Twenty first century Egypt at a crossroads

I have no special knowledge about Egyptian politics, and I assume that I am neither more, nor less, adequately informed than the average person on the number 417 bus service from Crystal Palace to Clapham Common.

It seems to me that Egypt is flirting with the threat of a civil war between several groups: the socially-conservative but politically-radical Islamists, along with their supporters: the poor and dispossessed, who favour Shari'a Law; the socially- and politically-conservative military, along with people loyal to the rejected Mubarak regime, who favour order (and if that requires repression, then so be it); the mostly-secular progressives who overthrew Mubarak, but from whom, in their eyes, victory was snatched by Morsi and the Islamists.

From the news reports that I heard, I am left with the impression that Morsi, when he was President, was governing Egypt not as one nation, but for the benefit of those who wished for the institution of Shari'a Law, and in the teeth of opposition from those who wish the Egyptian state to have a largely secular future. Had Morsi and his government been willing, or perhaps simply able, to govern for the whole of Egypt, maybe the euphoria of the revolution that ousted Mubarak could have swept the rickety caravan along, at least for long enough to permit the establishment of a wider base of democratic institutions. However, the attempted Islamisation of Egypt's constitution was never going to win support from other than his own constituency, and ultimately led to his demise. What Morsi and his democratically-elected government were attempting to practise was effectively dictatorship by the majority, leading to the oppression of the secular minority.

I believe that the military had little love for what Morsi and his government were doing, but tolerated it while there was order on the streets. I believe that the military had equally little love for the secular progressives. When order on the streets descended into chaos in Tahrir Square, the military did the only thing they could do (apart from do nothing): they removed Morsi, re-installing themselves as the authority. (Had they chosen to attack the secular progressive protesters, they would have inevitably have undermined the authority of Morsi's government.) When Morsi supporters, outraged that a military coup was overturning a democratically-elected government, created disorder and chaos, the army did what armies are for: they killed a lot of people.

I hope that all the stake-holders in Egyptian politics are able to see that this is a fragile time, with the risk of a bad situation becoming much, much worse. It would be good if everyone felt able to take a step back away from the brink, but that takes trust, of which, I guess, there is now precious little - everyone feels betrayed!

If Egypt is to return to the democratic path, then maybe for the time being it needs the kind of power-sharing democracy that is practised in Northern Ireland, in which representatives from both communities share decision-making. The kind of representative democracy that is found in states with a long history of democracy is typically supported both with a panoply of other democratic institutions, and with a ballast of civil and judicial administration so that it is hard for the democratically-elected government to tip too far towards dictatorship by the majority. That kind of infrastructure takes time to create and take effect: the EU has been in existence for 60 years, and its structures are still far from fully accepted across the Union.

It is too much to hope for a Gandhi or a Mandela to come forward. However, I hope that some of the politicians in Egypt prove themselves to be statesmen and stateswomen.

Day Fourteen: The Plan

Self-employment
Having been employed by the University of Sunderland for the past eight years, my plan is to return to self-employment: I set up and ran my own business, Alpha Word Power, in 1985. For fifteen years my small business, which also employed several people, one full-time and others part-time or on piece work, offered word processing and publishing services. Nearly thirty years ago, we were at the beginning of desk-top publishing. We produced quite a number of books, sometimes for other people, sometimes under the imprint of Blue Button Press.

Authentic Counselling and Training
I also set up, and ran concurrently with Alpha Word Power, a counselling training organisation called Authentic Counselling and Training, which is still in existence. As well as having delivered training in counselling, we also deliver a variety of personal and professional development short courses, such as stress management, assertiveness training, team development, group leadership and participation skills, and so on. Part of my plan is to relaunch Authentic Counselling and Training in south-east England, adding further professional development courses to the portfolio.

Holiday Let
On an entirely different level, we intend to let part of our new house for holiday lettings. The house is ideally suited to being separated into our own living area, on the one hand, and generous holiday facilities for a couple or a small family. There is even a sizable separate garden. We intend to market the holiday let at several market segments: a) walkers and cyclists; b) people who want a countryside holiday, but with proximity to a wide variety of places to visit; c) people who want a short break with the opportunity for some personal coaching, counselling and spiritual development; d) people travelling to/from elsewhere in Britain/France who require one or more overnights close to the Channel Tunnel. 

Recreation
The Elham Valley, designated as an Area of Outstanding Natural Beauty, is a gorgeous place in which, and from which, to walk, with countless lanes, by-ways, bridleways and local footpaths, as well as three long-distance footpaths (the Elham Valley Way, 22 miles from Canterbury to Hythe on the south coast of Kent; the North Downs Way, 153 miles from Farnham on the Hampshire/Surrey border to Dover on the south east coast of Kent; and the Saxon Shore Way, that follows the Kent coastline for 160 miles from Gravesend in north Kent to Hastings in East Sussex). The area is very popular with cyclists, with regional cycle route 17 running from Dover and the Channel Tunnel via Elham to Canterbury and beyond. Close by there is the wild and ancient Lyminge Forest, in which it is possible to wander for hours watched only by buzzards; or for people who have mobility issues, the Royal Military Canal runs westwards from Hythe. Also starting from Hythe is the delightful Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Light Railway that runs as far as Dungeness, Britain's only official desert.

Places to Visit
There are far too many places to visit to mention here. They include Folkestone (beach), 8.5 miles; Howletts (famously humane zoo), 10 miles; Canterbury (history, shopping, dining out, etc.), 11.5 miles; Dover (history), 13 miles; Leeds Castle, 30.5 miles; Sissinghurst Gardens, 32 miles; Calais (France), 45.5 miles; Pooh Corner, 55.5 miles; London, 70 miles. An hourly bus service runs each way along the Elham Valley between Canterbury and Folkestone. Both Canterbury and Folkestone are on high speed rail lines into London. From nearby Ashford International railway station it is possible to be in Calais in 30 minutes, and in Paris in under two hours.

Counselling, Personal Coaching and Spiritual Development
The house we now have is quiet and peaceful, making it an ideal venue for continuing, extending and developing the therapeutic work in which I have been engaged for more than 25 years.

Herbs, Spices and Vegan Ingredients
Again, on an entirely different level, I intend to set up a consumer-facing online business supplying herbs (culinary and medicinal), spices and other vegan ingredients by mail-order. As part of this venture, I also intend to grow less common culinary herbs for supply fresh to restaurants and companies that prepare food.

Day Thirteen

Bear with me on this one. I am trying to get all sorts of jobs underway, but repeatedly find that, in order to make progress, I am having to journey through time.

Elham is first mentioned in an Anglo-Saxon Charter of 855 AD, and later in the Domesday Book of 1086. Evidence of neolithic occupation includes hand-axes and flint scrapers. There are Bronze Age remains, including tumuli; Roman coins and pottery; and an Anglo-Saxon cemetery in neighbouring Lyminge. St Mary's church dates from 1200; the market square dates from 1251; a large Tudor building greets people who alight buses from Folkestone. All that said, the village emanates a strong sense of the nineteenth century. The population of Elham in 1881 was 1,192, and today, 140 years later, it is 1,465. A railway, the Elham Valley Line, ran from Canterbury to Folkestone between 1887 and 1947, with a station at Elham, but the first world war closed the line after which significant passenger traffic never returned. Elham had its own brick works, a chalk pit, a ropery and two windmills: the district was largely economically self-sufficient. Cherry Gardens and Cherry Tree Lane point to former orchards

As well as the Anglican church, Elham also has a Methodist church, a village hall, a primary school, a GP surgery, two pubs, a restaurant, a tea room, an estate agents, and a very small shop. A pub, a bookshop and an antique shop all closed down in recent years. The smallest post office imaginable is hosted a few days each week in the King's Arms, and a mobile library visits Elham for twenty minutes every Thursday morning.

Looked at from a different standpoint, the nearest (expensive) petrol is 4.5 miles away, the nearest (cheaper) petrol is 6.5 miles away; the nearest supermarket is also 6.5 miles away; the nearest shopping centre (Folkestone), including banks, is 8 miles away; the nearest cinema for us (Canterbury) is 12 miles away. The nearest railway stations are in Folkestone and Canterbury. We have to buy heating oil because Elham is not on the natural gas network. There is no cable broadband, and the BT broadband signal fluctuates wildly. BBC radio signals are poor. There is no Vodafone signal at all, and the O2 signal is patchy. Elham is due east from Gatwick airport, and every evening a huge number of jet planes overfly on their way to continental Europe and the Middle East.

It seems that we have chosen to live in a place that, despite witnessing the aerial dog-fights of the Battle of Britain, has avoided many of the ravages of  the twentieth century, but as a consequence has been substantially by-passed, and is now something of a little world of its own. I am reminded variously of Brigadoon, The Shire and the Island of Sodor. Whilst both attractive and desirable, perhaps there is something a little unrealistic about living in a place that has a kennels for the local fox hunt, but very few of the features of twenty-first century life in an economically- and technologically-developed country.

Day Twelve: A New Rhythym

A different rhythm both to my day and to my week is starting to emerge. It is no longer the mechanical rhythm of commuting to and from paid employment five days each week, my hourly schedule regulated by the clock, fitting food shopping, cooking and leisure into evenings and two-day weekends. Nor is it the kind of relaxed daily routine into which one slips during a holiday, in which the week as a whole follows a schedule but no rhythm.

My week still retains a reasonable differentiation between the days: so, for instance, I still cook pancakes for Sunday breakfast, and we have returned to attending the Sunday morning Quaker meeting. Most mornings I walk between four and eight miles before breakfast, and as a result am getting to know the geography of the area, and to encounter people out jogging or exercising their dogs.

It is hard to ignore the fact that we have committed ourselves to a massive undertaking, and there is an enormous mountain to be climbed. My temptation is to press on relentlessly. However, as a friend pointed out, it is important to try to pace oneself. I recognise that from mid-morning until lunchtime my energy will be higher, and I feel readier to embark on heavier work. This morning I launched into carving an office out of a solid block of still-full packing boxes. The crowning achievement was re-assembling and setting up my desk-top computer. Afternoons bring with them a serious risk of flagging, so I try to do something less strenuous (than box shifting) that involves lots of movement. On several occasions last week the activity was grass cutting; today it was skip (dumpster) diving. A few days ago I spotted some wooden palettes beside a skip. Today I was able to request the palettes, and removed them on a sack barrow (station porter's trolley), palette by palette, wheeling each noisily along the road. My intention is to construct a two-bin garden compost unit, for which wooden palettes are reputed to be ideal. Nous verrons. By the time I had rescued seven wooden palettes, two large, palette-like wooden crates and five 60 cm concrete kerb stones, it was nearly time to start vegetable preparation for dinner. However, I was determined to rearrange the kitchen before I started the cooking. This was not a distraction activity, just trying to make the slowly emerging space work a little more efficiently.

After dinner, we each visit Facebook to catch up with people. The living room is still solid: which is how it will remain until I have some furniture straps with which to secure the book shelves, and as a result we are unable to watch television (a situation about which I do not feel especially unhappy, although my daughter does). It is usually well after midnight when, having drunk a hot (soya-)milky drink, I switch off the bedside light.

Day Eleven: A trip to Samphire Hoe

A brisk 90 minute walk at dawn, up hill and down dale, decorated like a William Morris design with the usual complement of rabbits, squirrels and assorted birds. Nearly back in Elham, I greeted an old, old man dressed in his Sunday best, on his way to church. I slowed to his pace and we talked about how he had recently moved to Elham, along with his daughter and son-in-law, having spent much of their life in and around Romford, Essex. Sadly, he had lost his son seven years ago, and his wife twenty years ago. A passing neighbour greeted him as "George". We parted at the lytch gate. Almost every day someone stops to talk with me. It was the same sitting in the garden of the Quaker Meeting House in Canterbury later that morning - Friends came over to talk.

In the afternoon we visited Samphire Hoe, a somewhat underwhelming country park beneath the Shakespeare Cliffs, created from land reclaimed from the sea by the spoil removed from the construction of the Channel Tunnel. The car park was nearly full: clearly a popular destination for a Sunday 'blow'. Samphire, sea cabbage and sea buckthorn (sanddorn in German - we encountered sanddorn saft in Stralsund last summer) were all thriving in the harsh littoral environment. A stiff breeze was whipping up the white horses as we walked over a kilometre along the sea wall. At the far end of the walk, a middle-aged man with his young daughter were standing watching the waves crash onto a pebble beach and sibilantly scour the shingle. Without ambiguity his appearance, including a lengthy beard, showed him to be an Orthodox Jew. A little while later, as we were arriving back at the car park, he approached me, explaining that his car battery had failed, and asked if I could help restart his car using jump leads. From the other side of the car park I drove our car over to his, and opened the bonnet to expose the car battery. His (now) three daughters were all in their car, and his wife hovered, expressing considerable gratitude. I concluded that the length of my beard, and having a daughter, must have allowed him to feel a sufficient degree of association that, out of the many people in the car park, he felt comfortable requesting my help.

Day Ten: The Concert

Today was emotionally dominated by one event - The Concert. Twelve of Elham's ukulele group shared a platform with the Cherry Town Warblers (a Cheriton community choir) in All Souls church, Cheriton (a suburb of Folkestone). The choir performed some songs a capella, whereas others were accompanied by a keyboard and a flute, and some were accompanied by the ukuleles. Half the concert was given over to the ukulele group alone, playing (and singing) a medley of Beatles, Buddy Holly and other '50s and '60s numbers (including, oddly, the Postman Pat theme song). Fortunately, I had had a few days to practice some of the songs, but saw others just once last Monday, and had to sight-read one (which rather took me by surprise).

Apart from a few ukulele-accompanied songs at a Durham community association Christmas fete, and a quick flash-mob in Durham City centre, this was my first proper concert playing a musical instrument. There was an audience of three dozen, and they paid good money (three pounds) for their evening's entertainment. 

I wonder if the ukulele group might secure some paid gigs (like in The Blues Brothers).

Day Nine

It is unreasonable to expect everything to go well all the time, especially having made radical changes in one's life. Today was a day when some things went wrong, and other things just didn't happen.

I felt fatigued when I woke up, but determined to make some space in a room we have been calling my 'study', but I think I shall revert to my preferred term: my 'office'. I turfed countless heavy boxes out into the hall, and because I have not yet moved them back, it almost impossible to use the front entrance to the house.

I needed some furniture straps to secure book cases to walls, so decided to drive to B and Q and Homebase in Folkestone. After spending ages scouring their aisles I was unable to find any in either, as a result of which I did not have time to do a supermarket shop. I also needed to get to the Post Office, the bank and the council offices, but failed at the latter for the second time. When things go wrong or don't work out, questioning whether we have done the right thing (most of the time, lurking in the shadows) skulks more openly.

I guess that there are bound to be demoralising days.

Day Eight (Week Two)

We have now been moved in for a week. I doubt that we have yet managed to unpack ten percent of the boxes which, in some rooms, remain four or five deep. I doubt that we shall have fully unpacked before Christmas. At least the kitchen has become sufficiently functional to permit the preparation of a full roast (vegan) dinner.

I shoveled gravel, and lugged paving slabs from a variety of locations, in order to improve wheelchair access at the rear of the house (we await a ramp from social services to help with the front entrance).

I have produced (and part shredded) huge heaps of woody prunings, although the garden close to the house still looks like a set in Jurassic Park. I spent several hours making myself very travel sick cutting the grass using the ride-on tractor mower - it sounds as though it should be fun, but not for me.

I found a neighbour's cat in our kitchen - maybe a sign that it is now time to acquire our own felines.

Day Seven: Welcome To The Arboretum

We live in an arboretum. I have by no means fully enumerated the number and variety of the trees. The property is infamous for the massive line of Leylandia that camouflages the house from the road (yesterday a visitor had to return to Ashford having driven past several times and failed to find us). The huge poplar trees that mark a far corner of the property are visible from elsewhere in the Elham Valley. A different corner is marked by willow trees. There is a majestic yew, and a tall and elegant silver birch. Several varieties of conifer are vying to attract the term pinetum. The mature sycamore outside the bedroom window was hacked back to trunk and a few limbs at some point last year. A horse-chestnut is reaching towards maturity. There are at least three dead trees, bare, gnarled and twisted, as though props in a production of Macbeth. Overgrown stands of hazel (awaiting pollarding), hawthorn and elder can be found in several places. I discovered an apple tree hidden in the Jurassic Park shrubbery. There remain many trees that I have not yet identified.

It is something of a jungle, with nettles two metres tall, and thistles with stems as thick as my arm. There are drifts of cuckoo pint which flick intensely poisonous sap into my face when I strim. The yew trees, the leaves and berries of which are also fatally poisonous, require some serious management. Some of the shrubs have thorns that would have not embarrassed the movie set of Jumanji. My wife found a spider in the kitchen: it was the size of a saucer. I shudder to think what reptiles live in the jungle.

Day Six: A Trip To Dungeness

Trip to Romney Marsh and Dungeness. I was proud of having successfully navigated my way across the Marsh, simply relying on my sense of direction. Despite the looming presence of the hideous nuclear power station, Dungeness is fascinating. It is Britain's only official desert, and consists of one of the largest expanses of shingle in the world, yet has an amazingly rich bio-diversity. We watched dolphins catching their afternoon tea. The photogenic wooden shacks, scattered across the shingle landscape, are like out of a (cowboy) Western movie: the late Derek Jarman (movie director) owned one of the shacks. Dungeness is the other terminus of the Romney, Hythe and Dymchurch Light Railway, and seeing the little engine with its long train brought back memories of my only previous visit (by rail) in 1962.

Day Five: The Ukulele Group

The highlight of my day was attending Elham's ukulele group. I was welcomed with great enthusiasm, even though there were fifteen of us (which is quite a lot). We rattled through a lot of material. I had to sight-read all but one piece, which was exhilarating. Their overall approach is slightly more 'professional' than that of the Durham group, which suits me because it feels as though I shall be given the opportunity to develop.

Afterwards we retired to the Kings Arms where I started to learn people's names. They were highly impressed when they learned that I had made enquiries about the ukulele group even before moving to Elham - and it was not me who informed them of this.

We shall be performing in a ukulele concert in Cheriton (Folkestone) on Saturday evening. I have no idea for whom we shall be performing, but tickets are on sale.

Day Four: A Trip To Canterbury

Attended the Quaker Meeting in Canterbury. After the meeting people were so friendly. Bought some tempeh at Canterbury Wholefoods, and some cauliflowers and a cabbage at a farm shop in Broad Oak. Almost every time I drive from Canterbury to Elham I am able to find a different way home. It is delightful to live in such gorgeous countryside. Almost back in Elham I had to stop the car because a baby rabbit was sitting, probably petrified, in the middle of the narrow lane. My wife got out of the car and lifted the rabbit into the hedgerow.

Day Three: Visiting The Acrise Flower Festival

We visited Acrise Flower Festival, held in and around St. Martin's Church in Acrise. It was like stepping back in history. Hundreds of people turned out for a rural village fete straight out of The Archers, including a real coconut shy, ploughman's lunches, and historical photographs. The tiny, ancient church (a simple chancel and nave) was dressed with floral arrangements, and in the organ loft the village organist played Bach.

Day Two: A Trip To Howletts

Day Two began with a protracted thunderstorm and some much-needed rain, so instead of going for a walk in the rain I backed-up the contacts from my now-old Sony Xperia X1, and transferred them to my brand new Sony Xperia E, in preparation my cellphone number being ported from Vodafone to O2 - the Elham Valley must be the only place in the world without a Vodafone signal. The afternoon was given over to a restorative activity: a visit to nearby Howletts Animal Park. Famous for its gorilla colonies, Howletts is strongly animal oriented, focusing on breeding programmes for some of the most endangered species. I enjoyed spending a long time observing the gorillas behave in ways that are more natural to them in the wild. Seven million years ago the forebears of the gorillas I was watching would also have been my forbears.

Day One

Shuffling packing boxes as though in a three-dimensional version of the sliding tile puzzle; pruning bushes and trees that belong in a set for a Jurassic Park movie; inventively cooking with three sprouts, an olive, and some black pepper, or at least that's how it seemed.

Day Zero: Moving-in Day

A team of removers arrived in an articulated lorry. They unloaded, and unloaded, and unloaded (300 cubic metres) all our worldly goods, and then had to call in additional help. They left at tea time, and we are treading water in an ocean of of cardboard boxes. We also have telephony and broadband, and hot water. I already have council tax, water and electricity bills to pay, and the requisite forms to register with the local GP. It is strange that a simple statement such as "I live in Elham" appears to be made up of a multitude of confirmatory components, without which there would remain some uncertainty.

A time to scatter stones

10:17 

The removers are busy removing the final items of furniture, boxes of crockery, and disability-related equipment. At the moment this feels like moving-out day - although, interestingly not quite yet moving-on day - that comes a little later. Ecclesiastes 3: "A time to scatter stones."

13:06

The removers have gone, and all our possessions are trundling southwards in a lorry and articulated trailer. The house is empty and quiet. Soon my wife and daughter will be following in the wake of the lorry. At some point today BT will sever telephony, at which point I am recalled to all centuries prior to this. Once the estate agent has checked over the house and I have returned the keys, I shall close the door for the final time, and drive away. Crossing the Tees to the west of Darlington, I shall have left County Durham and the North East of England. 

End of Book Three.

Cooking pizze in a wood-fired pizza oven

Last night we sat beneath a starry sky, keeping warm in the 'afterglow' from the pizza oven: I cooked wood-smokey pizze in a real wood-fired pizza oven - a culinary first for me. Sadly, I did not prepare a vegan pizza for me, so only my wife and daughter benefited from the wood-smokey flavour.

It was an intensely summery activity: sitting outside beside a warm fire counting the stars as they twinkled into existence. Small pleasures. However, I resisted the temptation to inflict my ukulele playing on the immediate neighbours - I reserve that pleasure for when we move into our new house in Kent where there are no immediate neighbours on either side.

Less than a week to go

In less than a week we shall emigrate almost to France. I have forebears and relatives who emigrated variously to New Zealand, to Australia, to the United States, to Canada and to France; in addition to many former colleagues who emigrated to Australia. Even my father made it as far as Cornwall. Somehow, given all that context, emigrating to Kent really doesn't sound especially adventurous ... and yet, is that a television advertisement for Hovis bread I can hear, or is it simply nostalgia upsetting my tinnitus?

We have asked to transfer our membership of the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers) to East Kent Area Meeting, and will mostly attend Canterbury Friends Meeting. Folkestone Meeting is closest, but meets only fortnightly, and I am told is a small meeting. Ashford Meeting is also only small. Canterbury Meeting, which I have attended several times, is similar in size to Durham Meeting.

Good Energy

Moving house has presented us with the opportunity to select a new energy supplier. It has long been a matter of deep principle to me to distance myself utterly from nuclear power, and to move away from electricity produced by fossil fuels. I am happy that Good Energy both supports micro-generation and has its own wind farm.

Our future plans

We intend to make part of the house into a mid-price holiday let, especially to accommodate walkers (the area is thick with footpaths), vegans, people with physical disabilities and people who live in France (which is less than 30 miles away). I intend to replant the orchard with apples, pears, cherries, plums, damsons, greengages, mirabelles, and maybe some figs and persimmons. Some nut trees would be good. There will be substantial vegetable beds, and cages for soft fruit. A principal challenge will be to encourage the rabbits to emigrate (there are six warrens), to discourage the badgers from eating the intended strawberries, to dissuade the wood pigeons and collared doves from snaffling the buds and seedlings, and to re-educate the mole population about where it would be best to dig.

Soon to be on the move

We shall soon be on the move. We have bought a house between Canterbury and Folkestone. We shall be leaving Durham and moving to Kent in July. I shall have lived in Durham for almost 37 years, so this is a significant move. It will be sad to leave behind the people who have been part of my life for so long. However, it will be exciting to be creating a new life, especially so close to France and to London. 

The promise of multiple trips to Howletts, and a wealth of new places to visit in Kent, in and around London, In northern France, and elsewhere in continental Europe is part of what is pulling us towards this corner of the UK: new horizons beckon.

Health & Safety

There are several different points here.

First, correct me if I am wrong, but as far as I understand Health & Safety, I cannot facilitate someone else in taking an identified risk for which they have not been assessed as competent to manage, and therefore if I assess a situation between a person and a risk as non-compliant then either the person must be prevented from taking the risk, or the risk itself has to be reduced to bring the situation into compliance, otherwise I am responsible if an incident occurs.

Second, like everyone I hear mocking reports on the radio news about this or that "not being permitted for reasons of Health & Safety", when there is probably much more behind the issue than journalists are willing to report or even discover. However, it does sometimes feel like if electricity had been discovered / invented last week, Health & Safety concerns would ensure that it never reached consumers. I have been able, safely, to change a fuse in an electrical plug for the best part of fifty years, yet I am not permitted to do so at the University. Instead, I am required to post online a request for a University electrician to come and replace the fuse, and then wait for a week until the overworked electrician arrives, only to find that I am counselling and cannot be disturbed so they go away again.

Although it is not a Health & Safety issue, a similar attitude prevails over the use of IT equipment. I have been using computers on a daily basis since 1976, long before many of the IT departmental staff were born. Unsurprisingly, therefore, I became increasingly frustrated with the extreme level of control that the IT department maintained over the desktop computer that I used at work. The irony is that I was also required to keep a major piece of legacy software, essential to the operation of the counselling service, running for eight years with no support whatsoever from IT department.

It is as though a change has taken place, and we are now all considered to be idiots unless we have umpteen certificates that purport to prove otherwise. In reality, I suppose, as frustrating as the issue is to me, it is not about me: it is about the institution protecting itself, mostly for legal reasons, but also from people who are not competent and might pose a danger to others. Were I permitted to change a fuse, then every Abbott & Costello, Laurel and Hardy, and Marx Brother would want to be permitted to change their fuses, too ... and a fine mess that would cause. Were I permitted to perform disk housekeeping on my office computer, then every Mr Bean, Norman Wisdom and Frank Spencer would be on the telephone to the IT department asking for their hard drive to be restored, having accidentally wiped the drive as clean as a whistle.

Turning Albatros: How to sail half way round the world

(1st draft)
Carl Hughes equipped and stocked his yacht, installed his family as crew, said goodbye to his work colleagues in Monaco, and sailed off into the sunset until reached Tahiti. This book is about that ten month voyage, and the years of preparation that he invested in his dream. For a person who has a similar kind of life-changing dream, Turning Albatross will be an inspiration. For the yachtsman intent on sailing round the world, Turning Albatross will serve as a checklist.

The book falls into a number of categories: it is part manual, part adventure story and part reflection. I am reminded of a literary genre of the 'old salt' sea captain setting down his memoirs.

Carl demonstrates that he is a superb yachtsman. Handling a small boat in mid-ocean storms would terrify ordinary mortals. Add a leak that threatens to sink the boat unless your wife and daughter constantly hand-pump the water back into the sea and the jeopardy becomes unimaginable. Carl reflects on how he handled that and other perilous siutations. His discussion about pirates is both thoughtful and sensible.

Conclusion
I read this book because Carl is my brother and he sent it to me. I have no intention of setting foot in a boat, never mind sailing round the world. Still, I found the book interesting.

Sloppy use of language

I  have a strong preference for competent communication. This does not mean that I respect only one style of 'ideal' language, for I am happy to celebrate dialects, language variants and the rainbow variety of restricted codes. Most people who know me will be familiar with my use of non-English words, my sometimes American terminology, and my preference for indigenous pronunciation, never for effect but mostly out of respect. I enjoyed reading Lynne Truss's book, albeit now some years ago. Yesterday I consulted spelling websites in order to check on the most appropriate spelling of the past participle of the verb to spell. I spell recognise with an s not a z. I enjoy word-play (e.g. the single-word purported military dispatch from India "Peccavi"), and I recognise that the term pedant is usually used as an insult.

I dislike the sloppy use of language, and consider it uncouth to revel in language laziness. I feel irritated when I read public signs (such as above express checkout lanes in some Tesco supermarkets), or hear people speaking on the radio (for example Peter White on In Touch, BBC Radio 4, Tuesday 18 December 2012), confusing less and fewer. I feel uncomfortable when I am subjected to the willfully incompetent use of apostrophes. I am at a loss as to why exclamation marks are used so widely and inappropriately, as though the person is standing on a street corner yelling at the passers-by. Where these instances are simply errors to be corrected, I have no issue. My discomfort lies partly in attitudes that revel and rejoice in poor attainment, and partly in that it is popularly held to be elitist ('class hatred' and 'social racism' are terms that have been used) to reject what is uncouth.

William Shakespeare spelled even his name in different ways because that is how English worked four centuries ago. It might appear contradictory that I am untroubled by poor spelling, by poor grammar or by poor pronunciation, as long as the writer, speaker or signer (q.v. Serena communicating with David in Four Weddings and a Funeral) is trying to communicate as well as they are able in their circumstances, and more particularly if they have some form of disability. My daughter has severe communication disabilities, tries hard to communicate as well as she is able, and I have enormous respect for her efforts. However, as I am well-educated, and I do not have a language-related disability, it should be expected of me that my written and spoken English are of high quality, anything less suggesting disrespect. I do my best to speak tourist French and German when on holiday, and although my efforts are not always especially attractive, I always make the effort, because it shows respect.

I hold several closely-related points as near-axiomatic:
1. The excellent use of language communicates most accurately and precisely what is intended. It is to be applauded and celebrated, and should never be sneered at. Language use superior to my own offers me both a target at which to aim, and the opportunity to learn. The excellent use of language does not confer superiority on the user, but it is both considerate and communicates respect for the recipient.
2. The poor use of language, perhaps including obfuscation, obscures understanding. Once I am aware of shortcomings in my communication, I am fully responsible for overcoming them. Whilst not knowing the difference between there, their and they're is a shortcoming, refusing to learn the difference is uncouth.
3. Nobody should be belittled for their poor use of language. However, shortcomings in accuracy and poverty of expression should be recognised, and, where appropriate, acknowledged. This is especially the case with notices. Brazenly placing on public display that which is patently a poor use of language is ill-mannered.
4. The use of a dictionary (in book and on-line formats) allows me both to spell accurately, for which purpose a dictionary should be used whenever there is doubt, and also allows me to refine my understanding of the words that I use. The use of a thesaurus (in book and on-line formats) allows me both to expand my vocabulary and to chose the most appropriate word or term to use. Just as a car helps me to travel greater distances than can be covered on foot, so dictionaries and thesauri allow me to range more widely in thoughts, concepts and ideas.
5. Most word processors have a spelling-check function, offering little excuse for poor spelling in a type-written document. Failure to use a spelling checker communicates a lack of respect, perhaps inadvertent, for the recipient.

Not wowwed

At least a part of me has a strong preference for politeness, good manners and the giving and receiving of respect. I use the words 'please' and 'thank you' when making requests; I greet strangers walking along the riverbanks to and from Durham City; when I see people examining a street plan of the city I ask them if they require guidance; I open doors for people. These courtesies are minor virtues that I expect of myself, and hope for from others.

Yet every day I am required to tolerate ill-mannered behaviour that is aimed directly at me. Young men and women call out to me insultingly because I have a beard. Track-suited parents turn away from me to talk to their children who then stand and stare at me as I walk past, giggling about what they have just be told. Men in their thirties driving white transit vans honk their horns at me as they drive past. Car passengers wind down a window in order to shout abuse at me, even though their words are lost on the wind. A passenger in a passing car threw an almost-empty drink can at me; on another occasion it was a lighted cigarette. On several occasions as I have walked along  shopping streets, local men and women in their twenties have yanked at my beard, and then stood laughing both with hilarity and challenging me to do something about it.. On two occasions middle-aged me, again people unknown to me, have approached me while I have been standing waiting in the Market Place, poked me in the stomach and asked: "When's it due?" The most upsetting and disturbing incident was when, only a hundred metres from my house, I was set upon and beaten by three young men who did not like the look of me.

A more benign part of me recognises that the person who I am means nothing to any of these people. I speculate about their life experiences that account for their ill-mannered, uncouth, sometimes yobbish and aggressive behaviour. It is clear in every instance that they are seeing someone they recognise as different from themselves. There have been two well-publicised examples (Shotley Bridge, Consett; and Redhouse, Sunderland) of local young men and women terrorising, assaulting and killing a person with a learning disability. In another well-publicised case (Darlington), several young men beat to death a well-known old man who was homeless. I am far from the only victim of loutish, sometimes brutal behaviour, singled out for being different. It is not only me who feels as though I am not given the respect of common courtesy. I suspect that the perpetrators do not respect themselves to any depth, and may not feel respected by others.

However, this cannot be the whole story, because to a person, every younger or older person, man or woman, who has behaved poorly towards me is white. I do not experience abuse of any kind from Black British or Asian British people.

Recently there was a tragic incident in which a London nurse ended her life because she was unable to bear the shame of public humiliation inflicted on her by the uncouth behaviour of two Australian radio presenters. "It was only a bit of fun," (just not for the person who was humiliated).

I feel disgust for a television advertisement that appears to revel in ill-mannered, uncouth behaviour. The advertisement is for a group discount product called Wowcher, in which a young woman behaves in a triumphantly uncouth manner stabbing at her food when attempting to eat sushi with chopsticks.

I found the following instructions on the web:
"Do not hold the chopsticks close to the end. The farther away your hands are from the food, the better. Do not stab food, as this is considered rude and/or an insult to the chef or cook who prepared the food."

I have much respect for Japanese ways, customs and manners, as well as a taste for Japanese (vegan) cuisine. During my visit to Japan a few years ago, I found no-one to be other than helpful, well-mannered and polite.

My impression is that the television advertisement intends to poke fun, not at the ineptitude of the young woman, but at 'foreign food and foreign eating habits', and to suggest the superiority of western values, ingenuity being implied for what is in fact uncouthness. I consider the advertisement to be offensive, and likely to appeal most to Little Englanders, assuming they were willing to eat sushi. I doubt that I am of the demographic at which the advertisers (and the product) are aiming.

To conclude: I dislike uncouthness, and in contrast with some facets of the culture currently prevailing in the UK and Australia, I refuse to celebrate them.

Quaker Meeting

I attended the Quaker Meeting today, as I sometimes do. I don't wear special clothes, in fact, my shoes and trousers were muddy from the riverbank walk into Durham. Neither do I attend with especially lofty thoughts. I just take my ordinary, everyday self. The room in which the meeting is held is quite unremarkable: a small hall in a rather shabby, somewhat run-down community centre. The meeting begins even as people, Friends, are still arriving. I wait. I wait in the light. Attentive, I vigil. In the presence of each other, a presence becomes discernable. Not the presence of a person, although some would say that it is. Not the presence of something supernatural, although others would say that it is. Some would say that it is a divine presence, but I don't really know what that means. The presence is an awareness of space, of volume, a potential that wasn't there before.

Plea of sanity?

The trial verdict and sentencing of Anders Breivik in Oslo recently was a matter of some interest to me, not because of the harrowing testimonies given by survivors, nor was I motivated by a desire to know that a racist, xenophobic, right-wing, Nazi sympathiser would be removed from pubic society, but because his behaviour raises questions about attitudes to mental health. The suspect’s guilt was never in question: he freely admitted the killings he had perpetrated. Indeed, in his final words addressed to the court Breivik expressed regret for not having killed more people. There was, however, uncertainty about the trial verdict regarding his state of mind. I guess that one of the first questions that will have been asked was whether Breivik was fit to stand trial, that is, whether he would be capable of following and understanding the legal proceedings. It must have been decided that he was indeed fit to stand trial, and from the way in which the trial was subsequently conducted there is no reason to consider this to have been a poor decision. As the trial progressed, the judges were then required to decide whether, at the time he carried out the killings, Breivik was in a state of mind in which he was able to take responsibility for his actions. Occasionally this has been expressed in more lurid terms: speaking of Breivik as a madman, and suggesting that he may be mad, with the difficult freight of meanings and nuances carried by those two terms. The BBC presented this more politely as a decision regarding his sanity: if considered to be sane then he would be criminally responsible for killing 77 people, for which he would be imprisoned; if considered to be insane then he would be incarcerated in a secure psychiatric ward and assessed for treatment. Perhaps ironically, according to the BBC news reports, the address of incarceration would be the same regardless of the verdict. During an interview, a spokesperson from the Norwegian penal service told the BBC that while in remand Breivik had not been permitted contact with other prisoners, for his own safety as well as theirs, and that this regime would continue. There is commentator observation that, regardless of the verdict, he would be incarcerated for the rest of his life. It seems clear, therefore, that, other than access to treatment, little will change in Breivik’s circumstances whether he is held to be sane or insane. According to BBC commentators an overwhelming majority of people in Norway wanted the judges to decide that Breivik should be considered sane. My understanding of this is that they wanted Breivik to be punished for his wicked actions. The same commentators reported that Breivik also wished to be considered sane, his reasoning being that he wished his actions to be seen as having been carried out for a reason instead of dismissed as the behaviour of a person unable to behave rationally. The verdict of the five judges was unanimous: they considered Breivik to be sane, and sentenced him to 21 years imprisonment. The situation appears a little more complex to me. I understand that the psychiatrists who assessed Breivik’s mental health did not arrive at a unanimous agreement about his sanity. It seems obvious to me that this is because there neither is, nor can there be, a binary distinction between sanity and insanity. The lay and legal concepts of sanity are a convenience, verbal and conceptual. The mental health of a person may be compromised as a result of illness or injury, or because of who they have become. In attempting to determine the sanity of a person whose mental health is compromised, it is arbitrary where the line of distinction between sanity and insanity is drawn. No doubt Norwegian psychiatrists and/or psychologists subjected Breivik to a battery of tests in order to help them place him one or other side of a line. The results of those tests, however, were interpreted differently by the several people who made the assessment. When a person has some kind of mental disorder, the medical model attempts to distinguish between illness, which is treatable, and personality disorder, which is not treatable. There is a huge medical classificatory system of mental illness and personality disorders. There is also a long history of people being diagnosed differently by different medical staff. Indeed, in a famous 1960s expose, a number of medical students were diagnosed with schizophrenia simply because they were in a psychiatric hospital to which they had admitted themselves in order to carry out research on diagnosis. Equally, failure to agree on a diagnosis does not equate to there being nothing wrong, merely an inability to ascribe, or to agree on, a classification. However, if no broad medical agreement could be reached about a diagnosis of illness or personality disorder then it would be difficult to hold Breivik to be be insane. My perspective differs from the medical model. It seems obvious to me that individually murdering scores of strangers is evidence enough that there is something seriously awry with Breivik, Empathy and compassion are important components of what it is to be fully and healthily human. The desire to kill anyone, including oneself, is unhealthy. There may be antecedent circumstances in which sense may be made of the desire to kill someone, but killing is never a healthy response. It seems from the reports that Breivik showed neither empathy nor compassion when killing people, nor did he subsequently show remorse. Breivik’s actions were far from healthy. Reading on-line a few paragraphs of Breivik’s own writing, Breivik showed that he feels no connection to people. He expressed no warmth. He stated clearly that he expected to be ‘misunderstood’ and vilified for his actions. This suggests a tension between a sense of being the persecuted outsider, and a sense of being set apart, of superiority, perhaps even mildly messianic. It seems equally obvious to me, therefore, that Breivik is in considerable need of therapeutic help: to learn to empathise, to learn to feel compassion, to learn to relate to people, and to learn about the ordinary miracle of being fully human. Perhaps he is incapable of learning these things, but instead of simply locking him up as a criminal, it might have been more imaginative and hopeful had he been offered long-term therapy. Whilst prison may not be the optimum environment in which to help someone such as Breivik, the way in which he carried out the killings, and the way he conducted himself during the trial, point to him remaining an on-going threat to the safety of others, from whom the public should reasonably expect to be protected. However, the public were always going to be protected whether Breivik was considered sane or insane. The desire to define him as a criminally-responsible has denied Breivik the opportunity to receive the help that could have contributed to him becoming a more socially-responsible person. I have written this posting with reference only to news reports, mostly on the radio. There is a useful and detailed Wikipedia page about Breivik at: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Anders_breivik

The two Thomas Crown Affair movies

There are two Thomas Crown Affair movies: the original released in 1968 with Steve McQueen in the title role; and a re-make released in 1999, with Pierce Brosnan in the title role. Faye Dunnaway plays Catherine Banning in the 1968 release, and plays a psychotherapist in the 1999 relaease.Rene Russo plays Catherine Banning in the re-make.

Together the two releases make an excellent pair, to be watched back to back. Both have a strong, similar though slightly different, storyline: the premise of the 1968 movie is a bank robbery, whereas that of the 1999 movie is an art heist. The effect of this difference is to make the 1968 robbery more believable, but the 1999 heist less morally challenging. If, as is proposed, Thomas Crown has everything, has done everything, and is bored, then the 1999 remake allows us to accept this, whereas in the 1968 movie, the line "What would someone who already has $4 million want with $2 million more" misfocuses our attention on a motive of greed. Both movies pose at least two ethical questions: a) considering what he does for a living, how great is Thomas Crown's sin in organising the heist? b) should Catherine Banning be true to her feelings or true to her job?

In both movies Thomas Crown becomes besotted with Catherine Banning, the insurance investigator, although the apparent chemistry between Brosnan and Rene Russo is mesmeric.The chess scene in the original is bursting with sexual tension, echoed by the tango dance scene in the re-maike.

Style figures in both movies, for example in Catherine Banning's costumes, in the locations (such as expensive houses), in the activities (such as gliding, and playing chess). The 1968 moviie was consciously stylish in its impressionistic use of multiple images, whereas the 1999 movie feels a little more formulaic.

In the original, music is used to occupy space where there is no dialogue, whereas in the re-make music is used to set mood, to great effect. The song, Windmills of Your Mind, was made famous by the original movie, during the gliding scene. In the re-make, the gliding scene is given music that is more upbeat, and the song Windmills of Your Mind is covered during the credits. The stand-out song in the 1999 re-make is Sinnerman.

The 1968 movie has a bittersweet ending, whereas the 1999 movie has a feel-good ending.

On merit

I was born into the socially-hopeful 1950s. Post-war austerity was giving way to the New Look; rock'n'roll was arriving with new sounds, and bringing with it new ways of relating, new attitudes to authority, and new expectations about how life should be. Technological development was heating up.with the invention of the transistor, the basic building block of all electronics. The first programmable computers were being built and put to work. Rocket programmes in the Soviet Union, the United States and in the United Kingdom promised satellites, space travel and the possibility of exploring other worlds. Jet engines began to be used for commercial, not just military, travel. Watson, Crick and Franklin had discovered the double-helix structure of DNA. Nuclear power stations were being built to replace the use of dirty fossil fuels.

In the UK the first motorways were being planned; public broadcast television had just expanded to a second channel; the National Health Service, still in its infancy, required doctors and nurses; aerospace required engineers; pharmaceutical companies required biochemists. These and many other industries required cognitively-able personnel. In response, the Conservative government set up the Robbins Committee that first met in 1961 which recommended in 1963 that the university system be expanded considerably. The report also concluded that university places "should be available to all who were qualified for them by ability and attainment".

Further, the pace of technological change left the UK Civil Service significantly under-resourced for the requirements of the time. Harold Wilson's new Britain was being forged in what would become 'the white heat of a technological revolution' that required more technocrats and fewer mandarins to adminster goverment, and he asked John Fulton to chair a committee to consider the needs of the civil service. The so-called mandarins were classically-educated generalists: between 1948 and 1963 only 3% of the recruits to the administrative class came from the working classes, and in 1966 more than half of the administrators at under-secretary level and above had been privately educated. Wilson and Fulton wanted the old Britain that had run along class lines to give way to a new Britain in which ability was ascendant.

In 1943 the Norwood Committee reported on ideas for a major revision of the system of secondary eduation in the UK. They proposed a new tripartite system of state-funded secondary education: grammar, technical and 'modern' schools. The report proposed the use of several factors to determine which kind of secondary school a pupil should attend, foremost of which was the recommendation of the primary school teacher, and taking into account the wishes of the child's parents. The use of testing was also mooted. There are many interesting features of the Norwood Report, the overall effect of which was to throw a free secondary education open to giirls and to the working class, funded by local authorities. However, it was not proposed that independent (much of it fee-paying) secondary education should be abolished. Instead, independent grammar schools were permitted to receive direct payments from the government for the price of offering a number of free places to pupils whose parents were unable to afford the fees. These were the Direct Grant Grammar Schools. The subsequent 1944 Education Act enacted the recommendations of the Norwood Committee, with a number of changes, the most notable of which was the method by which pupils were allocated to the appropriate school: the use of an examination called the Eleven Plus. Had another feature of the Norwood Report been put into practice the use of what became the dreaded Eleven Plus would have been less divisive: Norwood made it clear that during the lower years of secondary education, there should be a flow of pupils between the different types of school, so that by the time the pupil reached the upper years, it would be clear that they were in the most appropriate type of school. However, in practice, this flow of pupils barely ever happened. Instead, the Eleven Plus examination became the crossroads at which pupils were almost irrevocably sorted into the 'modern' (secondary modern), grammar and independent (public - fee-paying) schools. Norwood proposed, and the 1944 Education Act permitted the formation of secondary technical schools, but in reality very few were ever built, partly because they were considered inferior to grammar schools, and partly because the kind of technical vocational education they were supposed to offer was seen by many as the domain of apprenticeships. (My first secondary teaching practice was at a former secondary technical school in Ferryhill, County Durham, UK.)

Despite the socially progressive issue of the extension of secondary education to all, and not simply the preserve of those whose parents could afford to pay, the system that was created also entrenched class divisions. Wealthy parents, who could easily afford to send their child to a fee-paying school continued to do so. Not so wealthy parents whose son or daughter was academically less-able could still pay for a private education; but now the more academically-able offspring were able to attend the state-funded grammar school. Parents with little money could not afford to pay school fees, and so their offspring went either to the grammar school (if they could pass the Eleven Plus) or to the secondary modern school. However, access to the grammar school, whilst theoretically class-blind, was far from equal, and the resulting socio-economic demographic of the school was at some considerable variance from that of the communities in which the schools were based: grammar schools had a significant middle-class component, or were even substantially middle-class, whereas secondary modern schools were overwhelmingly working class. It is not hard to see why. Middle-class families were able to provide their children with books and magazines, a wealth of cultural experiences and opportunities (visits to art galleries, the theatre, the ballet, and holidays), and perhaps most importantly an expectation of academic success. In contrast, working class families typically had little if any reading material at home; economic poverty delivered few cultural opportunities; and again perhaps most importantly, poverty of aspiration meant that blue-collar, shop-floor work was inevitable - eloquently explored in Barry Hines' novel  A Kestrel for a Knave, and brought to public attenntion by the movie Kes, directed by Ken Loach.

Notes to self:
1. The 1943 Norwood Report is seriously interesting to read.

2. The 1944 Education Act raised the minimum school leaving age from 14 to 15. Norwood specifically considered that the school leaving age should be raised from 15 to 16. This process was not started until 1964, suffered four years to of delay, and was finally put into practice on 1 September 1972. See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Raising_of_school_leaving_age_in_England_and_Wales

3. " Differentiation of pupils for the kind of secondary education appropriate to them should be made upon the basis of (a) the judgement of the teachers of the primary school, supplemented if desired by (b) 'intelligence' and 'performance' and other tests. Due consideration should be given to the choice of the parent and the pupil"

4. Norwood allowed for the creation of comprehensive schools.

5. With the proposed raising of the school leaving age from 16 to 18 in 2013, and the relatively high proportion of 18 year old moving on to university, it seems clear that the dismantling of the tripartitte system has simply delayed segregation from 11 to 18.


... to be continued

Bread and circuses

Much is being made, even as I write, of the 60th anniversary of Elizabeth Windsor having acceded to the role of Head of State. The BBC appears to find this anniversary so fascinating that it seems incapable of not mentioning the so-called Diamond Jubilee every five minutes, and reports stories of celebratory street parties being held beneath umbrellas in the pouring June rain. My neighbours next door, and those across the street, have nationalistic bunting and union flags festooning publicly visible parts of their houses and gardens. Cars are being driven with union flags secured like football team pennants to their passenger door windows. The newspapers have developed a royalist enthusiasm and fervour indistinguishable from an obsessional fixation.

In stark contrast, I am devoid of any desire to celebrate birth into privilege, and I have no more interest in the celebrity of royalty than I have in the celebrity of modern pop or television soap stars. Ordinarily I take no intentional interest in people accorded celebrity status - this is for at least two reasons: their lives rarely materially affect mine; and their celebrity status concerns aspects of the world that I consider to be 'part of the problem not part of the solution'. However, I do have an interest in national and international politics, including constitutional matters, and cannot ignore the circumstances of the head of state.
Why intelligent adults should wallow in adulation for a monarch and all that monarchy has meant, especially for the United Kingdom, is beyond my comprehension. Whilst not of a psychodynamic orientation, I cannot help but imagine that there must be some deep-seated desire amongst a vast swathe of the UK population, for the security of a powerful but benign parental figure. Would that the history of monarchical power in the UK anything like that image.
It is not that I am especially unhappy about the person who is Elizabeth Windsor. According to most, albeit sycophantic, accounts, she is an intelligent, pleasant, well-mannered person who takes an interest in affairs of state. However, on their own, these attributes do not qualify the person for the role, they simply suggest how comfortable the person may feel in performing the role. I do admit to bemusement that a person of intelligence should devote any attention to racing horses. My unhappiness lies in three directions. First, the manner in which the head of state is chosen; second, the fact of inherited privilege; third, that considerable power is given to one person for as long as they choose.
I was brought up in a recently-post-war Britain that for a while accepted the principle of meritocracy, or at least peddled a myth of meritocratic privilege. I suspect that this principle also has in fact a long political pedigree stretching back through the Liberal Party to the Whigs in attempts to curb aristocratic power. Even before that, the controversial figure of Oliver Cromwell (formerly a mere yeoman farmer) showed that once inherited privilege is swept away, those who can demonstrate relevant competence are able to handle the reins of state - Cromwell refused not only the crown and title of monarch, but specifically the right for his heirs to inherit the role. The people of many other countries, including Ireland and France, Russia and the United States, choose their head of state. I should prefer it were the people of the UK able to do likewise.
I do not have the space here to develop the three themes of meritocracy, inherited privilege and autocracy, so I shall give each a weblog posting of its own.
According to figures on the Channel 4 News website the 'celebrations' will cost the UK economy well in excess of a billion pounds in bunting and flags, policing and security, and lost productivity. Whilst some might applaud the opportunity for 'a couple of days off work', I find it hard to accept this national expenditure against the pressing needs of tackling unemployment and poverty afflicting northern England as a result of the economic recession. The public (private) school educated prime minister Cameron said that we "needed cheering up", and accordingly many thousands of people, watched by countless thousands more, paraded in a cavalcade of little boats on the River Thames in London, simultaneously re-enacting past Hanoverian processions and evoking folk memories of the rescue of British military personnel from Dunkirk, France, in 1940.
Maybe the Roman political principle of 'bread and circuses' remains alive even after two thousand years, countless social, political, industrial and technological revolutions, and more private opportunities for entertainment than it would be possible to shake a bundle of sticks at. Not that I agree with John Lydon: if Britain really were a fascist state then there are no circumstances under which I would be permitted to publish this weblog posting.

Radioactive fish

According to study results just released, radioactive pollution from the Fukushima nuclear disaster last year (April 2011) was found in fish caught off the North American coast only four months later. Whilst it was shown that the intensity of the radiation was relatively low, this does not negate the fact that environmental effects of the disaster have spread from the locale and the region to the hemisphere. This new evidence proves once again that nuclear contamination continues to poison the planet. Even if, like Germany, all countries abandoned nuclear power production immediately, the effects of radioactive pollution will yet be felt for thousands of years. It makes no sense to compound the accumulation of problems by continuing this outrageous assault on the environment. Moving away from nuclear power to renewable energy production is the only course of action which will protect the planet.

Aversion to gambling

Whilst far from unique, the depth of my aversion to gambling is unusual. It pains me to see people forfeiting their wages in the hope of winning a jackpot. I hate being told about next week's housekeeping money being fed into insatiable slot machines. I feel sickeningly upset when I hear about a student who, having spent their year's student loan at the local casino, then runs up thousands of pounds of debt in a futile attempt to assuage a gnawing hunger to gamble.

My aversion has multiple components:

1. I detest the anxiety involved when hoping to win (anything). There is already more than enough anxiety in my life, and adding to it would be perverse.Clearly, some people enjoy the frisson that is probably a key part of the experience for them, an enjoyment that maintains their behaviour.
2. I cannot bear the disappointment of losing money. For some people, it is losing that spurs them into further gambling in the hope of recovering their losses.
3. When I hear about someone losing money, I find it easy to imagine how I would feel were I to lose that money (sympathy rather than empathy)
4. I imagine the consequences of losing evey last penny, and being unable to afford to buy food, warmth, light. I lived on the bread line back in the 1980s, and feel a powerful urge to avoid a life of penury.
5. I imagine losing all my possessions: house, car, computer, smartphone, books, music, DVDs. These are things I have chosen carefully, and in which I have invested much of myself: they mean a lot to me.
6. I imagine losing the important relationships in my life. There is a desolate scene in The Full Monty in which the character who also plays Mr Chuckles loses his family.
7. I imagine the shame of having to admit to people that I have gambled everything away.
8. I imagine the fear of being caught up in the murky underworld of debt recovery. The scene in Lock, Stock and Two Smoking Barrels, in which Tom and his mates are threatened by Barry "The Baptist" with mutilation and shame if they don't pay a gambling debt, is nauseatingly unsettling.

I feel ethically antagonistic to the idea of business turnover and profit deriving from people losing their money. Harsh though it may sound, I cannot but help think of these businesses as behaving parasitically. I am also aware that a proportion of gambling that takes place probably attracts the attention of organised crime (or is that just in the movies?), also parasitical, with which I wish to have no involvement, and have every desire to avoid funding.
A society that places emphasis on gambling is a society that peddles fantasies of escape from reality.
In contrast, I feel strongly drawn towards a work ethic that prizes working for a living, with a concomitant ethic that prizes working hard, for which one should be proportionately rewarded. I believe that I become more who I truly am through engagement in my work, and especially by working hard. Gambling is the antithesis of these ethical principles, and an implication of gambling is that work is for suckers.
As we have witnessed, with astronomical quantities of money disappearing from national economies as a result of the sub-prime mortgage scandal in the US, followed by the collapse of some commercial banks, followed by the near bankrpting of countries such as Greece, Spain, Portugal, Italy and Iceland, how money is spent can have a very significant impact on the lives of hundreds of millions of people. When money is spent on the wrong things, in this case on speculation, governments fall, workers are thrown out of their jobs, pensioners lose their pensions, and the standard of living drops. Speculation of this kind is no different from gambling, except that vast numbers of innocent people are swept up in the subsequent destruction. I can't help but wonder what would happen to national economies were people to stop gambling and start businesses instead.

There is considered to be something glamourous about a casino When Ian Fleming's character James Bond walks into a casino, we are being told that he associates with very wealthy, champagne-sipping people who can afford to dress elegantly, and who wish to suggest they are so wealthy that they can afford to risk losing some of their wealth. The reality of casinos in Sunderland, UK, or I guess Las Vegas, Nevada, is perhaps rather more seedy. The gambler's hope (although not the only reason why they gamble) is to win money. Their msitake is to over-estimate the probability of winning. A casino is a business that understands the probabilities, the net effect of which is always to relieve people of their money, albeit perhaps over a period of time Were the opposite true, casinos as businesses could not exist. Regarding betting, the sleigtht of hand is slightly different: for bookmakers: to survive in business, the odds have to be weighted in favour of the business. Lottery's work slightly differently again, in which the prize money is dependent on total stakes, and the lottery company makes its money by retaiinng a proportion of the stakes.

I have never bought a lottery ticket, and even though they seem to be sold everywhere in the UK,  I do not know how to mark a lottery ticket. At the odds of 14,000,000 to 1 against winning, it seems incredible to me that people do buy lottery tickets - maybe it manifests the intensity of their desperation for a better life.. I have never visited a casino, and find it easy to imagine the range of negative feelings that I would probably experience were I to do so. I once went into a betting shop, simply because I did not know what they look like. I felt sorry for the people who spend so much of their lives in such places, for the one I visited was grim. Far from feeling tempted to place a bet, I felt soiled, and could not leave fast enough.

...to be continued...

Reform of the House of Lords

The first, and most obvious thing to admit is that reform of the House of Lords, the upper chamber of the UK parliament, is not the highest of priorities for anyone much at present, with the exception of Nick Clegg, leader of the Liberal Democrats. In these economically straitened times there are more pressing issues. Perhaps the constitutional issue of Scottish independence is more deserving of centre stage.
However, even though not pressing, the House of Lords does still require reformation, and if not now, then when? The chamber is populated mostly by 92 hereditary peers, 26 Lords Spiritual and a large number of political appointees. Many of the hereditary peers were cleared out some years ago by the Blair government..It would be very hard to assert that the 786 peers who currently make up the House of Lords are a representative sample of the UK population. A majority of the lords passed middle age quite a few summers ago. There are too few (181) women, too few black and Asian people, and too few people with disabilities. I am happy to support reform of the House of Lords.
The popular solution to the objection that the House is unrepresentative is to suggest that membership should be by popular election - either 80% or 100% of members being elected. However, I see little value in replicating the process of electing members of the House of Commons. Instead, my preference would be for an all-appointed House, made up of every facet of British life. So there would be representatives from:

1. trades unions (TUC)
2. the employer's federation (CBI)
3. BBC radio
4. commercial radio
5. BBC television 
6. commercial television
7. the film industry
8. the live music and recorded music industries
9. the theatre 
10. the visual arts
11. the Consumers' Association
12. the construction industry
13. the road transport industry
14. the rail industry 
15. the airline industry
16. the airports 
17. the sea ports
18. the coast guard
19. the police 
20. the fire and rescue service
21. the ambulance service
22. the British Army
23. the Royal Navy
24. the Royal Air Force
25. military intelligence
26. the Anglican Church 
27. the Roman Catholic Church (this might require a change in Canon Law)
28. the Greek Orthodox Church
29. the Methodist Church
30. Jehovah's Witnesseses
31. the Salvation Army
32. the Baptist Church
33. the Religious Society of Friends (Quakers)
34. the Unitarian Church
35. the Humanist Association
36. an Orthodox Jew
37. a Reformed Jew
38. a Sunni Muslim
39. a Shia Muslim
40. a Hindu
41. a Jain
42. a Buddhist
43. a pagan
44. every significant ethnic group in the country, including Roma people;
45. Russell Group universities
46. Million + universities
47. FE colleges
48. sixth form colleges 
49. secondary schools
50. primary schools
51. teachers' unions
52. headteachers
53. hospitals
54. the British Medical Association
55. nurses and midwives
56. dentists 
57. chiropodists;
58. social work
59. probation
60. prison service
61. the charitable sector
62. volunteer organisations
63. the National Trust
64. animal protection organisations
65. conservation organisations (such as CPRE)
66. political parties across the political spectrum, including the far right and far left
67. London
68. English Midlands
69. North East England
70. North West England
71. South East England
72. South West England
73. Southern England
    
74. Northern Ireland 
75. Highland Scotland
76. Lowland Scotland
77. Wales
78. the EU
79. the US
80. the BRIC countries
81. the Commonwealth
82. young people
83. pensioners

The purpose of this rainbow of representation would be to ensure that any significant legislation could be exposed to scrutiny by every group that has any kind of interest in it, and that the views expressed would receive a formal public platform. Whilst I have lobbied MPs (members of the House of Commons) on several occasions, I have never seen the point in contacting a member of the House of Lords. My proposal would mean that everyone in the country would have someone to contact about any legislative issue. I believe that such a House would command respect across the UK. However, the politicians in the House of Commons, when it comes to choosing how to reform the House of Lords, will, no doubt, simply plump for popular elections, as they always do, claiming that "it's more democratic". Does SMS text voting for one's preferred celebrity constitute high quality democracy? After the Second World War, Winston Churchill, hardly a bastion of socialist values, was instrumental in enhancing the quality of democracy in North Africa by promoting the creation of trades unions. Organisations (such as a trades union) give ordinary people a voice.
What would the reformed House be called? How about the House of Representatives?

Sunday thoughts

Cardinal Keith O'Brien, head of the Roman Catholic church in Scotland, said in a recent interview for BBC1's Sunday Politics in Scotland, that it is "immoral" how the less well-off had been made to "suffer" for the failings in the financial services sector.The cardinal's somewhat intemperate language would suggest that he considers issues in terms of the absolutes of good and bad, rather than in more nuanced shades and tones. He fails to recognise that the ethics of the current UK administration continue to remain validly self-consistent, best characterised by the phrase 'rich people looking after rich people'. I find myself in agreement with the cardinal's sentiment. In my ethical framework it is not okay that the welfare state is, in part, being dismantled. To add insult to injury, the abrading is happening in order to pay for the problems created by a sector that has no need for the welfare state. Let the banking and financial sector pay for its own mistakes. In my political analysis, the UK economy is far too dependent on the City of London-based financial sector. I should much rather the UK economy were based on skilled and high-tech manufacturing, but with an emphasis on reducing consumption. If there were economic austerity to be faced by ordinary people, let it be because the economy of the UK were being rebalanced away from financial services towards sustainable ways of living.

The same cardinal, who is well-known for speaking out on controversial issues, recently lambasted the UK government for wishing to provide a legal definition of marriage. The cardinal believes that only the Christian church ought to be allowed to define marriage. A major part of the problem is that the Roman Catholic church, amongst several, has a conservative and extremely outdated view of what constitutes an appropriate relationship, whereas the British public, along with populations across the economically developed world, have been rejecting en masse practices that belong (at best) to a different era. By seeking to bring up to date the concept and practices of marriage, the UK government is patently seeking to revive its popularity. Therefore, it seems to me, this is an issue of competence. I defend the assertion by the UK parliament of its right to determine issues that apply to people across the country. I also defend the right of the Roman Catholic church to determine its own attitude towards marriage.If the Roman Catholic church does not wish to embrace the practice of marrying same-sex couples, it does not seem necessary to force them to do so. Gay couples can choose to marry in a civil ceremony (and I'm not sure how this would differ from a civil partnership) or in a church of another denomination. I am certain that the Religious Society of Friends will be enthusiastic to hold gay weddings for Quakers.

It is looking increasingly likely that, in due course, the Anglican church will split in two over issues of sexuality. Gene Robinson's enthronement in a see of the Episcopal Church in the US exposed attitudes in the worldwide Anglican Church that appear indistinguishable from homophobia. In an effort to keep the Anglican communion in one piece, Archbishop Rowan Williams, head of the Anglican Church, introduced a covenant to which each of the Anglican national churches was expected to sign up. However, the Church of England refused to sign it on the basis of its exclusion of gay clergy. It is far from clear to me why both the Anglican and Roman Catholic Churches are so willing to see themselves portrayed as irretrievably homophobic.Recently, the Catholic Education Society contact the Roman Catholic schools in the UK, inviting them to use in school assemblies material concerning the Roman Catholic church's objection to gay marriage, and urging the schools to encourage their pupils to sign an on-line petition against gay marriage. It is not hard to imagine the effect this may have on young people who feel uncertain or uneasy about their emergent sexuality.

The Church of England is feeling challenged about the likely reduction in the number of its bishops who sit by right in the House of Lords (the upper chamber of the UK parliament). That the bishops are present at all owes itself to the fact that the Church of England is the established church of England - despite the fact that the House of Lords scrutinises legislation that applies variously or severally to the four countries of the UK. On the face of it, this sounds like an excellent reason for removing all of the bishops from the House of Lords. However, I believe that there is a place for senior representatives of each of the major religions and Christian denominations, including the churches in Wales, Scotland and Northern Ireland. As a scrutinising body, the work of the House of Lords would be enhanced by having the views of as many as possible of the constituent bodies that make up the complex organism that is the UK

John Hughes 1936 - 1992

Today is the twentieth anniversary of my father's death. I miss him. I am sad that he is not here with us. I am sad that we have not had the benefit of his presence these past twenty years. I am sad for him that he has missed the past twenty years: time with his family would have meant a lot to him; time listening to music, watching plays and movies, reading and writing; time out walking on the moors; time counselling his clients; time managing his house and garden; time he never had. He should now be a mere 76 years old, maybe getting a little frail, but still with the energy and spark to engage, to contend, to contest, to affirm, to support, to love. Much of his life was sad in one way or another: raised fatherless in wartime London; injured in Cyprus during compulsory military service; married far too young having got his teenage girlfriend pregnant; periods of unemployment; more mouths to feed and a wife who knew little financial discipline; long working hours in a hell-hole industrial town; redundancy; divorce; isolation. His health declined, made worse by tobacco and alcohol: he suffered a bout of hepatitis. He had the first of several heart attacks in the mid-1980s, the final heart attack being fatal. I am hugely thankful that he was able to find love with Anne, to remarry and move to Cornwall. Would that much more of his life had been of that ilk.

I write this, not to claim special knowledge, special understanding or a special relationship with him. Each of my siblings (full, half and step) have their own experiences of him. I think that he impacted positivley on the lives of many people with whom he came into contact, especially in Cornwall and Devon. Each will have their own memories of him. I write this as a kind of wayside shrine, twenty years along the road. Not being one for cut flowers, I would perhaps plant a flowering rose in his memory, and maybe a peppermint bush as well.

...

For a while you were, about which I feel grateful. You died, and are now no more: I feel an aching loss. Who you were touched the lives of many, and shaped the lives of some, of whom I am one. Who you were will not be forgotten.

Spring 2012 UK Budget - the last straw

I have cancelled my e-mails from the LibDems. I shall no longer deliver LibDem leaflets. This (by which I mean how the coalition govermnent has been behaving) is not merely different, it is in many respects the opposiite of what I voted for.

I confess: I voted for wealth redistribution, but from the likes of bankers with their generous salaries and eye-watering bonueses to families struggling to survive on minimum wage incomes or no income at all; not from poor people for whose meagre expenditure a 20% VAT on most goods is punitive; and from pensioners who are now being faced with a reduction in their tax allowance, to the richest peope whose top rate of income tax is being reduced from 50% to 45%, and who typically employ accountants in order to avoid paying tax.

I voted for public spending: on hospitals, nurseries, schools, colleges, universities, research and development, roads, railways, affordable housing.and a cleaner environment; not on futile wars overseas, or on a high prestige sports jamboree in London, or a high profile, high prestige, high cost, high speed railway line to carry rich people from their country homes in the Midlands to their fat-cat jobs in the City of London.

I voted for the proper funding of the National Health Service (NHS), and for a better system of care in the community for people with dementia / mental health issues. Instead, the Coalition government has set up mechanisms for privatising the NHS, and planned to create meaningless competition where there need be none.

I voted for access to higher education unfettered by tution fees. Instead, many universities will be charging tuition fees of GBP 9,000 p.a., so that students will leave university up to GBP 30,000 in debt.

I voted for job creation, so that there would not be another lost generation as there was under Margaret Thatcher. Instead, the unemployment figures in the UK are higher than ever, and youth unemployment has rocketed. Apprenticeships have been replaced by internships.

I voted for green safe energy, accompanied by a promise to block any attempt to return to nuclear power. Instead, EDF have been given the green light to start planning new nuclear power stations even before the reactors at Fukushima have fully cooled.

I voted for clean politics, not the grubby world of "donations for dinner", and the sordid cash for influence being offered by the (now former) Conservative Party Treasurer. Whilst it may not be fair to lay this charge at the feet of the Libdems, it is the LibDems who keep in power those for whom the charge is relevant.

I saw how coalition governments work in other countries, and thought that it would be the same in the UK: only goverment that needs to happen hapepns. I was willing, even excited, to give coalition politics the benefit of the doubt. However, the LibDems have shown themselves to be utterly complicit with the Conservative Party political agenda. How can I, or anyone, distinguish between the two parties in the coalition? The situation resembles that of the pigs at the end of George Orwell's novel 1984, who became indistinguishable from the farmer they overthrew.

My cup of tea

About two years ago I discovered, to my horror, that a even single cup of tea or coffee was elevating my blood pressure substantially for several days. As well as monitoring my blood pressure, I checked out my experience on the internet, discovering that although the condition is not especially common, it is well-recorded. Sadly, decaffeination does not resolve the issue: I know this because I tried switching to decaffeinated tea and coffee. I think that the problem is, in part, that decaffeination does not remove all the caffeine, and in part because teas and coffees contain a cocktail of potent chemicals, some or many of which are unaffected by the decaffeination process. On reflection, I now recall that if I drank tea on an empty stomach, such as before breakfast, I would feel extremely nauseous until I ate something substantial. Further, drinking cheap green tea was likely to make me feel nauseous regardless of the repleteness of my stomach.

I still hanker after a nice cup of both tea and coffee. I would give much once again to be able to sip a delicate sencha (Japanese), a smoky lapsang souchong (Chinese), a light darjeeling (Indian), a malty assam (Indian), an aromatic Earl Grey (Imperial British), or even just a fruity flavoured tea, such as lemon or peach. There is a type of Chinese tea, puer tea, the name of which I frequently forget, that costs the earth because it gets buried in the ground for a year or something, that I never knew about until after I stopped drinking tea. Many years ago I was given a pack of russian caravan tea, but I did not rate it especially highly. Likewise the cannonball tea, the leaves of which were rolled into small pellets. The mountains of the moon tea I drank at Betty's in York was remarkable only in name. On the other hand, when I was in Japan, I mostly drank roasted tea. Now I can no longer drink tea, I am limited to tisannes. For a reason I do not understand, I can only drink a small quantity of chamomile. Every day I make myself an infusion of hawthorn, linden and marshmallow. I struggle to drink a litre of it through the day even though it barely tastes of anything. I find both hibiscus and rosehip too acidic and astringent. Blackcurrant elevates my blood pressure, as does licorice. I can usually drink something that has strawberries in it, so a red berry or fruits of the forest melange can be okay, although the tea bags of this name that I bought in Italy were fairly disgusting. In contrast, the elaborate tisanes avaiilable in Germany, including in the motorway service staations, were extremely pleasant, being made with chunks of dried fruit and visiible slivers of spices: although expensive, they were worth drinking.

My coffee needs are much easier to describe: give me a decently-made (that is, topped with an appopriate espresso 'crema') double espresso made with finely-ground Monsoon(ed) Malabar beans (a richly-flavoured coffee from south west India the flavour of which is deepened and matured in the monsoon winds of Northern Kerala - http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Monsooned_Malabar).