tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-53575932261191946032024-03-04T22:56:20.151-08:00PhDelinquentUnknownnoreply@blogger.comBlogger100125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-56990961589907799692014-10-03T10:46:00.000-07:002014-10-03T10:53:09.475-07:00Monstering a troll? Or trolling a monster? A tale of middle EnglandMiddle class. Middle of the country.<br />
<br />
Middle. Middle. Middle.<br />
<br />
Yesterday we were made aware of some thoroughly nasty and despicable trolling of the McCanns by people hiding behind what they thought was internet anonymity (how foolish). As though the unspeakable anguish of waking each morning to the instant agonising reality of their missing daughter, Madeleine, is not enough, they have to bear the ghastly outpourings of hatred from so-called "trolls".<br />
<br />
Let me say this as a mother: surely - if one were truthful - not one caring, vigilant and normally watchful parent has not had a few horrifying minutes when their child has disappeared from the radar. It might have been a few moments. Perhaps several minutes. On a beach. In a supermarket. On the street. In a museum. But it happens all the time. It must have happened scores or perhaps hundreds of times today in England alone. To normal, caring mothers and fathers. And what of all the many hours when we weren't in direct sight of our children? Perhaps they were with grandparents. Maybe at school. Maybe on a school trip. Possibly with a babysitter while we went out for dinner.<br />
<br />
Now we are into a grey area. What constitutes parental "due diligence"? Where are the rules? Where are the boundaries?<br />
<br />
Where is the "blame"?<br />
<br />
And if, as for the McCanns, a terrible outcome ensues, what must be the endless, endless, torturing thoughts? Always beginning with those most tragic words, "if only...".<br />
<br />
So great is the fear of our children going missing, that maybe there is some delusion that, when it does happen to others, "it must have been their fault". There is perverted comfort in that; for we (surely) would never have made that mistake?<br />
<br />
The McCanns, I believe, are caring and diligent parents, who - to their great credit - remain a couple and remain united parents for their twins. They do not need anyone on earth to tell them that "if only" they had stayed constantly with their children, this awful thing would not have happened.<br />
<br />
So now what of the trolls? And of one troll in particular. Filmed. Named. Identified.<br />
<br />
Middle. Middle. Middle.<br />
<br />
Just like the McCanns.<br />
<br />
This particular person has - since exposure - been monstered in a febrile excess of photoshop puerility and hypocritical (so English) outrage.<br />
<br />
I have - with little internet effort and very few minutes - discovered that this person is Middle Class, from (geographical) Middle England, likes cats and indeed dogs, is a churchgoer, the name of the village in which they live, and even their telephone number. <br />
<br />
This person - you may say deservedly - must be having a hard time.<br />
<br />
Why this person may have acted in the way they have been alleged to have acted in regard to the McCanns is a question for a social psychologist, though my thought that it may be on the lines of, "it couldn't happen to me, because I am better than the McCanns" may have something to do with it.<br />
<br />
My hopes?<br />
<br />
That any of this ghastly targetting of the innocent McCanns is dealt with swiftly and appropriately.<br />
<br />
That the trolls are punished by law and not by the hypocritically "righteous" counter-trolls - or worse.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-79122561736022229592014-04-28T05:03:00.000-07:002014-04-28T05:06:38.658-07:00Breeding For AppearancesI recently watched again an excellent - and sickening - documentary called <em><a href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=j9jROjFPAis" target="_blank">Pedigree Dogs Exposed</a> </em>which shows in appalling and graphic detail the consequences of dog breeding for appearance rather than function.<br />
<br />
If you can bear to watch it, you will see dogs having severe epileptic fits, being unable to walk or breathe properly, or writhing in agony due to their brains having grown too large for their skulls. One of the most compelling aspects of this piece is the comparison between photographs of some of the common breeds as they used to be and photographs of what they have become. These harmful mutations have not taken long, well within living memory - including mine.<br />
<br />
What occurred to me is that the contrast between the politicians we used to have, whose selection depended largely on how well they <em>functioned</em> as representatives of their constituents' interests, and the current generation, whose selection (as they see it) depends entirely on <em>appearance</em> has followed the same path as the degradation of many dog breeds.<br />
<br />
The Kennel Club of politics - the populist media - has made sure that this has happened, and the people have let it happen.<br />
<br />
Time to get back to function. Time to ask those who want the privilege of representing us some functional questions:<br />
<br />
"Tell me about your record of supporting working and retired working people."<br />
<br />
"Tell me about your support for a wholly publically owned National Health Service."<br />
<br />
"What is your attitude to the disadvantaged?"<br />
<br />
And when they reply with vapid froth - <strong>ask for the evidence</strong>!<br />
<br />
Nigel Farage is, frankly, winning on appearance alone. There's practically nothing of substance there at all It's our job to ask people like him some specific questions, to read the manifesto of his party Ukip. In fact to read the manifestos of all the political parties.<br />
<br />
If you want politicians who function, ask questions about function. Ask what they have done. And nail them down on what they plan to do.<br />
<br />
Can it really be all that difficult?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-44675613806932604912013-10-21T11:17:00.000-07:002013-10-21T11:17:03.048-07:00A skeptic's experience of a "cancer scare"
<span lang="EN-US">Less than three weeks ago I was sitting
opposite my GP when I heard the words any sensible person would dread. Well not
really all of the words; it was every other phrase or so. "Shadow on the
lung", "urgent referral", "need to exclude cancer",
"this is not a diagnosis"…<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Well, there you go. Looked pretty bad from
where I was sitting. After all, I was carrying the two biggest risk factors for
cancer: smoker; old.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">One always wonders how one will react to
such a conversation, and it's impossible to predict, however well one knows
oneself. In particular, how I might react as a trained scientist and atheist.
My variety of atheism is probably the variety you simply can't undo. It's based
far too much on a deep love of and joy in being rational. And a powerful resistance
to simply "believe what I'm told", a modality of thinking not easily
undone.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">As I walked slowly back home from the
surgery, what was my state of mind? I can tell you this: I was completely calm
and completely terrified all at the same time. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">I know that it's hard to believe that two
such seemingly mutually exclusive emotions can live together, but there you
are. Playing a sort of background noise to all this was a welter of practical
questions such as, Who should I tell (or not tell)? How will I manage my
working life (I had immediate work commitments away from home)? How long shall
I have to wait (was it going to be the full two weeks)? How will I cope with
the uncertainty?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">I can also say this: at no time - not for
an instant - did I feel the slightest urge to pray, or to wish I had the
"comfort" of belief. In fact, my unalloyed atheism was itself a great
constant and comfort during the waiting and the wondering.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Did I have hopes? Well obviously in the
sort of everyday sense I "hoped" that I didn't have cancer. But I am
a realist. I discovered that unfounded, irrational hope was not for me. I
couldn't "unknow" the odds. Better to deal with the likelihood...<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">In the days of waiting I discovered how
immensely helpful to me was my training as a scientist, my understanding of
statistics, my previous months and months of learning about the great harms
done by false hopes peddled by the alternative medicine industry, my much
deeper understanding of all this which came from reading the likes of Simon Singh,
Edzard Ernst, David Colquhoun, Ben Goldacre, Margaret McCartney, Rose Shapiro,
Steven Novella, Rob Buckman, John Diamond, Christopher Hitchens, James Randi
and many others.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US"></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US">Therefore I was wearing powerful protective
armour when I did my inevitable googling.<o:p></o:p></span><br />
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">For the scared patient, the internet is not
a minefield of dangerous batshit. "Minefield" is too weak (and clichéd)
a metaphor. The internet is a turbulent <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">ocean</i>
of dangerous batshit with a few tiny, scattered islets of fact and rationality.
But I had good pilots with me, and the islets are there for those who know
where they are, or for those who are guided to them by a the good and brave
people such as those I have mentioned.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">One of the most truly helpful things I had
learnt was that there is no good evidence that "maintaining a positive
attitude" has any effect on one's outcome, should one indeed have cancer.
This was helpful because when my mind wanted to think through the worst, I
simply let it. I did not try to distract myself. Nor put on a "brave
face" to myself, even if I did to the few people that knew of my worries.
The rational, thinking mind <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">needs to
think</i>, not suppress that thinking, however unpleasant or frightening those
thoughts may be.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">And a few, angry, words about "being
brave" and "battling" against cancer. The patient doesn't
(can't) battle against cancer. That's what the clinicians and the researchers
do. Bless them. (Shame there's not an atheist equivalent of "bless"!)
The patient is the one most intimately concerned with a very serious problem,
and the rational thing to do in that situation is to seek the help, support and
advice of those most realistically able to deal with the problem - all those
involved in modern, science-based, evidence-based medicine, and in the best
clinical care. And if the patient dies, it’s not the patient’s fault and they
haven’t “lost” through some moral weakness. They were gravely ill and they died.
There’s a difference!<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">Well I had my appointment. The news looks good.
There will be follow-ups, but that’s good precautionary clinical practice.<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span lang="EN-US">What have I learnt?<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpFirst" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">It is perfectly normal to be a
rationalist atheist and skeptic - and thoroughly terrified all at the same time<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">It won’t harm you to be
frightened<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">It helps to think, even when
the thoughts are scary. Having a reasoning mind is <i style="mso-bidi-font-style: normal;">at least</i> as great a comfort as having “belief”, and will lead you to good, sound information<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpMiddle" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">I’m even more angry now with
the quacks who prey on the vulnerable<o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoListParagraphCxSpLast" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt 36pt; mso-list: l0 level1 lfo1; text-indent: -18pt;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: Symbol; mso-bidi-font-family: Symbol; mso-fareast-font-family: Symbol;"><span style="mso-list: Ignore;">·<span style="font-size-adjust: none; font-stretch: normal; font: 7pt/normal "Times New Roman";">
</span></span></span><span lang="EN-US">More than ever before, I value
and honour those who battle (correct word this time) against superstition,
unreason and quackery<o:p></o:p></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-22630984665725072362013-01-15T12:07:00.001-08:002013-01-15T12:07:57.065-08:00Brief Encounter with JoyJust when you least expect it, truly lovely things can happen. And in a day which held no more than ordinary promise, two things happened to me. I was working for a day at Exeter University and the first loveliness came at morning break. I went outside to get a bit of fresh air and was astonished at the warmth. The sun was shining strongly, and the skies were almost clear. In this week of freezing temperatures and snow, I sat on a bench and wondered just how warm it could get. <br><br>That would have been quite enough loveliness for one day, wouldn't it? But then the lunch break held in store something almost magical. <br><br>By this time, the weather had reverted to type: cold, overcast, drizzly. I happened to be passing the chapel when I heard someone playing Chopin rather beautifully on the piano. The sound was arresting. I went inside. The only person in the chapel was the young man who was playing and I sat on one end of the wooden pews and just drank it in. The playing was not faultless but the feeling and the depth of his interpretation was quite simply, well, beautiful. It was a privilege to be there. <br><br>After a while the young man glanced at his watch and saw that lunchtime was almost done. He got up and gathered his things to leave. It was then I told him how lovely I thought his playing was. He smiled and thanked me and we went our separate ways. <br><br>Turned out he was doing a degree in business studies. No surprise or inconsistency to anyone who works with students. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-61666951063400608002012-10-02T08:34:00.000-07:002012-10-02T08:35:03.818-07:00"What Doctors Don't Tell You" - Another Strategy A quick post on a very encouraging experience. <br><br>Interested to see if my nearest high street retailers are stocking the infamous "What Doctors Don't Tell You", I had a look around both Waitrose and WHSmith this afternoon. <br><br>Waitrose, Bath, is so dark and gloomy inside that seeing which titles are on display would tax the persistence of a polar explorer. I did my best to do a systematic check and could not see any copies. <br><br>I then moved on to WHSmith and spotted them there. I took one down and had a leaf through. It's pretty dodgy stuff, in my opinion. I replaced the copy back on the shelf backwards and upside down as at least a temporary fix, and went in search of the store manager. <br><br>I showed him the magazine on the shelves and said, "I realise it's not your decision, but please could you tell me why you are selling this title?" He took a look at it and said something like, "I will certainly feed back your concerns. It doesn't seem an appropriate magazine. We get big deliveries and it's very difficult to monitor everything." <br><br>He then did something even better. He grabbed the remaining copies and told me he was removing them from sale. I thanked him very much and, shaking hands, we parted company. <br><br>During our brief conversation, it became apparent that he knew about the controversy and certainly I needed to provide no explanation for why I was complaining. <br><br>Whether this title stays off the shelf in this branch, only time will tell. His decision may well be overridden. I hope not. <br><br>The point is that this illustrates that a courteous engagement with a store manager, person to person, may result in immediate action. In most cases it probably wouldn't. But then, what have you to lose except a few minutes of time? And the possibilities of a good outcome are always there. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-16359412085021704312012-09-28T10:18:00.000-07:002012-09-29T03:02:39.616-07:00On Not Jumping to Conclusions - and Why It Matters To Us AllI have been fascinated by the very mixed reactions to the current media narrative of one single couple during the last week. I refer of course to Megan Stammers and Jeremy Forrest. This mixture has included everything from "lock him up and throw away the keys!" to "good luck to them!". As to the bare bones of the narrative, the BBC has usefully outlined the <a href="http://www.bbc.co.uk/news/uk-england-19756698#" target="_blank">key events</a> in the timeline.<br />
<br />
As well as noting the very mixed public reaction, I have been trying to form an opinion of my own. I may as well say that I don't believe that we always have "a right to an opinion", though this phrase is often used (usually with a hurt tone of voice) in many an argument. It seems to me that we should be slow - treacle-slow - in forming an opinion, especially with such emotive matters. Surely, if we want to have a "right to an opinion" we ought to make some sort of serious effort to dig beneath the surface of the media blarings and try to sift out the facts.<br />
<br />
The <em>facts</em> in the public domain this matter are scarce. Megan Stammers is below the age of consent in the UK. Jeremy Forrest was a married man of 30 and a teacher at Miss Stammers' school, the Bishop Bell School in Eastbourne. People in positions of trust, such as teachers, health workers, youth leaders, must not attempt, or form, a sexual relationship with those in their care in a number of situations, even if the person in their care is <em>over</em> the general age of consent, or even if so, the persons in their care are vulnerable. The school was graded "outstanding" in the area, <em>inter alia</em>, of "safeguarding" in an <a href="http://www.ofsted.gov.uk/inspection-reports/find-inspection-report/provider/ELS/114613" target="_blank">Ofsted report of 2010</a>. The pair left the country on a Dover to Calais ferry at 21.20 on Thursday 20th September. They have now, thankfully, both been found safe and well in Bordeaux, and Mr Forrest has been arrested on suspicion of child abduction.<br />
<br />
These are the "hard" facts. There is other relevant evidence, not so easily verifiable to the public, such as the reports of hand-holding on planes, exchanges of text messages and so on. I do not intend to discuss such things, because they are really not my business and I have no way of checking whether they are true, not true at all, or recollections more appropriately examined in any future legal proceedings. I suggest that we should step way back and leave things alone for the time being. Mr Forrest has rights which we should all hold precious. Rights which may help us all one day.<br />
<br />
Let's leave Miss Stammers and Mr Forrest out of it altogether. Things must have been immensely difficult over the last week for all immediately concerned.<br />
<br />
Let's return to the <em>fact</em> of the mixed public reactions and opinions on this sort of story.<br />
<br />
The problem is that human emotions and behaviour are scalable. The law is not. This is essentially why no law can ever be perfect for all cases, and why English Common Law is such a sound idea in principle. In any criminal case there is a binary outcome: guilty, or not guilty. You either did it, or you didn't. Never mind why. Never mind mitigating or aggravating circumstances. Never mind the impossibility of defining such material emotions in criminal cases such as "love", "fear", "hate", "fury", "loyalty", "pity", and so on. It's tough enough to define these words in any debate, let alone one where a person's liberty and reputation may depend on the outcome. That is why good and wise judges are so vital.<br />
<br />
It's exactly the so-called "grey" boundary layers of any law that may well be causing such a mix of emotions I referred to. It may be that the statutes involved need to be amended. It may be that they don't.<br />
<br />
I've heard a lot of toxic nonsense in the past week - from both "sides".<br />
<br />
It seems to me that the truly civilised and humane reaction is to say, "I just don't know enough. This story should make us think. This story should make us realise that, because we are human, we need to think very intelligently about the law and its application - and to realise that gut reactions make lousy laws."<br />
<br />
I declare now that, about this particular matter, <em>I have no opinion and have no right to an opinion</em>.<br />
<br />
How about you?Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-19893431060067071352012-09-14T09:46:00.001-07:002012-09-14T09:46:19.057-07:00Our meeting at Morrison's Supermarket, BathThe area manager, Jason Lucas, had invited us to this meeting in response to a number of concerns we have recently expressed regarding the continued availability of products during and after the store makeover and he, and the Store Manager, Jeff Gardner, made us welcome in the cafe.<br />
<br />
Firstly let me say that it says something for a retailer when they make a real effort to listen to their customers with face-to-face meetings like this.<br />
<br />
I am not going to turn this post into a detailed meeting report, but if anyone has a specific question, leave a comment, and I will - if I can - answer it. Though bear in mind, I am just another customer, not an employee of Morrisons!<br />
<br />
We started by saying that Morrisons "had it made" in Bath because of the generally poor supermarket offering in the city, and that in any case, we liked Morrisons, could get almost everything we needed there (before the makeover project) and felt that the store was exceptionally well-managed by Jeff and his team. Also we have found that many of Morrisons own-brand products were superior in quality to those of Waitrose.<br />
<br />
Our recent problems in being able to buy our routine items at Morrisons, however, had by necessity driven us away. They are very well aware of this as a problem and the possibility that non-availability can cause people to change the supermarket they choose for their main weekly shopping, sometimes for good. For this reason, they do think carefully about the impact of withdrawing low-volume items, but obviously the impact of these decisions is not easy to forecast. In response to a question from me, they are thinking about <em>perhaps</em> making local suppliers part of their local offering in the store, but this has to be very carefully managed.<br />
<br />
There have been serious problems at the store recently with the customer-operated checkouts. This, they explained, was not their fault. The supplier of the equipment had changed the specification of the hardware <em>without even telling them</em>. They are just as upset and frustrated about this as their customers. I made the point that one reason I never choose to use these checkouts was an ethical one, to do with the possible reduction and laying-off of checkout staff. The area manager assured me that this was not their policy at all. We shall see. Things can change, after all!<br />
<br />
We talked about quite a few other things, such as pricing. But I'm not going into those here. I want to keep this short.<br />
<br />
One last point: the appearance of the store is certainly bright, and the food looks very appetising. We understand that the works will be completed next Thursday. Time will tell if Morrisons get the right balance of their lines, both volume and minority, but they appear to be very keen to get it right and to listen. They stressed how important feedback was and showed today that they valued it.<br />
<br />
One last <em>last</em> point! Throughout the Morrisons makeover works, the store remained clean and tidy. In fact Jeff pointed out that they monitored hygiene very closely and took a pre-emptive and cautionary decision to individually wrap certain open-food items while the works were ongoing. This is is stark contrast to what is happening in Waitrose Bath, where the dust is very evident, collecting visibly on things like dark bottles. Yet Waitrose appear happy to continue to sell open foods for immediate consumption, such as salads for the lunchtime and tourist trade.<br />
<br />
In conclusion, well done Morrisons for listening. It's all too rare these days.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-52228477894843845672012-09-11T04:01:00.001-07:002012-09-11T04:01:31.645-07:00Disability: An experiment in cool thoughtNow, in these rather bleak post-Olympic and Paralympic days, when we realize that the emotions we have all felt are to be replaced by a grimmer set of realities, it's perhaps time to reflect on some less than worthy thoughts I have heard expressed, especially regarding the paralympians. <br><br>One thought in particular strikes me as especially unpleasant and difficult to deal with. I have heard people say, "I certainly can't run a hundred metres in eleven or so seconds. Yet these so-called disabled people can. So who are the disabled? Why should my taxes be spent on benefits for them? Where's the logic here?!" <br><br>Let's for a moment set aside the politics of this and see if we can approach these questions from another point of view. A cooler, more logical approach may help to reconcile these seeming contradictions and inequities, while justifying the continued state support of people with disabilities. For, make no mistake, continued state support requires that we convince the "able-bodied" taxpayer that it is justified and that it is fair. <br><br>Firstly let's agree that Paralympic competition is something which is seen every four years and is not part of everyday living (though of course for the athletes, the training and preparation are part of their everyday lives; but only part). <br><br>Next let us acknowledge a clear truth: we all have talents and we all have weaknesses. We are all on a spectrum of ability and disability (in the widest senses of the words). For example, I wonder how many of you reading this post need glasses to see it. Visual impairment is a remarkably widespread purely physical impairment - or disability if you like - so is a good example around which to build my argument. Perhaps, even if you need glasses, you may not think you are disabled. After all, glasses & contacts are so common, and can even be fashion statements and designer status symbols. But stop to think. If your sight was not corrected by these aids, what could you no longer do? I, for example, couldn't drive, read nor write. I couldn't do my present job, except in the most limited way. I couldn't enjoy my favourite pastimes, nor even pursue them anymore. Sounds like a disability, doesn't it? But I don't go around thinking I am "disabled" much less lamenting my impairment. That would be plain weird. I'm just very grateful that there's a solution. <br><br>So I feel we should remember this when we think about "benefits for the disabled". Though glasses are a shocking price, we who wear them, "benefit" from them. You can probably think of other common examples where impairments or weaknesses are helped and corrected, while not being normally considered "official list" disabilities. Many helped with state support, either wholly or partly. <br><br>A more ethical and logical approach to thinking about disability, it seems to me, is to remember the old principle which, if applied, is good for everyone: maximise talents and manage around weaknesses. This principle does away with the binary classification of abled/disabled and allows for more nuanced solutions. It also allows us to think about people as a valuable and fascinating mixture, and each one unique. <br><br>And every one of us deserving of both support and development. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-49035058856507580952012-09-10T04:33:00.000-07:002012-09-10T04:33:04.562-07:00The Motorhome Show, Shepton Mallet<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTIeNhuhNN6lHSGBMECpX0r5QODnu4ZCi8MF-F5AmteMhYXHl_gGkkqjkDKNNxsNVi2gbiKb-PovF_ozQpEd3Vx5EWYqsLhO1mzZRIHu2KuaynooZQQeqafvTGqcT03f_pRu8m1KqiEcc/s1600/IMAG1379.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjTIeNhuhNN6lHSGBMECpX0r5QODnu4ZCi8MF-F5AmteMhYXHl_gGkkqjkDKNNxsNVi2gbiKb-PovF_ozQpEd3Vx5EWYqsLhO1mzZRIHu2KuaynooZQQeqafvTGqcT03f_pRu8m1KqiEcc/s640/IMAG1379.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
The internet is a wonderful thing when you are thinking of doing something you have never done before, such as buying a camper van. Buying a half-decent even <em>small</em> camper van requires the spending of a fair few thousands, so information is essential in reducing the chances of making a sorry mistake.<br />
<br />
Many years ago we had a camper van, a conversion built on a Sherpa body, bought in haste, with all the consequences of buying in haste, including - in its later years - a pop-up roof which not only leaked buckets, but would pop-up whether you wanted it to or not if you exceeded about 40 mph. We still have fond memories of the fun we had, though.<br />
<br />
Now we want to have more fun, but realise that £2,000 will not get you very much more than what is called a "project" requiring a total re-build.<br />
<br />
Yes, the internet is a great starting point, but nothing beats actually being able to climb inside these things and have a good look. Last weekend was our chance. The Motorhome Show at the Royal Bath & West Showground at Shepton Mallet.<br />
<br />
Arriving early, it took a while to get our bearings. The place was full of dealers selling motorhomes at breathtaking prices, and plenty of stalls selling every possible gadget for the motorhome or caravan owner. Our two particular "favourite" items were the miniature folding toilet brush and the astroturf and pot-plant, ready-made miniature garden. There were some possibly useful items, too, but not many for people who want to use a motorhome for travelling and seeing things rather than reproducing their suburban home on a campsite, complete with television, a garden and neighbours to compete with.<br />
<br />
After about an hour, we actually did find a small motorhome which seemed to fit our essential specs: footprint about the size of an estate car, liveable layout, shower and toilet. And at a price we could afford. We didn't buy it on the spot. Never buy in haste, remember! But at least we discovered that such a thing existed, which was nice.<br />
<br />
That job done, it was time to look around in wonder at those crazy American RVs parked up and inhabited by what we discovered was a community of people who showed every sign of political leanings which no doubt would engender in them some uncharitable views on "Gypsies" and "travellers". The pictures give perhaps some idea of both vehicles and inhabitants:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQkQysVB2WbB5ZB-uBUElMFMH-zW_wJJ2g1Uz-auGXj8XKFJCsUfSbRq88VXY5aTpaDWZdxjCQUHpzbLgpvI76NBJgBYbqhO63uVpUajy-VEIIlJxREE0ZpJByTK9A13JVO8QMDtjMOII/s1600/IMAG1385.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="380" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjQkQysVB2WbB5ZB-uBUElMFMH-zW_wJJ2g1Uz-auGXj8XKFJCsUfSbRq88VXY5aTpaDWZdxjCQUHpzbLgpvI76NBJgBYbqhO63uVpUajy-VEIIlJxREE0ZpJByTK9A13JVO8QMDtjMOII/s640/IMAG1385.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWucy54xclp9WCy-QCcGkToCC_Y0NteWPPo7lUFw0s_AjQYx3uF5Bc-sjUoK-K0c_9HLywxuB3aujVkZl027vXZ9eFsVqYaG-yWrKmHpIomZ2IqAypJ4Gvj67RaB9W5B7ltqMtt2938sM/s1600/IMAG1382.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="382" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgWucy54xclp9WCy-QCcGkToCC_Y0NteWPPo7lUFw0s_AjQYx3uF5Bc-sjUoK-K0c_9HLywxuB3aujVkZl027vXZ9eFsVqYaG-yWrKmHpIomZ2IqAypJ4Gvj67RaB9W5B7ltqMtt2938sM/s640/IMAG1382.jpg" width="640" /></a></div>
<br />
A very common sight was a collection of over-sized cuddly toys ranged behind the windscreens of these amazing vehicles, and, of course, the flags (Cornish flag in the picture above, for example).<br />
<br />
At the end of the day (that's actually <em>at the end of the day</em>, not the cliche), we concluded that people who own motorhomes fall into two broad categories: the Way of Lifers and the more or less adventurous holidaymakers, who like a bit of spontaneity and flexibility and who like to leave home behind, not drag it all with them.<br />
<br />
A final thought. Some things you Just Know. And one thing I just know is this: when it comes the time to empty the toilet cassette, it will be my job.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-66422846400884419482012-09-06T06:51:00.000-07:002012-09-06T06:52:47.054-07:00The Comforts (!) of BathI have known Bath since the end of the sixties. Back in those days, it was anything but "honey-coloured". Almost all of its georgian buildings were blackened from the soot of ages and it took four or five hours to drive there from London, the M4 motorway only reaching as far as Reading.<br><br>The predominant accent heard in streets and shops was either genuine West Country or shabby-genteel. There was even a rough pub in Widcombe called (as it still is in its overpriced wine bar reincarnation) the Ring O' Bells. Smoke-filled and noisy, seats and tables tacky from years of spilled scrumpy, its proceedings were ably supervised by Rosie, a plump and red-elbowed matron whose good side it was wise to stay on. When not keeping order, Rosie dispensed scrumpy cider. Proper scrumpy, that is, not the artificial muck sold these days. Scrumpy had an odd effect. You could drink a fair amount of it and your head remained sober and clear. The trouble came when you stood up - or attempted to - and tried to walk. If you've ever had proper scrumpy, you'll know just what I mean. <br><br>And there was not only proper scrumpy, but proper shopping. Needed one nail or a pound of nails? Go to the ironmongery in George Street. Needed an obscure electrical fitting, or a lamp fixed? Why, good old Nations in York Street was always obliging. <br><br>And there was even proper swimming. The elegant and delightful open-air Cleveland Baths at the riverside in Cleveland Row, Bathwick, was just about as close to wild swimming you could get. <br><br>We moved to Bath at the end of the sixties and, wanting to save on fuel bills, would have a wonderful hot soak in the public baths at what is known as "Bog Island". It's called Bog Island because there were public lavatories and bath tubs there. (There are still two rather elegant entrances to the under pavement facilities, one for men, one for women, but they lead nowhere these days.) Lashings of lovely hot water and bath tubs so big and deep that you felt like a small child again. <br><br>Fancy a read? There used to be a rather inconvenient arrangement. The public lending library occupied the ground floor of the Victoria Art Gallery, while the reference section was in Queen's Square. <br><br>Wanted to rent a nice flat in a georgian terrace? We looked at two floors in the Circus, on offer for 30 bob a week. That's £1.50 decimal. Sounds good? Well don't forget the average weekly wage back then was somewhere between £10 and £15. If you earned a thousand a year, you were considered pretty well-off. Well, we didn't take that Circus flat. Thirty bob was a little too much for us! <br><br>The only thing in Bath which has improved since these memories of mine from the late sixties and early seventies is the main library, which at least is all in one place, currently hugger-mugger with the mess Waitrose are making of the Podium.<br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-37889204513676111502012-08-31T05:00:00.001-07:002012-08-31T05:00:51.104-07:00Where The Wind Blows: Did they protest against Atos?
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"><a href="http://www.guardian.co.uk/sport/2012/aug/30/paralympics-gb-atos-protest?newsfeed=true" target="_blank">It has been reported today</a>
that the hiding of the Atos-branded lanyards by the entire GB paralympic
contingent at the Opening Ceremony was not a protest after all. It was simply, the <em>official</em> explanation says,
because the wind was causing the lanyards and badges to blow around too much, and
the GB contingent therefore tucked them into their clothing. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Leaving aside the vital political aspects of this whole Atos affair for a moment, let's
simply consider just how believable this official explanation is. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Firstly, the paralympians
from almost all the other countries had their lanyards prominently showing,
though there were a few individual exceptions. Presumably the inconvenient wind
was blowing for everyone else as well? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Secondly, while people do
make clothing adjustments in response to the weather, those adjustments are
very variable. The most one can observe is a <em>tendency</em>. See for yourself.
Whatever the weather is today, get out in the streets and look. Say it's
chilly and wet. While you can see a tendency for people to wear warm and
water-resistant clothing, by no means everyone does. In a sample of two or
three hundred people, some (for various reasons, such as lack of forethought,
personal preference, fashion and so on) will buck the trend. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">To issue an official
explanation for the GB paralympic contingent, numbering about 300 physically and mentally tough people, hiding their lanyards
because of a bit of wind, is to insultingly assume a degree of credulousness in the public of 100%, or
close to. <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Isn't it far more likely
there is another more unifying explanation than the weather? <o:p></o:p></span></div>
<br />
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">As to what that explanation
really is, we wait for better evidence. </span></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;"></span> </div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="margin: 0cm 0cm 0pt;">
<span style="font-size: 12pt;">Meanwhile, for me the most likely explanation given the known facts and observations is: <strong><em>the GB Paralympic Team were protesting against Atos and more especially the employers of Atos, the Department for Work and Pensions.</em></strong></span></div>
Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-45714479547348768672012-08-27T10:35:00.000-07:002012-08-27T10:35:48.146-07:00Who is going crazy - the homeopath, or me?Earlier today I initiated a conversation with the homeopath, Nancy Malik, being intrigued by a phrase in her twitter biography, "homeopathic surgery". This phrase seemed so very bizarre that I thought I would ask the lady herself. <br />
<br />
So:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsG015bDA5eOrN1JokIRDRm9hv-G77sBUmxibvDlDw1UWkOET32N2fk62ZPeYEc7zgNlNZKfFLGS83sH-9UJ205L0whQmej-ejEFM7sFjtPoyZhRvHh-n6_TkP1ukJLXZns4c4ocWde7c/s1600/malik1.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjsG015bDA5eOrN1JokIRDRm9hv-G77sBUmxibvDlDw1UWkOET32N2fk62ZPeYEc7zgNlNZKfFLGS83sH-9UJ205L0whQmej-ejEFM7sFjtPoyZhRvHh-n6_TkP1ukJLXZns4c4ocWde7c/s1600/malik1.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
A simple enough question, you would have thought, especially for someone qualified in the discipline.<br />
<br />
Here was the reply:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibi21rqCYer2UMNFPPIT2LysWv5Fqc2UYCLjoWF_R3SDQEc6nFncDZkdpdVo0dZBRN4rUJEGMG56yzhg6XHnLaxfmj4zSTbLPtznjbnkMOmBIsn4voraUmtK3opbyZFgkNZxA4Uuz8iGI/s1600/malik2.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEibi21rqCYer2UMNFPPIT2LysWv5Fqc2UYCLjoWF_R3SDQEc6nFncDZkdpdVo0dZBRN4rUJEGMG56yzhg6XHnLaxfmj4zSTbLPtznjbnkMOmBIsn4voraUmtK3opbyZFgkNZxA4Uuz8iGI/s1600/malik2.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
I was still unclear, but keen to give the lady every chance, so:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwkZ4qCj3clyFRvXSZZWNiTANgWhZft_jUnO_r9eb8mXHQ8nRZkZjgQ4uh5v-nKPwSUH0sv4FXrhRA-T1bbHDF4rRqSbslRQ7C2nCAvTZEqVx7xyr7ju47aU2s4tWNOqoyyUwZMUmYJ0/s1600/malik3.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNwkZ4qCj3clyFRvXSZZWNiTANgWhZft_jUnO_r9eb8mXHQ8nRZkZjgQ4uh5v-nKPwSUH0sv4FXrhRA-T1bbHDF4rRqSbslRQ7C2nCAvTZEqVx7xyr7ju47aU2s4tWNOqoyyUwZMUmYJ0/s1600/malik3.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
And - sure enough - I was obliged with a rather scary list:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMstq-HmOzvA820UpHD485cGOStZl16j-b2i1OafP58CZYNbmYPnzZht6UcEPvpm49AXnXeqx3skjHNUTMEa6BpW3XpyWxRUl9Bf-Vl1MFK7RhUiwKxKOFyhmoybpCMAlmzm3cjRosLl4/s1600/malik4.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhMstq-HmOzvA820UpHD485cGOStZl16j-b2i1OafP58CZYNbmYPnzZht6UcEPvpm49AXnXeqx3skjHNUTMEa6BpW3XpyWxRUl9Bf-Vl1MFK7RhUiwKxKOFyhmoybpCMAlmzm3cjRosLl4/s1600/malik4.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
In a spirit of both alarm and growing outrage, I delved further;<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYSpTWKWptpktpFn0wkW05M62uCopH5XYUK269mFMrguzbmrWE8EdOk6rCrU_l91ovScUdBlIG5Gt6Spu_VuRqd8f_SoG4fydF5wex7LNFc9fWzCo9QkXKzkt-_0DQmPKO2BENKnu_4HQ/s1600/malik5.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiYSpTWKWptpktpFn0wkW05M62uCopH5XYUK269mFMrguzbmrWE8EdOk6rCrU_l91ovScUdBlIG5Gt6Spu_VuRqd8f_SoG4fydF5wex7LNFc9fWzCo9QkXKzkt-_0DQmPKO2BENKnu_4HQ/s1600/malik5.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
Answer:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQdww61ItVmjrMGm-ycqKf8irnyDJ8YbZWcIQ8GE1ZSYF9ORI9OqFZsA3NDE_TPbAdlEPAJiMI8uOeS5lvX33mq7h_QS_sfFgHmNJnxffZEouTcXLQeA9MFZPnWCXmtfbqoJZuzYmI9Y/s1600/malik6.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgQQdww61ItVmjrMGm-ycqKf8irnyDJ8YbZWcIQ8GE1ZSYF9ORI9OqFZsA3NDE_TPbAdlEPAJiMI8uOeS5lvX33mq7h_QS_sfFgHmNJnxffZEouTcXLQeA9MFZPnWCXmtfbqoJZuzYmI9Y/s1600/malik6.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
You will notice that my enquiry into how she qualified was elegantly side-stepped, no doubt because she considered me a fool. For good measure, she seems to have favourited her own tweet.<br />
<br />
Now reaching terminal exasperation, I replied:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipBZ_VeU4cYzRZIJ7FJNOL3aCuAPyuidWSW-2FbbOq_MX5ayFQ2TLNCZvt_SumK6nmq-AnOvxYvBLfIzwFKUEVt35rumM7et8EL-PQ1vX5FwpfykEiDf25bow_imTxPB3t1ZGEI6UYYGA/s1600/malik7.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEipBZ_VeU4cYzRZIJ7FJNOL3aCuAPyuidWSW-2FbbOq_MX5ayFQ2TLNCZvt_SumK6nmq-AnOvxYvBLfIzwFKUEVt35rumM7et8EL-PQ1vX5FwpfykEiDf25bow_imTxPB3t1ZGEI6UYYGA/s1600/malik7.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
The reply I received left me feeling bereft of hope:<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3KMrUEybYlTI47fEmtjvmWYZ3xIVrTLLiCxaOXPqg6nVx6cFdiYoZY3JM9zpi877FNjTabawfdINtpy0cJvKf1UTC88aQhOcxSrxqFerBX22_AYXd59F6oIGu5-0b2njibiKbP51nD2g/s1600/malik8.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg3KMrUEybYlTI47fEmtjvmWYZ3xIVrTLLiCxaOXPqg6nVx6cFdiYoZY3JM9zpi877FNjTabawfdINtpy0cJvKf1UTC88aQhOcxSrxqFerBX22_AYXd59F6oIGu5-0b2njibiKbP51nD2g/s1600/malik8.jpg" /></a></div>
<br />
If anyone (including Nancy Malik) can untangle this and make any sense of it, then I would be very grateful.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-9381927533930262272012-08-26T04:35:00.000-07:002012-08-26T04:36:17.669-07:00Picked up at random in the library <p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDv71J3ly3ASaMIyYAC1AnX2nMxWh4EFEJkPmCZAkUNGUSWcQkrI7JnoZ45T4urVPJ-t4FQP6yr54Ew_oz3c5yRyr_f1BgG1Rgv3hwi71ey5xFb2Gcp5b7Fjx9phTh_4WcvER3hN_lQmI/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1BRzEzMjUuanBn%253F%253D-777669"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhDv71J3ly3ASaMIyYAC1AnX2nMxWh4EFEJkPmCZAkUNGUSWcQkrI7JnoZ45T4urVPJ-t4FQP6yr54Ew_oz3c5yRyr_f1BgG1Rgv3hwi71ey5xFb2Gcp5b7Fjx9phTh_4WcvER3hN_lQmI/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1BRzEzMjUuanBn%253F%253D-777669" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5780944284103461362" /></a></p>A fascinating read. Dashed into Bath Public Library yesterday to get something to read in the park. Grabbed this almost at random. Thoroughly enjoyable. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-44570097532562811042012-08-25T03:55:00.001-07:002012-08-25T03:55:51.469-07:00Prince Harry is no Renaissance Man<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHKQtH3WdFZgPhdXNN2OVR1emRkbGdGcuiTzaTEd4zjInuq5r-BxwYs8QzUYU-DrwZfmdVIfEKnk_JFDlw2nD5-uSPCHXXarX34QhtYs6cx41xfEEpELjQ77O5KN8fbuGjh0JYR53svQ/s1600/Hal.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjrHKQtH3WdFZgPhdXNN2OVR1emRkbGdGcuiTzaTEd4zjInuq5r-BxwYs8QzUYU-DrwZfmdVIfEKnk_JFDlw2nD5-uSPCHXXarX34QhtYs6cx41xfEEpELjQ77O5KN8fbuGjh0JYR53svQ/s320/Hal.jpg" width="179" /></a></div>
<br />
Bearing as he does some accidental - and not so accidental - parallels to Henry The Eighth of That Name, it may be interesting to see how these parallels hold up to examination.<br />
<br />
The first parallel is, of course, the name. Henry. As far as I can ascertain, King Henry had only one name, while Prince Harry has several (Henry Charles Albert David). The other most obvious parallel is the ginger hair.<br />
<br />
Now let's look for others. Both are second sons. Both attended the weddings of their older brothers, whose brides were both called Catherine (or Katherine). Both Prince Harry and Henry (in his youth at least) were fond of physical activity and militarism.<br />
<br />
That's about where it ends. The most obvious contrast between the two is that King Henry as a youth had quite a decent and challenging education, as befitted a younger son destined possibly for some high office in the Catholic church. Henry's rebuttal of Martin Luther, <span class="italic"><em>Assertio septem sacramentorum</em>, published in 1521, was deemed a competent if unoriginal work and earned him the title Defender of the Faith. Educated in grammar, rhetoric and logic, he would probably have made a stimulating companion, capable of building a serious argument in discussion. He is also known as having other accomplishments, such as composing some pleasant if unremarkable music, and being versed in the arts of the apothecary, often preparing his own remedies. We can imagine Henry developing into an interesting and enlightened Renaissance man, if he were not stressed and corrupted by the power of kingship. But that's another story...</span><br />
<span class="italic"></span><br />
<span class="italic">What of Prince Harry? The sheer banality of his recent on-leave activities is numbing, as is the blokey reaction of so many (men, mostly) who assert that he has every right to romp around naked in some stunningly vulgar Las Vegas hotel with other "fun-loving" and empty-headed types since he is a. single and b. an army officer who has served on the front line, risking his life for his country and grandma.</span><br />
<br />
Hang on a minute. He is 27 years old, not some callow youth rejoicing in his first off-leash excursion. I don't deny his right to lark around like this. Frankly I am not that interested.<br />
<br />
What I find disturbing is that this adolescent behaviour, where at least some of earth's women were considered merely playthings, has been excused and even admired and envied by so many.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-18962141077693996932012-08-23T09:23:00.001-07:002012-08-23T09:23:59.424-07:00Dog Bites ManWhen journalists learn their trade, they are taught some fundamentals, such as, Dog Bites Man is not news, but Man Bites Dog is. In other words, "news" is not a faithful record of events, but instead is an engaging record of the unusual or, better still, the bizarre. Tyros are also taught that most readers only read headlines and of those, only a minority read what follows and if they do, they will read only the first paragraph, and certainly no more than the first four. As one reads a newspaper story, one is given increasing detail. <br><br>These guidelines attest to the notoriously puny attention span of the public, and most readers will only read the increasing detail if the story is concerned with sex. <br><br>However wise these guidelines are, they simply do not apply to any story involving celebrities and especially that subset of celebrity, the Royal Family. Today the papers - especially the tabloids - are splashed not with Man Bites Dog but Dog Bites Man. Prince Harry, it seems, has been having fun with several young women in a luxury hotel. So. "Rich, young, single prince frolics about with girls shock" <br><br>Ho hum. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-21214844190624351292012-07-23T08:07:00.001-07:002012-07-23T08:07:42.460-07:00Hotel RoomsI've stayed in some of the best, I've stayed in some of the worst. Mostly I've stayed in the middling sort. <br><br>However, they all present challenges, some unique, many common to them all. <br><br>One almost ubiquitous challenge is figuring out the lights. This can be especially problematic in the larger "chain" hotels, and, in my experience, the more expensive the chain, the more puzzling the lights. In whose perverse brain were these challenges devised? And furthermore, which bright spark decided to implement them? <br><br>There you are, the weary traveller, far from home, you have done the check-in thing, the lift thing, the corridor thing, and the key-card thing. <br><br>Now for the light thing. <br><br>You can tell immediately if a hotel is having a laugh if, even though it's daytime, they've closed the blackout curtains. So in the absence of prior knowledge, you jam the door open with your suitcase so you can find the slot thingy you have to plunge your key-card into to activate the electrical supply. <br><br>Now what happens? Why, the lights go on of course. In this illuminated interval, you do the unpacking thing, and the checking that the TV works thing. You fill the nifty little kettle and turn it on so you can have a "nice cup of tea" once you've put your things away. (And that's another irritation. Hotel chains seem to believe that their guests' overwhelming motive for staying with them is to steal hangers. So another bright spark invented the un-stealable hanger, the only removable part of which has no hook. How bloody insulting.) <br><br>Returning to the lights, it can take many hours to work out the exact sequence of switching before you arrive at the situation where, when you eventually get into bed, you can turn all the lights off from there. <br><br>Before bed, however, you have one more thing to do: hide the Gideon Bible so that, preferably, it is not found until the hotel is subject to archaeological excavation some time in the distant future. There are rules for this. One must not damage the Bible, nor place it somewhere where it might be damaged. Purely out of respect for any book, I would add. This is not as easy as you may think. The best hiding-place I have yet to use was placing one, spine to wall, in the narrow slot between the safe the wardrobe wall. Hiding in plain sight. <br><br>And with that accomplished, one retires for the night, reflecting on whether it is possible to find a more uninspiring dinner than that so recently consumed in one's business trip singularity. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-18478180152061556792012-07-21T07:42:00.000-07:002012-07-21T07:43:30.306-07:00The Right to Bear ArmsAs we all indulge in collective outrage over the dreadful events in Aurora, Colorado, many of us reflect on the wisdom or foolishness of the Second Amendment to the United States constitution which codifies the right of its citizens to "keep and bear arms". It is not a lengthy amendment, and here it is, in full:<br><br> "A well regulated Militia, being necessary to the security of a free State, the right of the people to keep and bear Arms, shall not be infringed."<br><br>Though so brief there have probably been many hundreds of thousands of words of commentary - both scholarly and otherwise - written about these few. <br><br>I do not claim to have made any real study of these many works, nor of the historical context, but here are my thoughts. <br><br>The first words are key, and are easy to understand in the historical and political setting in which they were framed. It was felt, with some justification, that liberty from despotism and defense against attack by foreign states, required an effective and collective response by a free citizenry, appropriately armed and regulated, at least for the duration of the threat. <br><br>The second amendment itself probably had its roots in the English Bill of Rights (1689), which restored many long standing rights to the English after the depredations of Charles I, and particularly of James II. The English Bill of Rights was saying, in effect, why should arms only be borne by the ruling class? Why indeed? <br><br>But whatever the intentions of the lawmakers may have been, either in England or the United States, they surely did not include the right of individuals to keep an arsenal capable of equipping a whole platoon, nor to deploy such an arsenal in murderous mass attacks. Many well-intended laws have proved to have ghastly unintended consequences. Clearly something must be done. Repeal the amendment entirely? Re-draft it? Is such a law needed in a modern democracy? Trouble is, democracy is a frail and ill-defined thing and easily destroyed without vigilance and constant checks and balances. By definition, vigilance must be the job of the people, not the ruling class. A working democracy depends upon this vigilance being performed through effective opposition political parties and by a trades union movement willing and able to defend the working person. <br><br>It is this which would make second amendments and the like surplus to requirements and which, in turn, would open the door to effective gun laws, both in the United States and elsewhere. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-26571844090439099572012-07-01T02:23:00.002-07:002012-07-01T02:23:40.512-07:00British Journalism has some proud and decent history after all<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
</div>
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLnNsTMj7_ZSbHpMCa9vKcMSEB4UbtqhEfdO57QS_kneDhjEgmjf2c_4xAKdX36IaZ1nXRwEaqrAvCT3i9IUXhm-OWuOvaRRgyEctw31ieyV5I_61w5ZlaGVBeF_A5fYhxM-bVuFJB9g/s1600/WLT+obit+text.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="172" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiTLnNsTMj7_ZSbHpMCa9vKcMSEB4UbtqhEfdO57QS_kneDhjEgmjf2c_4xAKdX36IaZ1nXRwEaqrAvCT3i9IUXhm-OWuOvaRRgyEctw31ieyV5I_61w5ZlaGVBeF_A5fYhxM-bVuFJB9g/s320/WLT+obit+text.jpg" vca="true" width="320" /></a></div>
This is obituary is from <em>The Graphic, </em>and reading it is worth a few minutes' time. <em>The Graphic</em> was a reforming newspaper and took as its principles the employment of the very best young artists and writers and the covering of news, not only of the doings and pleasures of the mighty, but of the distress and pain of the many.<br />
<br />
A brave and successful undertaking by all involved, and not least by William Luson Thomas, its founder.<br />
<br />
<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWqfGdq_9xFrSkYIZjjwX1Sy2oB1-3WTixdNvQShRa3uztbNBoDIR0fXpznQLFRxqjAm72JKkSKmg3fPQkR2miJrV9wpU7z16OcngIjCWTof8BTuM1s0YJUo6aZOLaxLWxqvWdmByS_8/s1600/WLT+obit+picture.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgwWqfGdq_9xFrSkYIZjjwX1Sy2oB1-3WTixdNvQShRa3uztbNBoDIR0fXpznQLFRxqjAm72JKkSKmg3fPQkR2miJrV9wpU7z16OcngIjCWTof8BTuM1s0YJUo6aZOLaxLWxqvWdmByS_8/s320/WLT+obit+picture.jpg" vca="true" width="278" /></a></div>
<br />Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-63256947093740189422012-06-23T02:21:00.001-07:002012-06-23T02:21:50.686-07:00You Can Bank On ItWhatever the real cause of the NatWest computing system debacle, the vulnerability of us all to the weakness of money has been exposed. The fluidity crisis - for that is what it is - is now affecting many who are not customers of the affected banks in the RBS group. <br><br>The most common problem is probably that of employees of firms which run current accounts at NatWest out of which wages are paid. And what if you are a supplier waiting on a payment from such a firm? A little thought will bring to mind many other everyday types of transaction dependent on a properly operating current account clearing system. It's easy to imagine the knock-on effects and how terrifyingly quickly they could spread through all our lives. We, like capitalism itself, depend on money, not just the possession of it but the movement of it. <br><br>At the heart of capitalism is the movement of money, not the possession of it. <br><br>In both co-operative and non co-operative societies, essential things have non-derivative true value. There are not many of these. Food, potable water, adequate clothing and shelter. Then there are what might be called the first derivatives such as land for farming or hunting. In co-operative societies, these first derivatives are held in common ownership for the benefit of all. <br><br>Most of us live in non co-operative societies. We have to pursue our lives and seek our wellbeing amid a turmoil of derivatives. And derivatives of derivatives. The concept of value has become individualised, not societal. We "value" things for the comfort or power or status they bring us, rather than for any intrinsic true worth. <br><br>When things go wrong, however, most people rapidly encounter their relationship with the essentials, not the derivatives. How to buy enough food, how to pay the rent, how to stay warm and dry. And these were the concerns reflected in the vox-pops on the NatWest news reports. <br><br>It would be interesting if people now began to ask the fundamental question, "what is money?"<br><br>Perhaps the most radical question of all. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-11819961864868829042012-06-19T23:52:00.000-07:002012-06-19T23:53:22.864-07:00Stolen Day<p class="mobile-photo"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJ9hY1fdNFsuPFmnkdNM2k6_kYHvduU-EwkGTbpjTWFZLLgBlaO0jHZ-ywxgbeq3kxFRvaXEKFLvW8Rikgz4Chyphenhyphenuyy7KXMUf-6LGmdc_0_fEM5cJUX4WJC86gFeiPMnjUsjCAS1TB_YI/s1600/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1BRzEyMjYuanBn%253F%253D-702865"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjAJ9hY1fdNFsuPFmnkdNM2k6_kYHvduU-EwkGTbpjTWFZLLgBlaO0jHZ-ywxgbeq3kxFRvaXEKFLvW8Rikgz4Chyphenhyphenuyy7KXMUf-6LGmdc_0_fEM5cJUX4WJC86gFeiPMnjUsjCAS1TB_YI/s320/%253D%253Futf-8%253FB%253FSU1BRzEyMjYuanBn%253F%253D-702865" border="0" alt="" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5756008672541926466" /></a></p>Sometimes lovely things happen. And when you don't expect them, they are even lovelier. <br><br>On Monday we drove back to Steeple Langford in the vain hope of finding a pair of lost glasses. As some kind soul had found and handed them in at the local pub, we had the rest of the day to ourselves, rather than having to spend it at the opticians and dealing with an insurance claim. <br><br>The sun was shining and it was warm. So we strolled through the village and out the other side into the delightful Wiltshire countryside. <br><br>Crossing a field via a footpath, we ended up in a secluded meadow by one of the branches of the River Wylye and lay watching the white clouds melt in the sun. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-22907010026836113562012-06-14T22:24:00.000-07:002012-06-14T22:25:07.675-07:00The Side ShowWe are being "treated" to a side show which is known as the Leveson Enquiry. For many weeks now we have been invited to marvel at what is constantly described as a "probing" or "subtle" or (posh word) "forensic" examination by Robert Jay with occasional interjectory enquiries by Leveson himself when he rouses from inevitable sleep. Indeed the endeavour to remain in any useful state of consciousness for anyone watching is challenging. <br><br>Occasional excitement is provided. But it comes without warning and one needs to remain in a state of alertness simply not possible for anyone requiring normal levels of stimulation. One can only marvel at the ranks of sometimes recognisable journalists and at their ability to stay awake and even look busy. What can they really be occupying their minds with? <br><br>Of course, any sensible person knows what has really transpired between the politicians and the most powerful section of the print press over the last several decades. There's simply nothing to be learned. The thing to fear from the outcome is another sort of Dangerous Dogs Act: benign in conception, disastrous and ineffectual in practice. <br><br>But at the moment, the Leveson Enquiry is a side show. Not in itself watchable, but ably distilled for us by the media. We may take pleasure in the apparent discomfiture of our despised politicians as they take the witness stand, but this only adds to the effectiveness of the enquiry as a side show and a distraction from the ghastliness that is actually happening. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-11109479516916339832012-06-13T00:41:00.000-07:002012-06-13T00:42:01.341-07:00Down In the Mosh PitI learned something new today: the word "mosh". It, of course, appeared first to my eyes in the preview descriptions of the London Olympic Opening Ceremony. <br><br>Like many typically British cynics, I began to have naughty, satirical thoughts. "So this (harumph) is how we are going to be presented to the world, is it? Like we all live in a rural idyll, defer to the local lord of the manor and chew straws in idle moments? An opportunity lost after the fawning jubilee for a chance to celebrate this country's people and achievements. What! No mention of Britain's outstanding contributions in science, the arts and in social justice? (Harumph again)"<br><br>I have been dreading this opening ceremony for many months. As its director, Danny Boyle, wisely reflects, "failure is built in". So for him to undertake this is evidence of courage. But the really interesting point is: why should failure be "built in"? Why should this be so? It is, of course, because if there's one thing the British like doing, it's Moaning. And the Olympics have certainly given us an unparalleled opportunity to Moan. Moan about the cost. Moan about the disruption. Moan about the ticket allocations. And now, moan about the Opening Ceremony. <br><br>Perhaps this preview is an attempt at expectation-management. Or maybe, more accurately, moan-management. "Let's tell them now so we can get all the moaning over with before the Big Day." This is so intelligent, that it can't be true (and that's a subtle moan in itself). <br><br>As a matter of fact, I hope to end up enjoying and being proud of the Opening Ceremony, especially after the debacle that was the Jubilee River Pageant. I'm sure that once the Games begin, there will be plenty to Moan About. <br><br>I can at least rely on seeing one thing I have never seen before - a mosh pit. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-46049366510522814862012-06-05T07:25:00.001-07:002012-06-05T07:25:39.426-07:00How to Survive a JubileeFirst of all, it seems I was wrong in a previous post. The weather for the Jubilee Pageant was not nice at all. Unless you are a journalist in need of a few platitudes, that is. From what I read in The Telegraph, you would have thought that the torrential downpour during the river pageant was God's special answer to a collective British prayer for a soaking. <br><br>Yes, the heavens opened and we could all rejoice! Time to show the world how we Brits can Keep Calm and Carry On. Let it never be said that we can't cope with a bit of rain and wind. We welcome it, for it makes the occasion truly British. See how we sing, cheer and wave flags! What a disaster it would have been had the sun shone brightly and the Thames' sparkle eclipsed the Royal Bling. <br><br>In our case, see how we flee to the hills to escape it all. Lansdown, just outside Bath, to be precise. By the time we had arrived at our place of escape, the clouds were gathering and curtains of rain could be seen in the distance. At least there was not a shred of bunting to be seen. I suppose it's about a mile from the parking place to Prospect Stile, easy walking with only a few white racecourse rails to duck under. Someone in the far distance was walking a dog. Otherwise, we were alone on this Middle Jurassic flat-top. <br><br>Didn't take long for the rain to embrace us. Soaking wet, we carried on, determined to reach Prospect Stile as we cheered ourselves by reflecting on our escape from all the madness. <br><br>Suffice to say, we got so thoroughly wet that our return walk conversation was entirely about the logistics of getting into the car without turning its interior into a soggy disaster. <br><br>Home at last. Hot showers, tea and television. The river pageant was drawing to a climax. I could scarcely believe my eyes. Was that scowling vision in white our Own Dear Queen? Were those drenched choristers really belting out Rule Britannia in the teeth of a specially imported Atlantic gale? For me, it was cringingly embarrassing, made even worse by the BBC commentary. It was compelling viewing! <br><br>That storm, however, was as nothing to that which broke this morning over the report that jobless youth were bussed in to London to act as unpaid stewards for the river pageant, treated appallingly and made to sleep under a bridge before changing in public for their duties. No hot showers, proper shelter and meals for them when it was over. Let alone a fair wage for a tough job well done. <br><br>It has taken me several hours to stop trembling with rage. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-5803718922747354222012-06-01T09:26:00.000-07:002012-06-01T09:27:03.548-07:00Avoiding the JubileeIt trundles relentlessly toward us, like the Juggernaut. The Jubilee. We can either submit to its awesome power and add our little mass to its greater mass, or get out of the way and hide. <br><br>But where to hide? And how to get out of the way? <br><br>If the weather is really bad (unlikely given the royal family's undoubted hotline to God), it would be a simple solution to simply stay indoors and spend the next few days reading, watching DVDs, sleeping and eating, to emerge blinking into the daylight when the worst has passed. <br><br>If, as is far more likely, the weather is lovely, this would be unbearable. And in any case, unless you live on a remote island, the whole of which you own and control (remind you of anyone?) , the persistent sounds of merrymaking from the outside world would seep annoyingly through your windows, and make you want to die. <br><br>If you want to completely escape, you must first identify somewhere to escape to - otherwise what's the point? Where could you go? A good starting point would be to identify parts of this country that are the least royalist. Trouble is, at least for the duration, there are no parts of the country that are not royalist, it seems. <br><br>I had thought of Antarctica, but no. It would be worse there than here, and besides is bloody cold. <br><br>Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-5357593226119194603.post-52910954051684037822012-06-01T08:09:00.000-07:002012-06-01T08:09:44.956-07:00"So unlike our own dear Queen!"I have on my bookshelves a large volume with the title <em>Sixty Years a Queen</em>. I don't want this to scare off my fellow republicans, so I'd better explain that it is about Victoria, not Elizabeth II, and I bought it because it contains several illustrations by my great grandfather, who was one of Victoria's court painters. The notion of buying such a book celebrating the fact that Elizabeth II has managed to keep breathing for 86 years is repellant.<br />
<br />
What is interesting is the soporific effect on the population of Elizabeth's long - and largely sensible - spell as our head of state. We have been lulled into a false sense of security because of her ability to Refrain from Interfering. The truth is, however, that we simply do not know how much or how often she has indeed interfered, since it's difficult to draw boundaries between "offering a view", "influence" and "interference", especially when the actor is of such high social status (can't get much higher, after all). Perhaps it's just spin that she is famous for Not Interfering. Who knows?<br />
<br />
What we do know is that the heir to the throne is a career Interferer, and furthermore has had definite and measurable effects on all our lives, <em>and he isn't even king yet! </em>We are due for a nasty shock. In more than living memory, we have "benefitted" from monarchs who have been benign and appealing in various contrasting ways. Edward VII ("Edward the Caresser") was fat, likeable and internationalist. George V, by contrast, was dull but dutiful, and collected stamps. George VI "did the right thing" in the Second World War, according to popular legend. But let's not forget the very close call we had with his brother, the Nazi-loving Edward VIII.<br />
<br />
Although she is quite a bit older than I, I am one generation closer to the Victorians than is the queen. Victoria was her great great grandmother, while my great grandfather was Victoria's contemporary. I am fascinated by the 19th Century, which was seminal in founding our modern state and culture, and which saw the Second Enlightenment. So much was wrong back then, but so much was right, too. And at least there was a feeling that - if things were wrong - we could and should do something about it. And things were done, and much was put right.<br />
<br />
Now, we're just depressed and tend to throw up our hands in cynical resignation. This is dangerous in the extreme. Just how dangerous will become all too apparent after the death of Elizabeth II, and for this reason, I wish her a <em>very</em> long life.Unknownnoreply@blogger.com0