Tag Archives: politics

Mysterious Ways

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Ely – Stained Glass Museum

It’s nearly two weeks since I last posted. I didn’t set off with the idea of leaving it that long, but it just crept up on me. I have actually written a couple of long posts about world events, but they depress me, and if they depress me they aren’t going to cheer anybody else up. We know the world is changing, and, to paraphrase Emperor Hirohito in 1945, not necessarily to our advantage. We don’t need to keep telling ourselves this, and if we do, we have plenty of people to do it.

The world, as it stands at the moment . . .

Tch! There I go again.

 

Actually, the most interesting thing to happen recently has been the election of the Pope. There was talk of an Asian Pope or even a black Pope, but they went for a white American Pope. It wasn’t a surprise, particularly as the American Catholics had been promising a billion dollar donation if the “right Pope” was selected. However, in the manner of these things, God, working through his devious and scheming Cardinals (I’ve never trusted a Cardinal – they are always bad news when they appear in history, or the Three Musketeers) has come up trumps with this choice. I doubt that the million dollar donation will be made now. (Yes, I did wonder about my choice of idiom there, but it seemed appropriate).

May I draw your attention to the Papal Bull of 1570 – Regnans in Excelsis. It caused quite a stir in its time and, as far as I know, could be repeated. Papal Bull, by the way, is what the Vatican calls them, it is not, despite modern usage of the word bull, a derogatory term.

I tend to leave the Catholic Church alone, as long as it leaves me alone, but I will point out one thing. While the discussion was going on about whether the next Pope might be black or Asian, there was one guarantee – he wasn’t going to be a woman.

I will now trust in Hemingway’s iceberg theory and stop writing.

Stained Glass Museum – Ely

 

 

The Beauties of Retirement (Part 2) Fears & Spontaneity

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The world is full of fear. The Daily Telegraph, normally a sensible sort of paper, just ran a headline “China invades Taiwan: Japan steps in”. The sub-heading, when you click through is “If China invades Taiwan, what could Japan do?”

It is, I admit, beautifully done, From a classic click-bait hook through to a sensible opening. I’m sure, if tackled, they would actually say there was no intention to provoke panic and that they would not descend to such tabloid tactics. But I think I will make up my own mind on that.

Apart from that we have the meltdown of world trade to worry about, fishing in nature reserves, denial of climate change, fracking, the changing of history, new laws to disadvantage women, ethnic minorities and poor people, and no compassion shown to small children, though we knew they were going into the cages again as soon as the election was done because, whatever his faults, President Trump is a keen and consistent disciple of the anti-Christ. I can’t help but wonder what Pope Francis saw deep in Vance’s eyes just before he breathed his last.

So, that’s fear number one – living in a world in a world which is ruled by Bond villains.

Two, death. To be honest, as you can probably guess from my poor physical condition, I have ignored the possibility for much of my life and am not going to worry too much now.

Three, losing my driving license. There are loads of stories about this – new medical conditions, new rules, tougher tests, – the papers delight in scaring us about losing our licenses. We can’t all take up cycling, we don’t all have wives who drive. And we don’t all live in areas of good public transport or conveniently sited services. Fortunately I can get groceries delivered and am within a swift electric scooter journey of a shop, a pharmacy and a GP Surgery, so I’m not too bad. I will just have to restrict myself to seeing things within battery range  (and not up steep hills or along fast roads). On our trip this morning we only touched a road once, and that was only to cross it.

Four, I will be taxed out of existence by the Government, a cry which has become louder  as Labour won the election and started making changes. The tabloids love a Labour scare story. However, we had an unplanned bag of chips for lunch while we were out in the sun watching the young squirrels play in trees, so I need a nap. I don’t need to think about politics.

Rats, Clutter and Politicians

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Jackdaw

It’s been a strange week for wildlife this week. Long-tailed tits have appeared nearly every day and we had a Jackdaw at the start of the week too. They are very occasional visitors to the garden, even though we frequently  see them overhead.  We have also had a Brimstone flutter across the garden twice this week (it may be the same one twice, of course) and today a Peacock woke up from some cranny in the conservatory and began to flutter round. Julia ushered it out and I hope it found some early nectar. There’s going to be a steady decline in temperatures over the next week so I hope it doesn’t regret its decision to wake up. Julia bought some wallflowers in pots from a roadside stall while she was out today, so at least we have some nectar to offer.

Then we had a visit from my least favourite garden visitor – the brown rat came back. We  will try more peppermint and see what happens. It’s weeks since we last saw it, so we aren’t doing too badly.

The rat came back but the rabbit did not return

I’m now looking for suitable trees for the conservatory – once I get a couple of small citrus in there I will definitely begin to call it the Orangery. At the moment it doesn’t even rate the title of Conservatory, as it is really just a glass lean-to where we are storing junk. Yes, It’s building up, despite our good intentions, but we are just about keeping up.

Though I have bought a few books they are all on Kindle, so they aren’t clutter and two of them were actually free. I had to pay 99p each for the other two, but I don’t mind that. It’s when you see Kindle books advertised for the same sort of price as a physical book that I have reservations. Kindle books are all very well but after the nuclear winter settles in the wake of the Third World War books will still be good for making fires and using as makeshift bedsheets. A Kindle will only be useful as long as the charge lasts. After that, it is just a very poor substitute for a plate. I’m just wondering whether to name the new axis of evil Trutin or Puump. Any thoughts?

I dream of attracting four birds at a time

Loose Ends

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Charred Red Pepper

Just a rag bag of odds and ends to start the  day.

Woke up early but feeling full of energy. Completely unable to explain why as I didn’t sleep for long and I have a toothache. It is gradually subsiding, as I think it’s a gum problem rather than a tooth. I’m hopeful it will fade away soon.

Had an email about banning driven grouse shooting, signed it.  It’s not a great “sport” at the best of times, but there are all sorts of things wrong with it from a wildlife point of view, particularly the number of rare birds who are killed each year to “protect” the grouse.

Red Legged Partridge

I did think about adding a link, but if I did that I’d have to add links and have a balanced argument and I’m not very balanced on the question. One of the key points in managing a grouse moor is the illegal killing of birds of prey. A second is that you can never get a successful prosecution for it. The law seems simple enough – in England if your staff kill a bird of prey you are liable, but as no judge wants to imprison a big, and probably titled, landowner, nothing happens. At least in other countries corruption relies on money and politics, rather than ancient titles and who you went to (expensive) school with.

And then the postman arrived. Julia wasn’t happy as I couldn’t go to the door (no trousers) and on top of that, it means I’ve been buying on eBay again. I bought peppermint oil from there to repel rats and that’s OK. But a nice piece of Home Front memorabilia? Women are very strange sometimes.

That’s all for now. I have a wife to appease and breakfast to make.

I will be back later.

Pictures – “grouse” turned nothing up. “Red” produced a lot, but no Red Grouse. I know I have a photo but it was probably from my days of badly titled storage.

Redwing in Carrington

Topsy Turvey

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I took to my bed on Monday night after an evening of shivering. All my joints ached and I could hardly move. The slow climb to bed confirmed the wisdom of our decision to move to a bungalow. I stayed there most of Tuesday, only rising in mid afternoon, and a lot of Wednesday, rising at noon. Gradually I began to feel better, and mobile. By Wednesday Julia was able to pronounce my colour to be “better”.. By this she means “less corpse-like” as I have a habit of turning grey when I am ill, and my natural disinclination toward rapid movement becomes more pronounced. At best I appear to be a grumpy zombie, and at worst I have found myself prodded violently awake “just in case”.

I’m not sure what it was, or what caused it, but I think cold, lack of sleep and hours sitting immobile in the car all contributed. OK, and old age. And my immunosuppressants. I always blame them these days.

I managed a few taps on the keyboard yesterday, but didn’t do much. Today I feel a bit more enthused, but still not overly motivated. I have also lost my appetite and reduced my calorie intake despite Julia’s efforts to a feed me back to health.

That’s about all there is to report, apart from feeling like Rip van Winkle. I went to bed in a world where politics seemed dull and ugly, and woke in one where politics appears to have run down a rabbit hole and returned with an unsubtle double act where a megalomaniac billionaire is bankrolling Mr Teflon, the man to whom nothing can stick. At the moment I am puzzled rather than worried, but I imagine that will change in the next few months.

 

A Bright & Early Start, Declining . . .

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It’s the full vegetarian breakfast experience for Julia today. She’s doing most of the heavy lifting in the move so Sunday breakfast is the least I can do. Scrambled eggs, beans on toast, mushrooms, fried tomatoes. We are still ripening the tomato crop in bags with bananas. It was either that or fried green tomatoes. Next year, with the new kitchen, I may make green tomato chutney. Or, the slightly less trying climate of a sheltered back garden a bit farther south, we may not end up with a basket of green tomatoes. It seems to be lacking bacon, sausage and black pudding but at our age it’s probably time to develop a healthier lifestyle.

Actually, that time was probably  thirty years ago but, like tree planting, the second best time is now.

Yes, I read a lot of low-brow books…

When we move we will, as I think I said yesterday, have a microwave that does air frying, which should be even healthier. Something I noticed when I started to make my arrangements for retiring was that I started to worry about dying before I had enjoyed sufficient retirement. I have enough plans to last me for the next fifty years so I’m not going to run out of stuff to do.

Obviously, going into politics with my new party “The Grumpy Old Men of Great Britain” has been put on the back burner – it will be a few years before the next election so, in my normal tradition of procrastination I will leave it for a few years before starting.

It’s going to be a one issue party with a focus on bile and vitriol, because this seems to be rising in popularity these days. I will leave the “foreigners” alone because most of them have enough to put up with and don’t need me to add to it. Anyway, it’s bad manners to make guests feel unwelcome, and if a party of old people is going to stand for anything, it should stand for good manners. For a while, I did think of picking on young people, with their Americanised speech (“Can I get a coffee?” is a deplorable crime against the English language) and their dreadful music, but, as Julia pointed out, they are the ones working to pay for my pension and health care, so I’ve shelved that too. Politics, deep down, is about self-interest, after all.

I parked this while I went to eat breakfast, then forgot to get back to it. I feel slightly disorientated on discussing breakfast at 6.30 pm and wonder where my day went. (It was mainly sorting and dusting books).

OLYMPUS DIGITAL CAMERA

An Election, a Result and a New Government

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Despite my deeply held belief that voting for either of the main parties in the General Election was like being asked to chose between Cholera or Typhoid, and knowing that the result was a foregone conclusion, I still found myself unable to tear myself away from the TV as the results came in.

The Greens, my party of choice, managed to land four seats, an increase of three. It may be a false dawn, but it may be the start of something good. I started voting for them in General Elections about 20 years ago because I lost patience with the main parties and the electoral system. The simple fact is that if you put a a red rosette on a baboon in this constituency it would get elected, so the only way I could think of making my vote count was voting to encourage the Greens. Eventually I seemed to become a convert. This is strange as I find most of their policies to be more like Pollyanna’s wish list. The only one I really like is the one about saving the world from destruction, which I think is quite a good one.

Stained Glass from the museum at Ely

I was pleased to see that Jeremy Corbyn was elected as an Independent after his expulsion from the Labour Party. It’s an example to politicians everywhere that a personal connection to your voters is far better than rhetoric. We would, I’m sure, hate each other if we ever met. as we are not politically suited. On the other hand, I like politicians with convictions and courage who will do the inconvenient things.

The old Prime Minister nipped round to see the King this morning and offer his resignation. The new Prime Minister, invited the form a new government by the King later in the morning,  is hard at work now. I’m waiting to see how long it is before the honeymoon ends  I’ve experienced life under both parties, and seen my mother nearly die after spending a year on a waiting list for the NHS under Labour. They both, I’m sure, try hard, but neither of them can really do much better than just keep going in the face of world conditions. Personally I can’t see much difference between them. Nor can I see many places where I have much in common with most politicians.

And just before I go, they had Peter Mandelson on TV last night talking about sleaze and lack of morals in the Tory government. That’s right, Peter Mandelson. You can read more about the many controversies and accusations surrounding his career by following the link. Me, I’d hate to comment, but it does raise a mental picture of pots and kettles.

St Mary Magdalene and Jesus after the resurrection by John Hardman Powell c 1852, from St James’s Church, Clifton, Oxfordshire

I thought we’d have some stained glass for today’s pictures as I have nothing suitable for politicians – no toads, no undersides of stones, no snakes . . .

 

Be Nice to Your Turkey This Christmas

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1995 Robin stamp

A while ago I wrote that Henry Kissinger, Alistair Darling and Shane McGowan had died. Talking of which, The Pogues and Fairytale of New York look like they will be big this Christmas. It’s a Marmite sort of song – some people love it, some hate it. Whatever you think of it, you can’t deny it’s been successful in the UK. I’m told it’s not as popular elsewhere, but that’s their loss. It peaked at Number Two on its original lease. Some years ago, in a programme about the best singles that only made it to Number Two, it came second. However, it’s topped many other lists.

In the last few days Glenys Kinnock (politician, wife of a politician, mother of a politician), Denny Laine (Moody Blues and Wings) and Benjamin Zephaniah have all died. Lots of other people have died too, of course, but it’s human nature to harp on about celebrities and ignore wars.

Robin at Clumber, Nottinghamshire

Neil Kinnock, husband of Glenys, once had a speech plagiarised by Joe Biden. I didn’t know this until five minutes ago. It just shows the benefits of blogging.

Benjamin Zephaniah was three weeks older than me but more successful and better known. Eight weeks ago he was diagnosed with a brain tumour. This is a lesson on the fleeting nature of life, and why it may be a waste of time to do too much planning for my retirement.

He wrote a Christmas poem (what with him and The Pogues this is getting quite Festive, isn’t it?

It’s here if you want to read it. Now you can see where my title came from today.

Robin at Rufford Abbey

A note on Robins – they are a very festive bird, but unlike a turkey they won’t feed a family of four with some left over for sandwiches.

If You Are Easily Depressed I’d Give This One a Miss

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The day came. The day went. The remains of it are currently trying to sneak past without me noticing. Somehow, nothing has happened and the day would be recorded, if I could be bothered, in the column headed “As days go, this one as a waste of air and light.”

That is, of course, a very self-centred view of the world. If I lived in Kiev or Gaza, it would have been a very eventful day. I’m afraid that, having known Russia as an aggressor all my life, and having seen endless trouble in the Middle East, my basic humanity has been worn to a mere stub. Probably there is a blogger in Russia, has known the West as an aggressor all his life. We would probably get on fine if we started to communicate. I honestly have very little interest in politics. There are probably bloggers in Gaza and Israel who would get on fine if their respective governments could stop killing people.

Should I feel guilty about this, or do other people also find their stocks of compassion  running out?

I’m seriously thinking of engraving my memoirs on sheets of titanium, sealing them in an airtight box, burying them in concrete and then challenging all the world leaders to start a nuclear war. In the short term it will be bad, but if you think of it as pressing the reset button it’s not the worst idea I’ve ever had. I’m not sure that we deserve a planet when you see how we act. In a couple of thousand years the Earth will be green again, people in caves will start killing each other with sticks and stones in disputes about land and a time traveller will dig up a big box of titanium pages . . .

Or is that the script of Planet of the Apes?

Medals from 100 years of warfare . . .

Today’s Post – 300 Words, Fermented Shark and Pizza

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I was doing OK until lunch, not pulling up any trees, but getting some work done. Then I stopped to eat (Julia made avocados for lunch) and went to sit in front of TV with a coffee. (Yes, of course I made her one! And a Kit Kat.) The quizzes started, the snoozing commenced and four hours later I find I’ve frittered the afternoon away, watched some dreadful cricket and have to cook tea. The pizzas are in the oven now. I’m taking ten minutes to do this then I’m going to make the salad. It’s not a great meal, but it’s not the worst meal either. (Actually, it was quite a bad meal, as I got hot cheese stuck to the roof of my mouth).

View from Bangor Pier

I’m not sure what the worst meal is, probably something featuring fish, beetroot and salad, or something Icelandic with a sheep’s head or festering fish in the middle. At times like this, you have to ask why British cuisine is so often criticised when people like the Icelanders exist. How bad does your life have to be before you adopt boiled sheep’s head as  a national dish? Having just read this link, I can see life was very hard. I now forgive them for their culinary delinquency, though whether I’d want to go on a culinary tour of Iceland is another matter. They don’t have salt because they have no firewood to boil the seawater (and let’s face it, the sun is going to be no help in Iceland) so that’s why they ferment food and wind dry it. It’s amazing how little you can know about someone who is almost a neighbour.

Bangor Pier

If Iceland had a massive TV industry I suppose I’d know more about Icelandic cuisine and less about American.

I’m tempted to go on from here and discuss the use of soft power in world politics, but this probably isn’t the place for serious political discussions about subtlety and influence. Fermented shark, yes. Russian Foreign Policy, no. Draw your own conclusions.

Jellyfish at Bangor

I was looking for photos when I found these. It was a good day and a big jellyfish – about the size of a dustbin.