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I was thinking the other day about the difference in our island population now and in the 20s and 30s. Then, foreigners, either resident or visitors, were as rare as weeds in a near perfect garden, yet today we are so polyglot that we have translators in our schools. What started this was a conversation I had with a plumber, he was working and I asked him, ‘Can you whistle and ride? It was a phrase that my grandmother used to use. On Saturday mornings it was my job to take a board covered with a leather sheet, and Carborundum powder, to clean all the knives, which were pure steel, and bring the blades back to their pristine shininess. Stainless steel cutlery was still a thing of the future. She would ask me that question, because I had to stop work to talk to her, and she was suggesting that I should talk and work. I started thinking then of a wider range of words and phrases that have long been lost. There was a bit of doggerel which went like, ‘Swap me bob, me mum’s a snob, me father takes in washing, me sister drives an omnibus, and me brother mends the stockings’. This was a relic of the First World War, and the music halls, sending up the fact that all the men had gone to the front, and life at home was virtually upside down.

There used to be a phrase in the Navy for free time that was called, ‘Make and mend’, because that was when Nelson’s sailors repaired their clothes, as there was little else to do at sea. The phrase was still in use in World War II That phrase also applied to the home, where, when things went wrong, they were repaired time and time again, and gypsies would go round the streets, sitting on the kerb, repairing holes in saucepans. Those were frugal times, when people couldn’t afford, as they do now, to throw away something that could be repaired. I don’t suppose it even dawned on people, other than the very rich, to even consider it. Of course life was also much more routine, and much more simple. Holidays abroad didn’t become a regular thing until about 1935, when a lot of the secondary schools sent parties of children on a collective holiday in the summer or at Easter. There used to be lexicons devoted to phrases which were common in different eras, and available in public libraries, whether that is so now I doubt.

When I wrote part one on the 28th of July, I made it clear that this was just a theory, and I had not the experience of the war conditions to be certain that it would work. In consequence, I sent a copy of the post to a friend, a now retired senior army officer, who had served in those Middle East war zones. His reply was very cogent, interesting, and pointed up aspects that one who has not been to the area, will be unaware of.

I thought it would be interesting to put down information concerning the use of explosives, which I encountered in the 50s, and is not as straightforward as films like Sharp, and some of Clint Eastwood’s, would make one believe. Explosives, to be truly effective have to be under pressure, and so are placed with a tight packing to maximise the effect, and fired either by a burning fuse, but more recently in general by an electric charge. The electric charge, coupled with packing which can give a directional effect, enable large tall buildings in built up-areas to be demolished in short order and with minimum effect on the surrounding district. This is achieved by having charges placed to weaken the structure seconds, or milliseconds, prior to the main blasts going off, and these would be angled and synchronised, in such a way that the building imploded instead of exploding. I add this note because the way in which Roadside bombs are packed would really influence the effect of the charge and the direction of it.

My friend made a number of points, he pointed out that a lot of the ground was rocky, which I take to mean that the holes were being drilled for the charge, and thus would not be as easily brought to light as one dug in sand. While I have seen the use of water cannon repeatedly in the north of Ireland, on local television, where large quantities of water were sprayed some considerable distance, he pointed out than in the Middle East water was a valuable commodity and waste would only play into the hands of the politicians who were against our presence. He also pointed out that the distances travelled by our soldiers at any one time were considerable and would thus aggravate the water situation, and progress of the units would be unnecessarily slowed down, inducing obvious additional dangers. I admit that I had been considering men walking, not fleets of vehicles. I am indebted to him because it demonstrates that armchair design badly needs on- site knowledge. Nonetheless, if my comments on the first post induced even a little lateral thinking, it wasn’t all wasted.

What I am writing about is little waterproofed tabs, in packets, that we use to cover inadvertent damage to our skin, some call them Band Aids or plasters. You know sort of thing, it is kept in a box with a red cross on it, out of harm’s way, and when you cut yourself, you can’t remember where the box is, and when you ultimately find it, you can’t get the plaster out of its wrapping, any more than you can get crisps out of the bag, or your dinner out of a plastic box. Recently, I was speared accidentally with a very sharp knife and by the time I managed to get the plaster out of its wrapping, the kitchen was like an abattoir with blood everywhere.

Small children are adventurous and pebble dashing of the knees is a common occurrence, young people have run-ins with electrical appliances and loose chunks of their bodies with experimentation, I have the scars to prove it. Very old people are held together with all sorts of medications, including aspirin to stop them going gaga, that has the disadvantage of thinning one’s blood to a point where the slightest scratch can produce a fountain of the red stuff that keeps us going. So it is essential that the plaster trade takes on board the fact that their wrappings are just that bit too unhygienic, as they ultimately cause one to have blood drying everywhere.

The strange thing is that the medical profession found this out years ago and provides their operatives with roles of plaster which they can cut to any shape with a pair of scissors, give a light tug, and hey presto, the paper covering is pulled away, and they have whacked on another plaster with no effort and lightning speed. Clearly the manufacturers are doing nicely when they supply a small cardboard box, half empty, containing a variety of plasters in individual packages that have a secret code for opening, each one of those plasters costs a bomb, while I suspect the roll comes much cheaper. We are talking about an emergency, where some people can panic with the sight of blood, so surely it is in everyone’s interest to make the amateur carry out the task more easily, if not just as easily as a professional.

What I have to say here is nothing new, and I have written about it before, but the world has gone so crazy that it is essential that it is constantly repeated. The great publicity given to the funeral of Henry Allingham, and the death of Harry Patch, is a moment in history. And now the Mantle of Henry Allingham, who was a great preacher to young and old, of the futility of war is passed to my generation, and there are not so many of us left. Fighting, on the scale of World War I, or the Falklands, is still a barbaric, pointless waste of life, materials and money, and at the end of the day nothing is achieved that is worth all that loss of life and destruction.

In my view there are two prongs on the anti-war front. One is to persuade the man in the street to refuse to go to war at the behest of what he thinks are his betters, but proved in the end to be stupid and wrong. The second approach is to bring to people’s attention that these alleged betters are only interested in their own aggrandisement, with little respect for the welfare of the people for whom they are responsible. While Hitler was an obvious example, these people range from government ministers right down to horrible little thugs having a street war in a built up area. Although I didn’t know at the time, Henry Allingham was going round schools preaching about the futility of war and using his own miserable experiences to make a point.

There is no gain in trying to deflect the people who want war for their own reasons, so it is up to the rest of us, who have seen the destruction, the misery, the waste and the terror at first hand, to take on the mantle of Henry Allingham and preach his gospel to the young. The problem is that this is not easy, our parents couldn’t wait to get into the First World War as teenagers and 20-year-olds, and the same applies to my generation, and I remember some people saying that they were worried that the war would be over before they got into it. This is purely the excitement of an adventure, of which the participants know nothing until they join up and then it’s too late. Television, novels and history applaud acts of war and make heroes of those who participated, and glide over the fact that they, the heroes of the stories, are only one of hundreds or thousands who have been left dead, face down in the mud, or maimed for life, physically or mentally. The only way we can combat this idiocy is to show it in all its ghastliness time and time again, and face up to the fact that at the end of the day this waste will achieve nothing. Old sailors and old soldiers tell stories of their experiences of War, because they came out of it relatively unscathed, and it was an extraordinary experience. They should not be believed, for the sake of those hundreds and thousands of civilians as well as the services, who were left behind drowned or mangled and very dead – for a worst environment, and loss of beauty, than before it all started.

When inventors want to evaluate the quality of a new product, before it goes into production, they will make a number of prototypes, arrange for a number of people to meet in pleasant surroundings, on a social level, and then seek their views on the product, as the guests handle it, try it out, and discuss it with the inventor and among themselves. This whole proceeding is videoed and taped, and later together with a consultant, the inventor will proceed to evaluate, take notice of the criticisms, and set out a programme to improve the product. This procedure may be implemented more than once as the project proceeds. In effect it is a referendum, a lot more detailed than yes or no, but the principle is the same.

I have previously pointed out that I’m not very good at surfing the Net and therefore have not found a website devoted to referenda, where people gratuitously offer subjects that they consider are of national importance, set out the parameters, and then ask people on the Internet to give their views in a multiple choice manner. In these days of rapid change, where people make sweeping proposals on our behalf, it is not only the individual but the press who often have certain doubts. Something along these lines might be useful in two ways. Firstly it would widely draw attention to something is collectively questioned, and secondly it would give people an opportunity to consider the pros and cons and vote their own perspective. To give a simple example, many years ago the ship associated with the Titanic disaster was bought and taken to the harbour in Belfast with a view to totally restoring it, as part of a dock area given over to presenting the whole history of the Titanic from design to sinking, as a tourist attraction as well as a dedication. Many of us at the time felt that the whole thing was badly conceived and that money would be thrown away with nothing to show for it. Whether this finally happens or not, is conjecture, but what is certain is that if it does come about it will be protracted over decades. At the outset a referendum on the feasibility and wisdom in purchasing this ship might have saved a lot of heartburn.

One of the advantages of having a blog is that you have licence to write rubbish if you so desire. I don’t propose to comment on Gordon Brown’s upbeat speech because everyone else is. What it did do was make me think in more detail about the past, and compare what was done them with what I assume has been experimented with, and rejected. I can’t remember whether it was actually in North Africa or Europe that the allies brought out a machine called the flail tank. It was a conversion of a normal tank, to which had been added a double type of jib at the front, which supported the flail, a rotating wire whip, which blathered the ground ahead of the tank, exploding mines. In retrospect I think it wasn’t totally successful.

If you dig a hole, particularly in sandy soil, insert something and refill and level off, there will be air entrapped in the backfilling. Sand bulks, that is to say it entrains either water or air which increases its apparent quantity, and only when it is totally soaked, or totally dry and vibrated, does it have its minimum mass. It therefore occurred to me that one solution to the Roadside Bomb was to have a tank equipped like a water cannon, spraying the roadside heavily with water, ahead of the cannon, in order to expose what would then be depressions. Clearly I’m not an expert in this field, but I have had some success as an inventor. I appreciate that there is a radius in which a bomb can be effective, and this has to be taken into account.

I can only assume that as I have not seen any representation of something along these lines, the MOD has examined it and rejected it as being ineffective. Talking rubbish once in a while can sometimes be an advantage, perhaps it might be in this case.

Our International policies are not straight forward because we were the leading part of an empire which covered a large proportion of the globe, we are tied to the EU, and we have an historical relationship with the US. My generation was mainly against going into the European Union, because the UK being a series of islands, had been one of our strengths, and when the EU decided to have open borders most of us were not only shocked, we objected strongly. Now at the time of the credit crunch, we have approximately 2 million unemployed, what percentage of those 2 million is related to the immigrant population is almost impossible to discover. I found it impossible to find just how many immigrants are in Britain, but I found copious government websites devoted to helping others to come, which surprised me, considering our fiscal situation.

Yesterday, Sunday, David Cameron was giving an interview in which he was setting out the policies of the Conservative Party, in the event of them taking over the government at the next election. He talked a lot about trying to encourage the generation of work in this country, but failed to mention the fact that a considerable proportion of work which could be equally done in this country, is farmed abroad where labour is cheaper, and quality is poorer in many cases. The sum total of this policy is that the taxpayer is in fact subscribing to these companies dealing abroad, by the fact that they, the taxpayers, are having to pay unemployment benefit to the people in this country who would normally have been carrying out the work, and so the net value in national terms is closer to what it would have been if the work has not been sent abroad.

There are so many aspects like this that one can cite, where the short-sightedness of the rules issued by Brussels is seriously affecting our way of life, from open borders, to being fined if rules are broken, in spite of the fact in some cases it was inevitable, by the differences between the UK and the rest of Europe, culturally, geographically, and atmospherically..

I have been writing about euthanasia on a number of occasions over the last three plus years, when the opposition to assisted suicide has always been very strong for obvious reasons. But now the British nursing profession is beginning to change its stance and raise the matter on its own behalf. To the average man in the street it is not a matter high on his agenda, he has more taxing problems, and the last thing he is thinking about, until the very last minute is his own demise. From my own experience I believe that once or twice in a lifetime suicide does cross the mind. It can either be as a result of severe pain, or some tremendous hiatus. It happened to me on my first trip to the Atlantic in a destroyer, when I was seasick for nearly a fortnight, while having to carry out my duties. I literally prayed for death.

We tend to take so much about life for granted, which is unsurprising when there is so much going on. Only when Fate strikes, do you discover what you’re missing, in simple everyday actions, and have to find alternative ways of achieving basic necessities, such as eating, writing, getting dressed etc. Through a simple accident I have currently lost the use of one arm, can no longer drive a car, can only walk short distances, until the pain kicks in, because I have also a crushed spine. I write this, not in any sense bemoaning, but to emphasise the problems faced by the handicapped, and the psychological effects this can have on him and those surrounding him. Overnight, one is changed from being totally independent, to being very dependent for so much, such as shopping, house cleaning, and as I have said, things I have taken for granted. Initially, the logistics of being handicapped occupy most of your time, it is only when life returns to being routine that one begins to ask a question. ‘Am I a burden on my nearest and dearest, putting them under pressures on a daily basis that they could well do without’? It is at this point that one questions the value of euthanasia, as I have done so readily in the past. It is only at this point that one realises, if one thinks of it, that one is entering into a dangerous area, where the thought processes are random instead of being analytical, and selfish in some respects. The strictures imposed by the medical profession are an essential, and if any relaxation of them is contemplated, it should be done right across the board, but for common sense reasons, not religious ones.

On more than one occasion I have written about the change in anaesthetic that is currently obvious, but it seems that the credit crunch is worsening the effect of the dominance of the music accompanying the films from which we can choose on TV and Skye. When you compare films produced up until the 70s, or the 80s in some cases, the spoken word is not drowned out by music that seems to have no relevance at all, and at times such crescendo that is impossible to make out any script. In many of the modern films it would seem that there is a battle of the directors, and the musical director is winning. I am sufficiently sceptical to wonder if this poor quality is as a result of a ploy to encourage us to buy into High-definition, or HD.

I have discovered I am not alone in this abhorrence of gratuitous music, and am equally convinced that it is not the equipment because I can hear other programmes that are not accompanied by music eloquently and comfortably. It is not difficult to draw comparisons, because we are being fed films we have never heard of in the last 60 years because of their poor quality, not only being offered but repeated. I think that Skye should take on board the fact that a large proportion of their clients are beginning to think that £600 a year plus, is a high price to pay for poor quality entertainment, when it is on offer elsewhere virtually for nothing.

The row between the PM and the Foreign Office Minister, Lord Malloch-Brown, over helicopters, caused me to think about loyalty. I have worked in about 10 different vocations, from hairdressing at 15, through the armed services, engineering and consultancy, and looking back I can’t remember a single case where loyalty within the workforce, and between the workforce and the management was disruptive. Respect has a lot to do with it, but lack of respect for one person does not necessarily mean lack of loyalty to the same person.

The fact that somebody as senior as his Lordship should break ranks is a clear indication to me that he had reached that ‘N’, point when things are not allowed to go on as they are and somebody had to speak out. It seems that the whole of Parliament, with all its fancy traditions, archaic ways of communication, is being brought to its knees through this government’s inability to make up its mind quietly, sensibly, and with taking all things into account, rather than rushing for a sound bite. What I find despicable is that we the taxpayers are footing the bill time and time again for untried experimentation, which clearly doesn’t work, and yet is repeated. I have already written my views on the treatment of the crunch, which was clearly a disaster because they’re now changing the rules again. The expensive advertising on television upon things like knife crime, which are not yielding anything like the return any normal business would expect, is a case in point, repeated constantly in different areas. The way they keep changing their mind about how they’re going to run the Swine Flu pandemic, and rushing to tell us about each change in policy, which only confuses us, and must cost a fortune to advertise and implement, is beyond belief.

It would seem, unfortunately, that Brown is hanging on by a thread, being screamed at by the opposition parties who have the advantage of being able to pretend that they have policies, when everyone knows that by the time they get into Parliament, things will have changed so much, in this ever-changing kaleidoscope of politics, that those policies that they were using as a basis of their manifesto, will not be implemented