14 August 2022

 I have been watching the proms from the Albert Hall in London this last weeks. The music has been wonderful. Tonight it was a programme including Edgar’s chello concerto and Sibelius second symphony.

The Sibelius brought back memories of when I was sailing from London to Helsinki and Kotka with United Baltic Corporation. It was a wonderful time. I learnt to navigate a ship through ice because the Baltic Sea around the Finnish coast freezes in winter. Before the pandemic my wife and I sailed on a cruise to the Baltic Sea and had a day in Helsinki. We visited the Sibelius memorial and had coffee in a way out cafe close by.

This period of my life led to a novel Running After Maria.

13th August 2022

 It is something which has been puzzling me for several months. Why have Leicester City run out of money? Did it suddenly happen because of the covid pandemic? Have the owners lost money on their duty free business? Unless I have missed it there has been no explanation. It could be they have fallen foul of the fair play financial rules. If they need to sell, let Tillman’s go for a substantial amount. I have always been of the opinion that if a player really wants away let him go. Obviously if the player refuses to play in trying to engineer a transfer while still on contract, that could be deemed a strike and the player should not be paid. There is always the danger of any move not working out. Two examples from Leicester City. Maguire moved to Man United and continually gets booed and Danny Drinkwater went to Chelsea and hardly played. 

What is it about certain religions and free speech. Salmo Rushdi gets stabbed as far as we can tell for writing a book which did not agree with some peoples feelings about their religion. Are these people so unsure of their faith that they have to resort to killing anybody that disagrees with them. Surely their faith is steadfast enough to ignore criticism. Let us hope Salman makes some sort of recovery. 

Which leads us on to the increasing tendency to try to stop people expressing a view which does not fit with your particular thinking. What surprises me as a retired academic is the way universities are bowing to mob rule in stopping speakers having a platform if their views are not in line with the most vocal students and staff. Some subjects are not straight forward but much more complicated than seems on the surface. Why are the British castigated over slavery when they were helped by Arab traders and dare I say it African chiefs. Don’t get me wrong slavery was abhorrent and still goes on in many parts of the world. 

I see Leicester City lost. It looks like it is going to be a long hard season. Was it only six seasons ago when I was there as the Premier League trophy was given to Wes Morgan. Maybe it will not be as bad as I think it will.

12 August 2022

 I watched and listened to farmers in the UK showing the affect of theBlack of rain on their produce. They are telling us the yields c outdated be down as much as 50% this year. I can sympathise with them. My bean crop has failed this year and the potatoes are down by a large proportion. It is not my livelihood I have to contend with but the feeling of having provided some fresh fruit and vegetables. It is all blamed on climate change. What none of the commentators points out is the drastic affect of the increase in population. The leaders must find a way to get the message across that the population of 5he world must be stabilised and then reduced.

I see everybody is complaining about delays in getting an ambulance and in a & e. They blame it on covid. Well four and a half years ago when I had my heart attack we waited over three hours for an ambulance, spent two hours outside a&e and three hours before I saw a doctor. What I am saying is it is not a new problem. What I can say is all the staff looked after me wonderfully.

I see British tennis players Dan Evens and Jack Draper have reached the last eight of the Canada Open tennis. It is a shame their matches have been put on in the vending in Canada which means after midnight in the UK. Most tennis followers will miss these matches. The organisers could have thought of putting them on earlier so British tennis fans could watch them.

Hearing people describe their favourite beaches on the radio made me think of a poem I composed some time ago.

The Call

By

Eddie Gubbins

The sea is calling, always calling 

Even when the sailor has long left voyaging behind. 

The sea calls, ever calls,

Over the noise of this sometimes dreadful life. 

To sail away , to leave this life behind,

But to where? 

That is what adds to the thrill. 

Let the voyage be long or short, 

Let the oceans be calm or fierce, 

In the urge to sail away, 

Lies man's eternal quest 

For something new. 

Why oh why does man always strive after the new 

When accepting the present would save a lot of heart ache. 

It has long been a mystery to me but, 

More than in any other profession, 

The sea  offers a greater chance to satisfy this need. 

The sailor never arrives 

Because each new port is a stepping stone to the next 

And on to the next 

Until the nomadic lifestyle grows too much. 

It maybe that the sailor observes other people 

Settling into a pattern of life which brings rewards 

Such things as family and home, 

Anchored to other views of living 

Rather than constantly on the move. 

So the sailor leaves the sea 

And puts down roots.

Or does he? 

The sound of a seagull screaming , 

The wind moaning around the roof of his house  

The sound of waves lapping on the shore 

Will awaken in the hidden recesses of his mind 

The longing to feel the excitement once more 

As the ship goes silent, 

Ready to leave for the sea. 

Goodnight

11th August

 So there are to be hose pipe bans round the country. Watching the Commonwealth games, I noticed the hockey pitch was soaked with water sprays. I just hope the Football clubs do not use sprinklers on their grounds. I know the pitches are hard but the players will have to live with that. They will have to learn to keep on their feet. So says me who never headed the ball or made sliding tackles. Those around me did the heading of the ball. My job was to get the ball and make the telling passes. I have to confess not always successfully!

I see there was a meeting of the government and the bosses of the energy companies. How can anybody in their position earning £100s really understand what it is like to be short of money. Like the boss of Thames Water nd his £500000 bonus even though the company lost money last year. The bosses must live on a different planet. If he gave his bonus to those in energy poverty he could pay £3000 to 150 people without it hurting his standard of living. If all the leaders gave their bonuses up like this many of the poorest could be helped. 

Things change and Liz Truss is leading the charge of  those who have no idea how the world outside their circle lives. How can tax cuts help those who do not pay tax? The basis of our system is that the wealthy help the poorest who usually are not poor through choice but circumstances. Even the hated Mrs Thatcher knew this.

On a brighter note who will host the Eurovision Song Contest. It had to be outside London. 

Things change as illustrated with a poem a few years ago. Published in my collection through Amazon in a Golden Age:

As we are all reminded in the words of the song “ Things they are a changing.”

The Golden Age?

There used to be pubs on Market Square

Named after heroes

The Lord Nelson, King George or Prince William,

Or mythical beings 

The Griffin, Green Man or Unicorn.

With a snug, a lounge and a bar.

Where smoke curled and swirled, round dark oak beams,

Like the smog in Bleak House.

Men in dull grey jackets and  shiny ties,

Lounged on wooden benches, 

By tables scarred with stubbed out fags

Topped out with over flowing ashtrays.

Drinking mild, bitter or boilermakers,

The consistency of the silt laden stream 

Which flowed at the bottom of the yard.

The drink went down to the thud of darts

Or the clack of dominoes on a board.

Ladies sit with their men in the lounge

Drinking port and lemon the colour of blood.

Or in the snug

Gossiping about the pregnant teenager from down the road,

Or Mrs. Smith and her brood and her men.

The barmaid wobbled her large breasts

As she pulls the pints for indifferent drinkers,

Thinking of rich men and sun kissed beaches.

A dyed blond night lady pulls up her skirt

Revealing nylon clad legs and smiling,

Hoping that some man would talk and take her home.

The other women turn up their noses, shake their heads,

Making plain that she was an outcast.

Now the pubs have gone.

Turned into banks and shops.

New theme pubs have been designed,

All chrome and leather,

With flashing screens and loud music,

Where drinkers guard their bottles of larger 

Which come from God knows where.

The girls prance around, Salome without the veils,

Attracting the boys in only their shirt sleeves,

Even when the ice is on the ground and breath freezes on the nose.

Once at ten thirty, people would stagger home,

Now they spill out onto the square,

Falling, vomiting, shouting, laughing, growling and fighting

Before staggering towards the night club

Where Mrs. Bennet's dancing school once stood, 

Teaching the young to twirl and prance 

To the beat of a dance band.

Now lights flash, mist spreads from hidden blowers

Bodies gyrate and grind.

Times change

Wednesday 10 August

 Another to us British hot day. Before it got too hot this morning did some tidying in the garden.Because I am reluctant to hose the plants it is looking rather forlorn and sun baked. The forecast is for it to get hotter tomorrow.

The crews of the grain ships leaving Ukraine must be nervous that one side or the other will stick to their bargain. When I was at sea as an officer on a tanker I can recall how nerve racking it was when the ship was arrested in Indonesia. There was a dispute between the governments over what 50 odd years later I cannot recall. We were stuck in port with armed guards on board. Eventually we were ordered to leave. The crews of the grain ships must be feeling just as nervous. You can read about my tim3 at sea in my semi autobiographical book Tales From The Sea by Edmund Gubbins.

I was struck by the analysis that given the Russian invasion of a democratic sovereign state Ukraine China believes they have the green light to invade Taiwan. Is it no coincidence that these countries are free democracies where their citizens are at liberty to criticise the government and vote them out. Both Putin and the Chinese leader cannot abide anybody disagreeing with them to the extent of killing their opponents. All most people want is to be left to get on with their lives and to speak freely when they do not think their leaders are looking after their interests.

I wrote a poem for my creative writing class some years ago called:

Tinamenne Square

Blood red, the flags flying above the Hall of the People

Where Nixon met Mao

And saved the world!

Blood red the sun shining on the flagstones

Of Tinamenne Square

A red halo around the monument to the people.

Red on the spot where a man alone

Like Canute forbidding the waves

Defied a tank.

Above the gate to the Forbidden City

A portrait of Moa smiles down

Benevolent as a grandfather.

All people are now equal

But the people are pushed aside

Black cars carry the great and the good

Speeding along the street

And the flags flutter blood red in the breeze.

We are all free

But policemen photograph every face

As they emerge into the square.

There is no God, says Mao

While people queue four hours

Shuffling in awe struck unison

Passed the body of their old leader.

And blood red the flags fly above the square.

By the museum the clock ticks

Counting the days, minutes, seconds

Until the rest of the world will descend

And maybe pull back a small corner

Of the veil that surrounds the peoples land.

And Mao smiles down

Grandfather to his people

More equal than the other animals

In the biggest farmyard in the world

And the flags fly blood red

Above Tinamenne Square

Published in a book of my poems A Golden Age and Other Poems by Eddie Gubbins available from Amazon.

9th August 2022

 Here we are with the same problems. Lying in bed with my morning cup of tea listening to the Today programme. All the noise is about the Tory leadership battle and how to get through the crisis. Even to a long retired academic like me the solution of cutting taxes does not wash with those on low incomes and many pensioners. They do not pay national insurance or in many cases income tax. Cutting taxes will not help them. They need either a boost to their income or a payment to cover the cost of rising fuel prices. How can people on massive incomes like business leaders and politicians have any clue as to how these people can cope.

My next thriller Whatever happened to Sophie which I am writing is about this problem. It is the latest to involve Ken and Norman Food following Brotherly Love, A Legacy from Mary, For the Love of Pauline and The Daisy May.

Monday 8th August 2022

 Sitting in the garden in the shade. It has suddenly become hot. Looking around all the plants are wilting in the dryness. There is not much I can do about that because it looks like the drought will last at least another two weeks. We do use a bowl for washing up which we the use the water to water the hanging baskets and flower pots. They appear to be staying the course and at least giving me a little splashes of colour.

I did get mad this morning listening to the poor dentists bemoaning their lack of money. Like a lot of people who are on high salaries they do not want to give anything back to the society which by their support enabled them to be where they are now. Why do the rich not want to pay their fair share? They hide their money away in dubious schemes knowing that they do not have to worry about where the next meal is coming from or how to pay the bills. 

Trying to watch tennis on the tv with Andy Murray but it is raining in Montreal. We have no idea when the match will start. According to John  Mac it only rains at Wimbledon. Now there is more tennis on tv from all round the world we know this is not true. The other question is what has happened to all the British women tennis players? All that money and nothing to show for it.

It is still warm here for the UK at seven thirty in the evening. The forecasters reckon by Wednesday it will be 35 here. I remember when I sailed through the Arabian Gulf with the temperature in the high forties so 35 does not sound too high. The trouble is as one gets older it is harder to tolerate these extremes.