card width between the two parties’.

Today the Conservative Party is 147000 members strong. The Labour party 177000 members strong and that means 300000 people are the true force of politics. Because whilst you think you can influence your local MP in his surgery, you are living in the world of illusion. It is the local committees of paid up members who pander to Westminster, it is Westminster who gives the manifesto to the local branches, who in turn rubber stamp the ideals and protocols. When you vote at an election you really do not have any influence at all. The system will not change very much no matter what you believe. Up until now…

The country is in the best place it has been in for 40 years. The politician who is brave enough to listen to the electorate will become the power, the politician now realises if he does not fulfil his promise its game on and the party is over. Make no mistake. 147 thou member for the Conservatives and 177 thou for the labour party is the strength of their illusion. They and their pundit journalist allies are on very thin ice. The 1.7 million who tipped the scales are TEN time the size of the paid up members of the Labour party and if you cannot see the significance of this you need to do some deep thinking.

This country is one hell of a place to live. Even in my poverty it is simply fantastic. If desired to start a small business I can do so, I can do so for £115 pounds. Oh hang on a minute I have just done this with ‘The Copper Staple’ publishing business and in three months it has turned a profit. This country is a brilliant place with freedom of expression, for example  I can write this without fear of arrest. I am one of 58 million and proud to be British. I do not need Europe, the pundits doom and gloom to prevent me starting a new business and neither do you and if 750 thousand people who do not speak English can find work here why can’t you? Work, work to a common purpose, don’t fight the choice, rise above it, love life and love your country.

Yes, I know there are factions who hate what is happening at the moment and the only argument they can offer is the race card. Frankly most of us are tired with this red card of fear. I am British, we are intelligent, free and when unified, as good as any culture in the world. I have no fear of the future and I am 58 years old. The young people have an opportunity to become something very special, by giving themselves a unique identity which says ‘British educated, British artist, British scientist, British businessman, British doctor, British nurse’ The fact our standards are amongst the best in the world – Will open the doors to 80% of the rest of the world. The door has been closed on Europe, face it, stand up be a fighter for the common good.

As I see it, every man or woman who cries for the return to Europe is weak, in fear and without British purpose. Let us now trade with India, South America, New Zealand, Australia, China, South Korea India’s market alone is the size of Europe. There are 10’s of countries who will welcome us in to their families, you worry about immigration? Let me tell you, the British and their intelligence, determination, artistic creativity, genius and not forgetting our stunning good looks are coming to a country near you. Watch out world we are about to be in every corner of the globe some time soon!

Live Where You Wish

Live Where You Wish

An Ordinary and Poor Man

Finished Establishment

Finished Establishment

The votes cast, ballot counted, the British decided to be outed.  Todays observation is not about the European Union. I am no longer part of it, it is now part of British history. Perhaps one day it will be seen as a hope which became no hope.

The press assessed the situation incorrectly. The politicians proved beyond doubt they have not the slightest inkling of the will of the people. Truth to tell the poor have watched the ineptitude of the political pigs at the trough of taxes for too long. Seeing them for the gluttons they are devouring the cake and leaving the swill for those they should in reality serve. Bemoaning the impoverished, resenting the poor people’s social benefits and stealing from the pot themselves. Is it any wonder the poor saw the vote as a rebellion? When their benefits are razor slashed and they perceive Europeans as thieves taking what they believe to be their own there will be a feeling of social injustice, a fear of losing what little they have. You can hate me for the last sentence, you cannot deny the truth within it. This is what happens when charity becomes the answer to social problems.

Do not play games with the following observations. Industry means hard physical work, industrial work is all about manual labour and when you close the factories down, then you lose the habit of manual labour. A miner told me in the Yorkshire miners museum ‘There is millions of tons of coal in England, and there are no mining skills to get the product out of the ground’ – What you do not believe me?  Visit the museum yourself and discover the accuracy of the miners comment. Is it any wonder the decimation of industry has over the last three decades left a stream of millions of citizens without work?

Allow me, an ordinary man to focus his mind upon the situation of why the poor are tired of the intellectuals who know all and, the politician who believes the voter serves him not the other way around. The professors of economics who designed and influenced the chaos are very much part of the problem. They used their intellectual arrogance and ignored the needs of the poor. The contempt I have for the superiority of these thieves of poor peoples dignity has no boundary. Intellectual financial geniuses? No, they would be more adept with a child’s colouring crayon. The simplicity of a basic standard of living available to all within a democratic society, has been neglected. The intellectual, politician and wealthy do not accept a legacy of social conscience. Which means, their profit before jobs ideals are the reason for social bankruptcy. They have ignored and deceived the majority for too long and are about to pay the price.

Is there an answer? It seems that incentives should given to those who work or contribute and nothing more than a basic and capped entitlement for those who chose to take benefits without making a contribution, is a fair and sensible possibility. The problem is, the opportunities for industrial and well paid work has been eroded by those who believed white collar work, banking, insurance and the service industries are the best basis for a successful economy. A keen observer will realise the flaws in this policy. A country needs a balance of white collar infrastructure and industry. The future lays with heavy investment in industrial production.

In my world I see four needs.

1. A comfortable home. It does not have to be a mansion. I do not have to own it. Community housing is fine and would be my priority. Although today I would find this difficult to access as there is two to three year long waiting list for community housing. One of the reasons is exampled in the city in which I live, with millions spent by the council on trams, civic buildings and a new market square and little on community housing. There is a need for homes not status. The arrogance of the ‘peacock’ councillors is commonplace in this country. Prestige in communities is perceived as an acknowledgement to success, multi million pound projects in transport and an hours swimming costing six pounds, broken down housing, the sale of council owned property to developers who build student rents. The madness of the situation is beyond comprehension.

Private rents are the seed of much discord due to the landlords greed. I comment here that private landlords properties rent should never be higher than the rents for same sized municipally owned housing. Is there a reason why community housing should not be freely available?  There is! Forty years ago social housing was not a problem, until an insipid and evil idea to take public housing from the poor and place it into the hands of the rich was developed by the economist advisors.

The process of greed works like this. A council tenant has his ‘rights’ to long term tenancy eroded to make him feel insecure. He is then offered a ‘Right to buy’ the property at a knock down price, to install a feeling of security to his future life. In the euphoria of the offer he does not see the reality. He buys the house valued at 100 thousand for a discount price of 50 thousand. The mortgage repayment is close to the rent and he now has to maintain the property, he becomes unable and unwilling to pay, the property is repossessed. The private landlords are like sharks waiting in the defaulted mortgage auction room. Council asset worth 100 thou sold for 50 thou and then repossessed ends up being owned by the private sector for half its true value. The defaulter has lost his home and ends up living in a worse property with a private landlord for more rent.

Is it any wonder the poor voted out?

Explain This

Explain This

2. The home should have affordable utilities. I do not waste my gas, electricity, water. Indeed it is expensive, far to expensive. Why should this be so?

Prime Minister Thatcher enforces the sales of publicly owned utilities. Gas, electricity and water. These assets are in public ownership and are part or the infrastructure of the country. The population were informed private companies can run these business’s better and will supply the gas, water and electricity at a cheaper price. The shareholders of the new business’s have a better idea. They increase the price of the supplies and add an extra material burden upon the poor. The sales of public assets has been a policy of all subsequent governments who took the advise of the so called genius’s called economists. Yes, there may have been arguments for the sales. But at what long term cost? The dole queues grew and people lost their self respect. That’s the truth of it, the short term gains have had catastrophic long term losses. Be certain privatisation will be a part of the changes as the price of power and water rises. Think about the French owned power stations, Spanish owned airports et cetera. Once we have left the EU the business will have to pay heavy taxes for the profits made on their UK assets. The EU reciprocal arrangements will change the tax situation dramatically.

Is it any wonder the poor voted out?

3. I require decent food and my material needs at a sensible price.

Everything I buy is processed by multinational business. Multinationals have share holders who correctly expect a dividend for their investment. The multinational has no interest in anything other than profit. Their shares are traded on the worlds stock markets. In truth the markets do not effect anyone who does not invest to any great degree. If Tesco’s shares are down for a week, the wise know they will return to a sensible price. All Tesco has to do is increase its price of milk by a penny or your whole shopping basket by 30 pence and their profits will rise and the shares return to a higher value. The trouble sets in with investors in pension funds, these perform badly. The biggest problem is people are living longer, the pension funds struggle to keep up with demand. The British governments over the last 40 years have all sold assets which has damaged their ability to pay state pensions, there is a real problem ahead on this front. Those of you who worry about the value of the pound should have no concern, the money dealers love a crisis, the exchange rate only effects the man in the street when he goes on holiday! You do not buy a car or a foreign product every day of the week, if the new vehicle goes up in price by 10% it will not effect the price of a second hand car. There are those who will say, ‘Yes but the price of the pound will effect our exports’ I will answer ‘If the quality is good enough, people do not mind paying a premium’ – Nobody cares about paying 700 for a phone which costs 45 pound to make do they?

The problem is there has been no sensible pricing of food due to the globalisation of the supplies via multinational shareholder industries. Food is more expensive than it should be because of this and something else. Commodity trading. Make no mistake the commodity traders impoverish the third world countries, buying anything from coffee to nuts for ‘pea-nuts’ and selling the ‘asset’ for its weight in gold. So food is expensive for us and has little value to those who grow it. This is a simply terrible and evil state of affairs. Remember who has made the African and South American growers poor next time you put a spoon of sugar in your coffee cup and a pound in the Oxfam box. The commodity dealers are a large part of global poverty.

Is it any wonder the poor voted out?

Living

Living

4. I need to earn my living.

Consider that if you earn less than 10 thousand in the UK you will not pay tax. If you do not work you will receive some form of benefit. I have little problem with the benefit system. The government should not either as most of the benefits go back into the system.  The problem is there are many other taxes. Car fuel 80% taxed. Alcohol 90% taxed. In fact every item purchased has tax hidden within its price. The revenue accumulated is incredible and the governments squandering of this money is beyond comprehension. The poor are made to scrimp for every small pleasure and the greedy establishment squanders the revenue with careless abandon.

Bankers pay themselves incredible bonuses. When their banks becomes insolvent, it asks the government to bail them out using tax payers money, this is simply madness. The tax breaks for multi-millionaires are so great some do not even pay one penny piece, this is simply madness. The situation is weighed so heavily in favour of the super rich and so heavily against the poor, you would cry tears of blood if the full truth were to be exposed.

Is it any wonder the poor voted out?

Over the last 40 years the system of economics developed by the intellectual and embellished by the short term and most often unqualified politician has ripped the spirit and soul from the poor. The parasites have conspired to enrich their personal lives and finances, without a second (contemptuous) thought for the majority. They have seen only their point of view and failed to understand the needs of the poor. The poor have no interest in Europe, many do not even own a passport. They have no industry to work or die in, no self respect for their lives or environments. With no respect for their own country, how the hell do you expect them to respect people who cannot speak their language, or seem to have more rights than them, the native? The intellectual’s have become so far away in thoughts and ideals from the citizens who are the back bone of this country, they cannot begin to understand the poorer citizen’s lack of respect or hatred for those who have benefitted from the pillage of their industrial, social and national heritage. The intellectual, politician, liberal and do good-er name the poor racist and ignorant. This is not racism or ignorance, it is fear and their reality of what they see as injustice.

Is it any wonder we voted out?

Rotten Establishment

Rotten Establishment

Maybe my observations have some flaws. It is possible the genius intellectual may come up with a distortion or two and attempt to prove me wrong.  I know this much, the fundamental thread of thought which flows through this essay is the same as the thoughts and beliefs of the poor and impoverished. We are not racist bigots, fools or parasites. We are millions of people who have been raped of our culture, industry, inheritance and national pride. The poor did not cause this madness, how could they have done so? Not one real citizen has been part of the institution called government for thirty years.

Is it any wonder we voted out?

 

Recent Events

Lizzy's Stall

Lizzy’s Stall

‘I will contact you this evening’ and the phone texts and rings all day. It is why we have to block the madness. The repair will be ready on Friday, the following day the customer returns ‘Is my bracelet ready?’  I have not spoken to two ‘friends’ for three years and I see both of them in a week ‘Did you know Noel has died?’

I give a lady a small ‘dream catcher’ because she has very little money and her sons having nightmares. An hour later she returns with a sweet apple and a peach. ‘I know its not much’ ‘It’s more than enough’ I reply. Later on a girl asks for a rose quartz rock and a piece of moonstone ‘I want to be loved, why are people so cruel?’ I could give her an answer, she’s better off with the crystals! The truth would be too much for her. I think of a video I watched…

…This morning, I watch a girl on Vimeo talking about her answer to the worlds problems. She is sincere and correct. Negotiation, not war IS the answer. Both you and I agree with her and in the same disheartened sigh, we know the leaders prefer war, it lines their pockets.

Alex Marlowe

Alex Marlowe

My friend Alex, means it when he say’s ‘I would never be bullied again, they do not frighten me now’ Where ever he goes in life, no man will dictate to him. If he did but know it he is as free and as wealthy as any man can be.  I envy him of the way he has strengthened his inner being at such a young age. Alex may not realise it, but he is in the world of Ontology. A human who enters into a philosophical study of ‘The Being’ will find success. Alex picks up a Canon 5d and takes a few pictures, I don’t like the one taken of me! Nothing wrong with the composition, too much weight on the subject.

One of Alex's Snaps

One of Alex’s Snaps

Carol texts with her date for the double mastectomy. I call her ‘Mother’ because she means so very much to me. I sat with her yesterday, it is a privilege to know such a brave woman. I think about, Sam, Maureen and other friends who have known cancer. There is no why. Happiness, family, illness, strife, overcome, overwhelm, capitulate, win, survive, remission, life goes on.

Campbell’s book is published. Brilliant, a brave heart Scot! Inspiring others with emotion and controlled observation. One of Lizzy’s customers mentions it. ‘It’s only been on Kindle for a day’ ‘Yes, I downloaded it this morning.’ It is a wizard world we live in.

Tony Tec

Tony Tec

Tony Tec appears, he’s a trader who sells upholstery foam and bean bag beans. He spent too much ‘loot’ in the pub last night ‘4 and a 1/2 quid a pint, 90 last night and didn’t have enough money for a taxi, walked home and got lost, didn’t get in till 4, I feel like crap.’  It’s easy come very quickly gone with Tony. Yesterday he asked a friend to get him a bag of fish and chips from the ‘Moulin Rouge’ chippy. He gave his chum a fiver, he’s still waiting for his lunch!

The lunatic asks for his incense ‘I ‘av some of them granules man, the ones the monks make’ I give him the bag, and 50p change ‘The woman upstairs is doing voodoo curses again and the guy next door is out of his brain, there’s a woman downstairs who smokes in the rain’ I love his poetic conversation. ‘I’m surrounded by crazy people, god’s looking over me, how’s your wife Ian?’  ‘Dead I hope!’ He walks away laughing like an insane hyena.

The attractive girl buys four boxes of strong incense ‘Would you like a carrier?’ ‘No thanks sweet-heart I’ll put them in this one’ ‘It’s a food bag, your fruit will taste of incense’ ‘I’m shopping for me sister’ A seductive wink and the sticks go in the bag, she gazes into my eyes and smiles. I suspect she doesn’t care and, is happy the food will be tainted with Jasmine Blossom.

Tomorrow I will be somewhere else, on a journey. Travelling with Lizzy and Alice for a short break. Lizzy’s market stall will stay open, crystals, incense, essential oils and a few rolls of film still available whist we’re away. Crazy, happy, drug addicts, shoplifters, the excellent and the brave. I love every single one of them, I will miss them and I will miss my old Mac which I am typing this post on right now.

See you next week market stall, the place where I write most often.

Conversation with Jonathan Sharpe

Here is a 40 minute conversation with writer and thespian Jonathan Sharpe. If you enjoy listening to a fast thinking conversationalist Jonathan’s your man. There are many intelligent people in this world with a mindful of facts and statistics. There are few who can combine, creativity, intellect, humour and personality as well as Jonathan. I am proud to be able to call him friend. The podcast is a conversation on ideas relevant to writing. It is, what it is; a conversation between two friends. The picture of the wash basin, and three mirrors are relevant to a part of the recording. The image clarifies the section where we construct the bare bones of a story.

Jonathan Sharpe

Jonathan Sharpe listens to the recording

This podcast was recorded on 1st June 2016 in Nottingham. I decided not to edit it in any way as the spontaneous aspect of the recording can be felt with the ‘raw’ edged style.

IMG_0056

The three mirrors!

Thanks for listening…

 

2 Paragraphs from – ‘Guru Ten – Disciple Zero’

Corridors of The Mind

Corridors of The Mind

Taken from the chapter titled ~ ‘Happiness’

If a man takes the time to consider his personal environment is he selfish? He becomes selfish if he reviews his environment for what he can take from it. He is not selfish if he is reviewing it for positive changes. Indeed what is a personal environment? Think about this. Imagine you are sitting in your favourite place in your home. Now think about the centre of your body and then outward into the world you interact with. Think about the few people you really love and care for and, accept they are your power.  Spend a few hours over the next few weeks reasoning with this idea. Discover what you learn from it. Encourage careful and sensible thought about the right and the good things in your environment. Think about the ‘ways’ that need microscopic adjustments. Do not instigate the ‘adjustments’, only think about them. If a name which carries a bad vibe entered into the thought, accept it as a name, dissolve it, it is of no importance. The spiritual calls this forgiveness, change the word to acceptance, feel what happens. If you were to allow yourself to liken your mind to a separate entity controlling your life how does the perspective change? This paragraph contains the basic principals of most spiritual protocols. Read it again, reason with it carefully, one sentence at a time.

Do not go too far, only work with those who enter your mind with ease. There are many who believe having a 100 friends in some way proves the integrity of their persona. Allow them to believe this. For a few this may be the case, for the majority it is not. Claiming popularity is not evidence of integrity. If we learn to see and love those who are within our environment magic happens. When someone new comes into our life and, they see our persona as truthful, we both feel love and happiness. This is magic, what is the magic? The magic of accepting oneself a being a human being, prospering in, surviving in, living within and loving a simplistic life of selfness. Before you read further it is important to think carefully about the connotations of the words you have just read.

‘Guru Ten ~ Disciple Zero’ will be published in June

COPYRIGHT ~ Ian Timothy 2016

I know I’m an idiot

Laurence - "No Prisoners"

Laurence – “No Prisoners”

I know… I’m an idiot

A few thousand men invest in 500 public companies. As the profits climb there is happiness; for them. When the profits are not so good there is trouble; for us. The banks who are trusted with our money make high profits, they reward themselves with bonuses, if they fail and the profits are down, the prophets of wealth receive a consolation prize of a couple of million to make them feel better. The politician tells me the country needs these geniuses and they will leave the country if they do not receive the bonus at the expense of the tax payer. I do not understand it – I am a idiot.

Banker genius, city industrialists, all play their games, take their loot and sail away into the sunset on million dollar yachts. They take advantage of the insanity that if the mistake is so great and they cannot pay their debts. You and I will. The industrialists trade with China, european companies set up factories and heavy industry which leave there own communities without industrial strength. The country called europe is one great big warehouse, the infrastructure of which supports the community, transport, distribution centres, profit generated by buying and selling Chinas industrial products! No matter how I reason with this it does not make long term sense, surely the Chinese will up the prices once their own communities desire more and more and more… I know! I am a idiot.

The worlds commodity dealers are the reason for the poverty in Africa and South America both countries raped of their resources which are purchased for pennies, traded for millions. When I am asked for a charity contribution to help the starving who live in countries where the resources are worth billions. I do not feel the problem is mine. I do not feel the charities are able to manage the contributions correctly, the charities rhetoric seems so closely aligned to the bankers and governments. They feel they have a ‘right’ to contributions, using emotional blackmail to control. Evasion of taxes is a sin, not giving to the poor is a sin. The real sin is the greed of the one percent who enslave the 99% who live on this planet. The real sin is the wealth is already there to feed the starving. The real sin is the money and know how is available to build factories in Poland, Slovakia, and any of the former Eastern block countries ruined by the Russian incompetence. The real sin is the so called experts know the answers although in the long term to give these countries industrial might and wealth would ruin their own honey pot.

When politicians squander taxes, and there is no more money left, up goes the price of petrol, glass of wine and my cigar. This is just wrong, why should we have to keep paying for the greed and incompetence of these geniuses? Worst of all is the sycophantic weakness of the fools who follow them, who just cannot see the truth. Are those who take the bribe of charity and undeserved handouts without conscience when they vote for the corruption which corrupts them?

The State

The State ~ The Establishment

I realised I loved a racist…

I was talking to a Welshman yesterday, we laughed so much when I mentioned the South Wales news-agent who would only speak Welsh to me when I purchased 20 cigarettes. ‘Still do Ian, we’re proud of our identity’ he laughed. The incident, by the way was just two years ago. I felt angry at the time and now, do you know? I love the woman for her courage, I love the woman for her fortitude, I love the woman for her conviction and more than anything I love the woman for her pride in her country. Was her attitude hateful or racist? It matters not to me, as you will have already guessed, I am happy for her to be able to do what she likes in her world and I respect, yes, respect her opinions, feelings and beliefs. Not only that I hope she will only speak Welsh to me the next time I go into her shop. Lesson learned and gratitude where its due, you old sweet-talking Welsh tobacconist.

The european unions mandarins encourage me to believe it is best to stay in a community which protects and is in some way safer and yet I have never felt so insecure and unsafe living on this island. On Friday I drove to Manchester and returned home on Sunday, a 257 mile round trip. I saw three incidents of terrible driving each one potentially fatal and, I did not see one police car, not a one. Cut backs? Where is all the money going? I see the lazy being rewarded and the hard working penalised. (No, I am not writing of immigration) I see roads in need of repair and I am threatened with loss of a quality in the health service, pensions, long term security. Why the cut backs? Where is all the money going to?  What I am being told about this islands situation is not what I see and, I mean see. The difficulties I have with the messages of these leaders, be it bankers, industrialist, politician is, I feel the word deception, I feel as if I am being deceived. Deception indicates the need to hide what is actually happening or leading one away from the truth in order to gain an advantage.

I live on an island, I do not own a square inch of it and I don’t want to live here. It is to my advantage to stay within the community called European Union, because I wish to live in France. The motor-ways are excellent, the food good, people still smoke and you can buy home grown fruit, vegetables, superb honey and home cured meats at the Saturday markets in small towns all over the country without bureaucratic madness preventing it. More than anything I love the people and, the silent and powerful strength of their small communities. What I see in the small town in France which I wish to make my home is community, common sense, happiness, people talking, sharing and caring. I see trust and security and most of all I see a determination to keep their traditions alive. The celebration of the wine harvest, the Christmas fair, the celebration of their Liberty are just three examples of when the whole of the town comes together.

On this island the successive governments and its politicians have eroded the traditions. Degraded the status of the natives, ignored the wishes of the electorate. Law after law weights down the statue book, tax compounds tax, food banks, no industry, no hope, no purpose, no respect, soon charity will really begin at home. And this will not be my home. Will I vote to stay within the european union? Well for me to live in France with ease I should. I will not do so because I look to the future of this island. I do not feel it is in good hands and I do not see those who are making the laws which will effect the population of this island as respectful to the natives, this is treason, I cannot see it in any other way. I must reflect upon the greed of the Westminster politicians and the incredibly high wages of the european commissioners, surely this must influence what they are ‘saying about staying’? If we go then they will be without a job in Brussels. Who would want to lose an 250 thousand a year job? With no replacement job to go to. Or, am I an idiot to think this way?

If this island is without europe, I will probably find my new home just a little more difficult to negotiate legally. One thing is for certain. I will be able to do so because, I will speak French fluently, I will respect my new communities religion, laws and statue rules. I will look after my property, own a French registered car, buy my needs locally and will not be a burden in anyway to those who allow me to share in their determination to stay connected to tradition. So as I make myself clear, I will return to this island for my dental and health care and I will take my pension because I have paid for the right to do so.

Finished Establishment

Finished Establishment

This island terrifies me, not because of the wonderful diversity of the people who live here. It terrifies me because of the system which has actively worked to remove the identity, community, beliefs and traditions of the natives it should prioritise. I see this as proof of the greed of politicians, who know that by undermining a nations identity, they in effect destroy its wholesome strength. To be governed by people who work for a unified europe and their own pockets seems to be the right reason to vote out. If the choice is made to leave, maybe these parasites will have to focus upon the island they and their selfish tribe have slowly ruined.

I watch them. I listen to them and I feel their deception. Their arrogance is so great they seem to ignore the real concerns. There is no need for me to listen to the arguments for and against. Without a doubt in my mind I feel there is selfish deception within their agenda and that is enough for me.

Explain This

Explain This

Course of History – Ballot Mistake

I don’t want to be remembered for griping about disaster. What disaster? I struggle to find anything which has occurred in my life which actually has effected my inner being.

I have realised my key to personal security and confidence is in the realisation that, no matter where I found myself, be it broke, a joke, laughed at failure. In the end I continued to live on and in spite of the mistakes and failures, I see more goodness in the world than evil.

If there were one lesson it would be; my philosophy of Selfness. If there were one book it would be; Martin Cutts ‘Oxford Guide to Plain English’. If there were one truth, it would be; you do not need money to live like a millionaire. If there were one certainty it would be; when you can look into the mirror of the soul and, face the truths you fear to see, the prize will be happiness.

In the same way as you: I’ve argued. Wasted years. Squandered thousands. Lost friends. Jumped before looking and hit the rocks hidden below the beautiful scene. I do acknowledge the mistakes I can remember, not in a good way. There is no ‘lesson learned’ from an unhappy ending. I am now inclined to feel, the ‘being’, love of life, enjoyment of thought, caring for the ‘few’, hitting the nails of doubt with the hammer of truth, surpasses all achievements, emotional, material and intellectual.

High achievers, such as politicians are a strange conundrum. It seems to me many are like wild west Sheriff’s. Believing their star of office gives them the power over those they consider to be pond life. The star makes an inferior superior. Wait before you judge my words. The ones who ‘shout out’ about the badge are usually selfish, mean and greedy. Beware if you criticise, their ammunition belt is loaded with individuals or situations which they place into the breach of their six shooter defence. They will knock you down in any word slinging shoot out. These without law winners are astute and have excuses for their mean attitude. An example? ‘The previous regime ruined the country’. If something goes wrong it will be everyones fault bar theirs.

Why do write of personal failings and follow with a no restraint, acid in the eyes attack on those who control you and your world and, are positioned to change the lives of millions? Because, a mistake made by an individual of no importance can change the plan and outcome. One untested mistake resulted in changes to the whole of this world. The man who benefitted from the error made choices which effects you to this day, when in truth he should never have passed the starting gate.

Yes, you are correct this is a disjointed post. I desired it to be this way, why don’t you think, read, reason and question the sentiments? Many of the ‘human race’ are happy to listen to the rhetoric of the politician, the lawyer and the spiritual and accept the confusions listened to. It makes no difference, who you are, what you think you have got, or how much you think you are in control. Life, existence, belief, outcome, and purpose is fragile and can be ruined by chance.  You are as secure as the encounter with the con-man and as safe on the road as the worst driver. A fool who decided to design a new and better form, could have possibly changed your life and, upon reflection, probably did.

The scan of the item below is the best way for me to ‘evidence’ what occurred. One individual, one idea and the course of history is changed.

Mistake to Whitehouse

Mistake to the Whitehouse

Beryl

Beryl

Beryl

I knew. I knew before Mr Leman looked down at his notes, looked at the computer screen and composed himself. I knew before I asked hope to forgive me for my sins and the pain I had caused to others. I knew because Beryl had told me how she had known. She was right I knew long before Mr Leman’s confirmation.

‘You don’t need no one to tell yer ‘E’. I tried to show deep concern. She was not bothered if I smiled, cried, cared or not. Beryl could not care if the whole of the nursing home knew her son was a bastard or her husband believed Angus was his child. She did not care if her pompous daughter (who was her husbands child) knew she’d ‘ad a bit on the side’ with many American airman during the war (‘nine or ten ov ‘em E’) Beryl confided. I liked. No, I loved Beryl.

It was a Thursday morning, the first Thursday morning – Mrs Barnes crowed ‘Ian take Mrs Bayliss to the post office, she want’s to collect her pension’.

I take the wheel chair into the lift to Beryls floor, knocked on her door. I was a big man in those days, as strong as an ox. I wish I had realised just how strong and powerful I was. I picked Beryl up from her recliner and placed her into the chariot. Care staff had dressed her earlier, everyone looked after Beryl, we adored her honesty, everyone admired her, she told me she’d never had an enemy apart from family in her life.. ‘Not a one, ducky, not a one.’ I believed her, still do.

No makeup, her hair cropped like a prep school boy, thick as straw. ‘Give us a frenchie ‘E’ I knew she’d ask and we always laughed, I now know she was not joking, I know this, I really do. If she had had her own teeth I would have! On reflection I should have. The kiss would have taken her back in time and given me an insight to the future. In truth what would the kiss have cost me? Nothing, other than overcoming a, a what, an emotion, a social protocol?

‘I want to see Ms Barnes ‘E.’  Out of her room, into the lift, knock on Matron’s door. ‘Mrs Barnes? Beryl would like a couple of minutes if possible’ ‘Yes Ian, wheel the old goat in’ More laughter. I pushed her in ‘Out you go young man’ I wait out side of the door. Two minutes later Ms Barnes wheels Beryl out ‘Your honoured Ian, Beryl want’s to go to the post office and then to the ‘Lamb’. It’s ok for her to buy you lunch but NO, and I mean no dessert, we don’t want diabetic comas and doctors in the middle of the night do we Beryl?’ The old witch looked up from the chair, god she looked captivating. The mystery of true beauty is without explanation ‘Come on you, lets buy your fragile young body some real sustenance’. How many times has Beryl used similar words to other young men?

For eighteen months or so the Thursday routine never wavered. The Post Office to collect her pension and every penny spent at the Lamb Inn paying for the lunch. Steak and Barolo. Dover sole and Semillon. Lamb and Burgundy. Beef with Baron De Rothschild. ‘Match the meal to the wine ‘E’. A robust wine with strong flavours and delicate and white with light’.

We talked about, love and relationships. Money, poverty and work. Beryl guided me never to go into the Forces ‘It’s a good career but not without its dangers ‘E, many of my lovers died in the war, they were either in the RAF or the Submarine service. I came to think I was a jinx, I did not bother with the cannon fodder, so I joined the WAAF.  I do not think bravery is very sensible in the long term ‘E. Become a publican it’s an excellent profession if you can hold your drink’.

‘What do you think to that trollop Leah ‘E. Up the duff and she does not know who the father is!’ Beryl asked. Leah was the daughter of a prominent Methodist Minister who lived in the village. Everyone confided in Beryl and Beryl confided in me and strangely as Beryl confident, they also whispered their secrets in my ear.

The following week Leah told me Beryl had given her ‘two hundred quid’ for an abortion ‘I ‘aven it next week in Brighton’ – Sure enough she did ‘I’m pleased to hear it Ian’ This was the only time Beryl call me Ian, she was angry that Leah had not told her first.

Now and again she’d go off the rails and insist on German wine or Asti with fish and chips or pizza. The great moments, the delicious moments were when we had crepes and Sauternes. ‘Sod the diabetes’. What about Champagne? I once asked ‘For snobs, weddings and Christening’s, all three, a waste of time’. There could be no answer.  I learned from life experience Beryl was right.

‘Ian Beryl has cancer and has asked that you look after her are you up to the task?’
‘Yes Ms Barnes I am’ and I was.

The only time I met her son Angus and her daughter (I cannot remember her name) was in the afternoon of the last Sunday of Beryl’s life.

‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ He asked after seeing me laying on the bed with his mothers head resting upon my chest, her arm tightly clasped around my body. Beryl looked up at her son and daughter and said ..‘Fuck off back to where you came from’ Goodness knows from where she mustered the strength of her voice.

She died the following day. Later the will was read and Beryl had left me her entire fortune of forty-six thousand pounds. I trained for three years as a bar manager after which I purchased (for a song) the lease of then rundown ‘Lamb’. I ran it in the way Beryl had taught me ‘Quality and service, that’s what makes a pub ‘E’.

Twenty years later I retired.

In a moment I am going to close my eye’s and when I wake up I’m going to fight off those American Airmen, I’m going to push away those lovers and all of her friends. I am going to hold Beryl and kiss her, we will be twenty years old again. I am going to give her the French kiss she asked for all those years ago and we will walk together arm in arm, reunited.  Beryl is waiting for me, when I hold her again I will be in heaven.

Bell’s

early breakfast

early breakfast

The bottom half of the bottle of Bell’s seemed to be an excellent proposition. The many strange sensations within my body at the moment remind me I am unable to have a good idea at any time. My life progress has proven this more times than I recall. Alcohol is supposed to subdue memories, it fails me every time.

The excuse needed to finish the bottle is this train. My eyes allow me to drive during the day. From dusk till dawn the optical distortion forbids the convenience of the car. There are other considerations. I cannot drink and drive and to attend a wedding without drink would be an impossible task. The City is a three hour drive the train takes one and a half. The choice had to be British Rail. Even so it will be a long day. The alarm went off at five, it hit the wall at one minute past. The taxi was on time, the driver could smell my breath and body odour, his disdainful look ruined his chances of a tip. There was no time for a shower and why I’d packed the small suitcase yesterday morning has no answer, it was though, an inspired and fortuitous idea. I will get the hotel laundry to clean these clothes whilst I am at the reception. I reflect for a moment on the advantage of wealth and five star hotels…

I drained the last drops in my glass at seven minutes to midnight. It is now seven minutes to seven. Perhaps it is a good thing I’m still wearing yesterdays clothes as alcoholic sweat is precipitating from my body. The carriage window has my condensation on it. Thank Christ my hair is middle age cropped, my handkerchief easily mops the excess moisture from my skull. I cannot see me getting to seventy at this rate. Blood pressure, six stones over-weight, cannot cope with the sight of salad. The attractive girl sat next to me for ten minutes, nine more than I guessed she would.

I had forgotten how much I loved train travel. The slicing of the steel wheels on the line. The balanced drone of the diesel motor. Acceleration, grinding brakes, slight vacuum in the tunnels darkness, followed by bright light carriage then out the other side wide open eyes into the sun. Thank goodness for this note book, nothing matters when I write, it is my life, there is nothing else now, was there ever?

Four travellers across the aisle sit opposite each other. I am guessing they are beginning a day of fun. I’m working them out using the usual methods I listen to accents, voices, sentences and watch their, clothes, jewellery, phones, It is the way of a writer to steal people and betray anyone. Friends, lovers, family, a man who falls, a woman who runs, a child abused. All of them, all of their lives, situations belong to me and to other writers, ours to distort, to make or break, survive or die.

these words

these words

Why do the young feel they need to subject the ageing to their music? I cannot remember anything about my teens or twenties, thirties and the memories of my forties are being dissolved by my friend Mr Bell’s. Their voices and the music agitate my soul. As a writer I can use them and the situation. As a late middle aged man I despise the situation. I am jealous of their youth. If your old and your honest the envy of the young is the hardest truth of all. The bastards. There is a need to compose myself. Hold the temper, the demon inside cannot be controlled if breaks out of the cage.

Their trainers are on opposite seats. You may not believe this but I have never put my feet up onto chairs. Never, when we walk in the city, the rats and drunks have pissed in the streets, the dogs, cats and pigeons crap on the pavements, the tramps and scum have spat their bacteria with indifference. Don’t you find it interesting a real human will wash their hands after their toilet in fear of bacteria, and yet the touch and take off their shoes without a second thought. The shoe on a seat is a dangerous and deadly habit.

The music, trainers on the seat, bastard scum.

Young love, so tedious. Why would anyone french kiss a spotty pus filled face at eight-fourteen in the morning? The girl is well spoken, spot face boyfriend a thug. I see the future, her lawyer, dentist, doctor or banker husband thinking he is sleeping with a virgin bride, we know different, husband betrayed by illusion. Nothing new here and its two way traffic.

The train is slowing the music stops. This situation is slipping further down the sewer. The quartet pick up their phones and exchange text messages. ‘My mum’s reminding me to get my own supper, she’s going out with Denny’ a pause ‘Denny’s her new friend’ The chums for some reason find it funny, lets hope mother’s Denny is a better looker than thug. ‘Lester says enjoy the day out’ all burst into laughter ‘He’d go crazy if he knew you were with me Hari’ says the lover boy next to her. She is silent for a moment, the truth of this concerns her, of this I am certain. Thug puts his old phone down, something has embarrassed him ‘Come on what’s it say’ ‘Nah, nothin, its one of me mates in trouble agin’ Hari looks at her friends, the connotations of the statement makes her look uncomfortable, she’ll have some trouble disposing of this fellow, no doubt about it, no doubt at all.

‘Daddy says I must be home by ten’ ‘You’ve no hope’ ‘Nothing to be done, it’s to late now’ The conspirators laugh in uncertain unity. The day, this moment is slipping before it has begun. The well spoken trio are within a special club. Harrow and Cheltenham Ladies are prime choice. Harriets phone calls for her attention ‘Its Lester!’ Christ she’s scared, it’s as if her betrayed boyfriend Lester is in the carriage. ‘Ignore him Hari’ whispers her friend. She silences the call and the idiots laugh.

I watch Harriet. She knows I’m watching, she does not know I am writing this. She knows what I am thinking. A girls body with a women’s intuition, I do not like her, although  I know a little about her friends, she is the one in the group I understand. The troublesome young lady who will become betrayer, schemer, sly Judas woman. Hari reads my mind, she turns away in case I see more of her secrets. She reminds me of a girl I knew who used to have sex with the school  gardener, she was only fourteen, mind you that was in the nineteen seventies.

The train is near the City. I reflect upon the poor beginning of my day, my nieces day, her wedding day and I must be calm, I must not drink before the speeches are over and the two hundred or so guests are on full steam and then my small contribution to the inevitable crap which will out pour into the room will be of no consequence.

I listen to the four and their nonsense. I know where the bastards are going. These know all know nothings. Three supported by family money. The loner supported by the State and probably better off if he did know it. The three degree’s will seemingly win in the social network. They will betray anyone for the second house in ‘Wherever’. Thug may discover he’s going nowhere as well. He is here today and will certainly be gone tomorrow or some time soon. In some way I feel sorry of his ignorance. It is a sure fire certainty he’ll be bragging with his mates about bedding the rich girl, she’ll become a ‘slag’ I know it for sure. Maybe he’ll become a drug or murder statistic, I’ll live in hope.

My journey’s at an end and so it seems is theirs. I’ll wait a moment letting them leave first. There it is Hari’s phone, nice new six S just like my own. Fallen out of her coat. I pick it up and fumble the ‘silence’ in my jacket pocket and now I turn it off. The train is leaving the station Hari is running toward me ‘Hey you didn’t see a iPhone on the seat where I was sitting?’ ‘No, I did not’ I answer in a weary voice so as not to alert her, to reenforce the sentiment I sigh.

‘All my contacts, my pictures, my texts are on that phone’

I walk away and throw it into the bin along with my half eaten breakfast sandwich. I have saved her, severed her past from the future.

bin it

bin it

 

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