Inglish as wot she is spoke

Amongst a raft of other things I did today, I went in to my local bank.

There was an Asian lady waiting, not in the queue,and eventually the manager ( if that's what they are nowadays) came out to speak to her.

The Asian lady spoke with a pronounced Glaswegian accent. The gist of the conversation was that she had phoned the call centre about something - which of course was in India.

The conversation went..." An ah canna unnerstan a wurd they peeple sez."

Sic Transit Jamilla....

A Great Occasion

Yesterday was spent in Edinburgh, gearing up for the last night of the Royal Edinburgh Military Tattoo.

2 Div, which is the brigade that is stationed in Scotland, were the hosts and a fine collection of punters we were. I was the only one without any medals.

This is the 60th. anniversary ( it began in 1950) and it has returned to it's roots, having flirted with less military themes in the 80's and 90's. Last night included the Pipes and Drums of the Gurkhas, which is partly why I was invited.

The final firework display was a fine ending, and I defy anyone to hear the Lone Piper spotlit on the Castle Battlements and not to feel the hair on the back of their heads bristle. Tattoo comes from the words "Doe den Tap Toe", Dutch for "turn off the taps" which was the cry in the 17th. and 18th. centuries in the Low Countries,when the fifes and drums of the local regiment marched through the streets signalling it was time for the troops to return to barracks.

This year of course was especially poignant because of the deaths in Afghanistan, and quite a number of the participants last night were not long back.

Next year, astonishingly, marks 10 years of us fighting in Afghanistan. A group of students have come together to form DECAID which will raise money for a variety of military charities, hopefully the GWT included.

Two of the projects are worth mentioning. One will be a full parade of 2,500 Pipers and Drummers marching down the Royal Mile, immediately after armed forces day next year. It will be well worth securing a view.

The other is nearer my heart. A group of 6 young men will climb ALL the 283 Munros in a seven week period. They will walk all the way, including between the peaks. It includes canoeing to the Islands.Incredibly, the record for doing this by a single person is 39 days.

The intention is that each Munro will be dedicated to a dead soldier in Afghanistan, and that will include a spell which will be dedicated the the Gurkhas.

Sadly, we are already past the 283 deaths that would cover the Munros.

Corncrakes

I've had to do a quick ( as in two days there) trip to Romania, as my incredibly valuable signature is required on a EU document to enable me to get my hands on Eur150,000 of EU cash.

Some months ago, the Gnome ( you can guess why he's called that) came across some Corncrakes on our land.

Now Corncrakes are on the red list and we should all be doing our utmost to keep them with us. Naturally, we do rather more when our palms are crossed with silver.

So the EU is providing me with money to expand the area where the Corncrakes are and to create a sort of "corridor" for them to flit to and fro between.

We can only use the land for hay thereafter, but as this will add up to about Eur 100 per hectare, and we get the EU subsidy of a further Eur 67 per ha, this will represent quite a nice return on our net costs per ha of about Eur250 after the EU grant. The Romanian government is supposed to be lobbing in a few quid as well, because they should attract eco-tourists.

It's a long term project, but what it does do is underpin and secure our business in Romania for the long term.

The Mayor has been very helpful in leasing us some extra land to cover the loss of agricultural land this will entail.

I did have to promise him that he could be the first to see them... once we find them again....

Into the yellow leaf...

I'm back from Switzerland, after my cousin's funeral.

It was a lovely time, despite the lashing rain and freezing temperatures.

Her four children and myself talked endlessly about times gone by , mulled over old pictures ( who was that?) and remembered odd things ( there should have been an enormous bowl of ice cubes on the dining table to add to her white wine.)

We all threw a white rose into the grave and some earth, and her eldest son said a few words, followed by me, who had known her longest. We both said to remember that she loved us all in her own way, and I reminded her children that she was very proud of them too.

Then we all went to the Hotel du Lac for an excellent lunch amidst general bonhomie.

The evening was spent back at her magnificent Maison de Maitre, making pasta and heating up the ubiquitous cheese tarts. No one had been there for 2 years, but the vegetable patch was still flourishing, growing produce for the gardener.

Her younger son ( No.4) and my two eldest ( Ms Lear Senior and Mrs. Rock God) had great laughs remembering all the holidays they had together. My children were always very envious of No.4 because he was allowed to do practically anything he wanted , whilst mine were always being circumscribed.

As No.4 said, " Well, that's blind indifference in upbringing." He was not wrong.

I do hope her four children and our family remain friends. I knew her all her life, and all of her children all their lives.

As we left the table, No.4 clicked his fingers and shouted " Staff! Staff!" which had always been his mother's way of dealing with anything.

It raised a good laugh but brought a tear to more than just my eye.

A life less ordinary

I've been saddened by the recent death of a cousin of mine, who was variously known as Mrs.Posh,The Hoor, and the Alkie.

This might make you think she was less than loved, but, as I was brought up with her, I never felt less than great affection for her.

Being some 9 years older than me, as a very little boy I'm sure I had to perform as her baby whilst she played little mother, and in the old days when you could dial only local numbers,she and I used to dial random numbers and ask to speak to odd people, then slam the phone down shrieking with laughter.

She hated school, and my father, who sort of looked after family matters, was continually having to take her back and ask for another chance at a whole string of places. The one school she quite liked was at Rolle in Switzerland, where she was able to get out and indulge her taste for both men and drink.

She crashed her father's Rolls into the side of her ( much older) future husband's Alfa Spider in order to make sure she got his attention. That was in the South of France when she was 18, and had just done the season - and a lot of the deb's delights too.

She married at 19 an ex-Austrian Swiss National 24 years older than herself ( having paid to repair the Spider) who had escaped from Hitler and done well. He was to go on and produce Peter Seller's films and The Go Between with her money. But he really made his wealth from buying up all the French films after the war for $10 each and then renting them worldwide at $1000 a time.

When they divorced three children later, it was - and remains - the second most expensive divorce case ever, second only to Margaret, Duchess of Argyle.

She married again and had a further son, but the marriage was short lived.

I always felt very sorry for her in that she never appeared to have any enjoyment in her life - sex and booze yes, but not contentment and happiness. It later years, even if the world was coming to an end, her response was usually that she was having problems with the swimming pool, or the staff - or both.

Just one story.

As I've said, her husband was Swiss. In those days, Swiss jurisdiction meant that she could never have her children, as they automatically became wards of the father.

Stupidly, she allowed her ex-husband to take them on a skiing trip to Switzerland, where they were promptly purloined legally by the father.

My cousin immediately appealed to my father for help. As all his brothers and sisters said he was the cleverest of them, and, rather like myself, was not one for sitting back. He was a man of instant action and reaction.

He drove immediately from London to Villars with my cousin and me. He dropped me in Geneva with airline tickets in my name and those of my cousin and her three children for the following afternoon.

At Villars, he managed to collect the children early from ski-school, and raced off south to the St.Bernard tunnel, crossing into Italy before 7pm. Luckily, as was the way in those days, children were on their mother's passport until they turned 16. My cousin and her children caught the early flight to London from Milan, and by lunch time were wards of the English Court - delegating custody to the mother.

Father (wisely) set off back to London via France.

In the meantime I was still in Geneva, and sauntered up to the check -in desk at the appointed time - whereupon several burly Swiss policemen and my cousin's husband descended on me.

Needless to say, like Manuel, I knew Nathing.

Of course, eventually the Swiss figured it out and my father was persona non-grata for a few years.

But he was always rather pleased with his escapade.

And her husband is still alive and well...

I wanna tell you a stawy

I finally have a little time to tell you a stawy, as Max Bygraves used to say.

I have a friend who is Armenian by descent, but Iranian by birth, who is now about 46. Lets call him Mr.Notsonice

He lives in London. He has no money, he is ill with ME, and he stumbles around the Iranian ex-pat community.

About four weeks ago, a friend of his, the Ex-Ambassador I mentioned some time ago,appeared on his doorstep with a young ( as in 24 year old) girl in tow. Lets call her Miss Fancypants.

Now the story is that they had never met before and he had simply asked her to accompany him to see Mr.Notso, because she was nicely dressed. And smelled nice too. Can you imagine any girl in her right mind doing that?

That was a Thursday evening. They all went out and had a meal, and on Friday Mr. N and Miss F went out together on a date. They went back to his flat and three and a half weeks later she is still there.

What's odd about that, you may ask? Well, with the best will in the world, no female in her right mind would give Mr. Notso the time of day, let alone sleep with him. He admits to never having had sex without paying for it. All of a sudden Christmas has come every day of the week as far as he is concerned.

Miss F professes undying love for Mr. N. So much so that there is talk of wedding bells, parents being introduced and the like. And yes she has a British Passport and a job in a lawyers office before you ask if that's the motive.

She is supporting him, running around after him and generally not letting him lift a finger. Mr. Notso is wandering around looking as if he has been hit over the head with an extremely large hammer.

Now call me an old cynic ( I am) but this just cannot be 100% on the level. He's a friend of mine and even I don't like him quite a lot of the time.

To my mind there are two possible reasons.

1) She is being chased by a gang of international crooks and she is using Mr.Notso as a safe house.

2) She is a plant from the Iranian Secret Service trying to get inside the dissident Iranian community in London. She is much better looking than Mata Hari .

Either way, Mr. Notso may not have long to live.....

The love that jolly well ought to speak it's name.

I have been remiss, dear reader, in not keeping you up to date with the goings on in my realm. I have, perhaps uncharacteristically, been very busy with funerals and other matters, which have kept me away from a keyboard for a longish time.
I have a tale of intrigue and skullduggery to tell, but not the time to do it today.
For the moment, I just want to bring to your attention a new production of Romeo and Juliet.
What's interesting about that, you may say.
Well, it stars Michael Byrne and Sian Phillips. The former is 67.
The latter 77 - and perhaps best known for being married in the 60's to Peter O'Toole.

But my point is, this is ROMEO and JULIET. Surely a couple of wrinklies shouldn't be allowed to play two young lovers?

All I can say is I think it's a brilliant idea. Let's reinvent romance and find such a love in our waning years.

How to handle the Taliban

SERVING BG MEDIA REPORTING

1. There has been a report in the Media of a Gurkha soldier on active service in Afghanistan, who is reported to have decapitated a member of the Taliban.

2. The incident remains under investigation by ISAF authorities.

3. Any media enquiries regarding this incident should be referred to the MOD Press Desk on 020 7218 2661.

That'll make the blighters think twice before messing with the Gurkhas!

Our three lads.

From the MOD:

I regret to inform you that the following were killed in action on operations in Afghanistan on 12 Jul whilst serving with 1 RGR:

Major James Bowman RIFLES seconded to 1 RGR – Officer Commanding A Company. James was a bachelor, his parents live in Tidworth.

Lieutenant Neal Turkington RGR – Platoon Commander A Company. Neal was a bachelor, his parents live in NI.

Corporal Arjun Purja Pun RGR – A Coy. Corporal Arjun Purja Pun was a Battle Casualty Replacement detached from Sittang Company RMAS. He was married with a son and a daughter. His wife and children live in UK. His parents live in Nepal and will be informed through HQ British Gurkhas Nepal.

Next of Kin have been informed.

Even more sadly, James Bowman was known to me. His most recent communication told of his hugely rewarding times with the Gurkhas, that they had had some "crunchy" times in Afghanistan but thankully were on top and staying there.
He had been invited to the GWT dinner in October at the New Club in Edinburgh, but had had to decline as he was to be on ops.

A Black Day

From Spean Bridge Hotel:
"We are very sad at the hotel to lose 3 of our friends today.Our flag is now half-mast. Please convey our sorrow. We are thinking of you. All keep safe. We send our love to you all..Commando bar and all staff"

Another day another hill

Well we've made it to Friday so only 2 more Munro's - Lochnagar which weirdly is a mountain - and Mount Keen.
Wednesday was the most glorious day and I accompanied the boys up the hill. When we got back down I had to reach for the moisturiser for my arms and face.Wednesday night was also the reception in Kingussie, where lots of RBLs from eg Nairn and Granton on Spey came and presented us with cheques, our piper played and we were also enjoined to dance Nepali dances to the Mardle drum rhythm. I also had the most extraordinary conversation with a perfectly nice looking chap, who clearly decided he needed to tell me all about a) his sex life and b) his likes and dislikes about the size and shape of the various parts of the female body.Fortunately I was rescued as he was working his way down...
One of the RBL Chairmen just happens to be a piper and a piping judge, and he also obliged with a few tunes which brought everyone to their feet.
Thursday as ever was the longest day and characterised by wind and rain.Tea was very required as they came in about an hour earlier than anticipated. My view is this group are even fitter and more determined than their forerunners, making quite sure their times are noted, so that next year's lot will find it hard to beat.
We stayed last night at The Inver Hotel at Crathie, where Susan always makes us most welcome and gives us free food and on this occasion accommodation as well.
One of the interesting pieces of information I have gleaned this time is about "khud" races.
In the old days, the army always posted pickets on the top of the hills around where it was marching or bivouacking, so that they would not be subject to a surprise attack.
Of course, the poor pickets had to run for their lives as they were withdrawn, and as the Gurkhas were the best mountain runners, they always got the job where speed and mountain craft were essential. The pathans used to hide in gullies trying to guess which way they would run, and obviously kill them if they could.
In general the Gurkhas won through, but on the second retreat from Kabul ( will we witness the next?) 35 Gurkhas died keeping what enemies they could away from the main force.
Tonight there is a reception in Banchory where we will be on parade to receive more cheques.

A letter from Joanna Lumley to our 7 Gurkhas

Beyond the seventh mountain,
Beyond the seventh glen,
Beyond the seventh waterfall,
March seven Gurkha men.



This could almost been written for you! In fact it comes from the Disney film of Snow White: and these eerily, almost-accurate words came from the mirror consulted by the Wicked Stepmother.

Scotland would not be the same without the tread of Gurkha feet over its hills and glens, and I am thrilled to think that this year you will be organising a scarily ambitious programme to raise money for the GWT.

May good fortune and fine weather dog your footsteps, and may the pleasure of companionship cancel out the pain of blisters. This brings a thousand good wishes and Namaste to all your fine walkers from Joanna and a whoosh of green smoke and an eerie cackle from the Wicked Stepmother (whom I am able to channel at will).

Joanna

Gurkha Highlander 2010- Day 3

The memorial service for Gurkha Highlander went off exceptionally well last night - even the sun came out, and the hills had that magnificent grandeur they take on when cloud and sun come together in a certain way.We had a lovely message read out to us from Joanna Lumley, which I know is now being disseminated through the media.
You may not know this but Joanna was married to her present husband in Fort William- just along from where we are climbing the seven summits.
Frank in the Spean Bridge Hotel had again produced his best curries, and everyone had a jolly party afterwards.
Today the lads climbed Creag Meagaidh, getting up and down in about 5 hours,although two of them did it in about 4.
When I went back to pick them up I donned my walking boots again and headed up the hill. After about 45 minutes two ladies and a dog came running towards me - I would have to say they were of the " broad bosomed, bold, becalmed, benign " of Balham fame - except their broad bosoms were anything but becalmed as they jounced about with each step. They steamed past with a cheery wave and I conti. After another 5 minutes or so, two of the boys ( who were in training for Trailwalker until they got an injury so are now in recovery training)came flying down the path towards me. I dug in my pocket and held out the van key,which one of them grabbed out of my hand on the way past.
I turned back at that point...
The leader today was a senior serving officer, whose connection is that he was in
10th Gurkhas as a Captain. The more astonishing thing about him is that he was in a class of 7 at Stirling University in his youth, along with Jack McConnel and Tommy Sheridan.He also had Eric Joyce with him, well known as the MP who claimed the most ever expenses. Amongst other subjects they were studying politics, and the discussions must have been wonderful.
Tonight we are having Baht at the organiser's house in Kingussie - followed by another party/fundraiser in the Silverfjord hotel.
Should be fun...

Gurkha Highlander 2010 - the Seven Summits

I suppose this is technically day two and the weather, as ever, continues to disappoint. Whilst most of the UK is sweltering in 80F heat, we in Spean Bridge are on about 14 C ( = 56F) with heavy rain and mist. In fact, as we drove towards the departure point this morning, there were 3 Munro's ahead of us. You could see the top of two. I asked the boys which one they thought they were going for." The one with the heavy mist, sahib" came the chorus.
Frank made us his special fish curry last night.The Nepalese are not huge fish eaters, so they were a bit circumspect to begin with when it appeared. Suffice to say it all got eaten.
We just saw the end of the Engerland match. End being the operative word.
We did, however, watch the Argentina versus Mexico in the bar, where there was a man and a women in Argentine strip, going berserk for most of the match, the lady screaming in what I assume was Argentine and the bloke in a very strong Scottish accent. At half time I asked them how they came to be here. They lived just up the road and the lady was from Argentina. The chap made it quite clear that following Scotland was toooo depressing, whilst following England was clearly out of the question. Plus it helped with matrimonial harmony if Argentina lost as they could commiserate with each other.
Before setting off this morning we had a practice at the Commando Memorial for the wreath laying we have tonight. Piper Samir played "Flowers of the Forest" most sweetly, and Sgt Dev laid the wreath with enormous aplomb. I hope it goes as well this evening when supposedly TV crews and newspaper journalists will attend.
In the meantime, I have to get in the food for tomorrow's climb, which includes lots of sweeties. Gurkhas have a sweet tooth, especially for chewy ones, so several jumbo bags will be required. Then I have to get the tea flasks ready for the boys coming down off the mountain.
As Corporal Ang said yesterday " I didn't know tea could taste as good, Sahib!"

GH 10 launch!

I'm sitting in the reception at the Spean Bridge Hotel, which is, as always, the nerve centre of the Gurkha Highlander Operation each year.This is GH10.
Frank, the owner, and all the staff are so good to us that despite the place being generally overcrowded, we love being here.
Together with my chum, we drove Arnold Clark's minibus down to Sandhurst on Friday, and I ate my first curry of the period. Quite why I'm not sure, as I could have had a KFC or a McDonalds or a kebab in the immediate vicinity of the Travelodge we were in.
On second thoughts, the curry was the most acceptable option.
It didn't stop us having an egg & sausage McMuffin for breakfast - the option of GBP7.50 or GBP 1.99 was no contest when every fiver we can save pays for the food for an old pensioner for nearly a week in Nepal.
Sandhurst itself almost brought tears to the eyes of my pal as we drove to collect the lads - he had been there 37 years earlier as a sprog lieutenant. I have to say he has lost none of his military bearing over the years, despite not being career military.
We stopped off in Stafford to collect the rest then battered on up the road. My chum got off at Croy to take the train back to Edinburgh, and I drove on.
Frank welcomed us like long lost friends, insisting all the kitchen staff met us,as well as the customers in the bar, the restaurant, the hotel and the fish and chip shop, so it took a while to get to the first drink - which Frank paid for himself.
His boar curry was delicious, as was the chicken and pork, and the rice mountains were quickly demolished. Mind you, we do not have The Man Mountain with us this year who could eat any four people under the table and still be looking round for seconds....
Sunday dawned dull and cold ( 14C) so the smart new fleeces were donned for the assault on Ben Nevis.
The format is a bit different this year ( you can read about it here) which means I will have slightly less driving to do ( if you discount the 2000 to collect and drop off the boys. This was done to save enough for 20 pensioners for a month - times are really tough in the world of charities and we have to go for even more value for money.
So please - give money if you can, but even more importantly mention the Gurkha Welfare Trust on your blog, or Facebook or whatever.
I promise you it will make you feel good....

Defeat!

The Sun ran a front page special last December after the draw for the World Cup.
It ran:
England
Algeria
Slovenia
Yanks.
Those with some linguistic ability will spot the initial letters form " EASY". The sub-title was " Best English Group since the Beatles!"
I have little or no interest in fu'baw, but I have to admit to my interest being increased by England's two appalling performances so far.
In order to progress they now have to beat Slovenia, which, from last night's performance looks a)impossible and b)has the potential for an England defeat.
I told you the reason for the white flags with the red crosses in an earlier post.
I suspect there are even more England fans with metaphorically short appendages this morning....

A fairytale romance..?

Back to Glasgow and some better weather.
Things here in the underworld are getting a little sticky.
Glasgow has always been known for it's "gangs" but of course these are just the footmen for the knights, lords, earls,dukes and kings behind them.
Sometimes a footman gets the better of himself and then things become somewhat hairy.
Jimmy, for it is he, many years ago did some odd things in Ireland, and to this day frequents a pub called the Crystal Bells on Glasgow's Gallowgate. It is entirely untrue to suggest it is an IRA drinking den.
Now Jimmy had a lady-love ( Senga - in case you don't know this is Agnes backwards. It's like houses and pubs that are called NIA ROO. This is OUR AIN backwards. Got that?)
Senga, like many a lass, had her head turned by the wealth and power of Sean, and dropped Jimmy for greener pastures.
But inside Senga's breast her attachment to Jimmy never left her, and after yet another enormous row, she dumped Sean.
Now Sean is one of the high ups in charge of various taxi firms in the town and connected to the Crystal Bells ( you need to keep up and make the connections yourself.)
Senga phones Jimmy, begs forgiveness, tells him she is finished with Sean, and can they meet - in another pub which shall remain nameless. Jimmy goes along, and he and Senga start chatting and canoodling - and then Sean walks in, alerted by just about everyone in Glasgow who he had told to let him know where Senga was.
Sean slaps Jimmy about the face a couple of times and tells him to leave Senga alone, or Sean will set about Jimmy in no uncertain terms. In order to save Jimmy from a worse fate, Senga tells him to go. Jimmy agrees, and goes to the loo to tidy up a bit.
Only he bursts out ten seconds later brandishing the knife he had down the inside of his sock, and stabs Sean 53 times, all the time shouting " Set aboot me? I'll show ya set aboot me, ya ***@@^!"
In the ensuing mayhem Jimmy escapes, leaving behind the knife sticking out of Sean.
When the police arrive,they are able to get half a dozen witnesses, DNA and fingerprints off the knife, and promptly put an APB arrest warrant for Jimmy.
That was six weeks ago. Jimmy discussed with his lawyer trying for self defence (even to lawyers and criminals with flexible minds, 53 stabs is a bit much for self defence - 8 or ten yes, but not 53...)but the lawyer said the best bet was to turn himself in.
Jimmy, of course, is heartbroken - not that he killed Sean but that Senga will now have nothing to do with him.
So the for the last 6 weeks he has been wandering around Glasgow from house to house as various relatives go away for a few days, but blind drunk most of the time.
It hasn't stopped him drinking in a large number of pubs causing problems,nor ending up in the Crystal Bells shouting he could batter any one present.
He even turned up at a police station one night when he had forgotten which house he was supposed to be hiding in and asked them to put him up for the night. As he was clearly totally drunk, the police refused to take him in,so he sat on the pavement outside and went to sleep - from which the police roused him about 7am.
But here's the thing - why are none of Sean's associates after Jimmy, and why are the police ( who would appear to be taking urgent and stringent steps to arrest him) not got him yet?
Could it be connected with various taxis being set alight in the night and the police being very grateful for Sean's death?
As Bubble would say in AbFab " Who can say..?"

Love in the time of Cholera

You may remember that I am involved in the domain name business, which has broadened my knowledge of human failings and quirks considerably.
One of the more annoying things are the emails from people saying they want a domain we own, but they have no money, and would we be really kind and just give it to them.Or say they used to own it and demand we give it back to them - again for free.I wonder if they would let me have their England fubaw shirt for free... no hang about, they well might.
Anyway, one of the things we do is dating sites - I know, tacky and sleazy - but there are something like 20 million ( yes that's MILLION) people registered with dating sites in the UK alone.
For some reason South Africa has not that many less, but of course the holy grail is North America, where there are well over 50 million men and women of every sexual orientation looking for the One - or even just a one-night stand.
In amongst these are the poor souls who have a serious problem, like an STD (HIV,herpes, aids etc).They have no fewer yearnings and needs than the rest of us, and of course there are actually quite a lot of them out there.
So it wasn't a total shock when I got a request to add to the dating sites we have one domain that has good traffic for related medication (might earn 50p per day) and
which,when translated into an STD dating site, appears to be earning USD 10-15 per day.
I do not in any way suggest, dear reader, that you have such a problem, but I can only say my eyes have been opened to another area where help is desperately needed.
Click here to find out more.
PS The title of this post refer to a rather good book by Gabriel García Márquez

A miss is as good as a mile

I'm seriously busy in Romania, catching up with all the stuff I should have done last time when a) the weather was bad and b)I spent a couple of days in bed.
It hasn't prevented everyone ( and I do mean everyone) laughing like drains at the England - USA fubaw match that ended in a draw, after one of the classic goalkeeping blunders by some overpaid stiff called Green.
I am,of course, not English, so the joke is even better as far as my Romanian friends are concerned.
I did hear a joke that superseded the match.
The new British Government is seriously worried that men's penises in the UK are becoming too small to perform properly.
As a result they have asked that every man with a penis of less than 3 inches in length display a white flag with a red cross on it either as a flag on their car or out of the windows of their houses.
If you've been in England recently you will know that there are literally millions of poor chaps in a dire state.
Can't say I've noticed any such flags in Scotland - or Wales for that matter.....

A Charitable weekend

To Corstorphine Fair on Saturday for the Gurkhas.
30,000 people attend this event which is in aid of local charities.We had a visit from mthe local MSP, the MEP, the ex-MP and the new MP, all of whom ( of course) wanted their pictures taken and to be associated with the Lumley Campaign.
I wouldn't mind so much, but not one of them put their hand in their pockets ( or handbag) to give us a donation.
Overall though, it was a good event, and apart from collecting money, we gave out lots of leaflets. In common with most military charities, our supporter's average age is increasing so we need some younger blood at the bottom end.
The preparations for Gurkha Highland 2010 proceed apace. There is no offical cap this year as we are trying to reduce the budget ( where have I heard that one before?) so I will be wearing my 2009 cap.
Or maybe the 2008 one.
On Sunday I helped out the Friends of Maxwell Park at the Ready Steady Grow event.
I really must start charging for my time...