QAnon

Do you notice something odd about the road sign above? Look closely. The zero in "20" has been altered with a piece of black tape to make it look like a letter "Q". That sign is at the end of The Sheffield Parkway - where it meets the M1 motorway. I have seen a number of other speed limit signs altered in the very same way.

I first started noticing these altered signs in the early summer and I became puzzled about them. What could the "Q" mean?

Hunting around on the internet, I have discovered that it is a pseudo-political symbol. It stands for QAnon, a sinister right wing  movement that began in The United States and has gradually, quietly moved around the world like a virus.

There are many things in this world that I do not understand and I readily admit that QAnon is one of them. Its thousands of supporters seem to be the kind of people who happily embrace conspiracy theories as though they are joining some sort of exclusive club that enjoys superior, secret  knowledge about how this world runs.

QAnon suggests that Trump is the planet's saviour. He is closing in on an international paedophile ring as he battles against "The Deep State". QAnoners tend to be anti-vaccine and link with anti-5G and anti-Semitic conspiracy theories.  It is all quite eerie and disturbing but it is happening. It is out there.

To these blinkered fantasists, evidence does not seem to matter as they promote their nonsense. Their numbers are growing along with their influence. Of QAnon, Trump has said, "they like me very much. I heard... that these are people who love our country".

So that is pretty much all I know about QAnon. Instinctively, it sends a shiver down my spine. Had you heard of QAnon already? What do you know about it?

Unmasked

Apologies for the foul language but it wasn't me - it was the gorilla!

Calm

Sailors spoke of  the calm that comes before a storm. That's where we are in Great Britain right now.  Sailing in the calm before the storm.

In March, our government, led by English Trump, shut down the country a week too late. That error of judgement led to thousands more deaths than might have been the case. However, the majority of British people complied with lockdown rules and gradually, as months passed, COVID-19 infection and death figures plunged.

All was looking rosy. We had taken the bitter medicine and it had worked. Consequently and tentatively, elements of normal activity were resumed. Schools and universities re-opened. So did many businesses. The government even introduced "Eat Out to Help Out" - subsidising visits to restaurants and cafes.

Sadly, COVID-19 has not played ball. Infection, hospitalisation and death figures have been on a worrying upward trajectory through the last month. Tonight, with his little piggy eyes, English Trump will look down the barrel of a television camera and tell us all about "new measures" designed to send COVID-19 back into its kennel. These "measures" will undoubtedly differ according to current numbers in different cities and regions.  The rules for cities like Liverpool and Nottingham will be especially harsh. Sheffield won't be far behind.

We  are already entering the dark pit of wintertime. Christmas is up ahead. On  October 25th, the clocks will be put back an hour as we transition to "Greenwich Mean Time".  It's all rather depressing. And let's not throw "Get Brexit Done" into the mix right now. It also looms like a ruddy spectre thanks to English Trump and his troop of blinkered clowns.

Yes. This is the calm before the storm. This afternoon I will be up at "The Hammer and Pincers" for a few beers and manly discussion before watching The Pigman speak to the nation. Captain Johnson aka English Trump addressing his assembled sailors. "Aye-aye Cap'n!":-

Blow, winds, and crack your cheeks! rage! blow!

You cataracts and hurricanoes, spout

Till you have drench'd our steeples, drown'd the cocks!

You sulphurous and thought-executing fires,

Vaunt-couriers to oak-cleaving thunderbolts,

Singe my white head! And thou, all-shaking thunder,

Smite flat the thick rotundity o' the world!

Crack nature's moulds, an germens spill at once,

That make ingrateful man!

                                                               King Lear Act III scene two

67

It was my birthday on Thursday. In fact, now that I come to think about it I was born on a Thursday. "Thursday's child has far to go" replaced the earlier "Thursday's child is sour and sad". Take your pick. I have never been a big fan of birthdays - well not my own anyway. In all those long years of working in education I never told any of my colleagues when my birthday was and as it happens, nobody ever asked. That suited me fine. No fuss.

On Thursday morning I had a slap up full English breakfast at "The Norfolk Arms" and then in the evening with Shirley, Frances and Stewart we had dinner in a Sicilian restaurant at nearby Hunter's Bar. We had not been there before but we all agreed that the food was excellent.  It's funny dining out in these COVID-19 times though. Everything stripped down, social distancing and the waitress wearing a mask. It's not good for the general ambience.

The following pictures show you most of what I received for my birthday. All that is missing is a few more cards.

The "Happy Beers Day" card was from Meike In Ludwigsburg, Germany and the tiger card was from my younger brother - Simon. Frances created the card that was decorated with little bugs. The old Hull City football programme (1953) was from my old friend Tony - a fellow Hull City supporter. Shirley gave me the new "Bosh!" book, the new bird feeder and the new CD from Bob Dylan.

I am hoping to reach 68 - but you never know, do you?

Rainbow

A rainbow in the suburbs of  our northern city. Late yesterday afternoon. Taken from our garden.

"Over The Rainbow" was written specially for the 1939 film "The Wizard of Oz" with music by Harold Arlen and lyrics by Yip Harburg. It has been recorded many times - most notably perhaps by Eva Cassidy but this post will finish with  Israel Kamakawiwoʻole's version. Hawaiians knew him as Iz and its his ashes that are lovingly cast into the Pacific Ocean at the end of the video.

Scientists may be able to explain why rainbows happen but the bottom line is that they are magical and human beings have forever glimpsed at their passing, simple beauty with wonder. They come and they go. Briefly arching over us like a protective arm. And lord knows we need one of them right now.

Enjoy:-

Fly

Meet Ralph. He's a fly. On Tuesday evening he landed on Vice President Mike Pence's snowy head during his televised debate with Kamala Harris.

Training Ralph was no mean feat I can tell you. Having him transported to the debate venue in Salt Lake City, Utah was also very challenging. Please don't tell anybody else but I used a  carrier called Helen Schultz who I discovered online. She is a student at The University of Utah majoring in Librarianship. She was a member of the invited audience and Ralph secretly accessed Kingsbury Hall in Helen's mop of curly red hair. Security did not think to check there.

At the assigned moment, Ralph flew bravely into the glare of the television lights and made a perfect touchdown on Mr Pence's head. It was reminiscent of July 20th 1969. As instructed, Ralph stayed on Mr Pence's head for exactly two minutes and fifteen seconds. There is no truth  in the rumour that Ralph defecated on the snow white orb during his mission.

A similar procedure has been arranged for the next live presidential debate if  it ever happens but this time it will not be Ralph landing on Mr Trump's ridiculous hairstyle. It will be a six year old fruit bat called Vera. She has a five foot wingspan and weighs in at just over three pounds. Lord knows how Mr Trump will react when she lands. Perhaps, like Mr Pence, he will not notice her.

Norwell

Oak trees near Bathley

Good weather yesterday so your intrepid reporter travelled east of here into Nottinghamshire for another delightful four hour walk in the countryside.

I unsaddled Clint by St Laurence's Church in Norwell and left him grazing there as I set off into the autumnal day. Just north of Newark the agricultural landscape rolls gently. Because there is little accessible stone in the area, old houses tend to be made from bricks and unlike Derbyshire and South Yorkshire there are no stone field boundary walls - just hedgerows.

In Norwell

However, ancient village churches were generally built from imported stone. That always makes me think about how challenging ecclesiastical construction projects must have been. We're not just talking about a few stones but countless tons for each church - long before any form of mechanised transport appeared. I understand that barges and rafts on waterways were vital to the transportation of stone.

Bus shelter with book swap in Caunton

And so I rambled - first to Bathley and then on to Caunton before heading back over the fields to Norwell and the completion of my circle. All three were delightful villages, tucked away in a hidden corner of England. Until Tuesday evening, I shall admit that had never heard of one of them, yet there they were all the time. Lives were being lived there, fields were being tilled.  Seasons came and went in an endless chain. Year after year.

Duck sign in Caunton

Heading back to Norwell

Rose Cottage in Norwell