The true nature & purpose of political power

The most capital advantage an enlightened people can enjoy, is the liberty of discussing every subject which can fall within the compass of the human mind … To render the magistrate a judge of truth, & engage his authority in the suppression of opinions, shows an inattention to the nature & design of political society. When a nation forms a government, it is not wisdom but power which they place in the hand of the magistrate; from whence it follows his concern is only with those objects which power can operate on … administration of justice, … protection of property & the defence of every member of the community from violence & outrage fall naturally within the province of the civil ruler, for these may all be accomplished by power; but an attempt to distinguish truth from error, & to countenance one out of many opinions to the prejudice of another, is to apply power in a manner mischievous & absurd

Robert Hall: Works 10ed 1850

Barry Richards

I only ever saw one Barry Richards innings live. It was a Sunday match at the Oval, nothing very much depending on it

I was sitting near the old scoreboard at the pavilion end. The wicket was well over towards the other side of the ground. A long way away, in other words. Nevertheless there were several balls which came speeding right down to where we were sitting, racing along the ground, to jump the boundary rope then bounce back off the wall. And all seemingly hit without any great power at all

He got his hundred. Point made, job done. So he then wafted one & made his way back to the Pavillion for a well earned rest

War is magical - ?

I have not been quite able to make up my mind about the writer Lewis Mumford. At times he seems like a bit of a charlatan, or the Ancient Mariner with his glittering eye. And yet I have put lots of quotes from him in my commonplace book. Whatever else, he wrote beautifully



The following (from The City in History) needs no comment

If anything were needed to make the magical origins of war
plausible it is the fact that war, even when it is disguised by seemingly hard
headed economic demands, uniformly turns into a religious performance; nothing
less than a wholesale ritual sacrifice

Clive Lloyd

The first Test Match that I ever saw live was at Bourda in 1968. That, rather than revolution, was what excited me most that year

My excitement was intense. We had to get to the ground early to secure a seat. The weather was gorgeous

My first shock was the wicket. It looked like a sheet of glass shining under the sun. Up until that moment I had truly thought - without ever really thinking about it - that cricket fields were green all over

But up till then my only experiences of watching first class cricket were via grainy 425 line black & white tv or Pathe newsreels at the cinema


So many memories of that match. But the most enduring was & is Clive Lloyd

Funnily enough I cant remember him batting in that match

What I do remember is his fielding in the covers. With his long reach & lithe form, he made me think of a panther. He didnt seem to even have to move much from the spot, just pounced

In truth, I didnt know very much about cricket then. I understood 4s & 6s & fast bowlers running in, but that was it. Didnt even usually know where the ball had gone to without the camera to guide me. But watching Clive Lloyd made me really understand for the first time that there really was a lot more to this game, a lot that would provide hours of absorbing entertainment. Even a tussle between Lance Gibbs & Geoffrey Boycott

Of course that was before Clives knees went. In later years I came to think of him more as Paddington Bear, with his hat & glasses & rather shambling gait when walking to the wicket

And what a batsman. I shall certainly never forget his innings at the World Cup Final in 1975

A dream in marble

I returned to the Taj at night & saw it illuminated, first by a bright moon & then by some garish fireworks. I felt that if I were to write for years it would be of no avail - & so I departed - Taj-haunted - carrying off a new thought which can never perish

William Russell: My Diary in India in the Year 1858-59

et = square root (-1)

Once upon a time there were some sums which we could not do. No matter how hard we tried, we could not work them out

The reason was because in order to find the answer we had to get the square root of -1. But there is no such number in our world. It is indeed a very strange thing that we can have minus numbers, but not one of them has a square root

One day however a visitor came from another world. His name was i

He stayed with us while we did our sums, sitting in the place where the square root of -1 should go. And something magic happened. We could keep on going till we got an answer to our sum, an answer which was a perfectly ordinary number from our own real world

So then i could go home

The truth about allergy allegedly

Allergy is on the increase because the modern western immune system does not get enough challenges these days. Especially when young - no measles, mumps or chicken pox, no playing in muddy fields or parks. Or so goes the TOO CLEAN theory

Well perhaps. My theory is that the immune system gets too many challenges from the modern food chain

Once upon a time when we ate meat the serving on the plate came from just one animal. But because of mass production a single burger from a chain may now contain meat from up to 100 animals, each with its own immune history. Similarly, it should be called chickens tikka


Dairy products used to come from just one fairly small herd. Now milk is collected, mixed & processed in huge regional plants, thus destroying the flavour, apart from anything else. One reason why goats milk may be good for those with allergies is that it still tends to come from just one farm

So we regularly consume in a single sitting a real cocktail of animal products whose different environments will have produced a veritable cocktail of immune system products

All fruit & vegetables contain natural toxins - they would not otherwise be able to survive their predators. All of these natural toxins can be shown, by normal laboratory tests, to be potentially toxic to humans. Some we have learned to cope with by suitable methods of preparation - such as boiling bitter cassava for a good hour. Others just dont seem to have caused the damage once feared - we no longer share the Victorians fear of tomatoes

Now we eat a wide range of 'novel' fruits & greens. In winter in England the choice used to be limited pretty much to carrots, sprouts, dried peas or cabbage. Add to that courgette, butternut squash, aubergine. Not to mention ordinary 'English' vegetables grown out of our season in almost any country of the world

Obviously these 'novel' foods are not, in & of themselves, a problem, since billions of people have survived healthily on all manner of diets

But the Hedgehog Allergy Hypothesis says that modern allergies are caused by our just not yet having evolved to cope with such infinite variety. The appetites they feed but us make ill

Chiding streams betray small depths below

Why does water (sometimes) make a noise?

A huge river like the Essequibo can flow almost silently, while the tiniest drip of a tap can sound very loud

The first thing I hear on waking each morning at home is the sound of the stream on the other side of the road. Before I even open my eyes I can tell what the weather is like, just from its sound. Too angry? If only I could just go back to sleep & forget about today! A gentle babble? Oh what a beautiful morning!

Would Niagara still make a noise if it was falling on to something soft & spongy? Like giant foam rubber cushions?

Obviously (?) the speed/force with which the water is moving is part of it. And it has to be moving against something hard. But then what? Explosions of gas?

Plus ca change

While it may be said that this government circular frankly recognises many of the evils created by motor-car traffic, & shows no disposition unduly to favour the motorist, it contains no indication of any intention on the part of Government to grapple seriously with the real difficulties of the situation

British Medical Journal 1908 p941

Unexpected effects

The papers have been carrying reports this week that bus passes have been putting increased strain on local government finances. Over-60s have been travelling further & more frequently than had been forecast. Quelle surprise

Another unexpected effect is that, at least on my route, drivers will no longer change £10 or £20 notes. This is because they simply do not have much change these days. All those half-fares or flat-rate 50p fares they used to collect are no more. Yesterday evening the driver of my bus had a grand total of 2x£1 coins in his tray

A cold snap

Some people are suggesting that this winter may turn out to be as cold as that of 1947. I do hope not - I can remember that one

We were pretty much snowed in - not that much traffic came down our lane anyway. The milkman came with a horse-drawn van, but I dont think he could make it throught the snow

I do remember my father bringing the District Nurse round - he pulled her along on a toboggan. She was a story book nurse, all bustling & round, brisk, cheery & competent. She used to wear a uniform coat of dark brown gaberdine & matching round brown hat with a flat turned back brim, not unlike the woolly ones in fashion now

I can also remember going out on some expedition, sitting on the toboggan with my mother sitting behind holding on to me tight

And it was cold & there was no electricity & our prefab was made from asbestos which provided almost zero insulation

Malcolm Marshall

Malcolm Marshall was unusually small - for a Weat Indian fast bowler, that is. But probably the most thoughtful of his generation, thinking in detail about every ball, making the most minute adjustments to his fields. You never doubted he could put the ball exactly how & where he intended

He had quite a bustling run. The moment of his delivery was a wonder to behold. Both feet off the ground, arms & legs extended into a star shape, then thwuupp every inch of his body whipped behind the ball

Justice

When we can be sure of doing perfect justice in the simplest police case we may begin to talk about the infallibility of a tribunal of pedants

ET Raymond:Portraits of the Nineties

Tactile paving

Miles Kington once said that some clever marketing men spend their time, not on promoting brand awareness but on ensuring that some things have no name at all. This is so that no one can complain about them

Well, now I know its name I can have a REAL rant about tactile paving

This is that horrible pink or vomit-fawn pimply concrete stuff that has sprouted on pavements everywhere. Even in villages

Now I agree that it is a Good Thing that blind people should be given an indication of where to cross the road. But why do these excrescences have to stretch all the way from kerb to property line & fill the whole of the space between the railings they erect to herd us into crossing the road at the prescribed spot?

You cannot avoid walking across the stuff several times each day. If you suffer from peripheral neuritis, or have a bad back, or almost any kind of foot or leg problem, IT HURTS. On a bad day I almost let out involuntary squeals each time I have to do this

The MRC should immediately commission reseach into the effect that this tooth-rattling shaking has on babies & young children in buggies. And all supermarkets should be required, BY LAW, (are you listening, Sainsburys, Hazel Grove) to provide a smooth level pathway for people pushing laden trolleys out of their stores

Amputation

In the outset, I am bound to express my regret, that the riches of our great hospitals are rendered so little available for enquiries like the present, that these noble institutions, which should be storehouses of exact observations, made on a large scale, and for which accurate ideas should be disseminated throughout the land, are almost completely without the means of fulfilling this very important object

Benjamin Philips Esq FRS, Surgeon to the Marylebone Infirmary
Journal of the Statistical Society 1838; 'Mortality of amputation'

The Boeing 717

I first noticed the Boeing 717 in the summer of 2003 when the weather was nice enough to use the bus stop up the hill where you get a good view of the sky. It can get wild & woolly up there so I usually go to the next stop along the valley floor

Why go back to the number 717? I always wondered why there wasnt one

Anyway, its a beautiful plane. With its slim form, swept back wings & neat engines perched under a high tail, it sems to dance in the sky

There is a whole procession of them coming into Manchester airport from the east around about 4 to 6pm. We are under the flight path but far enough away for the planes to be high enough not to disturb us with noise pollution. A beautiful sight on a sunny summer evening with only a few high whispy clouds & contrails gradually turning into herringbones

Michael Holding

From a purely aesthetic & visual point of view at least, Michael Holding was the greatest of the great West Indian fast bowlers

He used to remind me of a young stallion, standing at the start of his run, with all the power & vulnerability that that implies. I dont think he actually used to paw at the ground with his foot, nor blow steam from his nostrils - it wasnt usually that cold, even in England. But he always ducked his head at the start of his run

And what a run! Dickie Bird said that he never liked standing at the bowlers end to Holding because you never heard him coming

Lies, damn lies

After Lord Palmerstons death, Lord Russell did not venture on leaving in the Chief Secretaryship a man who had made himself obnoxious to every Irish member, & decided on replacing him with Mr Chichester Fortescue, an Irish landlord

Before Mr Chichester Fortescues appointment, however, was made, the outbreak of Fenianism had furnished a rude commentary on Sir Robert Peels statistics. It had burst like a clap of thunder on a clear sky. Even if Sir Robert Peel was right, & Ireland was prospering, Fenianism made it plain that prosperity had not cured Irish disaffection

The people of Ireland seemed to be divided between those who wished success to the movement, & those who disapproved its methods, but sympathised with its ends. It was no longer possible to deny that they were animated by a passionate detestation of English law & of English rule. Sir Robert Peel might be the best of all possible Chief Secretaries, in the best of all possible Ministries; but the Irish, so it was evident, had no terms to make with the Government which was pondering over the statistics it was collecting in Dublin Castle

Sir Spencer Walpole:The History of 25 Years

The late Peter Fryer

In the 1960s I read a book which had in its title the name Mrs Grundy. The lesson I took from the book, & one which stayed with me, was that euphemisms - for example words to do with sexual activity - eventually & inevitably themselves become unacceptable in polite society because it is the thing or the activity itself, not the word, which embarrasses us

This is. I think, proved over & over in modern political correctness, which attempts to suppress words such as fat or short but allows slim or tall to pass

When I became a blogger - thinking to concentrate only on Great Thoughts - I tracked down the book, intending to use it as a launching pad for musings on our current usage of the word black. This has always seemed especially ironic to me (though not to be denigrated on that score) since I was taught by my school Latin teacher that the Latinate form Negro had been adopted because it was thought that the Old English black - with its connotations of darkness & evil - should not be applied to members of the human race

I never quite felt I had found the right words to express these thoughts, so the piece remains sitting in my blog as an unpublished draft only

I also remember, in the mid-80s, reading reviews of a much acclaimed history of Black people in Britain - Invaluable, S Rushdie - but since that was a time of upheaval in my life I never got round to reading it

Off & on, over the last couple of years, unable to remember either author or title of the black history book, I have been trying to track it down, ever since I discovered a Victorian quote about Sir Arthur Sullivan. With no success. even when, with renewed vigour, I consulted the website & promotional literature during Black History Month last October

Then, last December I think, I heard on Radio 4 an obituary of a man who had written what sounded like that book. Off to the Library next day - catalogue confirms they have a copy, in Basement storage. Approach the desk in anticipation - only to find that it has just been issued to another borrower. Obviously heard the same programme

Yesterday - finally - the catalogue reveals the book is available once more. This time I leave the library with the book safely in my bag & repair to Caffe Nero for a reviving cappuccino

Turn to the biographical note: Peter Fryer was born in Yorkshire in 1927 .... several books .... including .... MRS GRUNDY: STUDIES IN ENGLISH PRUDERY !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

I had completely failed to make the connection before

Sullivan appears in the Index only in relation to an admiring entry about Samuel Coleridge Taylor without further comment. So I dont think Peter Fryer can have known that Sullivan had more than mere musicianship to provoke fellow-feeling with Coleridge Taylor

Which makes me all the more sad that I cannot write to let him know how I appreciate those two books, & maybe share my small find with him

Related post: Sir Arthur Sullivan: A notable black Englishman

Starstruck

I love Orion. And his sword. And his dog

I learned to recognise constellations when I did my Girl Guide Astronomers badge. I can still recognise a few - Cassiopaeia, Andromeda, & the Plough, of course. Not forgetting Ursa Minor. And the Southern Cross if Im in the Southern hemisphere

But Orion is something special. I have no idea why. Perhaps its because he, of all the ones I know, looks like what he is supposed to be. How can the plough be a bear?

Best of all, at this time of year, he is right there over my back garden when I put the rubbish out last thing at night. Like my guardian angel

Delay

The radiance of the star that leans on me

Was shining years ago. The light that now

Glitters up there my eyes may never see,

And so the time lag teases me with how

Love that loves now may not reach me until

Its first desire is spent. The star's impulse

Must wait for eyes to claim it beautiful

And love arrived may find us somewhere else.

Elizabeth Jennings

.

Step not forth on the dew-dashed lawn

To view the Lady's Chair,

Immense Orion's glittering form,

The Less and Greater Bear:

Stay in; to such sights we were drawn

When faded ones were fair.

.

Thomas Hardy