No.32

One evening an old Cherokee told his grandson about a battle that goes on inside people. 

He said, “My boy, the battle is between two wolves inside us all.

“One is Evil. It is anger, envy, jealousy, sorrow, regret, greed, arrogance, self-pity, guilt, resentment, inferiority, lies, false pride, superiority and ego.

“The other is Good. It is joy, peace, love, hope, serenity, humility, kindness, benevolence, empathy, generosity, truth, compassion and faith.”

The grandson thought about it for a minute and then asked, “Which wolf wins?”

The old Cherokee simply replied, “The one you feed”.

-o0o-

In October 1943 I began dental studies at the Anderson College of Medicine in Glasgow. For the first year there were only two subjects Chemistry and Physics - at school I had dropped Science after Third Year. I didn’t find the course interesting at all, and listening to lecturers reading from well-used scripts was a bit of a bore. Nevertheless I passed the exams without difficulty.

I enjoyed the next year more for that consisted of Anatomy and Physiology, and we made a start in the Dental Hospital lab. Some of the classes were held in St.Mungo’s College next to the Royal Infirmary, and I think it was there that we had to attend lectures where a dead body was dissected. Quite a few students fainted at the earlier sessions, but it wasn’t till a later occasion that I suddenly felt dizzy. I slipped out of the room and sat with my head between my knees till I recovered.

This was wartime of course and, like every other building, firewatchers were needed to alert the authorities should enemy action result in a fire. I took my turn at Anderson college and two of us had to stay overnight. We slept in a large dimly-lit room lined with shelves of glass jars containing all sorts of foetuses . A bit scary!

In the dental lab we were taught the work which is done by dental mechanics, and looking back it seems as if we spent most of the time queuing up at the office to get the materials we needed or to have our completed work passed as satisfactory. I found that, whereas at school the staff were genuinely interested in our progress, the very opposite was the case at the dental hospital.

Among the students I made a number of good friends, quite a few of whom, like me, gave up the struggle. One of them became a primary school teacher and for a while taught in Kirkintilloch.

And of course the time came when, armed with probes, drills, and shattered nerves, we were unleashed on the patients. Attired in white coats just like real dentists, we tried to convince the public and ourselves that we knew what we were doing.

And that was when I realised that this career was not for me!

-o0o-

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Next post - Thursday

No.31

Spring Blossom

Supplied by FreeFoto.com

Paris in Spring
 by Sara Teasdale

The city's all a-shining 
Beneath a fickle sun, 
A gay young wind's a-blowing, 
The little shower is done. 
But the rain-drops still are clinging 
And falling one by one -- 
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris, 
And spring-time has begun.

I know the Bois is twinkling 
In a sort of hazy sheen, 
And down the Champs the grey old arch 
Stands cold and still between. 
But the walk is flecked with sunlight 
Where the great acacias lean, 
Oh it's Paris, it's Paris, 
And the leaves are growing green.

The sun’s gone in, the sparkle’s dead,
There falls a dash of rain,
But who would care when such an air
Comes blowing up the Seine?
And still Ninette sits sewing
Beside her window-pane,
When it’s Paris, it’s Paris,
And spring-time’s come again.


Springtime in Eskdale (1934)
by James McIntosh Patrick

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I don't think the name Peter Sinclair will mean much today. Perhaps if I add "The Cock of the North" that will jog some memories? He was born in Kirkintilloch in 1900 and, as a young man, he was known for having an excellent singing voice. My parents remembered that many local people were disappointed when he left the town to go on the stage as an entertainer. (Show business was rather frowned upon in those days.) His act was similar to that of Harry Lauder and soon he was on the wireless.

Later he took up acting and appeared in films like The Man from Morocco (1945), The Wake of a Stranger (1959) and Invasion (1966.) He died in 1994.

So Peter Sinclair's name joins the list of Kirkintilloch entertainers - Tommy Lorne, Moira Anderson, Patricia Purcell, Joan Summers, Alastair Graham and the ubiquitous piano duettists Rita and John Jaap, (Rita always maintains that, when we were welcomed to the stage, a murmur would run round the hall "Not those two AGAIN!") 

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FROM CHURCH NEWS LETTERS

1. A songfest was hell at the Methodist church on Wednesday.

2. Low Self Esteem Support Group will meet on Thursday at 7 p.m. Please note that members can use the back door if they wish.

3. The pastor will preach his farewell message, after which the choir will sing, "Break Forth Into Joy."

4. Eight new choir robes are currently needed, due to the addition of several new members and to the deterioration of some older ones.

5. The third verse of Blessed Assurance will be sung without musical accomplishment.

6. During the absence of our vicar, we enjoyed the rare privilege of hearing a good sermon when Rev. Percy Lund occupied our pulpit.

7. The concert held in Fellowship Hall was a great success. Special thanks are due to the minister's daughter, who laboured the whole evening at the piano, which as usual fell upon her.

8. Cynthia remains in hospital and needs blood donors for more transfusions. She is also having trouble sleeping and requests tapes of the Minister's sermons.

-o0o-

Cuban Green Woodpecker
by Charlesjsharp

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Next post - Monday

No.30

“By three methods we may learn wisdom: First, by reflection, which is noblest; Second, by imitation, which is easiest; and Third by experience, which is the bitterest.” - CONFUCIUS

Buddhist Shrines in Tibet

photograph by Margaret

-o0o-

Awake at Night
by Meg Cox

and listening to the World Service
(one benefit of sleeping on my own)
I heard a man explain he wasn't lonely;
he talked to his dead wife all the time
although he knew she wasn't there.

He told her about things she would once
have liked, and still did, according to him.
He asked her advice about the children
but didn't say if what she said was any help.

As I drifted off to sleep I wondered
if I could do that too - talk to him.
But when your own dear departed
is still living with his wife in Wembley
it's just not the same.

-o0o-

The Falls of the Kalama, Albania (1851)
by Edward Lear 1812-88

Lear was always making fun of himself, as in this cartoon where the caption reads "L changed postion for the sake of variety."

Of course he is much better known as a writer of limericks. This is one of his.

There was an Old Man of Aôsta,

Who possessed a large Cow, but he lost her;

But they said, 'Don't you see,

she has rushed up a tree?

You invidious Old Man of Aôsta!'

Edward Lear is also remembered for the large number of bird illustrations he painted. This example shows two Kul's lorikeets.

-o0o-

Next post - Thursday

Blog Changes

SING ME A SONG OF BONNIE SCOTLAND

comes to an end on Friday

NOW THAT'S WHAT  I CALL ART

returns this weekend for a Saturday series

nowthatswhaticallart.blogspot.com 

No.29

“The tree which moves some to tears of joy is in the eyes of others only a green thing that stands in the way. Some see nature all ridicule and deformity -  and some scarce see nature at all. But to the eyes of the man of imagination, nature is imagination itself.” - WILLIAM BLAKE

Advice from a Tree

by Ilan Shamir

Dear Friend,

Stand Tall and Proud

Sink your roots deeply into the Earth

Reflect the light of a greater source

Think long term

Go out on a limb

Remember your place among all living beings

Embrace with joy the changing seasons

For each yields its own abundance

The Energy and Birth of Spring

The Growth and Contentment of Summer

The Wisdom to let go of leaves in the Fall

The Rest and Quiet Renewal of Winter

Feel the wind and the sun

And delight in their presence

Look up at the moon that shines down upon you

And the mystery of the stars at night.

Seek nourishment from the good things in life

Simple pleasures

Earth, fresh air, light

Be content with your natural beauty

Drink plenty of water

Let your limbs sway and dance in the breezes

Be flexible

Remember your roots

Enjoy the view!

-o0o-

Petticoat Dan

Dan Cooper 1835-1913 was a mentally-handicapped Kirkintilloch odd-job man. He kept himself busy going around the town shovelling and stacking coal which had been delivered to householders.

Dressed in a man’s jacket and a women’s skirt right down to his heels, he had to endure a lot of teasing from children in the street. I’m told that there were many stories about him, showing that he was much more intelligent than he appeared to be.

Most communities at one time or another had men or women just like Petticoat Dan, and stories about them, some true and probably a good few fictitious, were eagarly passed around.

In the 19th century the town of Maybole had its worthy - Johnnie Stuffie, and sadly both children and adults often made his life a misery. After his death, the local minister Roderick Lawson wrote this poem.

A queer wee man, wi’ a simple air,

Was Johnnie Stuffie.

Weel-kent alike by rich and poor

Was Johnnie Stuffie.

The water-carrier o’ the town,

The messenger to a’ aroun',

And the butt o’ every idle loon

Was Johnnie Stuffie.

Nae common bonnet crowned the heid

O’ Johnnie Stuffie.

But an auld lum-hat was there instead

On Johnnie Stuffie.

A lang greatcoat, aince thocht genteel

Aye wrapt him roun’ frae neck tae heel,

Which only did the feet reveal

O’ Johnnie Stuffie. 

-o0o-

Next Post Monday

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No.28

Cattleya Orchid and Three Brazilian Hummingbirds

an outstanding picture by the American painter

Martin Johnson Heade 1819-1904

-o0o-

Jenny kissed me when we met,
Jumping from the chair she sat in; 
Time, you thief, who love to get
Sweets into your list, put that in! 
Say I'm weary, say I'm sad,
Say that health and wealth have missed me,
Say I'm growing old, but add,
Jenny kissed me.
- James Henry Leigh Hunt

-o0o-

Valentine's Day - what's it all about?

Manufactured Valentine's Day cards first appeared in England in the 1800s, and by 1835, over 60,000 Valentine's Day cards were being sent in England alone.

There were at least three St.Valentines who were martyrs and whose feast days were February 14th and, to complicate matters, there were more than fifty St. Valentines in the Middle Ages each of whom had their own special day each year. One of those was a Roman priest who, living in pagan times, was put to death for encouraging couples to marry in the Christian church. It's said that before his execution he sent a letter to a young girl he had cured of blindness, signing it "from your Valentine."

Cupid is part of the Valentine's Day tradition thanks to his historical association with classical Greek and Roman love stories. The Roman love god Cupid, Eros in the ancient Greek stories, was the son of the Roman goddess of love Venus, or Aphrodite to the Greeks.

-o0o-

-o0o-

I don’t know if warts are still a problem for children. When I was young, quite a few boys in my class had warts, usually on their hands.

I remember reading somewhere a number of old “cures” for the problem.

Take an eel, cut off its head, and rub the wart with the blood from the severed wound. Then bury the eel’s head in the ground. As the head rots away, the wart will gradually disappear.

Steal a very small piece of lean meat from the butcher’s, rub it on the wart three times from left to right. Bury the meat immediately and repeat those words - "As you rot, so departs my wart."

Rub the wart with a blackberry, then throw it away. As soon as it is eaten by a bird or animal, the wart will disappear.

Prick the wart with a pin, then stick the pin into the trunk of an ash tree. Recite the following rhyme: "Ashen tree, ashen tree, pray buy these warts from me." The warts will be transferred to the tree.

I‘m remembering that Huckleberry Finn and Tom Sawyer knew how to get rid of warts. They had to go to the cemetery at midnight and wait beside a grave in which a wicked man had just been buried. The devil would appear to take away the dead man and the boys had to recite, “Devil follow corpse, cat follow devil, warts follow cat, I’m done with ye!”

--o0o-

Next post here is on Thursday

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No.27

Hylas and the Nymphs

by J.W. Waterhouse

Manchester Art Gallery was in the news recently when this 1896 painting was removed from public display and postcards of the painting withdrawn from the gift shop. The reasoning behind this change was to encourage debate on how depictions of women's bodies should be displayed. Visitors were encouraged to write their commenŧs on the post-it notes provided. After a week the painting was on show again.

-o0o-

Just a brief indication how the "upper class" lived in 1900

“By modern standards my father was a lazy man. It was the days of independent incomes, and if you had an independent income you didn't work. You weren't expected to. I strongly suspect that my father wouldn’t have been particularly good at working anyway.

“He left our house in Torquay every morning and went to his club. He returned in a cab for lunch, and in the afternoon went back to the club, played whist all afternoon, and returned to the house in time to dress for dinner. During the season, he spent his days at the cricket club, of which he was president. He also occasionally got up amateur theatricals.

“He had an enormous number of friends, and loved entertaining them. There was one big dinner party at our home every week, and he and my mother went out to dinner usually another two or three times a week.” - AGATHA CHRISTIE

-o0o-

-o0o-

When we were small, we were taught to be polite to adults. For little boys, that meant we had to salute grown-ups who were known to us, especially teachers.

Some people we were afraid of - the policeman, the headmaster, the janitor, some old spinsters, and in my case the black-faced coalman who would shout after me that so-and-so was my girl friend.

When we were a bit older, there was someone else who scared us (she scared some adults too) - Miss Rumbles!

Many parents encouraged their children to join the Junior Section of the local library, and that’s where Miss Rumbles was all-powerful. Small, tight-lipped, with little eyes that pierced you through her glasses, she was probably a very nice lady outside the library, but we children felt that we were definitely not wanted there. The library was always spotlessly clean with highly polished floors, and I got the impression that our presence was making it untidy.

I can’t remember at what age we joined, but certainly by the time we were in our early teens my sister and I were avid readers. 

What was I reading? I suppose mainly detective books in the beginning - Agatha Christie, John Dickson Carr, G.K. Chesterton, but later I discovered Phillips Oppenheim and Marie Corelli. Maurice Walsh, P.G. Wodehouse and others. 

For light reading, my great discovery was the work of Caryl Brahms and S.J. Simon. This clever partnership created a series of humorous books including A Bullet in the Ballet, No Bed for Bacon, Don’t Mr Disraeli, and Six Curtains for Stroganova. Those books are probably out of print now but I imagine used paperbacks will often be available from Amazon.

-o0o-

From next week the blog will be updated on
MONDAYS  and THURSDAYS

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No.26

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 For many years Kirkintilloch district had three institutions for mentally deficient people. The earliest was Woodilee Hospital, known to us as “the asylum” which functioned from 1875 till 2001. Then came Waverley Park Home 1906 -1993, and from 1936 till 2002 Lennox Castle Hospital.

I knew Waverley Park well, for I entertained there on many occasions. When it opened, its purpose was to provide for the “Care of Defective and Feeble-minded Children.” In practice it was a home for girls and women, though I suspect that the women had been in the home since they were quite young. 

The girls were always thrilled when visitors came to entertain, and enjoyed taking part. A church dramatic club which always performed comedy plays was very popular, and four pupils from Lenzie Academy including myself on piano provided music between the acts.

A few of the girls who were more intelligent worked outside as domestic helps, and one in particular was employed by a local doctor for many years. All of them went out en masse each week, on Sunday mornings to church, and to the cinema on Saturday afternoons. 

I used to dread meeting them in the street. They walked in a long line two by two, and, if they happened to see me across the road, they would nudge each other and point over to me. If I saw them before they saw me, I would take avoiding action by darting into a close, and wait there till they had passed by. Remember - I was probably aged 15 or 16 at that time.

-o0o-

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The title of this blog seems a misnomer today, for it is certainly not my delight in recalling this sad story.

THE TRAGEDY OF THE SS DAPHNE

On the 3rd July 1883 there occurred in Glasgow what many believe was the worst accident ever on the River Clyde.

The launching of a ship was always a great event attracting many sight-seers, and this occasion was no exception. Some of the tradesmen were still working on the vessel when the launch took place, and others had come on board just to experience the thrill of it.

Going down the launching pad, the ship seemed to keel over, and on striking the water capsized and sank immediately. The death toll was 124 men and boys, and some families lost both father and son.

Among those drowned was a relative of ours, John Murrie. He was in his mid-twenties and on the 9th June the previous year he had married into our Graham family when he took as his wife Isabella Graham (1852-1936).

Although the subsequent enquiry failed to find any criminal negligence, recommendations were made which led to important safety regulations in shipbuilding.

-o0o-

This is Jean, myself, Fiona, Lesley and Margaret after Jean's graduation at Callendar Park in 1968.

Jean had always wanted to be a teacher but financial circumstances in her family meant that, on leaving school, she had to go to work.

Once our children were a bit older and we were able to engage someone to look after them, Jean was able to satisfy her ambition.

As a primary school teacher she had many amusing tales to tell of classroom incidents.

At one stage of her career she was teaching a beginners' class. They had started numbers by learning about Number One and the children had been pointing out things in the room of which there was only one of each. From there, they moved on to Number Two and each child saw and pointed to things like eyes, hands, legs, etc. As she walked among the pupils, one little boy stood up and, with a finger from each hand pointing to her chest, said, "Two bosoms."

Nowadays, the same wee boy might have unknowlingly made use of alliteration!

-o0o-

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No.25

Some of my Favourite Items from my Blogs

From "Now that's what I call art"

The Bull

by Paulus Potter 1625-54

-o0o-

From "80plus"

Among my favourite books there is one to which I keep returning - John Betjeman’s verse autobiography “Summoned by Bells.” The edition I have is superbly illustrated by Hugh Casson.

There’s something about John Betjeman’s writings that really appeals to me and I admire someone who could say "I don't think I am any good. If I thought I was any good, I wouldn't be."

The first verse of his poem “How to get on in Society” is great -

Phone for the fish knives, Norman

As cook is a little unnerved;

You kiddies have crumpled the serviettes

And I must have things daintily served.

And I love “In Westminster Abbey” where the second verse runs 

Gracious Lord, oh bomb the Germans,

Spare their women for Thy Sake,

And if that is not too easy

We will pardon Thy Mistake.

But, gracious Lord, whate'er shall be,

Don't let anyone bomb me.

-o0o-

From "90plus and still blogging"

While Europe's eye is fixed on mighty things  
The fate of Empires and the fall of Kings, 
While quacks of State must each produce his plan,  
And even children lisp the Rights of Man;  
Amid this mighty fuss let me mention
The Rights of Woman merit some attention.  

- Robert Burns 1759-96

-o0o-

From "A Personal Scrapblog"

From "Poetry - A Personal Choice"

IS MY TEAM PLOUGHING?
A.E. Housman 1859-1936

Is my team ploughing, 
That I was used to drive 
And hear the harness jingle 
When I was man alive?

Ay, the horses trample, 
The harness jingles now; 
No change though you lie under 
The land you used to plough. 

Is football playing 
Along the river shore, 
With lads to chase the leather, 
Now I stand up no more? 

Ay, the ball is flying, 
The lads play heart and soul; 
The goal stands up, the keeper 
Stands up to keep the goal. 

Is my girl happy, 
That I thought hard to leave, 
And has she tired of weeping 
As she lies down at eve? 

Ay, she lies down lightly, 
She lies not down to weep, 
Your girl is well contented. 
Be still, my lad, and sleep. 

Is my friend hearty, 
Now I am thin and pine, 
And has he found to sleep in 
A better bed than mine? 

Yes, lad, I lie easy, 
I lie as lads would choose; 
I cheer a dead man's sweetheart, 
Never ask me whose.

-o0o-

From "Pictures to Please"

-o0o-

LINKS

Now that's what I call art - nowthatswhaticallart.blogspot.com

80plus - 80plus.blogspot.com

90plus and still blogging - 90plusandstillblogging.blogspot.com

A Personal Scrapblog - apersonalscrapblog.blogspot.com

Poetry - A Personal Choice - 
poetry-apersonalchoice.blogspot.com

Pictures to Please - picturestoplease.blogspot.com

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A new blog

THE THOMAS HARDY POETRY COLLECTION

begins tomorrow

thethomashardypoetrycollection.blogspot.com

No.24

 Maraetai Beach, Auckland, New Zealand. 

Walk on a rainbow trail, walk on a trail of song 

And all about you will be beauty.

There is a way out of every dark mist 

Over a rainbow trail. 

(Navajo Poem)

-o0o-

This is a photo of the famous Bahá'í House of Worship in New Delhi, India, which has become known as the Lotus Temple. Built in 1986, it’s constructed in the shape of a nine-sided lotus flower with 27 marble "petals." It has nine doors leading in to a central hall capable of housing up to 2,500 people. The Temple has nine surrounding ponds and with the gardens covers 26 acres.

-o0o-

The Farmer and the Nightingale

Every night the farmer had lain in bed listening to the nightingale’s beautiful song and thinking how he would love to possess the bird for himself.

He laid a trap and the nightingale was caught and caged. “Now you shall always sing for me,” he told the bird.

“But nightingales never sing in cages,” the bird replied, “However, if you let me go free, I promise that I’ll tell you three things that are very much better than my singing.”

The farmer opened the door of the cage and the nightingale flew out and alighted on a nearby tree.

The bird told him, “Never believe a captive's promise, keep what you have and don’t sorrow what is lost forever," and flew away, never to return.

-o0o-

From The Tao of Pooh by Benjamin Hoff - By the time it came to the edge of the Forest, the stream had grown up, so that it was almost a river, and, being grown-up, it did not run and jump and sparkle along as it used to do when it was younger, but moved slowly.

For it knew now where it was going, and it said to itself, "There is no hurry. We shall get there some day."

-o0o-

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