williamonthehill

Despised and Rejected

In today's Independent newspaper is a front page story which claims that the Moslems of Europe feel as if they are the "modern Jews" - despised, hated, persecuted. First; what an irony then. The much mythologised and very vile "Protocols of the Elders of Zion" a true hate filled anti-semitic tract is in general circulation in the Arab states and is recommended reading on many Arab University campuses. I have myself seen this pamphlet in several Islamic bookshops in Newham. And every Arab state has as a legitimate political aim, indeed even placed in some state constitutions the elimination of the State of Israel. So called "Holocaust denial" is taught in many otherwise credible Arab universities as serious history.

But actually are moslems generally despised and persecuted? I don't think so. Indeed the reverse is more true. After all, what else can we make of the statement yesterday by one of our principle Law Lords (Lord Phillips) that as a nation we ought to give serious consideration to incorporating certain elements of Sharia law into our own legal system? Hardly a mark of a despised culture.

The liberal establishment, obsessed with "multiculturalism" has actively embraced moslems and other incomers and they are to be found in politics and community leadership. In local authorities such as Newham and Tower Hamlets the moslem voice is a very essential part of local governance and decision-making. That is as it should be.

Over the past few years, under the "New Labour Project" we have actually seen a situation develop where Moslem and other minority sections of our communities are now seen as more equal than the indigenious population. This is why the Labour vote in many inner city areas of England has fallen. Ask the voters of Barking & Dagenham why they voted BNP. This is not the fault of Moslems. The chattering classes of Barnesbury and Blair's cronies have encouraged this nonsense which does no favours to moslems. It leads to stupid announcements by the likes of Lord Justice Phillips and the Archbishop of Canterbury. As I say, this type of thinking does no one any good.

Man called God sold Cocaine near Church

The luck finally ran out for God Lucky Howard when he sold Cocaine to an undercover cop in Tampa, Florida.

AP	.

 Authorities began investigating God Lucky Howard in April, and he was arrested on Saturday. Police said he sold the cocaine to undercover detectives in his neighborhood. When officers searched his home, they reported finding 22 grams more of cocaine and a scale.

Jail records show Howard was charged with several counts of drug possession and distribution, which include increased charges for being within 1,000 feet of a church, a school and public housing.

STREETCAR

I have decided to join Streetcar. Streetcar is  advertised as a 'Pay-as-you-go' car hire system where you can hire the car from as little as half an hour or  for as long as you like. Streetcars are located at over 500 locations in London, on the streets, in car parks or outside people's houses or on people's drives. They are also growing in Brighton, Cambridge, Guildford and Gillingham.

Streetcar make some interesting claims for themselves (like hiring one streetcar takes six vehicles off the roads of London) and that Streetcar subscription is the answer to those families thinking of buying the second car. Anyway I have paid my £49.50 annual subs and after I have had a 'DVLA Conference call' I will receive my Streetcar clever card which allows me to get into the car (the fleet consists of VW Golfs and Polos and VW vans).

See www.streetcar.co.uk   or telephone 084 5644 8475

I will let you know how I get on with Streetcar in the next few weeks.

GHOSTS

Friday: I set off on Friday morning just at the end of the 'school run'. I was headed for East Anglia and Caister-on-Sea. The Blackwall tunnel was good and I was through and into north London within half-an-hour of setting out. I ignored the signs for the M11 and stuck to the A12. Through the suburbs of Ilford and Romford and then we were out into the Essex countryside.

Essex - Suffolk - Norfolk. Those o so flat counties with those large, expansive skies. The sky today was full of grey rolling, sometimes boiling dark, black clouds heavy with the promise of more rain. The A12 had light traffic especially after the Interchange with the M25 Dartford crossing. And as the larger towns of Essex fell behind us so the traffic became even lighter.The signs for Colchester and Ipswich came up. Familiar names on the secondary signage - Dedham, Flatford - reminded me that the border between Essex and Suffolk is more often called 'Constable Country after the painter John Constable, founder of the Royal Academy.

11:30. I stopped for coffee at a Little Chef at the Interchange of the A12/A140, on the outskirts of Ipswich. Then driving on up the A140 which the map tells me is an old Roman Road to Norwich and Kings Lynn. It is flat, straight; arrow straight and pointed right to the heart of Norwich.Listening to the Cistercian Monks of the Austrian Abbey of stift Heiligenkreuz on the car CD. On the flat plain, driving up that straight road I can see on my right hand strange shapes in the fields; square mounds not quite natural looking even when they have small copses on top of them; an old and disintergrating Nissan hut in the middle of a green field of wheat. A sign catches my eye as I flash past; 338 B(ombardment) G(roup) Memorial.

Sixtyfive years ago the skies above my head were full of huge bombers. The flatlands of Essex, Suffolk and Norfolk were the homes to thousands of American boys. Boys from Missouri, Mississippi, Illinois, California, Utah, New York, Texas, Virginia, Massachussettes. All over the United States young boys came to be 'flyboys' and to fight for the Freedom of Europe. Day after day these incredibly brave young men got into their planes - B17's B24's P51's, P47's and P38's. They flew out over the coastlands of East Anglia towards fortress Europe where they killed and were killed in their scores of hundreds for our freedom.

They flew high, so high that they were perpetually cold even wrapped up in their flying gear. The thin, aluminium skins of their craft offered no protection from the flying shards of Anti-Aircraft munitions, twenty millimetre cannons of the Luftwaffe Focke-Wulfs and Messerscmitts. The Bombers wewre blown out of the sky, the wreckage falling, sometimes almost gracefully down twenty or twentyfive thousand feet while friends in following planes prayed and shouted for someone, anyone to "get the hell out of there". Chutes would be counted - 1,2,3.Is that it? 

Bombs were dropped - hundreds, thousands, on the roofs of the towns below. People were killed because they were Germans. Sometimes the dead were even Nazis. Explosions, fires, chaos.

Planes would come home, sometimes limping, even the pilot not knowing what kept the plane in the air after the pasting it had received from the German defences. Black smoke pouring out of the engines, holes in the fuselage large enough to drive a Jeep through, blood, gallons of blood, lying  in pools along the companion ways as badly wounded crews tried to help each other to live. Just a little bit more. There is the coast, there is the beach, there is the hedgerow, And somewtimes they fell short. Fell into the North Sea - Here lies an unknown Airman recovered from the sea, March 21st 1944. Known only unto God. All this flashed through my mind as, coincidently, the track of the Album Chant began to play the Gregorian chant for the Requiem Mass.       

I visited the site of the memorial to the 100 Heavy Bombardment Group, also just off the A140, near Abbess Althorpe. Unfortunately it was not open but it wasn't hard to get into the grounds. An Aircontrol Tower, a couple of sheds, a Nissan hut. Walking out into the green wheat field uncovered the concrete runway. So long ago now. The evening air rustles the wheat. A lark trills high above. Hard to imagine thirty B17's thundering down that runway on an early summers morning; the roar of the Pratt & Witney engines and the wash of the propellors, lumbering heavily into the air, heavy with a full tank of fuel and 10,000 lbs of bombs destined for the shunting yards of Mannheim.

Lest we forget. These young Americans died for our Freedom.

Caister-on-Sea. As a boy I spent my summer holidays in Caister with grand ma. I loved the place and i knew every inch of the beach and the Dunes. My reason for visiting today however was to visit the Caister Cemetery extension of the Great Yarmouth MunicipalCemetery.I am trying to locate the grave of my grandfather, William Fagan. He was a 'soldier of the Great War', indeed, he was a regular soldier who went to France in August 1914. He 'copped it' in October or November 1914. He was hit by a shell and buried in his trench and suffered apalling injuries to his chest and legs. Additionally, he went 'mad' (shell shock). He became a patient in various military asylums including Maghill, Merseyside, now the Special Secure Hospital. He ended his days as a pensioner at the Royal Naval Hospital, Great Yarmouth. an establishment which had been founded in 1881 to take the mentally ill sailor (due to drink and Syphillis usually). During the first war it took many of the 'shell shocked', those who were considered 'incurables'.Into the 1950's it still had a ward of WW1 veterans,

The cemetry at Caister has several blocks for the Naval Hospital, and the first internments there date to circa 1907. Although I thought I looked very carefully I did have to check several hundred headstones and I failed to locate William. I am very disappointed especially as I have a memory as a 7 year old, being shown his grave. There was a block of internments dating to between 1949 and 1959 and William ought to have been in that block (he died in October 1956) but I couldn't spot him. I think I will have to write to the Superintendant of Cemeteries and see if they have a registration for him.

Thursday: When I approached the Car Hire compound I felt rather nervous. I hadn't driven a car for over four years. After doing the paper work and checking over the car for damages I signed the form and the car was mine for two whole days. The car was a Renault Clio 5 door manual with Air conditioning. I was being upgraded at no extra cost because it was mid week and the last Corsa, the car I thought I had booked, had been taken out for the day.

I sat in the car for a few minutes,  checking out the interior controls, adjusting the seat and the mirrors.Then I put the Clio in first gear and drove out the gate and into the stream of traffic on Lee High Road. I managed to stall twice but I soon became sensitive to the clutch bite point.Heading east and aiming to pick up the A2/M2. Smooth through the gears the Clio was quite nifty and highly responsive. I could see ahead of me the dark grey/black clouds that promised heavy showers any time soon. Where was the wiper controls? Yes, on cue the heavy rain fell in torrents just as I reached the M2.

Heavy showers came and went although the sunshine never quite broke through. I came off the motorway at the sign for Faversham and soon picked up the signs for Whitstable. As I came to the edge of the hill and looked down into Whitstable the rain fell in torrents again. I managed to find a car park, the one immediately behind the harbour. I sat in the car and watched the rain fall.

The rain eased off and I went for a walk to the harbour. I love the harbour. Always something to see. The town's fishing fleet was neatly moored. One or two men working on a boat, doing small jumps; the sound of power tools and the rapid tap-tap-tap of a hammer. Then down to the beach. It was windy and chilly. Out at sea a small flotilla of dinghys were being manouvered around a course marked out by bouys. There were three or four bright, colourful kites pulling along kite surfer boards at a rapid speed.

Then I went for a walk down Whitstable high street. Window shopping and people watching were my main preoccupations. I went into a stationery shop and bought a couple of notebooks. Then it was back, retracing my steps for my fish and chip lunch. I certainly had an appetite. I sat down to Plaice and chips, mushy peas, bread and butter and a cup of tea. Lovely. Very tasty.

While eating my lunch the fish shop had BBC 24 on the TV so I heard that David "Dangerous " Davis  had resigned his seat to fight a perfectly sensesless by-election.

After lunch it was more of the same. It was while walking about that my ladies phoned me to say that they were crying off going to Walsingham on Friday. Oh dear!

The drive back was unevenful, the traffic light. I stopped off at my son's to use the toilet and got introduced to his half sisters recently aquired Gerbils, salt and pepper.

Things you do with two days off from work

This week I took two days off from my 'day' job. One of the days was originally for me to do some work on my student's 'halfway' review and to supervise her. However, she has gone into hospital for an emergency operation (get well soon). So I decided to take the two days anyway, as holiday and I hired a car. I needed to hire a car because I am going to hire a car for my Ireland holiday so I thought I had better have a practice. I haven't owned or driven a car since late 2004.

Being a generous sort I phoned around some parishioners to see if anyone would like a trip to Walsingham. I got two takers - good - and we decided to drive to Walsingham on the Friday.

Obama is God - Part 2

Obama saves Jonah Goldberg on our latter-day Elmer Gantry Obama’s apostles are hard to dismiss. Oprah simply calls him “The One,” because “we need politicians who know how to be the truth.” (Jesus says in John 14:6 “I am the way, the truth ...”) Oprah goes on to say Obama will help us “evolve to a higher plane,” which would put Obama in the role of our Intelligent Designer. According to the New York Times, Obama’s volunteers are taught to eschew discussions of the issues and instead “testify” about how they “came to Obama.” For many, he’s no retro-redeemer, but a 21st-century savior, a Matrix-messiah and Neo for our modern-day Nineveh. Self-help guru Deepak Chopra dubs Obama “a quantum leap in American consciousness,” while prominent “leadership coach” Eve Konstantine assures us that, “He’s our product out of the all-knowing quantum field of intelligence.” Obama willing, I will never be stuck next to these people on a plane. Michelle Obama is arguably Obamanity’s greatest evangelist, even though she has a streak of Old Testament smiting and wrath to her. She insists her husband has redeemed the entire nation (hence her newfound pride in America). She proclaims her husband is the sort of leader who will fix our broken souls. But don’t hope for grace on the cheap. “The change Barack is talking about is hard,” she insists, “so don’t get too excited, because Barack is going to demand that you, too, be different.” And then there’s the Gospel according to Obama himself. In January, he told Dartmouth students that they will know to vote for him because “... a light will shine through that window, a beam of light will come down upon you, you will experience an epiphany, and you will suddenly realize that you must go to the polls and vote for Barack.” When asked in an interview what sin is, Obama defined it as “Being out of alignment with my values.” Apparently, the editor failed to capitalize the “M” in “My.” ... “I am absolutely certain,” Obama proclaimed in his victory speech, “that generations from now, we will be able to look back and tell our children that this was the moment when we began to provide care for the sick and good jobs for the jobless; this was the moment when the rise of the oceans began to slow and our planet began to heal. This was the moment — this was the time — when we came together to remake this great nation ...” It's ironic that so many liberals make fun of people who watch televangelists, when they are doing the same thing. Barack will HEEEEAAAAAAL you, brother. Obama is truly a scarey guy and lets hope he doesn't win in November. Now he has won the official Democrat endorsement he is rolling out his so called policies. Funny, where have I heard this phrase "Windfall Tax" before? Surely not from Gordon himself? And wher was Gordon but a few weeks ago, why, with the Obama for President camp. So today Obama announces a "windfall tax" on the profits of the Exxon Oil Company.Well, he either has balls or he is simply mad. Sounds like a suicide note to me.

Celebrity on a Train today

Celebrity seen on a train today. Was Father Tim Finnegan who got on the Jubilee Line at North Greenwich. His Blog, Hermeneutic of Continuity is standard reading fare around these parts.Unfortunately the press of people prevented me making contact. He was reading a book on Saint Martin of Tours and busily underlining passages with a pencil. Can we expect to see these passages on the Blog anytime soon I wonder?

Saturday in Poole

Saturday morning I took a train from Waterloo down to Poole (two hours). The purpose was to meet my friend Stella and to go and visit Compton Acres gardens.

The weather was gorgeous and we were very blessed.

Compton Acres was created out of 2 acres of Dorset heathland in 1922 as a private garden. It is stunning. Waterfalls cascade down through the woodlands and little bridges and steps take one over and across the rockery. I say rockery but this is the largest 'rockery' in the UK with huge granite and sandstone boulders. Fantastic plants and beautiful flowers.

It is the scale of the place that impresses. Largest rockery, largest collection of heathers, largest and best designed Japanes Garden in the UK. This Japanese garden really does impress and is the #real deal' as they say. The spiritual and the aesthetic rules of a Japanese Garden have been well adhered to here. Beautiful and thoughtful.

Stella and I walked around the garden several times, varying our routes. Each time it was a different experience. The light and colours are in constant change, the perspectives never still.

We broke our garden ramble with an afternoon cream tea. Two fruit scones, two pots of jam, scoops of cream... and butter!  English Breakfast Tea. £4,75. Incredibly good value for money.

As it is very late I will try and upload some photographs tomorow.

Power Cut

Before I got the chance to Blog about what I did on Saturday we had a massive "Power Outage" here in Sydenham. This morning, at about 8:45 we lost all power to the area. The Electricity sub-station in Sydenham Park caught fire. The fire sent a massive black pall of smoke into the air. Several fire engines attended the scene and were there for most of the day.

It is very interesting to note just how dependent our modern lifestyle is on electricity. And just how impotent people become in the fsace of a loss of power.

Anyway, power was restored to the area at 10:00 PM exactly. The Electricity company personnel must have worked incredibly hard to restore our power and I applaud them heartily. Well done one and all!!!