iTunes

Typical isn't it? After starting to blog my G5 has gone haywire and refuses to boot up. So I'm back to my old iMac. State of art in 2001 and now obsolete unto the third generation. Problem is when your hard disc goes so does all the iTunes you've purchased over the past 2 years. All that crazy music you won't find anywhere else. Do I have back-ups? I have now. The G5 went soon after Xmas and was sucessfully repaired and I purchased an external 1 Terrbyte hard disc. But before I could download a new set of iTunes  it has crashed again. I have contacted iTunes to explain the situation but basically they say that I have to pay for all the tunes I had purchased again. To the tune of £500 if I tot it up. Restoration of my old hard disc starts around £270. Seems I'm caught in a Devil's bargain.

Troop Aid

I am sending this as a mailing to friends.  Through my Masonic involvement I have been involved in some fund raising for Troop Aid, one of the first charities to respond to the needs of those troops injured who arrive at Selly Oak hospital, Birmingham: they now provide for a number of other reception hospitals.  Troop Aid who are a small body of relentless volunteers, provide what they call Buddy Bags which are the essentials (clothing, trainers, toiletries) for those who are returned injured to the UK - most of whom arrive wrapped in a blanket or in the combat kit they were injured in (torn and blood stained) - we are talking both sexes.  One wonders how those who sent them to war might feel if dumped in such an undignified way? (I will avoid a political statement)

 

I must emphasise this is a private mailing and not a Troop Aid circular however it has prompted me to ask that if you can help Troop Aid then please contact them <pamsutton@troopaid.info>
or go to their web site for more info.  I AM NOT A REPRESENTATIVE of Troop Aid just a Brit. who believes these kids deserve better - to me there is a message in the story below.

Kindest regards

 

Ken Reeves

Airline Lunches 

I put my carry-on in the luggage 
 compartment and sat down in my
assigned seat. 
 It was  going to be a long flight from Gatwick. 
'I'm glad I have a good book to read 
 Perhaps I will get a short sleep,' I thought. 


Just before take-off, a line of British Army Youngsters   
 came down the aisle and filled all the vacant seats, 
totally surrounding me.   
I decided to start a conversation. 

 'Where are you blokes headed?' I asked the
Young man seated nearest to me.

 Cyprus. We'll be there for two weeks 
 for special training, and then we're being deployed to Afghanistan.   
After flying for about an hour, 
an announcement was made that 
lunches were available for five pounds. 
It would be severa l
hours before we reached Cyprus, 
and I quickly decided a lunch would
 help pass the time. 

As I reached for my wallet, 
I overheard a soldier ask his mate if
 he planned to buy lunch. 
 'No, that seems like a lot of money for
 just an airline lunch. 
Probably  wouldn't be worth five Quid. 
I'll wait till we get to Cyprus.    
His mate agreed.

 I looked around at the other soldiers. 
 None were buying lunch.
 I walked to the back of the plane 
 and handed the flight attendant a
 fifty Pound note. 
'Take a lunch to all those soldiers..' 
She grabbed my arms and squeezed tightly. 
Her eyes wet with tears, 
she thanked me. 
'My young bloke was a soldier in Iraq, 
 it's almost like you are doing it for him. '

Picking up ten lunchboxes, 
 she headed up the aisle to where the boys were seated.   
She stopped at my seat and asked, 
'Which do you
 like best - beef or chicken?'

'Chicken,' I replied, wondering 
 why she asked. 

She turned and went to the front  of plane, returning a minute 
later with a dinner plate from first class.   
 'This is your thanks.' 

After we finished eating, 
I went again to the back of the plane, 
heading  for the rest room.   
 An old bloke stopped me.   
 'I saw what you did. 
I want to be part of it.   
 Here, take this.'   
He handed me twenty-five
Pounds. 
Soon after I returned to my  seat, 
 I saw the Captain coming 
down the aisle, looking  at the aisle numbers as he walked, I hoped he wasn't looking  for me, but noticed he was looking at the numbers 
only on my side of the plane. 
  When he got to my row he stopped, smiled, 
held out his hand, and said, 
 'I want to shake your hand.'

 Quickly unfastening my seat-belt I stood and took the Captain's hand. 
With a booming voice he said,  'I was an army pilot a long time back. 
Once someone bought me lunch. 
 It was an act of kindness I never forgot.'   
 I was embarrassed when applause 
 was heard from all of the passengers. 

Later I walked to the front of the plane 
so I could stretch my legs. 
A kid who looked about 18 was sitting about 
 six rows in front of me reached out his hand, wanting to shake mine.   
 He left another twenty-five Pounds
. In my palm.

 When we landed I gathered my  belongings and started to depart.
 Waiting just inside the aeroplane door was a man who stopped me, put
something in my shirt pocket, turned, and walked away without saying a word. 
Another twenty-five Pounds!

 Upon entering the terminal, 
I saw the soldiers gathering for their 
trip  up to their training area.   
 I walked over to them and handed 
 them seventy-five Pounds. 
'It will take you some time to 
reach your training area. It will be 
about time for a sandwich.   
God Bless You Blokes.' Ten young blokes left that flight feeling 
the love and respect of their fellow Brits. 
  As I walked briskly to my car, 
I whispered a prayer for their  safe return.  These soldiers were 
giving their all for our country. 
 I could only give them a couple of meals. 
It seemed so little...

A British Serviceman is someone who, 
at one point in his life, wrote a blank
cheque made payable to 
'United Kingdom' 
for an amount of
' up to and including my life.'

 That is Honour, and there are way 
too many foreigners in this country 
who don't understand it.'  

May you have the strength and 
 courage to pass this along to 
everyone on your email mates list....

I JUST DID!   


Contact
Pam Sutton
Secretary  Troop Aid
PO Box 14482
Solihull
West Midlands
0121 711 7215


Apologies . This was originally a poem

So much longing

http://www.myspace.com/jbcom

Have found that iTunes has 5 new tunes from the Glaswegian songstress Jerry Burns and bought them without hesitation. We lost our hard disc the other week and all our favourite songs. A fine balance between paying for a disc retrieval at £300 or a lot of work finding the missing tracks which cost even more on iTunes. Must remember to back everything up. Now I have a 1T external should be easier.

For those who don't know the lady [ and do not get confused with the male country singer Jerry Burns ] she writes and produces music of exceptional clarity and beauty with almost French chanteuse  qualities. Anyone who has heard her 1994 album 'Pale Red' knows that there is an artist who deserves to be heard far more widely and whose production has a longing and nostalgia that you want to hear more of. Which is a pity because 'Pale Red' and 'Angel' are 15 tracks only. Her fans have been waiting for years for this, barely 20 minutes. She's not to everyone's taste, my nearest and dearest do not see the point. There are no histrionics, no complexity, almost nothing there but bare understated piano riffs and strings and that voice that is  mellow single malt with a hint of IrnBru but pure lost love, madness and ecstasy that only Marcel Maljhoudi can come close to in ' Une jour Tu Verras' . Quelle domage.

Hello. Is there anybody there?

Well that was easy enough.

Don't get me wrong. I've been playing around on Macs since the word go. Just been a little wary. Don't particularly like sticking my head out of the trees but since I've been making a nuisance of myself on the Guardian CiF for almost three years... I got it coming to me.

First let me introduce myself. It's an anagram and a nickname. Nuff sed. I've had others but won't answer to them.

What do I do? For a living.. absolutely bugger all. I had to retire as a teacher of science because of asthma, [ always, always use a fume cupboard ] Never mind that fact I was lousy at it. Saved Chris Woodhead stringing me up. The pension paid the mortgage and my wife is a saint who hates not working. She hates the job too but ... As we had a second son as a toddler the obvious thing to do was to take over some of the myriad jobs you ladies have to do and the DIY that comes with buying a money pit. That's a story for another day.

Though I became a house husband, back in the early '90's I had a karaoke road show and disco. Stop tittering at the back there. I took it seriously and was rewarded with hearing some of the finest singers in the Black Country. I never took the mickey, I always tried to ' make show ' and ignored the bullet holes in the windows. It was the empty bars that got me. I even had a gig at an old peoples home. That is probably all you need to know about agents.

Being a musician was fun but no money to speak of. Same as trying to get it together as a songwriter. I'll let you judge that later but as my cousin said' You're good but it's tough out there.' We had to give up the band in the early noughties. Every gig we got the place closed down soon after. Even Ronnie Scott's [ Brum branch][ Mind you, having seen the ladies toilets and the price of drinks it wasn't surprising]

So now I write a bit here and there , still not making any money but feeling less useless than I used to. I like writing and I try to keep it snappy and relevant whilst grammatically correct
[ though since everything now has an American spell checker.... I sometimes despair]
One of the reasons I post and surf is that despite being virtually disabled now, communication is still one of things I value more than anything else and I reckon there are a lot of people out there who still like solving the world's problems over a decent conversation. The biggest problem seems to be one's own inability to overcome depression. Been there, done that and I wouldn't wish it even on ...certain politicians. So if you want to take the evening air, sit awhile on an imaginary porch swing, sing an old Carole King number together and light a candle in the gathering night.

Oh... I'm a sucker for punishment so if you want to recommend songs, books , poets or anything, feel free.