On Old Grawky Hill

Things that thrill

Cold beer
Tractors in hayfields
Girls in vests on sunny days
riding bikes down steep hills
finishing work early
snow
cable cars

Makes me glad to be alive. What a wonderful world

What is a ghost?  Do they exist or is it just a big fairy story?  I am sceptical about most alleged supernatural claims however I must confess to a few experiences over the years that have left me wavering.  

On several occasions I have found myself suddenly thinking rather intensely about people I haven't seen for a while.  A few hours later I discover they've died.  Coincidence?  Maybe, ESP, Telepathy or some other Psychic phenomenon possibly.  At the back of my Christian mind a little voice suggests that it might be the dead person's soul departing with a quick cheerio to friends and acquaintances.  Sounds like a load of bollocks when you write it down though.  Its easier to believe in ghosts.

Does anyone have an opinion on this.  Am I a deranged fantasist or do lots of people have similar experiences?    

The world has moved on a lot in the past thirty to forty years. In towns across Northern Britain huge swathes of heavy industry have disappeared, not too many folks work in textiles, mining or steel these days. In the country the horse, the spade and the pitchfork have disappeared in favour of machines capable of doing the same job as twenty men and a stable full of horses. Who apart from Fred Dibnah and the odd travelling fair uses a traction engine these days.

Despite all these changes more people are employed than ever before. Each day it seems Britain absorbs even more migrants to work in our mystery economy. What are they all doing? Who is paying for all the extra work? What do they produce?

I am baffled aren't you because not a day goes by without the Tories or the media warning of economic collapse. What does the modern economy run on? It looks like fresh air to me.

When I was young my father, a man who liked beer would often call into a boozer for a libation when we were out and about. As a result I became familiar with the outside of such classy pubs as the Seven Seas in Kilbowie Road, Clydebank, The Ferry Master in Renfrew and the Kelburn or the Watermill in Paisley. Scotland being a fine Calvinist country didn't allow nippers even a sight of the interior of a Bar.

At home in Ireland every summer it was very different. Many a happy hour I spent supping a McDaids Football Special while Dad had a pint and a laugh with his cronies in fabulously friendly but dingy pubs with names like Currans, Friels and McLaughlins in little villages with no other source of entertainment.

Looking back I realise that my own love of the drinking life was developed by this early exposure. Even today I love the smell of stale beer you get in a really dingy pub. Something today's fun pubs and ridiculous theme bars never deliver. Irish pubs in the sixties and seventies were great fun to be in because of the people you met not the music or the comfy seats. Where did those leathery faced men in tweed go? Where did those old landladies go, the ones who gave me free crisps and always knew my name. These days in my local I am lucky if I get served by someone who speaks English.

These days taking your child to the pub for anything other than a full meal is socially unacceptable, my dad would probably be in jail for neglect if he was around today. Would it have made me a better person if I missed out on these memories, I don't think so. Society has moved on but some 'improvements' haven't made life better.

As I sit staring into space at my high powered workplace. I sometimes forget that I am at work. Cuts and re-organisations have disposed of many of my colleagues and I often find myself alone with plenty of time to think.

Is this what those sci-fi writers in the fifties and sixties meant when they wrote those utopian novels about the Brave New world of science that would arise in the twenty first century. I earn far more than my father or grandfather did but I am rarely taxed physically or mentally. The occasional deadline may induce some stress but that is usually brought on by my concious incompetence.

Was life easier in the old days? Probably not. Our forebears bodies wore out due to too much work or unsafe working conditions. My body is likely to break down due to lack of exercise and a bad diet. Despite the high levels of inactivity most office workers experience these days Britain still has the longest working hours in Europe, I wonder why? Maybe doing nothing at work is more enjoyable than going home to do nothing in front of the TV or a PC.

I think it is time I took the advice of the seventies TV show 'Why Don't You' and stopped sitting around watching TV. Today is my new beginning, hobbies here I come. Anyone got any worthwhile suggestions on how a middle aged layabout can fill his time more usefully?