My appetite doesn’t get out of bed until hours after the rest of me – Joanna Trollope
It is better to help a lot of people make a living than it is to make a few people make a fortune – Robert Crampton
There are no rules as long as you stick to them – Frederic Raphael
Fear is the price you pay for love - Susan Fletcher
You think you have a memory; but it has you - John Irving
Words are our subtillest & delicatest creatures – John Donne
Bad artists copy, great artists steal - Picasso
Victor Hugo was a madman who thought he was Victor Hugo – Jean Cocteau
We are all strong enough to endure the misfortunes of others - LaRochefoucauld
Saturday, January 02, 2010
Friday, January 01, 2010
New Year resolution
Another poem from Charles Lamb, still relevant in the age of the blog & other forms of computerised life records.
You really do feel for the small boy, biting his protruding tongue, struggling to keep things neat.
I wonder what the children of the future will wrestle with, as they are increasingly less likely to have to struggle with hand writing all misshaped
Written In The First Leaf Of A Child's Memorandum-Book
My neat and pretty book, when I thy small lines see,
They seem for any use to be unfit for me.
My writing, all misshaped, uneven as my mind,
Within this narrow space can hardly be confin'd.
Yet I will strive to make my hand less aukward look;
I would not willingly disgrace thee, my neat book!
The finest pens I'll use, and wond'rous pains I'll take,
And I these perfect lines my monitors will make.
And every day I will set down in order due,
How that day wasted is; and should there be a few
At the year's end that shew more goodly to the sight,
If haply here I find some days not wasted quite,
If a small portion of them I have pass'd aright,
Then shall I think the year not wholly was misspent,
And that my Diary has been by some good Angel sent.
A diary is like a perfect friend, always agreeing with the writer -Edwina Currie
You really do feel for the small boy, biting his protruding tongue, struggling to keep things neat.
I wonder what the children of the future will wrestle with, as they are increasingly less likely to have to struggle with hand writing all misshaped
Written In The First Leaf Of A Child's Memorandum-Book
My neat and pretty book, when I thy small lines see,
They seem for any use to be unfit for me.
My writing, all misshaped, uneven as my mind,
Within this narrow space can hardly be confin'd.
Yet I will strive to make my hand less aukward look;
I would not willingly disgrace thee, my neat book!
The finest pens I'll use, and wond'rous pains I'll take,
And I these perfect lines my monitors will make.
And every day I will set down in order due,
How that day wasted is; and should there be a few
At the year's end that shew more goodly to the sight,
If haply here I find some days not wasted quite,
If a small portion of them I have pass'd aright,
Then shall I think the year not wholly was misspent,
And that my Diary has been by some good Angel sent.
Charles Lamb
A diary is like a perfect friend, always agreeing with the writer -Edwina Currie
Thursday, December 31, 2009
Responsible parenting
Who said there was anything modern about binge drinking & irresponsible parenting?
Here’s another ditty from Arnold Silcock for any parents out celebrating New Years Eve
Ultra-Modern Nursery Rhyme
Hush-a-bye, baby, your milk’s in the tin,
Mummy has got you a nice sitter-in;
Hush-a-bye, baby, now don’t get a twinge
While Mummy & Daddy are out on the binge
Here’s another ditty from Arnold Silcock for any parents out celebrating New Years Eve
Ultra-Modern Nursery Rhyme
Hush-a-bye, baby, your milk’s in the tin,
Mummy has got you a nice sitter-in;
Hush-a-bye, baby, now don’t get a twinge
While Mummy & Daddy are out on the binge
Arnold Silcock
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
You can’t take a goldfish for a walk
The title of this piece sounds like a gnomic utterance from a sage, or a surreal battle slogan.
A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.
In fact it comes from the first pop song which I probably considered as my own – How Much Is That Doggie In The Window?
It was also the first piece of sheet music I bought after I got my piano (inherited from a great aunt).
This was going to be a simple memory piece but things got murky when I started looking for links to details on the web.
I remember the bright red cover to the music & I was perfectly certain that the singer pictured was Rosemary Clooney, so it was disconcerting to read that the Number One Hit in 1953 was achieved by Patti Page, but that Lita Roza scored the hit in Britain.
Rosemary Clooney did also record it however – don’t know when, but since she is the aunt of the gorgeous George, I prefer to believe that hers is the version I remember.
The memories came flooding back when I heard it as Bertie Ahern’s inheritance track on Saturday morning.
A woman needs a man like a fish needs a bicycle.
In fact it comes from the first pop song which I probably considered as my own – How Much Is That Doggie In The Window?
It was also the first piece of sheet music I bought after I got my piano (inherited from a great aunt).
This was going to be a simple memory piece but things got murky when I started looking for links to details on the web.
I remember the bright red cover to the music & I was perfectly certain that the singer pictured was Rosemary Clooney, so it was disconcerting to read that the Number One Hit in 1953 was achieved by Patti Page, but that Lita Roza scored the hit in Britain.
Rosemary Clooney did also record it however – don’t know when, but since she is the aunt of the gorgeous George, I prefer to believe that hers is the version I remember.
The memories came flooding back when I heard it as Bertie Ahern’s inheritance track on Saturday morning.
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
Lucky escape
I wonder if British Airways cabin crew & their union are breathing a sigh of relief & thanking their lucky stars, or the judge who ruled their proposed Christmas strike illegal.
People have been remarkably stoical, cheerful even in a resigned kind of way, despite the frustrations of the weather, its incredible ability to stop the trains even in a tunnel, & now a renewed terrorist alarm to disrupt holiday travel.
But I cant help feeling that something like lynch mobs might have formed if those lucky enough still to have jobs had thrown it all in people’s faces, for the sake of what exactly?
People have been remarkably stoical, cheerful even in a resigned kind of way, despite the frustrations of the weather, its incredible ability to stop the trains even in a tunnel, & now a renewed terrorist alarm to disrupt holiday travel.
But I cant help feeling that something like lynch mobs might have formed if those lucky enough still to have jobs had thrown it all in people’s faces, for the sake of what exactly?
Student radicals or radicalised students?
There is an added curiosity in finding myself reading Tristram Hunt’s biography of Engels at the same time as we have the latest failed attempt by a young man to bring down a plane in the USA in the name of radical Islamism.
It is also startling to hear, in the year which marks the centenary of the assassination of Sir Curzon Wyllie, that the young man who has been arrested for this latest terrorist incident was a student of mechanical engineering at University College London, as was Wylie’s assassin.
I hasten to add that I do not mean in any way to imply that UCL encourages or fosters such acts.
The first university in England to admit students of any race, class or religion & the first to welcome women on equal terms with men, UCL has Jeremy Bentham (& his preserved skeleton) as its spiritual father & came above Oxford University in the latest world university rankings . Some of my best friends ….
Engels, Dhingra & Abdulmutallab come from very different eras but were all very bright young men from comfortable backgrounds who, from quite an early age, began to show signs of rebellion, particularly against their father's values (students of my generation would have been quick to diagnose an Oedipus complex) & became students of & passionate adherents to a cause & a route to a better world.
What we now call radicalised.
There were plenty around in the western world of the 1960s & it became fashionable to bemoan the lack of passion or political conviction in later generations of students.
It is also startling to hear, in the year which marks the centenary of the assassination of Sir Curzon Wyllie, that the young man who has been arrested for this latest terrorist incident was a student of mechanical engineering at University College London, as was Wylie’s assassin.
I hasten to add that I do not mean in any way to imply that UCL encourages or fosters such acts.
The first university in England to admit students of any race, class or religion & the first to welcome women on equal terms with men, UCL has Jeremy Bentham (& his preserved skeleton) as its spiritual father & came above Oxford University in the latest world university rankings . Some of my best friends ….
Engels, Dhingra & Abdulmutallab come from very different eras but were all very bright young men from comfortable backgrounds who, from quite an early age, began to show signs of rebellion, particularly against their father's values (students of my generation would have been quick to diagnose an Oedipus complex) & became students of & passionate adherents to a cause & a route to a better world.
What we now call radicalised.
There were plenty around in the western world of the 1960s & it became fashionable to bemoan the lack of passion or political conviction in later generations of students.
Such numbers of thoughts in your brain
“Lewis Carroll” by Eleanor Farjeon is a clever & nicely imagined verse which addresses (obliquely) something which I have recently noticed – the way that people who have made an academic study of physics can address the imaginations of children.
The Reverend Charles Dodgson was not, of course, a physicist but a mathematician & logician, but those disciplines are closely intertwined.
I am reminded of AN Whitehead’s explanation of why he opted for the study of mathematics rather than physics at Cambridge in the 1880s: it was thought that physics was, basically, completely known by then, just a few loose ends to be tidied up. The fundamental problems of arithmetic which were being exposed seemed to pose a more interesting intellectual challenge.
Then along came a man called Einstein.
Lewis Carroll
‘You are wise, Mr Dodgson,’ the young child said,
‘And your forehead is getting a wrinkle;
And yet you’ve so twinkling an eye in your head –
I’m wondering what makes it twinkle?’
‘In my youth,’ Mr Dodgson replied to the child,
‘I acquired mathematical habits
To keep my odd thoughts from becoming as wild
As March Hares, & as frequent as Rabbits.’
‘You are wise, Lewis Carroll,’ the child said again,
‘And the College you live in is hoary;
But if you’ve such numbers of thoughts in your brain –
Do you think you could tell me a story?’
‘In my youth, if you must know the truth,’ whispered he,
‘I kept those same thoughts very supple
By letting my stories run quite fancy-free –
Allow me to tell you a couple'
Eleanor Farjeon
The Reverend Charles Dodgson was not, of course, a physicist but a mathematician & logician, but those disciplines are closely intertwined.
I am reminded of AN Whitehead’s explanation of why he opted for the study of mathematics rather than physics at Cambridge in the 1880s: it was thought that physics was, basically, completely known by then, just a few loose ends to be tidied up. The fundamental problems of arithmetic which were being exposed seemed to pose a more interesting intellectual challenge.
Then along came a man called Einstein.
Lewis Carroll
‘You are wise, Mr Dodgson,’ the young child said,
‘And your forehead is getting a wrinkle;
And yet you’ve so twinkling an eye in your head –
I’m wondering what makes it twinkle?’
‘In my youth,’ Mr Dodgson replied to the child,
‘I acquired mathematical habits
To keep my odd thoughts from becoming as wild
As March Hares, & as frequent as Rabbits.’
‘You are wise, Lewis Carroll,’ the child said again,
‘And the College you live in is hoary;
But if you’ve such numbers of thoughts in your brain –
Do you think you could tell me a story?’
‘In my youth, if you must know the truth,’ whispered he,
‘I kept those same thoughts very supple
By letting my stories run quite fancy-free –
Allow me to tell you a couple'
Eleanor Farjeon
Monday, December 28, 2009
Fixer fixed
I wonder if the politicians are still as keen as they were reported to be before Christmas to get advice from Simon Cowell about how to run, even maybe how to win, an election?
The Affair of the Christmas Number One, which saw Rage Against the Machine beat X Factor winner Joe McElderry indeed teaches many lessons.
It teaches how few people can have such a big effect, about how a small, but passionate group, whose views are deeply felt, can overcome a silent, perhaps a more complacent majority. It teaches that people may react very sharply against being taken for granted by someone who thinks he is in control (because he deserves it by virtue of his superior knowledge & skill)
The total number of voters, as measured by reported sales was less than 1 million, out of a total population of 60 million. When you allow for multiple purchases – the scope for screening these out is limited, & indeed there is a valid point to be discussed about which multiple purchases should be discounted at this time of gift giving, when the Christmas Number One may seem the solution to many peoples problem – only about ½ million real live individuals may be involved.
There is even something in the tale for the conspiracy theorists among us. For the real winner is the company which published both records. Now they couldn’t have engineered the whole thing. Could they?
The Affair of the Christmas Number One, which saw Rage Against the Machine beat X Factor winner Joe McElderry indeed teaches many lessons.
It teaches how few people can have such a big effect, about how a small, but passionate group, whose views are deeply felt, can overcome a silent, perhaps a more complacent majority. It teaches that people may react very sharply against being taken for granted by someone who thinks he is in control (because he deserves it by virtue of his superior knowledge & skill)
The total number of voters, as measured by reported sales was less than 1 million, out of a total population of 60 million. When you allow for multiple purchases – the scope for screening these out is limited, & indeed there is a valid point to be discussed about which multiple purchases should be discounted at this time of gift giving, when the Christmas Number One may seem the solution to many peoples problem – only about ½ million real live individuals may be involved.
There is even something in the tale for the conspiracy theorists among us. For the real winner is the company which published both records. Now they couldn’t have engineered the whole thing. Could they?
Sunday, December 27, 2009
Donkey's Glory
Sad to hear the news that Eric Boswell died recently. His song, Little Donkey, is such a Christmas favourite, even though he reportedly had mixed feelings about the way its success overshadowed his other work.
He was another children's favourite who had a degree in physics. It must be something about the imagination.
Little donkey, little donkey,
On the dusty road.
Got to keep on plodding onwards,
With your precious load.
Been a long time, little donkey,
Through the winter's night.
Don't give up now, little donkey
I don't think Nan Goodall had a degree in physics but she wrote Donkey's Glory which was one of the very first books that I owned. The illustrations by Clare Dawson played a large part in fixing it so vividly in my memory. The little donkey, after many other adventures, was chosen to carry Jesus on Palm Sunday.
If I remember rightly the book also contained the story of Tobias & the Angel, which impressed me mightily. It came as a surprise later on to learn that some disapproved of this because it is considered to belong in the Apocrypha.
Links
Related post
Saturday, December 26, 2009
A challenge to philosophy
We are so used these days to the idea that ‘other people’ have their own culture which we must learn to accept & to live with, we forget that some of the hardest cultural adjustments are those we must make with people ‘just like us’
Take how we celebrate Christmas.
Zadie Smith addressed just this point in her recent collection of occasional essays Changing My Mind:
Family represents the reality of which Christmas is the dream … You know [there is an animating spirit to Christmas rituals] when you start your own little family … he tries to open the presents on Christmas Eve because that’s what he did in his family & you have the strong urge to run screaming from the building. It is a moving & comic thing …. To watch a young couple as they teeter around the Idea of Christmas, trying to avoid internecine festive warfare.
People are people everywhere, across both space & time. But those most difficult to understand are often those who are closest to us, who share our upbringing, environment, genes & love.
A friend of mine, an academic, likes to say that marriage represents the biggest challenge to philosophy that there is.
You spend all your time pondering questions such as:
Take how we celebrate Christmas.
Zadie Smith addressed just this point in her recent collection of occasional essays Changing My Mind:
Family represents the reality of which Christmas is the dream … You know [there is an animating spirit to Christmas rituals] when you start your own little family … he tries to open the presents on Christmas Eve because that’s what he did in his family & you have the strong urge to run screaming from the building. It is a moving & comic thing …. To watch a young couple as they teeter around the Idea of Christmas, trying to avoid internecine festive warfare.
People are people everywhere, across both space & time. But those most difficult to understand are often those who are closest to us, who share our upbringing, environment, genes & love.
A friend of mine, an academic, likes to say that marriage represents the biggest challenge to philosophy that there is.
You spend all your time pondering questions such as:
- How can I prove that the world exists?
- How do I know what I know?
- Do I exist?
Then you meet, or suddenly recognise, your other half.
Validation! Someone who thinks just like you, sees the same things as you do, knows how you feel before you even know it yourself.
But – there will always be that first moment. Big or small – the declaration of World War III or squeezing the toothpaste tube in the middle.
How can that possibly happen? How can someone exist in the same world as you, even live in the same house as you .. how can all that be true & yet they think/behave LIKE THAT!
Related post
The speech of Aristophanes
Friday, December 25, 2009
Christmas Day, 1797
Is this really the sort of poem one would want to read on Christmas Day?
The story behind it is certainly a grim one. In September 1796 Mary Lamb had killed her mother with a kitchen knife. The family had been living under the strain of poverty, with a senile father & a bed ridden mother.
Charles Lamb, against the wishes of other family members, gave surety which allowed Mary to be released into his care, rather than be committed to the Bethlem Hospital (more popularly known as Bedlam).
They lived together for over 30 years (though Mary required periodic hospitalisation). Modern diagnosis suggests that Mary suffered from bipolar disorder.
Or perhaps she just read too much as a child! Even in my youth there were some grown ups around who believed that a child who read too intensely risked damaging her brain.
Although the brother/sister relationship, particularly as expressed in this poem, seems uncomfortably intense to modern ears, their writing collaboration was a fruitful one, which lives on to this day.
Tales From Shakespeare was still popular when I was at school; many homes, including ours, introduced children to the bard in this way.
So, all in all, a tale of optimism, of a kind.
Count your blessings.
Written On Christmas Day, 1797
I am a widow'd thing, now thou art gone!
Now thou art gone, my own familiar friend,
Companion, sister, help-mate, counsellor!
Alas! that honour'd mind, whose sweet reproof
And meekest wisdom in times past have smooth'd
The unfilial harshness of my foolish speech,
And made me loving to my parents old,
(Why is this so, ah God! why is this so?)
That honour'd mind become a fearful blank,
Her senses lock'd up, and herself kept out
From human sight or converse, while so many
Of the foolish sort are left to roam at large,
Doing all acts of folly, and sin, and shame?
Thy paths are mystery!
Yet I will not think,
Sweet friend, but we shall one day meet, and live
In quietness, and die so, fearing God.
Or if not, and these false suggestions be
A fit of the weak nature, loth to part
With what it lov'd so long, and held so dear;
If thou art to be taken, and I left
(More sinning, yet unpunish'd, save in thee),
It is the will of God, and we are clay
In the potter's hands; and, at the worst, are made
From absolute nothing, vessels of disgrace,
Till, his most righteous purpose wrought in us,
Our purified spirits find their perfect rest.
The story behind it is certainly a grim one. In September 1796 Mary Lamb had killed her mother with a kitchen knife. The family had been living under the strain of poverty, with a senile father & a bed ridden mother.
Charles Lamb, against the wishes of other family members, gave surety which allowed Mary to be released into his care, rather than be committed to the Bethlem Hospital (more popularly known as Bedlam).
They lived together for over 30 years (though Mary required periodic hospitalisation). Modern diagnosis suggests that Mary suffered from bipolar disorder.
Or perhaps she just read too much as a child! Even in my youth there were some grown ups around who believed that a child who read too intensely risked damaging her brain.
Although the brother/sister relationship, particularly as expressed in this poem, seems uncomfortably intense to modern ears, their writing collaboration was a fruitful one, which lives on to this day.
Tales From Shakespeare was still popular when I was at school; many homes, including ours, introduced children to the bard in this way.
So, all in all, a tale of optimism, of a kind.
Count your blessings.
Written On Christmas Day, 1797
I am a widow'd thing, now thou art gone!
Now thou art gone, my own familiar friend,
Companion, sister, help-mate, counsellor!
Alas! that honour'd mind, whose sweet reproof
And meekest wisdom in times past have smooth'd
The unfilial harshness of my foolish speech,
And made me loving to my parents old,
(Why is this so, ah God! why is this so?)
That honour'd mind become a fearful blank,
Her senses lock'd up, and herself kept out
From human sight or converse, while so many
Of the foolish sort are left to roam at large,
Doing all acts of folly, and sin, and shame?
Thy paths are mystery!
Yet I will not think,
Sweet friend, but we shall one day meet, and live
In quietness, and die so, fearing God.
Or if not, and these false suggestions be
A fit of the weak nature, loth to part
With what it lov'd so long, and held so dear;
If thou art to be taken, and I left
(More sinning, yet unpunish'd, save in thee),
It is the will of God, and we are clay
In the potter's hands; and, at the worst, are made
From absolute nothing, vessels of disgrace,
Till, his most righteous purpose wrought in us,
Our purified spirits find their perfect rest.
Charles Lamb
Related posts
Thursday, December 24, 2009
Sprouts
I love sprouts – always have done. As a young child I would pinch them from the plants growing in the garden & nibble them raw – even frozen, given the kind of winters we had in those days. Of course the old gardeners always used to say that they don’t taste right until the frost has been at them.
So I am not one of those who is oversensitive to the taste of glucosinolate conjugates or isothiocyanates & I would not dream of insisting that anyone who is – certainly not a child - eat them just because they are ‘good for you.’
But for those who share the pleasure, just imagine any of the following.
At this time of year when they come healthy, deep green & tightly packed – just plunge for no more than 5 minutes into a pan of water which is at a rolling boil. Drain & eat just as they are, or with melted butter, a squeeze of lemon juice & some black pepper. You could use oil instead of butter, but never olive oil – something unobtrusive, like corn, vegetable or soya.
Nuts go very well with sprouts, so for something more elaborate combine with flakes of toasted almonds: melt a good knob of butter (or oil) in a pan, add the (lightly boiled, as above) sprouts & whirl over a high heat. Turn off the flame & scatter with the almonds.
Walnuts mix pleasingly with sprouts – providing they are not all dried up & bitter. Divide into halves or quarters & add to the sprouts as above, instead of almonds.
Fried Spanish onions also work well – cut into rings & fried until deep brown but not carbonised, they are just deliciously sweet.
For a very English version of sweet & sour pork – grilled pork chops with potatoes & sprouts - marmalade makes an enjoyable & unexpectedly good sauce. Admittedly I can verify this only if the marmalade is made from my mother’s recipe. This is quite runny, a little sweet, & has thick-cut peel, but is boiled until the peel is soft, not at all like Oxford marmalade.
Sprouts always work well as a kind of ‘stew’ which will serve as both vegetable & gravy for meat & potatoes, even a pasta sauce, with lots of cheese. Soften some sliced onion in oil or butter, add sliced sprouts & a tin of tomatoes & simmer for about 10 minutes.
If none of the above, perhaps weird-sounding, combinations is enough to counteract the (to you) unbearable taste of glucosinolates then just don’t eat them, remove them from your diet; make your refusals polite but firm.
I am a great believer in the idea that your body tells you what it needs, providing that it is given a proper chance to find out. There must be a genetic basis for the unpleasantness for you of what is scrumptious for me; it may even be a genetic signal that your genome is not designed to get the benefit of all the vitamins delivered in that particular package.
But it is personal, not a universal law of good taste.
So I am not one of those who is oversensitive to the taste of glucosinolate conjugates or isothiocyanates & I would not dream of insisting that anyone who is – certainly not a child - eat them just because they are ‘good for you.’
But for those who share the pleasure, just imagine any of the following.
At this time of year when they come healthy, deep green & tightly packed – just plunge for no more than 5 minutes into a pan of water which is at a rolling boil. Drain & eat just as they are, or with melted butter, a squeeze of lemon juice & some black pepper. You could use oil instead of butter, but never olive oil – something unobtrusive, like corn, vegetable or soya.
Nuts go very well with sprouts, so for something more elaborate combine with flakes of toasted almonds: melt a good knob of butter (or oil) in a pan, add the (lightly boiled, as above) sprouts & whirl over a high heat. Turn off the flame & scatter with the almonds.
Walnuts mix pleasingly with sprouts – providing they are not all dried up & bitter. Divide into halves or quarters & add to the sprouts as above, instead of almonds.
Fried Spanish onions also work well – cut into rings & fried until deep brown but not carbonised, they are just deliciously sweet.
For a very English version of sweet & sour pork – grilled pork chops with potatoes & sprouts - marmalade makes an enjoyable & unexpectedly good sauce. Admittedly I can verify this only if the marmalade is made from my mother’s recipe. This is quite runny, a little sweet, & has thick-cut peel, but is boiled until the peel is soft, not at all like Oxford marmalade.
Sprouts always work well as a kind of ‘stew’ which will serve as both vegetable & gravy for meat & potatoes, even a pasta sauce, with lots of cheese. Soften some sliced onion in oil or butter, add sliced sprouts & a tin of tomatoes & simmer for about 10 minutes.
If none of the above, perhaps weird-sounding, combinations is enough to counteract the (to you) unbearable taste of glucosinolates then just don’t eat them, remove them from your diet; make your refusals polite but firm.
I am a great believer in the idea that your body tells you what it needs, providing that it is given a proper chance to find out. There must be a genetic basis for the unpleasantness for you of what is scrumptious for me; it may even be a genetic signal that your genome is not designed to get the benefit of all the vitamins delivered in that particular package.
But it is personal, not a universal law of good taste.
Related post
Wednesday, December 23, 2009
A proposal which wholly or chiefly benefits the proposer
This was a diary story in The Times, so it may be a little exaggerated or embellished.
Energy-efficient bulbs in traffic lights do not give off enough heat to melt the snow that falls on them, so in America the snow clearers have one more job – cleaning it all off by hand. They should press gang Green campaigners into doing the job.
The campaign to force us all to use energy efficient light bulbs has been a classic example of how not to do it. Usually technical advances succeed on their own merits – everybody wants to get on the bandwagon, for the comfort & status on offer.
Instead we have been nagged & confused, seemingly by evangelists from the knit your own yurt & yogurt brigade, without any good word of mouth at all. All you hear is expense, not enough light & delay in coming to full power. And if the figures on More or Less are any guide, they will not even save many of us any money – it’s like the official inflation rate, an average which does not match any one households pattern of purchases.
I speak as one who was trained from my earliest years NEVER to leave the lights on in an unoccupied room (unless it was the fluorescent bulb in the main living room which should be left on for short periods because it took more to fire up than to stay lit), nor, for safety reasons, to leave electrical equipment switched on while totally unattended. I still stick to those rules, except that I now leave the light on the stairs on, partly for safety reasons, but also because it makes a noticeable difference to the temperature, takes the chill off so there is no need to leave the radiator on.
I did buy an energy efficient bulb for the reading lamp, feeling I ought to find out what I was really in for if push comes to shove. It certainly makes it hard to read the newspaper, & does not take the chill off the room, meaning some other source of heat is needed. Now I am torn between just switching back or leaving it to see if it really does last as long as is claimed
Energy-efficient bulbs in traffic lights do not give off enough heat to melt the snow that falls on them, so in America the snow clearers have one more job – cleaning it all off by hand. They should press gang Green campaigners into doing the job.
The campaign to force us all to use energy efficient light bulbs has been a classic example of how not to do it. Usually technical advances succeed on their own merits – everybody wants to get on the bandwagon, for the comfort & status on offer.
Instead we have been nagged & confused, seemingly by evangelists from the knit your own yurt & yogurt brigade, without any good word of mouth at all. All you hear is expense, not enough light & delay in coming to full power. And if the figures on More or Less are any guide, they will not even save many of us any money – it’s like the official inflation rate, an average which does not match any one households pattern of purchases.
I speak as one who was trained from my earliest years NEVER to leave the lights on in an unoccupied room (unless it was the fluorescent bulb in the main living room which should be left on for short periods because it took more to fire up than to stay lit), nor, for safety reasons, to leave electrical equipment switched on while totally unattended. I still stick to those rules, except that I now leave the light on the stairs on, partly for safety reasons, but also because it makes a noticeable difference to the temperature, takes the chill off so there is no need to leave the radiator on.
I did buy an energy efficient bulb for the reading lamp, feeling I ought to find out what I was really in for if push comes to shove. It certainly makes it hard to read the newspaper, & does not take the chill off the room, meaning some other source of heat is needed. Now I am torn between just switching back or leaving it to see if it really does last as long as is claimed
Frugalist Christmas
It occurs to me that I haven’t seen a Christmas shop this year – one of those which would otherwise be empty, taken on a short lease to sell nothing but decorations; the usual wreaths, baubles, lights & artificial trees plus large model Santas, angels & fairies. Green silver & grey have been the tasteful colours de rigueur for some years now – no vulgar red or gold. There are usually at least two or three in town.
Well, there are certainly plenty of empty shops whose landlords would be glad of some extra cashflow, but obviously the customers have decided, or the traders have decided that customers have decided, that they do not need such conspicuous fripperies in hard times.
Well, there are certainly plenty of empty shops whose landlords would be glad of some extra cashflow, but obviously the customers have decided, or the traders have decided that customers have decided, that they do not need such conspicuous fripperies in hard times.
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
Blocked, stopped, or covered with snow
The wellies went to town again yesterday, feeling quite confident that nobody notices – it’s just pure self centred self consciousness that makes one imagine everyone is looking, pointing a finger.
But – someone (Chinese, I think) actually came up & said they were exactly what she needed for this weather – where could she buy some?
I was nonplussed. Where does one buy wellies in town? I could only suggest the camping shop.
My (proper) green ones were bought at the shooting & fishing shop in the village – one of my first, I assumed necessary, purchases when I moved here.
Odd how it is only when we have global warming to worry about that the lanes are calf deep in snow once again, side roads impassable, delivery vans parked all along the main road because the drivers do not want to risk trying to get down, then back up again, or vice versa, on any of the side roads, people walking or taking to public transport because they prefer to leave the driving to a professional or because they simply cannot get the car out of the steep driveway.
But – someone (Chinese, I think) actually came up & said they were exactly what she needed for this weather – where could she buy some?
I was nonplussed. Where does one buy wellies in town? I could only suggest the camping shop.
My (proper) green ones were bought at the shooting & fishing shop in the village – one of my first, I assumed necessary, purchases when I moved here.
Odd how it is only when we have global warming to worry about that the lanes are calf deep in snow once again, side roads impassable, delivery vans parked all along the main road because the drivers do not want to risk trying to get down, then back up again, or vice versa, on any of the side roads, people walking or taking to public transport because they prefer to leave the driving to a professional or because they simply cannot get the car out of the steep driveway.
Monday, December 21, 2009
An excuse for a souse
I have only just started to read The Frock Coated Communist, Tristram Hunt’s biography of Engels, but this (written while he was still a very young man in Germany) is worth quoting:
“… the mass of the working population fell victim to drink. From nine in the evening, in great crowds & arm in arm, taking up the whole width of the street, the “soused men” tottered their way, bawling discordantly, from one inn to the other & finally back home.”
Sir Liam Donaldson seems keen to blame our binge drinking culture on middle class parents who give their small children watered down wine to drink; Engels was blaming cruel capitalists & the loss of jobs in weaving & textiles because of competition from industrial Manchester with its global connections.
Sunday, December 20, 2009
Love you because
I wonder how many popular songs of the twentieth century will live on as pure word poems on the page (or screen) in the canon of future centuries?
No idea, your guess is as god as mine. But if any do we would probably be very surprised if we ever got to come back to find out which they were.
These thoughts passed through my mind because twice this week, for the first time in I do not know how long, I happened to hear Jim Reeves singing Leon Payne’s I Love You Because – once on Harry Belafonte radio on Last FM, then on Terry Wogan’s farewell Radio2 Breakfast show.
I would not want to suggest that it deserves to last for its literary merits; in any case, I cannot hear it just as a poem, divorced from the music, & certainly not from intense personal memory of how it was Our Song in 1964.
I love you because you understand dear
Every single thing I try to do
You’re always there to lend a helping hand dear
I love you most of all because you’re you
No matter what the world may say about me
I know your love will always see me through
I love you for the way you never doubt me,
But most of all I love you cause you're you
I love you because my heart is lighter
Every time I’m walking by your side
I love you because the future’s brighter
The door to happiness you opened wide
No matter what the world may say about me
I know your love will always see me through
I love you for a hundred thousand reasons
But most of all I love you ‘cause you’re you
Link
No idea, your guess is as god as mine. But if any do we would probably be very surprised if we ever got to come back to find out which they were.
These thoughts passed through my mind because twice this week, for the first time in I do not know how long, I happened to hear Jim Reeves singing Leon Payne’s I Love You Because – once on Harry Belafonte radio on Last FM, then on Terry Wogan’s farewell Radio2 Breakfast show.
I would not want to suggest that it deserves to last for its literary merits; in any case, I cannot hear it just as a poem, divorced from the music, & certainly not from intense personal memory of how it was Our Song in 1964.
I love you because you understand dear
Every single thing I try to do
You’re always there to lend a helping hand dear
I love you most of all because you’re you
No matter what the world may say about me
I know your love will always see me through
I love you for the way you never doubt me,
But most of all I love you cause you're you
I love you because my heart is lighter
Every time I’m walking by your side
I love you because the future’s brighter
The door to happiness you opened wide
No matter what the world may say about me
I know your love will always see me through
I love you for a hundred thousand reasons
But most of all I love you ‘cause you’re you
Link
Related post
HeOrShe
The rhetorical trick of switching the gendered third person singular pronoun in alternate sentences really has caught on, beyond the realms of our new Supreme Court. I have heard it several times this week.
Well it beats the politicians trick of being careful to say always HeOrShe (rhymes with Treorchy) – that is after they got over saying (condescendingly) he – or, of course - she.
And it certainly beats He/She, She/He or (shudder) S/he.
Weird, how one of those binary divisions of the human race is between those who believe that they is* acceptable as a singular pronoun & those in whom any such assertion produces apoplexy
*Or should that be are?
Well it beats the politicians trick of being careful to say always HeOrShe (rhymes with Treorchy) – that is after they got over saying (condescendingly) he – or, of course - she.
And it certainly beats He/She, She/He or (shudder) S/he.
Weird, how one of those binary divisions of the human race is between those who believe that they is* acceptable as a singular pronoun & those in whom any such assertion produces apoplexy
*Or should that be are?
Links
Related post
Saturday, December 19, 2009
Sober second thoughts for diplomacy
I have been enjoying hearing the reports from the Copenhagen conference.
Schadenfreude, except that I am sorry for those who have lost reputation & been ‘replaced’ because of their failure to control such conflicting groups & aims to bring about a conclusion satisfactory to all concerned.
Will this occasion live on in infamy, or will it just meet the same fate as has the London Monetary & Economic Conference of 1933, despite the golden microphone?
Schadenfreude, except that I am sorry for those who have lost reputation & been ‘replaced’ because of their failure to control such conflicting groups & aims to bring about a conclusion satisfactory to all concerned.
Will this occasion live on in infamy, or will it just meet the same fate as has the London Monetary & Economic Conference of 1933, despite the golden microphone?
Links
Folly with a full-moon tide
We seem to have gone back to the 1970s. Then whole country seemed to shut down for a week after Christmas when New Year’s Day became a Bank Holiday in England in 1974. Until people got fed up of being cooped up with the family for such an unbearably long time & shops started opening up, even on Boxing Day.
This year, everybody seems to be ready for a fortnight off – everywhere was remarkably quiet yesterday, even though we are not snowed in or even disrupted by the weather. The bus driver welcomed me even more enthusiastically than usual when I got on to rescue her from her Billy No Mates status.
Today everybody is telling each other to have a good Christmas, clearly not expecting to see them again until after it is all over.
I predict an even bigger baby boom in autumn 2010, especially since the moon will be full on New Year’s Eve.
Cue anxiety headlines about our soon to be 70 million population forecast.
This year, everybody seems to be ready for a fortnight off – everywhere was remarkably quiet yesterday, even though we are not snowed in or even disrupted by the weather. The bus driver welcomed me even more enthusiastically than usual when I got on to rescue her from her Billy No Mates status.
Today everybody is telling each other to have a good Christmas, clearly not expecting to see them again until after it is all over.
I predict an even bigger baby boom in autumn 2010, especially since the moon will be full on New Year’s Eve.
Cue anxiety headlines about our soon to be 70 million population forecast.
Related post
Does the moon still shine in June?
Does the moon still shine in June?
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