Live Aid - The UK Part

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Was in 1985 that's thirty two years ago, most of the people there are in their fifties now, the audience looked so young, so full of enthusiasm for the cause, the music and for the occasion. Many of the audience will have spent the past thirty two years, having families, working to keep them and if they thought of it paying into a pension fund.

No one in the Live Aid audience was racist, bigoted or against any religion, after all the vast majority of them had little or no knowledge of the threat Islam represents.

Look at the audience! Young, energetic full of enthusiasm and look at the years since then, Live Aid money and it must have been £billions has gone. Too many wars no one in the audience or on stage wanted fought in their 'name' and worst of all people still starving and dying all over the world.

Many if not most of the audience will have voted for Brexit, Brexit was their 'Fuck You' to the establishment for lying for decades and for the danger to their families the EU establishment have created.

Thirty two years brings change, name one good one.

See, Its Like This

Trixie ruled the work top. She allowed no invaders and she did not share, such an idea would never cross her mind. Tax aka Herself was by the time Trixie came along indifferent to status and in any event nothing short of an earth quake could shake Herself s  own sense of superiority and Trixie knew it. No, it was Pippa the territorial battle of the work top was intended to and succeeded in keeping Pippakin firmly at ground level.

And for twelve years it worked. Pippa stayed firmly grounded until my beautiful Trixie was mowed down by some thug in a tractor.  Its no good thinking I will ever forgive or forget anyone who knows me knows that's a non starter.

We are however now going through what I hope will be a fast if steep learning curve. Pippa has never learned the rules of the work top. Both Tax and Trixie knew the rules of the work top poor Pippa never had to and now she does.

The work top has the sink almost in the middle. Tax and Trixie both knew for them the sink was the Berlin Wall. I and all the paraphernalia of kitchen, washing, cooking and cleaning were carried out on 'my' side of the wall. No cat was allowed to cross it and they didn't, except for those occasions when Trixie took a nap on the draining board. Its twelve years since I had to train a cat which side of the work top was theirs.

Until now. Pippa never had the opportunity to learn the rules of the work top and nor does she show any interest in learning them now. Trixie and Herself are gone and if anyone thinks I am anything like a deterrent - think again. The naughty girl is strolling up and down the work top for all the world as if the whole of it is her domain The only reason she notices the sink is make sure she doesn't fall in on her way to interrupt whatever it is I'm doing.

I didn't notice Pippa not learning the rules of the work top and I'm thinking I may have left teaching Pippa a little late.  Thing is cats have to be on the work top for meals, its easily cleaned and most importantly its out of the reach of greedy dogs. Pippa has a lesson to learn.

Well! Pippa aint learnt it yet and what's worse she shows absolutely no sign of even considering what is after all a minor adjustment, obviously I lack the claw power of both Herself and Trixie. 

SeaBiscuit

A small horse SeaBiscuit knocked around the horse racing circuit for a few years, he never amounted to much during those years but he did run in more races than most of the other apparently superior thoroughbred horses of that time.

There was nothing much to see SeaBiscuit wasn't a beautiful horse by any standard or yardstick and there was more than a bit of the sod you street kid about him. I chose the picture above because the look of SeaBiscuits ears, mouth and particularly his eyes show he's ready to push well known rider George Woolf out of the way If anyone did the messing around it would be SeaBiscuit.

What no one noticed until Howard his last owner saw it was while this ungainly, ugly, horse had all the looks and build of a donkey, he also had the heart, brain, stamina and temperament of his grandfather - the bad tempered, bad mannered, unbeatable and totally thoroughbred Man O' War The fastest, strongest and most belligerent horse of his or any other time except so it is said for his own grandfather a horse called Hastings.

Whatever it was it worked and the reason it worked is a knobbly, stubborn, bad tempered little horse with magic in his heart and gold in his ancestry

SeaBiscuit and a horse called Secretariat were descendants of Man 'O War. In Secretariat it was obvious from birth, his size, colouring and his imperious, aristocratic manner. Not so with SeaBiscuit he had no obvious attributes he was small, ungainly, and in light of his achievements obvious proof that appearances aren't everything. I do wonder if both Secretariat and SeaBiscuit may have inherited the spirit, heart, stamina and temperament of Man O War.

I don't study horses I don't know about horses but like all of us sometimes a family resemblance whilst not physically visible shines like a star when they move. Man O War parents were Fair Play and Mahubah and whatever 'gift' they gave him must still be in the family.

Sometimes the cynic who lives on my shoulder wonders if SeaBiscuits owner Charles S Howard, a very good salesman saw the need for something to boost the confidence of the American workers who had suffered so much during the depression and persuaded the establishment and Mr Riddle the owner of War Admiral, who was also the offspring of Man O' War, that maybe a David to beat the Goliath of the depression would give people confidence, and perhaps, maybe, just possibly a wee deal was done. War Admiral did lose so easily and so convincingly to SeaBiscuit..

None of us just get on our feet and recover from something that devastates us, saps our confidence and knocks us not just off our feet but off our balance. SeaBiscuit was the little man to the little people they had faith in him and he did not let them down He loved being the hero.

Update

I should add I have seen a You Tube clip that said Secretariat is maybe thought to have got his enlarged heart from his mothers side of the family. Out of the depths of my ignorance I believe it...But I keep thinking Secretariat, SeaBiscuit and War Admiral are direct descendants of  Man O' War, as are many other thoroughbred horses, but, hmm, but...Man O' War just happened to be a chestnut coloured horse with a star on his forehead...I do know, of course I do that we all including all horses inherit many and varied bits of our ancestors, colouring from this one, height from that one and so on, but even so...

I almost forgot to mention Secretariat wasn't the only horse called Big Red at home the name first belonged to Man O' War...

Huh! Did you know they did an autopsy on SeaBiscuit and discovered he had larger lungs than most other horses? He may, like Secretariat also have had a larger heart but that bit of the clip wasn't entirely clear so I can't say for sure. But, if had to choose the line of inheritance of speed, stamina and strength and temperament - I'd still choose Man O' War.

The Past

Is another country, or so they say, the older I get the more the past resembles a series of occasions, not even episodes, just quiet nondescript occasions where nothing much happened, people I remember with huge affection spoke and nothing much happened. It was always going to be that way.

Of course it never is, perhaps life really is no more than a series of occasions.

I remember staying up all night with Sam our old boxer/retriever cross. He had dislocated his  hip, the vet said he was too old for surgery and his hip might heal almost perfectly, so I lay beside him and waited for him to feel better.

I recall standing over someone waiting for the pills to melt for if I didn't watch closely the pills would be spat down the sink or the toilet and I couldn't risk that.

There was the time someone important came home. It took all day growing worried I went out to look and when I got home there he was.

So many occasions, the time I got up to find out what the noise was and stood at the bedroom window watching next doors washing fly off on its line. It was the London hurricane.

There are a million scenes of occasions, dots in space leading from one to another all that joins them on a line of their own is me.

The past is never gone good occasions sustain us through all times, bad occasions sadden and wound us anew on each stabbing, relentless occasion.

No life is pain free, curse free or regret free. If we can look at each occasion and say we did no harm we are fortunate indeed.

The child I was could have been better, one school report said 'works well when interested' Ah, too often I was not interested. The woman I became was not interested in a permanent relationship, my interest and total focus was on family. The older woman I am today has no regrets the girl and the younger woman marched as she chose. They did no harm.

Pippakin

Has regained much of her former equilibrium, she goes out but never for long. She reclaimed her chair which she hadn't bothered with since Ollie died and last night she slept on her cushion. I didn't buy it for her I bought it years ago for Tax, but Tax never took any interest in it and Pippa appropriated it. Last night she slept on it for the first time since Trixie died.

That's quite important when she came home Pippa lay on my bed to sleep, which she always liked anyway but not to stay on all the time. If she wasn't on my bed she would be under my desk on a cushion I put there for her. I do wonder she must have seen Trixie long before I found her. the shock of finding big, bold Trixie must have been huge.

I'm the one who doesn't like her to go out. I don't like the road I don't like that she the eldest is the only one who can leave the garden at will. The road is dangerous for small animals.

The good news is Tesco have restocked Cat Club so when I go to town I no longer need to drag tins of Cat Club back with me, the bad news is all three of my girls have gone off most tinned cat and dog food, currently they are demanding Felix fish cat food in sachets. Its expensive and I bet the bad girls would eat or pull to shreds a dead rat if they found one.

I don't feel better I even feel nervous calling Pippa in what if she has to run across the road to get home? What then...

I say to her "Stay in the garden Pippa" and although I know she does much of the time I also know she doesn't stay there all of the time.

Something has dug Trixie grave up at least three times, each time I've moved her and each time they've found her. I hope this time they leave her be.

How Wrong is it Possible to be?

Pretty much catastrophically.

She knows or thinks she does that many of them thought she was chasing some sort of fame or recognition and maybe there's not much evidence she wasn't. Except there was and all the local scum knew of it. She doesn't particularly like to remember it because even though it wasn't as bad as the oul fool said she does think it was bad enough.

Picture the scene, there she was living in a village where she was completely anonymous, oh, people knew her but not about her, not her history,  alright there was no exciting, daring or sexy history that's not the point. All anyone in the village knew was her name and the fact she had family who visited. To her it was pretty much perfect, just a face to say good morning to, she was happy.

One day in what she can only describe as an excess of compassion she invited the oul fool to stay, well most of his immediate family were dead, none of the younger generation bothered and she had bought his house and anyway what excuse did she have to ignore him? She lived alone, had a spare room so why not, what harm could it do? Too much although it wasn't noticeable at first.

A carrier bag containing his medication was stolen in London she suggested he go to the local doctor, across the road which he did, they very kindly gave him a prescription and off he went to the chemist next door to the doctors. He was very pleased, loved the doctors and the chemist, he talked about how nice they were.
 
Next he discovered, of course he did, the local pub and there he went and obviously got chatting, and equally obviously talker about her. Overnight, well in a couple of days, she was known to everyone. She went nuts.

Its a thing with her. She has never wanted to be known, never wanted to make new friends and never wanted a permanent partner. Discovering he had been gossiping about her, to the extent he became friends with the village trollop who sent her a gift of home grown tomatoes, and that is not an exaggeration, angered her beyond belief.

She can't remember if she kicked him out but she is very capable of it, her home, her privacy are that important she wouldn't have hesitated to have done so, she'd do it again.

Of course it blew over family rows usually do but that was the beginning of the end of her happiness in the village. Kinda puts a dent in all the she wants to be famous bollocks doesn't it.