I thought I'd have a little play with one of the Bear vids - hope this works!

Oh how I do associate with this bear!

Good morning all and

Happy New Year's Eve!

Being in holiday mood, I bring you Holiday Bear for your delight and delectation: enjoy!

So much for the bright start we had to the day here in South Wales: it's raining again...

But are we unhappy? Not with music like this to listen to, no.

Followers of this blog will already have seen Why I don't exercise and A good walk spoiled; today I bring you the same funky little bear in I love sky!

Be sure to check out tomorrow's bear blog.

Thirty years is more than a lifetime for some people and outside the memory span of others.

Many of you may have little or no idea about Britain's industrial past and the industries that made this country great. One of those industries was coal mining.

Here's a little something to store away for your next pub quiz/trivial pursuit evening: thirty years ago today on 30 December 1986 Coal Mine Canaries were made redundant.

These latest coal industry redundancies were seen by some as another blow by the Thatcher government against British mine workers; the birds were to be replaced by 'new technology.'

The removal of the canaries ended a mining tradition in Britain dating back to 1911, since when two canaries had been employed by each working pit.

New electronic detectors replaced the birds because they were said to be cheaper and more effective in indicating the presence of pollutants in the air otherwise unnoticed by miners.

Canaries were not the only animals which were used to detect the presence of dangerous gases underground, mice were employed too.

Tests conducted by the Bureau of Mines showed canaries were favoured because their reaction to carbon monoxide was more apparent even if small quantities of the gas were present.

The coal mining industry was going through massive changes in the mid 1980s and was very much in decline.

A year-long strike by the National Union of Miners had ended in defeat 1985 and coal miners had lost most of their bargaining power as a result.

Miners are said to be saddened by the latest set of redundancies in their industry but do not intend to dispute the decision.

The on-going effects of the pit closures, redundancies and the resulting miner's strike can still be felt in some areas of the country today.

In the 1940s there had been 718,000 mine workers in the UK; that figure has currently reduced to something less than 10,000.

Following hot on the heels of 'Excersise Bear' I bring you, 'Golf Bear'.

I note with eager anticipation that Britain will settle its World War II debts to the US and Canada when it pays two final instalments before the close of 2006.

The remaining payments of $83.25m (£42.5m) to the US and US$22.7m (£11.6m) to Canada are the last of 50 instalments made since 1950.

It may be worth mentioning the amount paid back is almost double the monies loaned to secure peace and rebuild Britain in 1945 and 1946.

So as the country will no longer owe money to our Trans Atlantic cousins, we UK tax payers must be due a reduction in income tax since there is no longer a need to collect against the debt: well that's my logic anyway. Come on Gordon, bring it on!

'Exercise Bear'

Joseph Frank Keaton Jr. known by his professional name as Buster Keaton, was a popular and influential American silent-film comic actor and filmmaker. His trademark was physical comedy with a stoic, deadpan expression on his face, earning him the nickname "The Great Stone Face".

His work as a performer and director is widely regarded to be some of the most innovative and important work in the history of cinema.

Here’s Buster getting to know his new family: apologies for the poor quality.

Harold Lloyd was nothing short of a genius; he was certainly a master at what he did.

Harold was an American actor and filmmaker, most famous for his hugely successful and influential silent film comedies.

His films frequently contained "thrill sequences" of extended chase scenes and daredevil physical feats, for which he is best remembered today. The image of Lloyd hanging from the hands of a clock high above the street in Safety Last! (1923) is one of the most enduring images in all of cinema. Lloyd did many of these dangerous stunts himself, despite having severely injured himself in a 1919 accident with a prop bomb that resulted in the loss of the thumb and index finger of his right hand (the injury was disguised on film with the use of a special prosthetic glove).

Here’s a quieter side of Harold’s comedy: I apologize for the quality.

Women make terrible drivers!

Just ask any man and he's bound to agree, but not too many men will admit that men make pretty bad drivers too...

Thank goodness Laurel & Hardy: two of the world's favourite clowns were never afraid to point out men's short comings.

Did you know it's illegal to eat Mince Pies on Christmas Day?

Oliver Cromwell banned Christmas pudding, mince pies and anything to do with gluttony. That law has never been rescinded so mince pies are illegal.

Having turkey this Christmas? You'd better think again and eat goose instead, as in 1588 Elizabeth I enacted a law making it an offense to eat any other bird on Xmas day.

Finally, in case you were thinking of driving to church tomorrow: don't! According to the Holy Days and Fasting Days Act of 1551, which has not yet been repealed, everyone must attend church on Christmas Day on foot.

Anyone else know any bizarre laws still on the statute book?

And lo! A new star appeared in the sky

A couple of millennia ago this very evening - as the Bible has it - a new object appeared in the sky and a few eager stargazers followed it...

But will the "star of wonder" which attracted wise men to a distant manger in Bethlehem, ever appear in the night skies again?

Well who knows? Put aside that festive glass and take a peek into this year's Christmas heavens, you may just be in for a big surprise!

My Peculiar Aristocratic Title is: His Most Noble Lord John the Crepuscular of Lower Hellswicke Get your Peculiar Aristocratic Title

Grapes of Wrath
Rotting on the vine,
‘Tis nearly Christmas
It’s gonna be fine;
Thank God we bought the vino
Or we'd have no wine!

Anyone out there ever grown grapes in the UK? In search of a few pointers here...

We had a great crop this year, but the fruit's were mostly very small even if quite sweet. A few bunches got left on the vine and seem to have fermented in situ, so to speak. A local squirrel, who come and helps himself from time-to-time, seems to appreciate them tough!

Train spotting, that traditional pastime for young boys and railway buffs, seems to have been blamed for all kinds of things over the years; the anorak for one. I note today that train spotting seems to have been the cause of a maths teacher from my home town, Newport, being arrested for soliciting; I find this rather strange, don’t you?

The 43 year old teacher, when caught by police in Wolverhampton with a prostitute in his camper van, said he was a train spotter who had got lost in the red light district.

David Harries told police he had got lost after travelling to see a special locomotive at the Severn Valley Railway.

Mr Harris was observed at night by an undercover police unit sitting in his camper van which had a makeshift bed in the back, and facilities to make tea and coffee.

Officers saw a woman getting into the vehicle and Harries driving off.

Harries told the court he had travelled to the area to see a locomotive, but he had got lost and stopped to make himself a cup of tea.

He claimed the prostitute had jumped into the car and told him to drive. Thinking the girl may be in danger, Harries had driven off. He later said he did not know the young woman was a prostitute...

Yeah right: Mr Harries, I think maybe you’ve stretched the bounds of believability just a little don’t you? You’ll be telling us there really is a Santa Claus next!

So Suffolk police have released Tom Stephens and charged Stephen Wright with all five murders: let's hope to God they've it right and the real murderer goes away for a very long time...

There's an article on the BBC News web.

Compliments of the season to all my fellow bloggers

I mentioned Huddy 'Leadbelly' Leadbetter in my Secret Santa and thought I'd post a potted history for those unsure who Huddy was.

Huddie William Ledbetter was born on January 29, 1885 on the Jeter Plantation near Mooringsport, Louisiana. He was the only child of his parents Wesley and Sally. Huddie and his parents moved to Leigh, Texas when he was five and it was there that he became interested in music, encouraged by his uncle Terrell who bought Huddie his first musical instrument, an accordion.

It was some years later when Huddie picked up the guitar but by the age of 21 he had left home to wander around Texas and Louisiana trying to make his living as a musician. Over the next ten years Huddie wandered throughout the southwest eking out an existence by playing guitar when he could and working as a laborer when he had to.

Huddie Ledbetter was the world's greatest cotton picker, railroad track liner, lover, and drinker as well as guitar player. This assertion came from no less an authority on the matter than Huddie himself. Since not everyone agreed with his opinion Huddie frequently found himself obliged to convince them. His convincing frequently landed him in jail.

In 1916 Huddie was in jail in Texas on assault charges when he escaped. He spent the next two years under the alias of Walter Boyd. But then after he killed a man in a fight he was convicted of murder and sentenced to thirty years of hard labor at Huntsville, Texas' Shaw State Prison Farm. After seven years he was released after begging pardon from the governor with a song:

Please, Governor Neff, Be good 'n' kind
Have mercy on my great long time...
I don't see to save my soul
If I don't get a pardon, try me on a parole...
If I had you, Governor Neff, like you got me
I'd wake up in the mornin' and I'd set you free

Pat Neff was convinced by the song and by Huddie's assurances that he'd seen the error of his ways. Huddie left Huntsville a free man. But in 1930 he was arrested, tried, and convicted of attempted homicide.

It was in the Louisiana State Penitentiary in July 1933 that Huddie met folklorist John Lomax and his son Alan who were touring the south for the Library of Congress collecting unwritten ballads and folk songs using newly available recording technology. The Lomaxes had discovered that Southern prisons were among the best places to collect work songs, ballads, and spirituals but Leadbelly, as he now called himself, was a particular find.

Over the next few days the Lomaxes recorded hundreds of songs. When they returned in the summer of 1934 for more recordings Leadbelly told them of his pardon in Texas. As Allen Lomax tells it, "We agreed to make a record of his petition on the other side of one of his favorite ballads, 'Goodnight Irene'. I took the record to Governor Allen on July 1. On August 1 Leadbelly got his pardon. On September 1 I was sitting in a hotel in Texas when I felt a tap on my shoulder. I looked up and there was Leadbelly with his guitar, his knife, and a sugar bag packed with all his earthly belongings. He said, 'Boss, you got me out of jail and now I've come to be your man'"

In 1935 Lomax took Leadbelly North where he became a sensation. Leadbelly remained Leadbelly. After hearing Cab Calloway sing in Harlem he announced that he could "beat that man singin' every time". His inclination toward violent resolution of conflicts, though mellowed, lead to threatening Lomax with a knife which effectively ended their friendship. Nevertheless by 1940 Leadbelly had become well known in the recording industry. Over the next 9 years Leadbelly's fame and success continued to increase until he fell ill while on a European Tour. Tests revealed that he suffered from lateral sclerosis and he died on December 6, 1949.

So there you go.

Okay so here it is, Usksider's tribute to Huddy Leadbetter (I wish!) and my
Secret Santa for Juzzy.
(remember to sing the following verses as 12 bar blues in E...)

Woke up this mornin’
stomped down the stairs
said I woke up this mornin’
and slumped down in my chair
opened up JD’s World and at my screen I stared.

Now Juzzzy’s a writer
with a whole lot to say
he’s in touch with the people
and come what may
his words make us smile, sometimes cry or pray.

You’ll find social comment
and you see some cartoons
the occasional image
from JD’s World looms
when you laugh at his pictures you won’t get them blues.

Now Juzzzy’s no fool
there’s his word for the day
with Nipper and Zeds
and defined by JD
you may never have heard them, but oh what the hey...

So if you’re feeling low
don’t go messin’ around
yeah if you’re feelin’ blue babe
don’t get yourself down
take a trip to JD’s World, share some time with the Clown.

Merry Christmas Juzzzy!

http://juzzzy.blog.co.uk/

One of the joys of tobacco is its ability to stain. I’m not talking about the nasty yellow mess you get on your fingers from too many fags (ex-smoker, hobby horse and all that), but the wonderfully subtle browns you get from soaking a cloth bag of fag ends in a bucket of water.

One of our local artists spends some of his time experimenting with ceramics. The pots shown here were rejects; I saved them from his discard shelf because frankly I thought they were much too nice to be destroyed. So I spoke to David and he agreed I could buy them for a couple of quid. I should add I’ll happily buy perfect examples as and when he’s perfected them.

The technique used to get the feathering is to suck some tobacco juice into a straw and blow it over the pot’s surface. The idea of getting a gob-full of the goo doesn’t appeal to me in the least, but I really like the effect on the pots.

Anyone else out there like this sort of thing?

A 37-year-old man has been arrested on suspicion of murdering five women whose bodies were found at sites around the Ipswich area.

Supermarket worker Tom Stephens was arrested by police at his home at Trimley St Martin, near Felixstowe.

He is being held on suspicion of murdering prostitutes Gemma Adams, Anneli Alderton, Tania Nicol, Paula Clennell and Annette Nicholls.

Mr Stephens is in custody at an unnamed police station in Suffolk.

He is due to be questioned by detectives later. (more)

Don’t you hate it when trees cry?
When boughs drip with tears?
Life can be extremely cruel,
Torturing through the years.

It breaks my heart to see trees bleed
Their life sap running free;
Sad to see them suffer
I dip on bended knee

And ask one so much wiser
If She will intervene,
For the cruelty of the living
Often goes unseen.

Yes I hate to see trees cry.
Despair to see their tears.
To witness nobles in such state
Augments my inner fears.

Okay time to get my reluctant arse off the comfort of my settee and get my act together: the delights of Christmas Shopping in the Principality's capital await...

See you folks later - if I survive!

Well the daughter descended on us yesterday, boyfriend in tow. Within 10 minutes our once clean and tidy living space was transformed into something resembling a refugee camp in some far-off war zone. Why do young people seem to need so much stuff when they travel these days? It’s beyond me. I travelled my way half way round the world with far less ‘stuff’ than either of our two refugees brought with them yesterday.

Still it’s not the end of the world since the mess will eventually clear and some kind of normality return to the household; the important thing is the daughter has returned safe, sound and seemingly happy.

Today I am being dragged kicking and screaming into Cardiff for a bout of Christmas Shopping: I hate Christmas shopping! Thank you dear daughter for arranging this especial treat for me. Have you still not twigged I’d rather avoid the heaving masses and spend my Sunday is peaceful reflection? It seems not...

A Christmas tree also made its appearance yesterday and I suppose I’m resigned now to accepting the whole festive thing. It’s not that I don’t like Christmas you understand, I just find all the false bonhomie and rampant commercialism a little hard to deal with. I suppose I’ll have to get the ladders out and hang my body in various strange angles to put up the outside lights. Humbug!

The fatted calf has been slain and hung: it’s to be the Roast Beef Of Old England for dinner in this house tonight. Roast potatoes, carrots, parsnip, cabbage and of course Yorkshire pudding and a rich gravy to accompany; I might have to push the boat out a little and make a port gravy. It would be nice to make my own horseradish sauce too, but somehow I can’t see that happening. It’s going to be a busy day one way and another.

Well at least I’m on holiday this week and can have a second and much more relaxing Sunday tomorrow.

Today is the anniversary of the Boston Tea Party (16 December 1773).

We all know things are bigger and better in America, but can you imagine using 300 chests of leaves to make tea in a harbour? Must’ve been expecting a lot of guests!

Tepid is the winter sunshine that lights the granite and the marble.
Still the air, unstirred by December’s breeze.
Quiet is the grey scene, silent the inhabitants;
Only the distant cawing murder of crows suggests life.

Death stalks this bleak mid-winter scene,
But not new or recent death
For all here are long gone, putrefied.
Returned to their very essence.
Returned to the land.
The worms crawl in...

I am alone, standing in my reverie
Considering my private thoughts,
Sharing with no other the turmoil within.

I am alone.
Desperate and alone.

Some folk are superficial
A pretty face they seek,
But oft-times fail to remember
Beauty is just skin deep.

Look inside the visage
And examine what you find,
The casing may be warty
While there’s beauty in the mind.

Old Warty Face ain’t pretty
He’ll give you quite a scare,
His vis is full of lumps and bumps
With stray bits in his hair.

But Warty Face is kind of heart
He won’t do you no harm,
So forget his odd appearance
And take him by the arm.

Speak gently when you meet him
Listen close to his reply,
Old Warty Face will prove the point
Beauty’s not only in the eye.

...in the morning for me, so I'm off.

G'night all!