I remember when Putin started the war with Ukraine, he said it would be over in a few days; it’s now been over four years, and it’s started to trash the economy and cost thousands of lives.
I remember when DJT started the war with Iran, and he said it would be over in a few days; it’s started to trash the economy, and the loss of lives will come later if America decides to implement a land war.
Despite my criticism of DJT, I hope he finds a way to end both of these wars; life is a precious thing that ends far too soon without any outside help.
Andy Burnham is the new Prime Minister of the UK. I wish him well and hope he can transform this country into one where we all help one another. But I have noticed that as soon as something that’s possibly good comes along, journalists try to find something that’s bad. Honey moons don’t last long; how long did yours last?
When I was eighteen and working as an apprentice at BIP Tools, Tyburne Road, Birmingham, the person in charge of the group of aspiring toolmakers was always smoking a cigarette; it never left his mouth even when he talked, and he never knocked the ash off it until it started to burn his mouth. The strange thing was that he had a really bad stutter, but the ash stayed on right to the end. A scientific miracle.
Alf Perry was in charge of the shaping section. His face always reminded me of the long, carved faces found on Easter Island; I can’t ever remember him smiling, and if someone made a mistake and scrapped a piece of metal, he would hold his head in both hands and say ‘dear mother’.
Most people in factories would stand up all day; it was difficult to operate most machines while sitting.
There was the middle-aged man on the polishing section who couldn’t keep still when you talked to him; he moved from one foot to the other completely unaware of what he was doing, but he had a lovely disposition and never stopped smiling
There were two hundred toolmakers at BIP Tools and twenty apprentices, possibly the largest group of engineers in the country at that time. And several trade union representatives; I rarely spoke to any of them until one day the main one stood close to me, obviously distressed. He talked, and I listened. ‘I was chairing a major union meeting last night. I stood up to give them the latest news and figures, and I couldn’t remember what to say; I couldn’t remember anything. It’s never happened before; I could talk all night. Got to see the Doctor next week.’ It was the first time I knew about Alzheimer’s.
BIP closed down a few years after I left, all those amazing people with stories that could fill a library, engineers with skills that have disappeared with them. Let’s hope memorise go somewhere and aren’t lost. Perhaps they head towards the stars, waiting to find a home.
Smart-thread.com.uk 