2. Evidence attesting to some praiseworthy quality or characteristic.
3. A payment in money or other valuables made by one ruler or nation to another in acknowledgment of submission or as the price of protection or security.
Edinburgh, the city with a masochistic appetite for self destruction under the guise of development. The development and flagellation never ends either so the pain is continuously sweet for the planners and iPad holders. Every second street is a construction battlefield of tram works or gas and water repairs. Next comes the fibre optic broadband cable, thereafter who knows? Never getting it right first or second time, the continuous spiral runs amok in the perpetual motion of men, materials and machinery. A generation of kids wouldn't recognise central Edinburgh without the temporary lights, barriers or Heras fencing. We're all just fed up with it.
So yesterday found me in the "convenient" location of Ocean Terminal to get my flu and Covid vaccine. I'm not complaining about that either, the staff were first class and very helpful, so despite the peculiar location and a longish journey from my gaff, all went well. Thank you NHS.
Ocean Terminal is however a sorry sight (and site) these days. A battle scarred mall, under siege by ever present tram-works. A great hall of shopping that once gleamed and buzzed, it's been hollowed out by cultural change and closures to the point that it's more a Leith community hub than a shopping or entertainment attraction. Maybe there's nothing wrong with that but it was a shock to see it, having not been there for about ten years. Me and all the other oldies wondering around, killing time before our needle's appointment were in the majority. Bussed in custom. A grey mass of disinterest and slight confusion.
It needs investment but it wont get it and it will collapse in on itself. The once shiny new flats and surrounding properties also have that washed out look that marks the early stages of city district's structural decay. We're focusing on the wrong things I think. A lot of mistakes have been made and there's a pile of new ones on the way.
I did have a lovely little lunch in a Turkish Cafe halfway down Leith Walk though, on the sunny side of course. Mustn't grumble.
Now that the royal family and the deep state seem to have mastered the concept of queue management it only seems right that they should move into the realm of theme park ownership. In theme parks the queue (also for some how to avoid or usurp it) is king (an unfortunate title I know). Think of the potential; great queues made up of baffled members of the general public waiting for hours to view nothing in particular for a few brief seconds, what a business opportunity and potential revenue stream ... and we now know it works. You'll also get a union jack souvenir wrist band.
Shuffle towards the promise of thrilling rides but without any thrill, just a vague sense of pointlessness and the smell of polished wood. Those dullards will happily form an orderly line for any crap or potential piece of titillation and it's such a British thing to take part in. They'll pay for it too, all that's needed is some vague or suggested royal bit of patronage, perhaps some cheap slabs of memorabilia on display and you're away.
Possible sites are; somewhere not too close to Windsor (but still on the M4 corridor) or maybe in Norfolk or the West Country. Forget Scotland, the North(?) or Wales, they're too remote and filled with ignorant, beer swilling cretins mostly. No, we'll keep it in England where it can flourish thanks to generous Russian slush money and lumps of untraceable charity funding. A royal commission will explore the options and ultimately run it under some royal charter or other so we can screw over the staff and patrons easily.
The word "royal" has almost magical properties in the UK as far as the common people and tourist types are concerned and should be used whenever possible, it tends to shut up and out any criticism or negative observation. It also ensures a massive buy in from TV and the press in general. Proof that they'll swallow any nonsense and serial gas-lighting and gladly pass their approval and vacuous comments onto the public. It's a sure fire winner and thanks to some obscure Act of Parliament pretty much tax free for our royal masters.
Fun for all the family at Windsor Land where mundane reality quickly transforms into an expensive and warped fairy tale of family feuds, greed, privilege and non stop posturing. You won't want to miss it.
The problem with news is there is a lot of it and that it has to be edited. This is understandable of course, we can only absorb so many facts and diverse situations and as there is so much news out there somebody needs to manage it. It's no different from writing history, which is actually the same thing as news. It's also liable to be distorted, exaggerated or hidden. Anyway I'm full up of news now, full to the brim. I have no spare capacity for new news or indeed new history at the moment. I'd therefore be grateful if people would just stop doing possibly newsworthy things for a while and also if media editors could prune any emerging news down into small truthful and relevant chunks that the average person might digest easily.
In a leap of pure imagination I have coined the term "news maggots". I'm unclear who the news maggots are or who they work for but I think they probably do exist. They also may think that they are doing a decent job; if supporting failing royalist regimes, dangerous business practices and toxic governments is a decent job. In conclusion not everybody in the news or the media is a news maggot, that would be ridiculous but clearly there are some in there. I suppose there are also media maggots, entertainment maggots, war maggots and industry and economic maggots too. It just goes on. Oh, I just remembered that news maggots have little brothers: badly informed opinion maggots.
A sunny morning, the world is stirring but this spot seems far away from the stresses and strains and lies and platitudes circling in other places. They lurk, watching and waiting for more carrion to chew up or spit out. Here there is empty space. Hold it steady. The tide is moving out at the back-sea-sands in Anstruther Wester. The sand dries itself as no one watches. Seaweed clogs up the beach and strangles the rock. A still but not unpleasant breeze is blowing. Nobody is about, nobody else on the beach. No window faces or chatter. I'm walking in slow circles. Thoughts take flight and settle wherever.
Today would have been my mum's 100th birthday had she lived, so I took it on myself to go on a reflective gravestone cleaning mission down in the East Neuk of Fife. There lie most of my forebears, many of the two families being buried not very far apart in the same cemetery. I parked in the nearby car park and shuffled into the cemetery carrying an orange B&Q bucket, some water and cleaning materials. I'm self aware enough to know I must've looked a bit odd, like some professional grave stone cleaner or perhaps a weird ghoul who likes things spik and span. I'm neither, I just have dose of seasonally acquired central Scotland guilt that needs exorcising every now and then. I did my bit and left feeling I'd done a nice thing. I'm not so bad a person perhaps.
I then pondered using the remaining cleaning materials on grimy and neglected road signs on the way home. I quickly realised that this was a bad idea. I know people do that kind of thing; sign vigilantes. Also people go out and correct grammatical errors on signs and company hoardings. While I share the urge to do these things from time to time, I've still some self control left. My grave concerns are not quite grave enough and my hi-vis jacket was in the other car.
Almost overnight Toadstool Town appeared in the garden. A new development. I should also say with any consultation or planning permission. We love our rules and red tape here so swift action was required. I noted that the builders or occupants appeared to have fled and, like any good, greedy landowner had the site quickly cleared. I know this action is of course futile, they'll be back soon enough, but for a fleeting moment I felt like some parasite king wielding newly given powers though unable to understand the consequences of his actions. All completely normal in the world we live in.
At large in Pittenweem in order to avoid the crowds and to fill the vacuum left by the ridiculous stopping of football fixtures and so on. We're not all sombre and incapacitated with grief and self delusion as it turns out. Here we have a fish and chips lunch served on a fish shaped plate. A nice touch. One of the highlights of a sunny day wandering around by the waterfront in an empty headed fashion.
And along comes the sea, unruly and disrespectful as ever towards the land and the curious people huddled together on it.
Every family has it's grief and tragedy and it's right to celebrate the long life of a loved one but ... I'm already tired of it. Also, nobody is going to find it easy to sing "God save the King" ever, it just sounds even more wrong than it ever sounded. It's a shit tune and a shit set of words. It never did sound right to me in any shape or form, now it's just some crazy thing we can't escape.
Nearby to SQ we have the Dundas Estate, where sky, land and water meet. This also happens in other places from time to time, you may also have noticed it. Anyway it made for a very pleasant walk as the swans hissed peacefully into our ears and the ducklings scattered across the surface of the water. It never rains when you're strolling beneath the greenest and widest of trees. It doesn't even pour. It just hangs in some kind of inexplicable suspension of vapour, space and time. Science doesn't know everything and it hasn't explored all of the possibilities either. I'll leave it there.
Everybody needs a Happy Bot in their home and in their life.
There are numerous models to choose from that will enrich your life and make all the dull days flow by so much more easily. Say bye bye to drudgery!
Happy Bots help by doing the tedious household tasks so you don't have to.
Happy Bots are happy to take the strain around your home. All domestic, cleaning and exterior duties can be easily programmed in, simply download the Happy Bots App.
You'll gain a lightness in your step, an inner peace and serenity plus you'll enjoy a lot more free time and head-space when you employ one of our 2022 "Happy Bots".
Easy purchase and rental plans are available with low cost payments and flexible and comprehensive maintenance schemes.
Your new best friend is a Happy Bot.
Happy Bots are 100% recyclable too.
Get your Happy Bot Today!
For more information contact us @HappyBotIndustries.co.uk.
#HAPPYBOTS