AT HAME

A Happy 'White' Christmas!

2009-12-20T02:00:00.000-08:00

The scene this morning in Newtownards.
'Let it Snow! Let it Snow! Let it Snow!'

The Ugliness of Christmas

2009-12-16T15:29:00.001-08:00

Christmas Truce 1915.

2009-12-16T15:14:00.000-08:00

My Favourite Carol.

2009-12-16T15:00:00.000-08:00

For The Soldiers.

2009-09-29T06:04:00.000-07:00

The leviathan of the sky does land
In England’s green and pleasant land.
Its cargo more precious than gold
The body of a hero, bold.
Once the giant’s engines stopped
The cargo ramp is gently dropped
Carried by six on shoulders true
The hero is saluted by the crew.
The coffin draped in Union Jack
Is slowly carried out the back.
Out of the dark and into light
Slowly down the ramp and to the right.
The six approach the hearse all black
And place the hero gently in the back.
The six then turn and march away
Their duty has been done this day.
Politicians usually have much to say
No sign of them near here this day.
They hide away and out of danger,
Much easier if the hero is a stranger.
The hearse with its precious load
Moves slowly out on to the road.
The floral tributes line the route
While comrades snap a smart salute.
At the edge of a Wiltshire town
The cortege slows its pace right down.
The streets are packed, many deep,
Some throw flowers, most just weep.
The crowd have come to say farewell,
The church bell rings a low death knell.
Regimental standards are lowered down
As the hero passed through the town.
The cortege stops and silence reigns
The townsfolk feel the family’s pain.
The nations’ flag lowered to half mast
Our brave hero is home at last.

By Staff Sergeant Andrew McFarlane who is currently serving with the TA at Camp Bastion

Carol, Me Ma, Brian, Ryan, Amy and Patrina

2009-09-29T04:58:00.000-07:00

Carol Has Landed!

2009-09-17T06:52:00.000-07:00

My sister Carol just in from Australia not even time to get her coat off with Mum Jamison

Harry Patch.

2009-08-07T07:43:00.000-07:00

Last Tommy Harry Patch laid to rest as thousands pay tribute.

The Old Soldier.

2009-08-04T08:43:00.000-07:00

Henry Allingham, world's oldest man and first world war veteran who has died aged 113

JUST A COMMON SOLDIER
(A Soldier Died Today)
by A. Lawrence Vaincourt

He was getting old and paunchy and his hair was falling fast,
And he sat around the Legion, telling stories of the past.
Of a war that he had fought in and the deeds that he had done,
In his exploits with his buddies; they were heroes, every one.

And tho' sometimes, to his neighbors, his tales became a joke,
All his Legion buddies listened, for they knew whereof he spoke.
But we'll hear his tales no longer for old Bill has passed away,
And the world's a little poorer, for a soldier died today.

He will not be mourned by many, just his children and his wife,
For he lived an ordinary and quite uneventful life.
Held a job and raised a family, quietly going his own way,
And the world won't note his passing, though a soldier died today.

When politicians leave this earth, their bodies lie in state,
While thousands note their passing and proclaim that they were great.
Papers tell their whole life stories, from the time that they were young,
But the passing of a soldier goes unnoticed and unsung.

Is the greatest contribution to the welfare of our land
A guy who breaks his promises and cons his fellow man?
Or the ordinary fellow who, in times of war and strife,
Goes off to serve his Country and offers up his life?

A politician's stipend and the style in which he lives
Are sometimes disproportionate to the service that he gives.
While the ordinary soldier, who offered up his all,
Is paid off with a medal and perhaps, a pension small.

It's so easy to forget them for it was so long ago,
That the old Bills of our Country went to battle, but we know
It was not the politicians, with their compromise and ploys,
Who won for us the freedom that our Country now enjoys.

Should you find yourself in danger, with your enemies at hand,
Would you want a politician with his ever-shifting stand?
Or would you prefer a soldier, who has sworn to defend
His home, his kin and Country and would fight until the end?

He was just a common soldier and his ranks are growing thin,
But his presence should remind us we may need his like again.
For when countries are in conflict, then we find the soldier's part
Is to clean up all the troubles that the politicians start.

If we cannot do him honor while he's here to hear the praise,
Then at least let's give him homage at the ending of his days.
Perhaps just a simple headline in a paper that would say,

Our Country is in mourning, for a soldier died today.

Dowm Memory Lane ... again and again and again.

2009-08-04T07:10:00.000-07:00

My Brother
Harry Scott Jamison
Died 13th March 2004.

School Photo

Me at the back

Harry, Brian and Tracy.

MountStewart
( our wee place )
Left to Right
Aunt Molly, Tracy, Mum, Brian, Dad, Me and Stanley Greer ( School Friend and Greenwell Street Neighbour)

School Photo Tracy , Me and Harry.

Gone Fishing
Bob Girvan (Game Keeper at Clandeyboy Estate) and David McKim
Left to Right
Me , Harry, Stanley Greer, Brian and Tracy.

Dowm Memory Lane ... Again

2009-07-28T05:43:00.000-07:00

Yes thats me in the middle with my brothers David (left) and Norman (right).

Highlights of The Twelfth 2009.

2009-07-15T12:50:00.000-07:00

http://www.u.tv/UTVMediaPlayer/Default.aspx?vidid=123264

Old Friends

2009-07-15T11:53:00.001-07:00

Liz, Mum Jamison, Hillary Orr and Carol.

DEREK 'mad' BEATTIE

2009-07-14T07:50:00.000-07:00

Just discovered a website set up by my cousin Derek Beattie. When I was growing up he was always refered to as 'Mad' Beattie. Some old pictures of Newtownards on his site.

http://derek-beattie.110mb.com/index.htm

2009-07-13T06:32:00.000-07:00

Brian Angus Patrina Amy Ryan Liz

Liz with Aunt Lily Beattie

Two New Members for Greenwell Street Orange Lodge.

2009-07-13T06:14:00.000-07:00

Liz and Angus with our Jim, Twelfth Parade, Newtownards.

Twelfth Parade Francis Street, Newtownards.

2009-07-13T06:00:00.000-07:00

11th Night Bonfire, Canal Row, Newtownards.

2009-07-13T05:55:00.000-07:00

Rev Alan Dunlop

2009-07-13T05:47:00.000-07:00

Mrs Irene Dunlop, Rev Alan Dunlop and Roy McMillan at a Gospel Mission conducted by Pastor Harvey Shaw and Mr Martin Thompson in a garage at a farm in Derrytrasnagh with Lough Neagh in the background.

Happy Harry

2009-05-19T12:55:00.001-07:00

On Wednesday 13th of May 2009 a Service of Thanksgiving was held in the Elim Church, Newtownards, for the life of Henry~Ford (Harry) Marshall. I grew up on the legendary stories of this man who was affectionately known as Happy Harry. What a character he was and in many ways his death and passing marks the end of an era in Greenwell Street. Happy Harry was a saved man and is now with the Lord! Hallelujah!

Cousin Hugh Jamison and friend!

2009-03-16T08:37:00.000-07:00

Remembered.

2009-03-16T08:11:00.000-07:00

HARRY.
Always Remembered!
Died Saturday 13th March 2004
Buried St Patricks Day 17th March 2004.

Down Memory Lane.

2009-02-16T14:02:00.000-08:00

From left to right ... Harry, Brian, Me and Tracy. Possibly taken at the back of our old house at 131 Greenwell Street.

2009-02-14T08:00:00.000-08:00

Neighborhood Bully

Well, the neighborhood bully, he's just one man,
His enemies say he's on their land.
They got him outnumbered about a million to one,
He got no place to escape to, no place to run.
He's the neighborhood bully.

The neighborhood bully just lives to survive,
He's criticized and condemned for being alive.
He's not supposed to fight back, he's supposed to have thick skin,
He's supposed to lay down and die when his door is kicked in.
He's the neighborhood bully.

The neighborhood bully been driven out of every land,
He's wandered the earth an exiled man.
Seen his family scattered, his people hounded and torn,
He's always on trial for just being born.
He's the neighborhood bully.

Well, he knocked out a lynch mob, he was criticized,
Old women condemned him, said he should apologize.
Then he destroyed a bomb factory, nobody was glad.
The bombs were meant for him.
He was supposed to feel bad.
He's the neighborhood bully.

Well, the chances are against it and the odds are slim
That he'll live by the rules that the world makes for him,
'Cause there's a noose at his neck and a gun at his back
And a license to kill him is given out to every maniac.
He's the neighborhood bully.

He got no allies to really speak of.
What he gets he must pay for, he don't get it out of love.
He buys obsolete weapons and he won't be denied
But no one sends flesh and blood to fight by his side.
He's the neighborhood bully.

Well, he's surrounded by pacifists who all want peace,
They pray for it nightly that the bloodshed must cease.
Now, they wouldn't hurt a fly.
To hurt one they would weep.
They lay and they wait for this bully to fall asleep.
He's the neighborhood bully.

Every empire that's enslaved him is gone,
Egypt and Rome, even the great Babylon.
He's made a garden of paradise in the desert sand,
In bed with nobody, under no one's command.
He's the neighborhood bully.

Now his holiest books have been trampled upon,
No contract he signed was worth what it was written on.
He took the crumbs of the world and he turned it into wealth,
Took sickness and disease and he turned it into health.
He's the neighborhood bully.

What's anybody indebted to him for?
Nothin', they say.
He just likes to cause war.
Pride and prejudice and superstition indeed,
They wait for this bully like a dog waits to feed.
He's the neighborhood bully.

What has he done to wear so many scars?
Does he change the course of rivers?
Does he pollute the moon and stars?
Neighborhood bully, standing on the hill,
Running out the clock, time standing still,
Neighborhood bully.

Bob Dylan, born Robert Allen Zimmerman May 24 1941 in Duluth, Minnesota in the USA.

My brother ... Brian 'bob dylan' Jamison.

2009-02-06T08:23:00.000-08:00