Supplying window blinds to the Scottish Borders for 28 years

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By blinds-made-to-measure, May 7 2017 02:34PM

Say what you like about the Duke of Edinburgh. And you might as well; he’s never been too shy to say what he likes. But where would we be without his sort? The only other narrative we get comes from the hired technocrats and the mocking-bird media with their half-truths, downright lies and ducking of simple questions of the only sort that matter. Well, to be fair, if you want to progress in this world all you have to do is what you’re told – by the right people.

But the Duke – bless his silk stockings – doesn’t give a stuff for any of that protocol and political correctness BS. Allegedly, his most sinister quote was in the sphere of eugenics. Do your own research, but I heard that once, when he was asked what he’d like to come back as, if he were reincarnated, he answered, A deadly virus to wipe out great swathes of humanity. (I’m paraphrasing because I’m too lazy to do the research). He just comes right out with it, doesn’t he – like a perv’ in the park.

I’ve always guessed that’s what the upper-crust discuss at the dinner table. But if you’re going to dump a load of people overboard into shark infested water, it’s probably not a good idea to discuss it with them first.

The Duke doesn’t see a problem there. He no doubt presumes we’ve all had the gumption to suss it already. I bet, if he ever turns up at Bilderberg, they give him some servant wenches to chase around the vegetable patch (organic, of course) and tell him they’ll be in the kitchen helping the other servants to peel the spuds for dinner. That’ll keep him out the way, while they continue planning global governance in their usual sneaky way – behind diamond encrusted closed doors.

But well done him. Chelsea Manning, Edward Snowden and the good ol’ Duke have done more than all the politicos and media hacks put together to inform the hoi polloi of the nature of things to come – allegedly. The danger is not so much the schemers; it’s that so few of the sheeple ever seem to take notice.

By blinds-made-to-measure, Apr 23 2017 11:03AM

1 Heaped desert spoon of raw cacao

1 Heaped desert spoon of organic extra virgin Coconut oil

8 prunes (as a healthy sweetener)

Melt the coconut oil first in a double steamer/bain-marie (see below*). When it’s liquid, heap the cacao on top. Lightly spread it about a bit and let it soak in while you chop the prunes into sultana size bits. By the time you’ve sliced the prunes the cacao and coconut oil will have melded somewhat anyway.

(I don’t like to stir it about too much; that just adds to the messiness – more chocolate up the sides of the bowl – more stress, which means you’ll need more of a serotonin boost and they say you can get too much of a good thing – although, who the heck are they to say?.)

If you don’t like too much mess, you don’t need to use a chopping board to chop the prunes; a pair of scissors will do. (If you’ve just cut your nasal hair with them, give them a wash first.)

Mix the whole thing together and plap it onto one side (left or right as opposed to front or back) of a square of greaseproof paper. Fold the other side on top of it and flatten it to the thickness of your favourite chocolate bar. (You can put it into fancy moulds if you think the Queen might pop in for tea).

Let it cool, then refrigerate. Your serotonin hit should set in about an hour (when the coconut oil hardens). I just keep my chocolate in the greaseproof to save on washing up liquid. (Lazy bogger).

*For a simple bain-marie, I just use two different sized bowls – one deeper and slightly wider than the other. Obviously you don’t want the inner bowl to sink below the rim of the outer one because you need a sump-like gap between the two to hold a goodly amount of boiling water.

You’ll need to do your own research if you’re not familiar with the health benefits of the ingredients. For example, there’s a difference between the adulterated cocoa you get in the supermarket and raw, organic cacao. (Cadbury’s was taken over by Kraft and have you seen what they call cheese?) Here’s a link; there’s plenty out there (on the internet):

If all you have is cocoa, it’ll do.

You can do a search on extra virgin coconut oil as opposed to the type that’s chemically extracted and you can check out the blurb about ketone diet.

Prunes are my favourite choice as a sweetener, but you can use sultanas or other dried fruit. I sometimes use banana but the moisture in the banana makes the chocolate more like fudge and it doesn’t keep so well. (That won’t matter if the Queen is coming; I’ve heard she’s a gannet.)

By blinds-made-to-measure, Apr 22 2017 07:08PM

So, there I go again. I’m not often right but I’m wrong again. I was waffling on yesterday about the unfathomable question of why the SNP would want to close down William Hills and not Ladbrokes. Then, I got a visitor today. I said, “What’s on today then?”

He said, “Ah, not much. Just put a punt on the Scottish National”.

“Oh well.” I went nonchalantly. Doing!! Did he say the Scottish National? Where else did I hear something like that said recently?

So it seems Nicola & Co. had nothing to do with the man’s concerns yesterday. It’s probably just about some kind of bookie rivalry with the Scottish Grand National featuring in the denouement. That’s another mystery solved.

But I’d still like to know what John Swinney means by “borrowing power”. Some mysteries might never solve.

By blinds-made-to-measure, Apr 22 2017 12:45PM

A very concerned looking man stopped me on the street today saying, “If Scottish Nationals get in that’ll be the end o’ hills”. He was coming up that steep wee vennel between Laing Terrace and Princess Street (in Hawick). And he was looking a bit puffed out. I thought, “That’s odd. I don’t remember Nicola Sturgeon promising anything like that”. Wishful thinking on his part maybe and the dog looked a bit whacked too.

I said, “Would it?” Well, I didn’t know what else to say. I’m always in trouble at home for starting in the middle of a story. I was just glad to know I’m not the only one. Anyway, it seemed a bit ambitious as Scotland has more than its fair share of hills. It took them long enough to flatten the summit of the Dunion (where the beacons once blazed). And I wondered how it would affect whiskey and oil exports. Anyway, who’s going to buy shortbread in a tartan tin from a nation with no hills?

“Of course!” He snapped back indignantly as if I’d asked him to explain the elementary question of where babies come from, with the added audacity of requesting a running commentary of his own personal birth. “That’s what they want!” And off he barged tugging irritably at the pit-bull’s lead.

I was still standing confused conjuring up pictures of 50 + SNP MPs and God knows how many there are in that enormous matchbox that exploded at Hollyrood. They’d all have to be fully decked out in yellow hard-hats and high-vis vests (health and safety – don’t forget!) setting us all the mandatory politically correct example and heading towards Ben Nevis with Nicola leading a fleet of JCBs. (Might as well start at the top and work their way down, I suppose.)

Then he swung around with a wild look in his eye, which isn’t wise for a man of his age, “They’ll close it down and there’ll be nothing left but Ladbrokes.”

It dawned on me then that he was talking about bookies. I’ve never been the sharpest tool in the box, and never a gambler, but I was able to see the connection between William Hill and Ladbrokes.

That, at least was one mystery solved, but there’s another two questions I’m left still pondering: Firstly, why would the SNP “want” to close down William Hills and not Ladbrokes?

Secondly, and more importantly to me; I’ve never understood what kind of power “borrowing power” is. That’s the kind of power John Swinney said he wanted when a hack once asked him why he wanted devo-max some years back. It seems more than a bit oxymoronic to me. Powerful is not the word I’d use to describe my emotions as I go grovelling to a bank asking to borrow money (which I’ve always avoided like the plague BTW). My thoughts would be on what I’d need to do to pay it all back – with interest of course – to a world cartel that creates fiat money out of fresh air and uses its enormous yields to corrupt our parliamentary representatives and institutions against us.

Every morning when we get up to face the trials and tribulations we might ponder the words of Mayer Amschel Rothschild (1744-1812), founder of the House of Rothschild. "Let me issue and control a nation's money and I care not who writes the laws." (Hooray for t’internet.)

I bet he didn’t care. I bet he hadn’t a care in the world. And when will we ever learn I wonder? (That makes it three unanswered questions, I suppose.)

Oh! here’s another question: When detractors ask John McDonnell and Jeremy Corbyn where they’ll get the money to fund – what the establishment like to portray as over ambitious policies, why don’t they just say they’ll create it out of fresh air like the banks do? Would it have anything to do with the ‘deep state’/Military-Industrial Complex, perhaps? (That question was rhetorical, so it doesn’t count.)

I respect that we all have our concerns. Mine has never been about the fortunes or follies of bookies, but blithe acceptance of corporate putsches however artfully done isn’t just gambling; for many it’ll probably prove existential.

By blinds-made-to-measure, Apr 21 2017 01:20PM

'Oo U Lookin' at?
'Oo U Lookin' at?

All these smarmy, glad-handing politicos being unleashed on us for the upcoming election have inspired me to wax poetical:

A smile from the heart will tell in the eyes,

Like a mother’s love needs no disguise,

Like a large carbuncle on the end of a nose,

Quite unabashed it blooms and it glows.

Like a twinkly-eyed cat as it snuggles beside you,

Or a good friend’s forgiveness (however undue),

Did it surface without inhibition or guile?

Then a smile from the heart is that sort of smile.

Yet smiles, like words vacuously spoken,

Can be soulless, bogus or merely token,

Or worse, like chaff sent up to decoy,

Smiles are the weapons we often deploy!

Ah! but when such smiles come into play,

The body-language will often say,

A nose gets a scratch, an ear gets a tug,

Or a toe nudges something under a rug.

Are there hums or haws or restless feet,

Or distant stares of sleekit deceit?

A smile from the heart is not so constrained,

By inconsistencies that need explained,

There are no contingencies, qualms or doubt,

It just wells right up and gushes out.

No blather, no handshakes, no stiff protocol,

A smile from the heart simply says it all.

For smiles go with friendship like beauty with art,

Together they jive as they spring from the heart.

©David McBain 20-04-17

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