It's 10.00 hrs, Xmas Day.

"George" is the nicest-sounding name in morse code. Its really rythmic and
sings.

I sometimes wish I'd been christened "George".

I once had a great-uncle George. He had been in South Africa in the Boer
War. But he wasn't a radio amateur.

He was in the artillery. When I was a boy he told me that if one stood
immediately behind the breech of a 28-pounder one could actually see the
shell leave the barrel and follow its trajectory.

Now I remember this little technical detail because, as a boy, I thought it
rather unfair, not at all cricket, to use cannon against people armed with
spears and wicker shields.

I later realised the enemy were only unarmed European immigrants being
rounded-up for the newly-invented concentration camps, Dutch in fact, who
had no more right to be there than Uncle George had. That made things
alright.

Ah for the days when Britannia Ruled the Waves.

So now for the festivities!
----
Reg.