Before Christmas, you might have missed it, I posted details of the grand jaunt we are planning to New Zealand at the end of the year.
I know, crazy.
Well, when we travelled back from Housten at the end of October 2019, little did we know that it would be possibly 23 months before we would go on any kind of holiday again.
We have had the time to travel, of course, and since August the money to travel further and more often. But life had other ideas and brought is COVID, and now hardly anyone goes anywhere. Some do, apparently, going skiing or travelling to the US, who would be dumb enough to do that. Julia Hartly Brewer for one. Apparently.
Anyway, on Friday we decided it was time to book the flights. We're fully insured and can change or delay the flights, or add on two weeks isolation in a hotel if needed. We shall see.
We fly out on 2nd December on a drect flight to Sydney, where we have a five hour lay over and then the short hop to Auckland.
We return at the end of January.
Just so you know how serious we are, we paid in full and I have selected our seats for the out and return flights.
Bloody serious.
Just hope it is going to happen.
In preparation, I have ordered a field guide to NZ orchids, and have joined a group on FB for hints and general orchid-porn.
OK, getting excited just writing about it.
Sunday, 31 January 2021
World beating at something else
Vaccinations.
I mean, 600,000 received their first vaccination jabs on Saturday.
A stunning amount, and the running total nears 9 million.
But, and I say again, vaccinations is just one part of the weapons to be used, track and trace will be just as important, and that has been a resounding failure.
To show how mush of a shotshow Johnson and his Government have done, Perth in Australia have had their first local confirmed case in TEN MONTHS! and as a result the city is to be locked down for a week or so, no fucking around there. Meanwhile, here in the UK on the same day 21,088 tested positive. Now tell me he's doing a good job.
We must never forget that one hundred thousand people have died in the pandemic, most of them would still be alive had action been taken early and hard. Instead we had action, weeks even months late, and not hard enough to stop the pandemic, just to pause it. We have a much more infections varient than in March, and yet the lockdown isn't as strict.
Work that one out.
Apparently, fishing is exercise and OK to do, bird-watching isn't and you run the risk of being arrested.
Riddle me this, Batman!
I mean, 600,000 received their first vaccination jabs on Saturday.
A stunning amount, and the running total nears 9 million.
But, and I say again, vaccinations is just one part of the weapons to be used, track and trace will be just as important, and that has been a resounding failure.
To show how mush of a shotshow Johnson and his Government have done, Perth in Australia have had their first local confirmed case in TEN MONTHS! and as a result the city is to be locked down for a week or so, no fucking around there. Meanwhile, here in the UK on the same day 21,088 tested positive. Now tell me he's doing a good job.
We must never forget that one hundred thousand people have died in the pandemic, most of them would still be alive had action been taken early and hard. Instead we had action, weeks even months late, and not hard enough to stop the pandemic, just to pause it. We have a much more infections varient than in March, and yet the lockdown isn't as strict.
Work that one out.
Apparently, fishing is exercise and OK to do, bird-watching isn't and you run the risk of being arrested.
Riddle me this, Batman!
Saturday 30th January 2021
For a change, I was first up. In fact, Scully had been pawing at me for the best part of an hour, so I gave in and walked downstairs.
Even in the gloom I could see something dark on the living room carpet near the dining table. I switch on the light and see it was another baby rabbit. It wasn't moving.
I assumed it was dead, I mean the cats would have been chasing it if it were alive?
But when I picked it up, it opened its eyes and was warm. Seems like it was asleep. Later I noticed black speck all round the living room; baby rabbit poo. Seems that the cats, or one of them, had been chasing the rabbit and both or all of them were shagged out, and all went to sleep.
So, I carried it to the back door, and opened it, only to find a gales was blowing and filled with driving rain. I rushed out to the hedge and dropped the rabbit on the ground under it, and I turned and went back into the dry. I guess it survived, as when Mulder went out, he would have found it had it have still been there.
I fed the cats, made coffee, and made sure the heating was turned up. It was very chilly.
At seven I put the radio on, and as dawn lit up the day, we could see the dreary sight of sheets of rain moving dwon the valley between us and the village. It was set for the day.
There was music to listen to. And football to watch.
In fact, Norwich were on TV at half twelve, so I make sure lunch was ready, served and eaten before kick off. We had ribs, curried rich and stir fry. And a cheeky glass or red, even though it was still technically morning.
Once eaten, I take to the sofa, and what with games on Sky and BBC, I could watch football until ten at night, just about ten straight hours. I mean there was nothing else to do, so why not?
Norwich were playing Middlesbrough, who we beat at Wembley nearly six years ago.
Norwich played well at first, but Borough cancelled out of midfield and we neaver really created anything. If anything, at the end they were the better side, and Norwich were clinging on. If you can't win, but make sure you don't lose.
Job done.
Next us was WBA v Fulham, two teams already deep in relegation trouble, and both very poor teams, but Fulham better of the two. And yet did not take their chances, 1-0 up by half time, found themselves 2-1 by the hour, then pulled level, and should have won, but couldn't put the ball in the net. A result neither of them wanted, really.
Man Utd v Arsenal next, and usually these games are a dul 0-0 snoozefest, which is what happened here too. Not that bad, but neother team really looked like scoring, and neither did.
I had had enough of footy by half seven, so didn't watch the late game. Apparently you can have too mcuh football. Who knew?
Even in the gloom I could see something dark on the living room carpet near the dining table. I switch on the light and see it was another baby rabbit. It wasn't moving.
I assumed it was dead, I mean the cats would have been chasing it if it were alive?
But when I picked it up, it opened its eyes and was warm. Seems like it was asleep. Later I noticed black speck all round the living room; baby rabbit poo. Seems that the cats, or one of them, had been chasing the rabbit and both or all of them were shagged out, and all went to sleep.
So, I carried it to the back door, and opened it, only to find a gales was blowing and filled with driving rain. I rushed out to the hedge and dropped the rabbit on the ground under it, and I turned and went back into the dry. I guess it survived, as when Mulder went out, he would have found it had it have still been there.I fed the cats, made coffee, and made sure the heating was turned up. It was very chilly.
At seven I put the radio on, and as dawn lit up the day, we could see the dreary sight of sheets of rain moving dwon the valley between us and the village. It was set for the day.
There was music to listen to. And football to watch.In fact, Norwich were on TV at half twelve, so I make sure lunch was ready, served and eaten before kick off. We had ribs, curried rich and stir fry. And a cheeky glass or red, even though it was still technically morning.
Once eaten, I take to the sofa, and what with games on Sky and BBC, I could watch football until ten at night, just about ten straight hours. I mean there was nothing else to do, so why not?
Norwich were playing Middlesbrough, who we beat at Wembley nearly six years ago.Norwich played well at first, but Borough cancelled out of midfield and we neaver really created anything. If anything, at the end they were the better side, and Norwich were clinging on. If you can't win, but make sure you don't lose.
Job done.
Next us was WBA v Fulham, two teams already deep in relegation trouble, and both very poor teams, but Fulham better of the two. And yet did not take their chances, 1-0 up by half time, found themselves 2-1 by the hour, then pulled level, and should have won, but couldn't put the ball in the net. A result neither of them wanted, really.
Man Utd v Arsenal next, and usually these games are a dul 0-0 snoozefest, which is what happened here too. Not that bad, but neother team really looked like scoring, and neither did.
I had had enough of footy by half seven, so didn't watch the late game. Apparently you can have too mcuh football. Who knew?
Fragile
The first few weeks and months of the TCA are the most fragile, as the procedures and rules are followed, so that things settle down. It is, perhaps, an advantage that COVID is happening at the same time, as traffic flows har about half, on some routes, than normal.
For the most part, to the world outside "trade-Twitter", things seem to have gone well, certainly better than "project fear" might have suggested.
But, clearly, we are going to delve into trade-Twtter, and the news is not good. Most SMEs have given up importing and exporting, even on goods like wine which clearly does not have a short life. Even if the paperwork is done, cost of paperwork, import and export taxes and so on will put £1.50 on the price of a single bottle, which will have to be passed on to the consumer. Worse than that, small businesses that used to import several different wines on a pallet now find that each different wine needs a separate declaration paperwork, and so on, meaning that large volume, single type imports are the only possible way forward, thus price increases, but customer choice is reduced.
Not much of a Brexit bonus there.
On the busiest route between Britain and Ireland, ferries are being cancelled due to lack of demand, simply because goods are not leaving warehouses, demand will still be there in NI, just no one willing to satisfy that demand. Until the new longer ferry route from Ireland to France, on new "super-ferries" take up the slack, thus avoiding the British land bridge.
The point about the TCA being fragile, is that until all sides, and users, get used to how systems work, something like what happened on Friday night can destroy what little trust there is on either side. And give ammunition to those who would, apparently, be quite happy to see the TCA fail.
We in Dover woke up on January 1st 2021 and found, when we looked out across the Channel, that France was still there. Brexit had not moved the EU one millimetre, and so common sense will dictate, at some point, that the UK and GB needs to trade, in high volume, with the EU27. News comes this morning that Liz Truss is trying to get the UK to join CPTPP, which is for countries around the Pacific Ocean. The UK does not have a Pacific coastline, and indeed, trades very little with countries on the other side of the world, because it is not of high economic value to do so.
It is for low volume, high value goods, but you are not going to sell many fresh Langoustines to Tonga. The point being, long distance trade, which takes time and is cost heavy, will not repalace local trade with our neighbours. Economic gravity tells us that, but when has Brexit ever been about something like facts and evidence?
Being a member of CPTPP would be nicce, but be a priority. Trade with the EU is essential, and getting costs and delays will be a priority, when the Brexiteers finally understand how trade and borders work. In the meantime, businesses will fail, jobs will be lost and the economy will shring. But blue passports, eh?
For the most part, to the world outside "trade-Twitter", things seem to have gone well, certainly better than "project fear" might have suggested.
But, clearly, we are going to delve into trade-Twtter, and the news is not good. Most SMEs have given up importing and exporting, even on goods like wine which clearly does not have a short life. Even if the paperwork is done, cost of paperwork, import and export taxes and so on will put £1.50 on the price of a single bottle, which will have to be passed on to the consumer. Worse than that, small businesses that used to import several different wines on a pallet now find that each different wine needs a separate declaration paperwork, and so on, meaning that large volume, single type imports are the only possible way forward, thus price increases, but customer choice is reduced.
Not much of a Brexit bonus there.
On the busiest route between Britain and Ireland, ferries are being cancelled due to lack of demand, simply because goods are not leaving warehouses, demand will still be there in NI, just no one willing to satisfy that demand. Until the new longer ferry route from Ireland to France, on new "super-ferries" take up the slack, thus avoiding the British land bridge.
The point about the TCA being fragile, is that until all sides, and users, get used to how systems work, something like what happened on Friday night can destroy what little trust there is on either side. And give ammunition to those who would, apparently, be quite happy to see the TCA fail.
We in Dover woke up on January 1st 2021 and found, when we looked out across the Channel, that France was still there. Brexit had not moved the EU one millimetre, and so common sense will dictate, at some point, that the UK and GB needs to trade, in high volume, with the EU27. News comes this morning that Liz Truss is trying to get the UK to join CPTPP, which is for countries around the Pacific Ocean. The UK does not have a Pacific coastline, and indeed, trades very little with countries on the other side of the world, because it is not of high economic value to do so.
It is for low volume, high value goods, but you are not going to sell many fresh Langoustines to Tonga. The point being, long distance trade, which takes time and is cost heavy, will not repalace local trade with our neighbours. Economic gravity tells us that, but when has Brexit ever been about something like facts and evidence?
Being a member of CPTPP would be nicce, but be a priority. Trade with the EU is essential, and getting costs and delays will be a priority, when the Brexiteers finally understand how trade and borders work. In the meantime, businesses will fail, jobs will be lost and the economy will shring. But blue passports, eh?
Saturday, 30 January 2021
5005
This is another part of the 5,000th post I was going to write and post, something that has been rattling in my head for some years, now to put it down, if not on paper, but in these posts.
Journalist and writer, David Hepworth, in his collected volume on short essays, "Nothing is Real: The Beatles Were Underrated And Other Sweeping Statements About Pop", as you can tell he postulates that the Beatles were underrated.
I think he is right. Maybe he even unserstates the fact.
Before the Beatles, hardly any musical act wrote their own songs. It is likely that the only UK artist to have done so was one Ronald Wycherley, aka Billy Fury, whose first record, The Sound of Fury, four of the ten tracks were written by Fury himself. Otherwise, singers, groups, pretty much were told either by their managers or record labels what to record. And those, like Fury, with a manager-cum-impresario like Larry Parnes, saw a music career in pop or rocka and roll as a way into light entertainment and the film business, where the real money would be made.
No one saw pop music as anything else other than a short-lived way to further riches, and not something that was ever going to last.
To understand the Beatles, you have to realise that they did not emerge as a result of American rock and roll, not entirely, the ability to play a guitar or understand rythm from the craze that was skiffle.
Skiffle was a DIY music that came out of traditional jazz, it was lighter music, based on traditional blues and work songs from mostly the Deep South, that jazz bands used to play in breaks from playsing Dixieland Jazz. Dixieland, or traditional, or trad, jazz was hugely popular in the 1950s in the UK. You can read about this in Billy Bragg's tome on the subject, "Roots, Radicals and Rockers: How Skiffle Changed the World".
This is litarally a book that rewrites the history of popular music in the UK, and detailed how a UK musician was able to export a traditional song, Rock Island Line, back to the US, so well that Johnny Cash himself recorded Lonnie Donegan's arrangement of it.
Skiffle was simple, primitive, and a group would usually have a guitar, a bass instrument (like a tea chest) and a percussion, something like a washing board played it with thumbles. It is easy to laugh at Skiffle, but it was huegely popular, and sales of guitars increased a hundred fold in a few years. What it meant for those who learned to play the guitar was the ability to play chords. Once you do that, you could do anything.
The Beatles started out as a Skiffle band, The Quarrymen. On the 6th July 1957, John Lennon met Paul McCartney at the St. Peter's, Woolton's Parish Church fete in Liverpool. The rest is musical history.
They played Skiffle, and in time they travelled to Hamburg to play in bars in the bars around the red light district, where they would play multiple sets a day, and got bored with playing the same songs over and over, so they started to write their own.
So, during their time in Hamburg, the band, now called The Beatles, turned into a tight R&B band, writing and playing their own tunes.
Upon their return to the UK, they tried to get sign, famously being turned down by Decca Records because, "Guitar groups are on the way out, Mr. Epstein.". But EMI's George Martin signed them, and was to be their producer.
Again, the rest is history,
For me, The Beatles were something very much of the past. A friend had a Beatles compliation, The Beatles Ballads, which is when I heard Norwegian Wood for the first time. I thought it was OK.
The Beatles were played on the radio, but only during things like "Golden Hour", music of the past. I was aware of Wings and the solo stuff Paul did, John Lennon had been quite since the mid-70s and Imagine, so not sure, like Pete Paphides who was shocked when he found out that Paul and John played in the same back in the 1960s.
The first song I ever sung as a child was, apparently, "Hello, Goodbye" which I must have heard on the radio when it came out, which was November 1967, amking me just over two years old. Even if I could only sing the title over and over again.
I think through most of popular music, many of us have been looking for the next "big thing", so that looking back to see what had lead to where music currently was, was overlookied. IN the 21st century, that has only got more ingrained, with Radio 1 only playing new music, ignoring whatever what was the inspiration. That is me too.
John Lennon's murder at the end of 1980 mmeant we were exposed to a lot of his solo work, his then current album, and his work with The Beatles. This increased firther when in 1982, EMI started to reissue the Beatles singles on the 20th anniversary of their original release. So I can remember Love Me Do being reissued in 1982, next year will see the 40th anniversary of that reissue.
Years later I bought the CD "1", and played it from the start, and in those 27 tracks, detailed the rise and rise of the greatest band in recorded popular music. I don't say that lightly.
‘Love Me Do’
‘From Me To You’
‘She Loves You’
‘I Want To Hold Your Hand’
‘Can’t Buy Me Love’
‘A Hard Day’s Night’
‘I Feel Fine’
‘Eight Days A Week’
‘Ticket To Ride’
‘Help!’
‘Yesterday’
‘Day Tripper’
‘We Can Work It Out’
‘Paperback Writer’
‘Yellow Submarine’
‘Eleanor Rigby’
‘Penny Lane’
‘All You Need Is Love’
‘Hello, Goodbye’
‘Lady Madonna’
‘Hey Jude’
‘Get Back’
‘The Ballad Of John And Yoko’
‘Something’
‘Come Together’
‘Let It Be’
‘The Long And Winding Road’
Back at The Harris Middle School some time in 1977 or 78, we had to study a couple of pop sngs and their lyrics. One was The Sloop John B by the Beach Boys, which I still hate to this day. I mean I really have to turn the radio off on the rare occasions it is played. I like most of their other stuff, but maybe it was the weeks spent discussing the lyric, and what they meant. Or what Brian Wilson meant, I don't know.
The other song was Penny Lane.
I liked Penny Pane. I love it more than ever now.
Penny Lane tells a stroy of a walk down a street in Liverpool telling the stories of the people we meet. In a little over three minutes. For me, it is the greatest record of all time. It was released in February 1967, and was a double A side with Strawberry Fields Foever. I can only imagine what it must have sounded like to head it for the first time, even now its a remarkable song:
In Penny Lane, there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he's had the pleasure to know
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello
On the corner is a banker with a motorcar
And little children laugh at him behind his back
And the banker never wears a mac in the pouring rain
Very strange
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
Wet beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit and meanwhile back in
Penny Lane, there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen
He likes to keep his fire engine clean
It's a clean machine
Penny Lane, is in my ears and in my eyes
A four of fish and finger pies
In summer, meanwhile back
Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout
A pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway
Penny Lane, the barber shaves another customer
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim
And then, the fireman rushes in from the pouring rain
Very strange
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit and meanwhile back
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies
Penny Lane
There is even a video:
The Beatles were more than a band too. They were a gang you wanted to be a part of. They were friends. Best friends. Funny. Had their own fashion, jokes.
Journalist and writer, David Hepworth, in his collected volume on short essays, "Nothing is Real: The Beatles Were Underrated And Other Sweeping Statements About Pop", as you can tell he postulates that the Beatles were underrated.
I think he is right. Maybe he even unserstates the fact.
Before the Beatles, hardly any musical act wrote their own songs. It is likely that the only UK artist to have done so was one Ronald Wycherley, aka Billy Fury, whose first record, The Sound of Fury, four of the ten tracks were written by Fury himself. Otherwise, singers, groups, pretty much were told either by their managers or record labels what to record. And those, like Fury, with a manager-cum-impresario like Larry Parnes, saw a music career in pop or rocka and roll as a way into light entertainment and the film business, where the real money would be made.
No one saw pop music as anything else other than a short-lived way to further riches, and not something that was ever going to last.
To understand the Beatles, you have to realise that they did not emerge as a result of American rock and roll, not entirely, the ability to play a guitar or understand rythm from the craze that was skiffle.
Skiffle was a DIY music that came out of traditional jazz, it was lighter music, based on traditional blues and work songs from mostly the Deep South, that jazz bands used to play in breaks from playsing Dixieland Jazz. Dixieland, or traditional, or trad, jazz was hugely popular in the 1950s in the UK. You can read about this in Billy Bragg's tome on the subject, "Roots, Radicals and Rockers: How Skiffle Changed the World".
This is litarally a book that rewrites the history of popular music in the UK, and detailed how a UK musician was able to export a traditional song, Rock Island Line, back to the US, so well that Johnny Cash himself recorded Lonnie Donegan's arrangement of it.
Skiffle was simple, primitive, and a group would usually have a guitar, a bass instrument (like a tea chest) and a percussion, something like a washing board played it with thumbles. It is easy to laugh at Skiffle, but it was huegely popular, and sales of guitars increased a hundred fold in a few years. What it meant for those who learned to play the guitar was the ability to play chords. Once you do that, you could do anything.
The Beatles started out as a Skiffle band, The Quarrymen. On the 6th July 1957, John Lennon met Paul McCartney at the St. Peter's, Woolton's Parish Church fete in Liverpool. The rest is musical history.
They played Skiffle, and in time they travelled to Hamburg to play in bars in the bars around the red light district, where they would play multiple sets a day, and got bored with playing the same songs over and over, so they started to write their own.
So, during their time in Hamburg, the band, now called The Beatles, turned into a tight R&B band, writing and playing their own tunes.
Upon their return to the UK, they tried to get sign, famously being turned down by Decca Records because, "Guitar groups are on the way out, Mr. Epstein.". But EMI's George Martin signed them, and was to be their producer.
Again, the rest is history,
For me, The Beatles were something very much of the past. A friend had a Beatles compliation, The Beatles Ballads, which is when I heard Norwegian Wood for the first time. I thought it was OK.
The Beatles were played on the radio, but only during things like "Golden Hour", music of the past. I was aware of Wings and the solo stuff Paul did, John Lennon had been quite since the mid-70s and Imagine, so not sure, like Pete Paphides who was shocked when he found out that Paul and John played in the same back in the 1960s.
The first song I ever sung as a child was, apparently, "Hello, Goodbye" which I must have heard on the radio when it came out, which was November 1967, amking me just over two years old. Even if I could only sing the title over and over again.
I think through most of popular music, many of us have been looking for the next "big thing", so that looking back to see what had lead to where music currently was, was overlookied. IN the 21st century, that has only got more ingrained, with Radio 1 only playing new music, ignoring whatever what was the inspiration. That is me too.
John Lennon's murder at the end of 1980 mmeant we were exposed to a lot of his solo work, his then current album, and his work with The Beatles. This increased firther when in 1982, EMI started to reissue the Beatles singles on the 20th anniversary of their original release. So I can remember Love Me Do being reissued in 1982, next year will see the 40th anniversary of that reissue.
Years later I bought the CD "1", and played it from the start, and in those 27 tracks, detailed the rise and rise of the greatest band in recorded popular music. I don't say that lightly.
‘Love Me Do’
‘From Me To You’
‘She Loves You’
‘I Want To Hold Your Hand’
‘Can’t Buy Me Love’
‘A Hard Day’s Night’
‘I Feel Fine’
‘Eight Days A Week’
‘Ticket To Ride’
‘Help!’
‘Yesterday’
‘Day Tripper’
‘We Can Work It Out’
‘Paperback Writer’
‘Yellow Submarine’
‘Eleanor Rigby’
‘Penny Lane’
‘All You Need Is Love’
‘Hello, Goodbye’
‘Lady Madonna’
‘Hey Jude’
‘Get Back’
‘The Ballad Of John And Yoko’
‘Something’
‘Come Together’
‘Let It Be’
‘The Long And Winding Road’
Back at The Harris Middle School some time in 1977 or 78, we had to study a couple of pop sngs and their lyrics. One was The Sloop John B by the Beach Boys, which I still hate to this day. I mean I really have to turn the radio off on the rare occasions it is played. I like most of their other stuff, but maybe it was the weeks spent discussing the lyric, and what they meant. Or what Brian Wilson meant, I don't know.
The other song was Penny Lane.
I liked Penny Pane. I love it more than ever now.
Penny Lane tells a stroy of a walk down a street in Liverpool telling the stories of the people we meet. In a little over three minutes. For me, it is the greatest record of all time. It was released in February 1967, and was a double A side with Strawberry Fields Foever. I can only imagine what it must have sounded like to head it for the first time, even now its a remarkable song:
In Penny Lane, there is a barber showing photographs
Of every head he's had the pleasure to know
And all the people that come and go
Stop and say hello
On the corner is a banker with a motorcar
And little children laugh at him behind his back
And the banker never wears a mac in the pouring rain
Very strange
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
Wet beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit and meanwhile back in
Penny Lane, there is a fireman with an hourglass
And in his pocket is a portrait of the Queen
He likes to keep his fire engine clean
It's a clean machine
Penny Lane, is in my ears and in my eyes
A four of fish and finger pies
In summer, meanwhile back
Behind the shelter in the middle of a roundabout
A pretty nurse is selling poppies from a tray
And though she feels as if she's in a play
She is anyway
Penny Lane, the barber shaves another customer
We see the banker sitting waiting for a trim
And then, the fireman rushes in from the pouring rain
Very strange
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies
I sit and meanwhile back
Penny Lane is in my ears and in my eyes
There beneath the blue suburban skies
Penny Lane
There is even a video:
The Beatles were more than a band too. They were a gang you wanted to be a part of. They were friends. Best friends. Funny. Had their own fashion, jokes.
Friday 29th January 2021
All good things come to an end.
Friday was the last day of the old company. Many friends and colleagues would end the day handing in their computers and phones before waking out of the office for the last time.
On Monday, those who are left will rejoin our parent company, get new coporate identities and e mail addresses.
As it will be is as it always was.
In which case it was a very quiet day, as I had pretty much caught up with outstanding work, so I could start fresh on Monday. This meant just sitting there and waiting for a call or mail to come in.
None did.
Jools has the first day of her three day weekend, so we didn't set the alarm, so laid in bed until just before six!
Then, lolling around, drinking coffee before she went to Jen's to do some yoga before going to Tesco on the way back for some hunter-gathering action and getting back just before 11.
I help her put the stuff away, we have the remainder of the bread I made for lunch, and that was it.
Outside, it was a glorious day, and we should have gone out, espeically since the weather was going to be very grim over the weekend, but instead we stayed in, listened to music and ate the last of the chocolate with one of the endless cups of coffee.
At three, I drove down to the physio to be pummelled as my right shoulder is crocked once again. He pushes and pulls in, stretches, rubs. £45 well spent.
But four, I was bored of being in the house, we due to go to Jen's after the music quiz at six, but I thought I could skip it, so we drove to Jen's in Whitfirled to play cards and have dinner.
She was in the middle of cooking a pasta dish with herbs and shrimp, served with garlic bread and cheesy potato skins. We talked as she cooked.
We ate at half six, ate our fill. And then some.
Then we played cards, just Meld. Jen went oon another long winning streak, winning both games, by which point it was nine, and we were all tired, although Jen would watch the evenings snooker, Jools and I drove back home, above us the full moon shone down like a reading lamp, illuminating our way with its cold, blue light.
Friday was the last day of the old company. Many friends and colleagues would end the day handing in their computers and phones before waking out of the office for the last time.
On Monday, those who are left will rejoin our parent company, get new coporate identities and e mail addresses.
As it will be is as it always was.
In which case it was a very quiet day, as I had pretty much caught up with outstanding work, so I could start fresh on Monday. This meant just sitting there and waiting for a call or mail to come in.
None did.
Jools has the first day of her three day weekend, so we didn't set the alarm, so laid in bed until just before six!
Then, lolling around, drinking coffee before she went to Jen's to do some yoga before going to Tesco on the way back for some hunter-gathering action and getting back just before 11.
I help her put the stuff away, we have the remainder of the bread I made for lunch, and that was it.
Outside, it was a glorious day, and we should have gone out, espeically since the weather was going to be very grim over the weekend, but instead we stayed in, listened to music and ate the last of the chocolate with one of the endless cups of coffee.
At three, I drove down to the physio to be pummelled as my right shoulder is crocked once again. He pushes and pulls in, stretches, rubs. £45 well spent.
But four, I was bored of being in the house, we due to go to Jen's after the music quiz at six, but I thought I could skip it, so we drove to Jen's in Whitfirled to play cards and have dinner.She was in the middle of cooking a pasta dish with herbs and shrimp, served with garlic bread and cheesy potato skins. We talked as she cooked.
We ate at half six, ate our fill. And then some.
Then we played cards, just Meld. Jen went oon another long winning streak, winning both games, by which point it was nine, and we were all tired, although Jen would watch the evenings snooker, Jools and I drove back home, above us the full moon shone down like a reading lamp, illuminating our way with its cold, blue light.
Article 16
Oooh, a new Article to write about.
But a short post on the fact that for four and a half years, the EU has barely put a step wrong in its dealings qith the UK in regard to Brexit and COVID. And yet they did yesterday.
For a while, the weaponisation of vaccine supply has been brewing, with the UK, its Government and Consiervative Party using it for overt nationalism.
The UK souced its own vaccine supply, at double the cost of the EU's purchase, but nothing about that could have been done if the UK was still a member state.
But for three days there was argumants of the Astra-zeneca vaccine to the EU, in that there were supply problems, whilse supplies to the UK would remain unchanged.
The created a Holy row between the EU and the company, wether under terms of the contract between the two sch actions by the supplier were allowed.
While we were out yesterday, the EU invoked Article 16 of the NO Proticol, without consultation with any member states, incluing Ireland, nor the UK. THis gave the DUP and Brexiteers to speak from the higher moral position whilst appearing nationalistic.
It was short lived, the EU backed down, but this shows that both sides have to work together, not just on COVID, but in all areas of the agreement. Saying that, the virus will not be defeated until we are all vaccinated. Using vaccines in a trade war or international disagreement will only benefit the virus and cause more deaths.
More grown up thinking and acting required from both sides required.
Of course, the UK acted as though NI, the peace process and lately, the NI Protocol didn't matter, only when it could be used for political purposes. The UK Government almost got a domestic law passed that would have enabled it to break the NI Protocol, and never appologised for that.
The EU made a mistake, realised it and reveresed the decision. But guess who's the bad guys in the press this morning?
But a short post on the fact that for four and a half years, the EU has barely put a step wrong in its dealings qith the UK in regard to Brexit and COVID. And yet they did yesterday.
For a while, the weaponisation of vaccine supply has been brewing, with the UK, its Government and Consiervative Party using it for overt nationalism.
The UK souced its own vaccine supply, at double the cost of the EU's purchase, but nothing about that could have been done if the UK was still a member state.
But for three days there was argumants of the Astra-zeneca vaccine to the EU, in that there were supply problems, whilse supplies to the UK would remain unchanged.
The created a Holy row between the EU and the company, wether under terms of the contract between the two sch actions by the supplier were allowed.
While we were out yesterday, the EU invoked Article 16 of the NO Proticol, without consultation with any member states, incluing Ireland, nor the UK. THis gave the DUP and Brexiteers to speak from the higher moral position whilst appearing nationalistic.
It was short lived, the EU backed down, but this shows that both sides have to work together, not just on COVID, but in all areas of the agreement. Saying that, the virus will not be defeated until we are all vaccinated. Using vaccines in a trade war or international disagreement will only benefit the virus and cause more deaths.
More grown up thinking and acting required from both sides required.
Of course, the UK acted as though NI, the peace process and lately, the NI Protocol didn't matter, only when it could be used for political purposes. The UK Government almost got a domestic law passed that would have enabled it to break the NI Protocol, and never appologised for that.
The EU made a mistake, realised it and reveresed the decision. But guess who's the bad guys in the press this morning?
Friday, 29 January 2021
Thursday 28th January 2021
Good morning.
Or good afternoon.
Or good evening.
Depends where you and when you read this.
Hope you will have, or had a good day.
Anyway, the weekend is near, so let's rewind to Thursday.
Not much to tell, really. I should have gone for a walk, but got sidetracked into completing the 5,000th blog after leaving the task to the last minute. Its not like I've been busy, or travelling, is it?
Anyway, writing, photographing, editing, and more writing, and all the time while monitoring the work e mails. In truth, things have slowed to a stop, we bgin our new careers in the new/old company on Monday, and much more will be clear. So for this week, a pause to take stock, to close issues, and look forward, not back.
And yet in some six and a half years, we have designed and manufactured and installed 550 turbines, mostly in Europe, we did change the world. And as I said to my boss, back in the days when I was on Leuchterduinen, flying into Amsterdam, skimming over the foundations and newly installed turbines made it all real, and each week I saw more and more turbines installed, and in time generating wiggly amps too.
Those will last at least 20 years, as will all that we install.
We did that.
I did that.
And so time moves on, we move in, say goodbye to old friends and hello to new ones.
It happens, and I cannot lay the blame with anyone.
Yes, I should have gone out for a walk, the light was great in the sunshine, but it was cold, very cold in the strong breeze, I chicken out and have marmalade sandwiches made with the bread I made earlier in the week.
The day passes, I listen to some of the Bowie A-Z podcasts, they're good but much is pretty obsure, as you would expect from over 60 hours of audio and video.
I have another sandwich for lunch, listen to some radio, and time passes. Cats sleep upstairs, sometimes fighting, but mostly getting on now.
About time.
I prepare fritters for dinner, and whilst I was doing so, Mulder brings in a baby rabbit, which he releases as soon as he walks in the kitchen, the rabbit runs. So we chase the little bugger for five minutes until I grab it, at which point it gives up and goes limp.
I wrap it up on a tea towel, take it outside, along the road so it has a chance of escape.
Back inside, Mulder wants a reward.
Sigh.
The fritters were great, Jools had hers with the sauce sent by Liza in Canada, they do go well together, and it has a slight unexpected kick of spice.
We tidy up, we are both shattered after a night of broken sleep, so Jools goes to bed to read at half seven, and is soon sleeping. I was going to stay u to watch Spurs v Liverpool, but it wasn't on Sky after all, so I follow the first half on the BBC website, and I join Jools at nine.
And I am joined by Cleo, who stretches out beside me, and is purring loudly.
Or good afternoon.
Or good evening.
Depends where you and when you read this.
Hope you will have, or had a good day.
Anyway, the weekend is near, so let's rewind to Thursday.
Not much to tell, really. I should have gone for a walk, but got sidetracked into completing the 5,000th blog after leaving the task to the last minute. Its not like I've been busy, or travelling, is it?
Anyway, writing, photographing, editing, and more writing, and all the time while monitoring the work e mails. In truth, things have slowed to a stop, we bgin our new careers in the new/old company on Monday, and much more will be clear. So for this week, a pause to take stock, to close issues, and look forward, not back.
And yet in some six and a half years, we have designed and manufactured and installed 550 turbines, mostly in Europe, we did change the world. And as I said to my boss, back in the days when I was on Leuchterduinen, flying into Amsterdam, skimming over the foundations and newly installed turbines made it all real, and each week I saw more and more turbines installed, and in time generating wiggly amps too.
Those will last at least 20 years, as will all that we install.We did that.
I did that.
And so time moves on, we move in, say goodbye to old friends and hello to new ones.
It happens, and I cannot lay the blame with anyone.
Yes, I should have gone out for a walk, the light was great in the sunshine, but it was cold, very cold in the strong breeze, I chicken out and have marmalade sandwiches made with the bread I made earlier in the week.
The day passes, I listen to some of the Bowie A-Z podcasts, they're good but much is pretty obsure, as you would expect from over 60 hours of audio and video.I have another sandwich for lunch, listen to some radio, and time passes. Cats sleep upstairs, sometimes fighting, but mostly getting on now.
About time.
I prepare fritters for dinner, and whilst I was doing so, Mulder brings in a baby rabbit, which he releases as soon as he walks in the kitchen, the rabbit runs. So we chase the little bugger for five minutes until I grab it, at which point it gives up and goes limp.
I wrap it up on a tea towel, take it outside, along the road so it has a chance of escape.Back inside, Mulder wants a reward.
Sigh.
The fritters were great, Jools had hers with the sauce sent by Liza in Canada, they do go well together, and it has a slight unexpected kick of spice.
We tidy up, we are both shattered after a night of broken sleep, so Jools goes to bed to read at half seven, and is soon sleeping. I was going to stay u to watch Spurs v Liverpool, but it wasn't on Sky after all, so I follow the first half on the BBC website, and I join Jools at nine.
And I am joined by Cleo, who stretches out beside me, and is purring loudly.
Thursday, 28 January 2021
Taking the low road
In the middle of a pandemic, literally flying in the face of his own advice, took an RAF plane to Scotland to campaign against a further IndyRef,despite the Scottish people voting for a party whose central policy is independence.
If people vote for something, then to deny them of that fact would be undemocratic, no?
Anyway, there is strength in a union, no, not the EU the UK, don't be silly a political untion of countries is bad. Unless you're talking about the UK, then its good.
John Deadwood has been complaining about the trouble with imports into NI, stating the UK and EU should do something. Maybe being one of the braindead who pushed for Brexit, voted to trigger the A50 notification, voted to ratify the WAB and the TCA, you would have thought that leaving a trading bloc would create barriers to trade, especially when the PM's WAB split the UK internal market down the Irish Sea?
Did he not understand that when he voted for it, or is he too dim to understand?
Or is it both?
Could be.
Most traffic leaving the UK for Calais from Dover is empty, meaning we are exporting almost nothing. Cost of trying to export, even to NO or Ireland is so time consuming and expensive, most companies are not bothering.
While there is food in the shops, most will ignore the issue, but a crisis is coming, just watch the Brexiteers blame anthing other than Brexit or anyone other than themselves.
Just you wait and see.
Oh, you don't need to, they're already blaming Chancellor Merkel for it. I thought it was supposed to be a good idea?
If people vote for something, then to deny them of that fact would be undemocratic, no?
Anyway, there is strength in a union, no, not the EU the UK, don't be silly a political untion of countries is bad. Unless you're talking about the UK, then its good.
John Deadwood has been complaining about the trouble with imports into NI, stating the UK and EU should do something. Maybe being one of the braindead who pushed for Brexit, voted to trigger the A50 notification, voted to ratify the WAB and the TCA, you would have thought that leaving a trading bloc would create barriers to trade, especially when the PM's WAB split the UK internal market down the Irish Sea?
Did he not understand that when he voted for it, or is he too dim to understand?
Or is it both?
Could be.
Most traffic leaving the UK for Calais from Dover is empty, meaning we are exporting almost nothing. Cost of trying to export, even to NO or Ireland is so time consuming and expensive, most companies are not bothering.
While there is food in the shops, most will ignore the issue, but a crisis is coming, just watch the Brexiteers blame anthing other than Brexit or anyone other than themselves.
Just you wait and see.
Oh, you don't need to, they're already blaming Chancellor Merkel for it. I thought it was supposed to be a good idea?
Five thousand (5,000)
Growing up in Suffolk, in my parent’s living room there was the most uncomfortable three piece suite, a sideboard with collection of 60s drinks, VAT 69 et al, the fireplace and bigger than all of the rest was the radiogram.
A radiogram was bigger than the sideboard, was filled with valves and electronics, it had a multi-band radio, mostly shortwave, listing all those fabulous places in Europe you only heard on Eurovision nights, like Hilversum. It also had a record player, that could play records at 33, 45, 78 and even 16 rpm. I never saw a record that played at 16, but I believe these were spoken word?
It had a central spindle, on which you could balance upto ten, maybe more, singles, and at the end of the record it was playing the next on the spindle would drop down. Sound would get poorer, and sometimes a pile of pennies had to be put on the tone arm, but was good for parties, I guess.
And yet I can’t really remember the record player being used that much. I was obsessed with their collection of records which included two Reader’s Digest box sets; one a history of rock and roll and the other the “magic” of James Last. I never understood James Last. I put one of the records on, and it was rubbish. And he wore brightly coloured suits before Michael Portillo made them “popular”.
Hmmm.
We had new neighbours in about 1970, Marion and Keith, and they used to come round some evenings for cocktails and listen to music, a bit on an Abigail’s Party thing going on. I guess it was the desire to appear hip, show off a new recipe learned from Graham Kerr or try out the new coffee perculator.
It didn’t last.
At home, the radio was always on, Radio 1 for the most part, I can remember Jimmy Young being on the morning show. He called it the JY prog, I thought he said frog but never heard it croak, though he had a fake dog, Arnold, which he gave to Tony Blackburn.
Radio 1 had shows at the weekend for children: Junior Choice, and so I used to listen to those every week, a mix of Bay City Rollers, David Cassidy and old favourites like The Laughing Policeman and Camp Grenada, which must have been quite up to date at the time. Imagine a national radio station catering four hours a week to children who did not buy records?
Imagine that.
I suppose we all have aspirations; I know my parents did. We used to watch the Holiday show every year, and fawn over the exotic locations. We did go on a continental holiday in 1973, by coach, staying in Ostend and travelling to Amsterdam, Brussels and Paris. Was very adventurous. But something like a holiday to the US was out of our reach, even with Freddie Laker and Skytrain. That period coincided with a downturn in the family’s finances, and we stayed with friends in Essex for two summers in the mid-70s.
My parents bought records, occasionally. I seem to remember there was a Jim Reeves compilation, a Beach Boys greatest hits, but not much, and none of it was really played that much. The radio was always on to Radio 1, 2 at weekends to listen to Two Way Family Favourites. So, radio became important to me too.
Maybe its because I have no older brothers or sisters, no younger ones either, and no older friends that were into album rock, maybe its that what meant I never really liked albums much. Never did, and still don’t really. I was always listening to the radio to see what was new and happening, be that on the chart shows on Tuesday lunchtimes, or later on, Kid Jensen or John Peel shows. No time to listen to LPs, I might miss something new.
I whisper this now, but even the LPs f Joy Division I only listened to a few times. At times, they’re not an easy listen, which was the point, I suppose. I should like them, and do, I suppose in my own way.
If that’s not bad enough, I can say that I have only ever heard one Beatles album all the way through, and that was because my friend in the US was shocked I hadn’t and insisted I hear Sgt Pepper. It was on the car CD player when we drove to Niagara, I can’t say I remember any of it.
A few years ago, Danny Baker hosted three TV discussions where he and friends listed the best 12 LPs in three categories. I think I had listened to one out of the 36. I was going to put it right, but never did. I was going to create a new blog, and review these classic albums as I heard them for the first time. Never did.
Those albums I did listen to a lot, I love. And they are an odd mix, Hounds of Love by Kate Bush and Don’t Stand me Down by Dexy’s Midnight Runners, I listened to whilst playing on my Commodore 64 computer, and I would have those two records on a constant repeat, on tape.
One Mississippi by Brendan Benson, The Bends by Radiohead and A Few Small Repairs by Shawn Colvin I had on tape when I went down to the Falklands on a four month tour, and became my best friends thanks to my trusty Walkman.
Which brings me to the point of this, the 5,000th blog.
I will be interviewed by two journalists in August as a reward for my support for their podcast, and the final question they ask of all guests is, what is the best record ever made.
This poses some difficult questions for me, as I have to decide what is the definition I would use for the best record ever made, bearing in mind I have heard so little of what you would consider the best LPs, or albums, of all time?
That’s a tough one.
For blog 1,000 I did a list of my desert island discs, using the definition, which eight songs were the most important in my life. Although not necessarily my favourite records or songs of all time. And I could do that now, if I put my mind to it, what tracks do I go back to again and again, and which never let me down. Because, and whisper this too, there are some great sings that I am just too over familiar with, Ever Fallen in Love by the Buzzcocks for one. Great song and all that, but I much prefer What do I Get?
So, lets start with the first album I got: Out of the Blue by the Electric Light Orchestra, who from now on I will call ELO. When I started high school, I struggled, as most do, to find a group to be part of. Well, imagine, going to high school where you are all new guys looking for a group to hang out with? Well, my alma mater, named after local composer, Benjamin Britten, was new in 1978. So new, in fact, only half it was finished and it had no playing fields. Sports lessons were spent walking the grassed, soon to be football and rugby pitches, picking up stones, so when sport did start we did not get badly injured.
The half of the school that was languages, maths and had the canteen, theatre and home economics area opened first, the rest opened a year later, this is where the science and humanities classes would move to.
Anyway, I had many fellow students who had the same classes, so we gravitated together, and the boys, always the boys, bonded over a shared or adopted liking of ELO. At the time, Out of the Blue was out, and every single they released were great, even if the words didn’t bear up to much examination.
So, I must have always been talking about ELO to my parents, they recognized the budding music fan in me, so Mum sent off for two cassettes from a mail order catalogue, A New World Record and Out of the Blue. I should mention that at the time all we had to play them at the time was an old Sanyo mono radio cassette player, whose heads had never been cleaned, so playback sounded like it was under water. My friend Simon, remember him? Well, he had a vinyl copy, an American import on UA label, and so the running order on his LP was different to the cassette.
I fixed this a year later when we went to Germany on an exchange trip in October 1979, and in a daring move, we escaped the care of my exchange partner in the middle of Hannover, and I spent 20% of my spending money for two weeks on a vinyl copy, also an American import.
Out of the Blue isn’t the worst album in the world, but neither is it the best, though if I’m honest, when I played it at the end of last year, it was much better than I remembered, even “The Jungle” and “Birmingham Blues”. There are worse groups to get fixated on, and an appreciation of ELO has lasted a lifetime, and one of their records, from this period, is like meeting an old friend you’d forgotten about, and takes you back to the common room at high school when we would make puns on the members of the group, which we all knew off my heart, including both cello players.
But tastes change, and with their next album, Discovery, my love affair with ELO faded, but that was replaced by someone else.
Record Mirror once described Pat Benatar as “light alloy” rather than heavy metal, which is fair. Was fair, I don’t know what she is doing now, playing the convert circuit with her husband, Neil Gerraldo, I guess. But, how this guy from rural Suffolk came to adore Pat from Brooklyn is maybe not curious, but the fact my friend in New Zealand, Tony, also fell in love with her music at pretty much the same time.
Small world.
Anyway, I was laid up in bed with mumps, and listening to the radio when on Dave Lee Travis’s show, he made Heartbreaker by Pat Benatar, his record of the week, and so played it every day. Anyway, I was hooked, and although as I say above I wasn’t really an album listener, it didn’t stop me buying them. So, I ordered IN the Heat of the Night, her debut record produced by ChinChap, the team behind Blondie’s success.
It took months to arrive, winding its way from the Chrysalis warehouse somewhere in London, on the stagecoach to deepest Suffolk, but it arrived, and had pictures from the sessions that had produced sleeves for the singles, something that might be called “prostitute chic” but that might be harsh. She sits in a hotel room, lit by neon and ruffling her hair in maybe a provocative fashion.
It is, by some way, her best album, or it could be that it is the one I played the most as there was little competition on my turntable at the time. Who knows?
But I bought every one of her records between 1980 and 1990, all the UK singles, most of the US singles, several Japanese pressings, coloured vinyls, picture discs, and so on and on. Still have them. And I even play this from time to time.
I came to The Clash late. I mean, any later and there would have been no Clash. Almost. But for some reason, Combat Rock struck a chord. I had liked them since London Calling, but not enough to buy a record, but I liked Combat Rock. I liked the lead off single, Know Your Rights, and the follow up of Rock the Casbah backed with Should I Stay. I bought the album. I have played it off an on then, researched Sean Flynn, and get lost in the melodies of the second side, lost somewhere in south east Asia.
They looked so cool on the front cover, standing on a railway line somewhere, probably in Asia, and my copy came with a free poster, a shot of them inside a restaurant, also in Asia, it was like they were the coolest gang in the world, and you wanted to be a member.
More than anything else, the record is about Straight to Hell, the lasting aftermath of the Vietnam War, the war babies left behind, and the political turmoil.
So, to the best records ever made:
Best single.
Singles were more important in the UK, or it seemed to me. Its all radio talked about through the 70s, at least daytime radio. What was a hit, what wasn’t, what went up, what went down, and all the while it was a marketing tool, doubly so at Christmas when Grandparents would buy their grandchildren the Christmas number 1.
My Dad said many times, the best records don’t get to be hits. Not always true, and this was a hit when it came out, although in 1980 I was a different person and getting into NWOBHM. Sad but true. Love Will Tear Us Apart is a perfect pop record, and a perfect independent record too, on the surface it seems to bounce along, driven by frenetic drumming of Stephen Morris, and underpinned by the mournful bass of Peter Hook. But up front and centre is Ian Curtis, is pean to a failed marriage and relationship.
I came to love it listening to Rob Fairclough and James talking about it in the 6th for common room, going over the song, line by line, and marveling at how it says so much in three short verses. It become legend after Ian killed himself at the time it came out, so it is even more shocking to see it written out:
When routine bites hard and ambitions are low
And resentment rides high but emotions won't grow
And we're changing our ways, taking different road.
Why is the bedroom so cold turned away on your side?
Is my timing that flawed, our respect run so dry?
Yet there's still this appeal that we've kept through our lives.
Do you cry out in your sleep, all my failings exposed?
Get a taste in my mouth as desperation takes hold
Is it something so good just can't function no more?
But love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again
Songwriters: Morris / Curtis / Sumner / Hook
Love Will Tear Us Apart lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Ltd., Universal - Polygram International Pub Inc, Universal - Polygram Obo Universal Music Publ. Ltd., Sony/atv Songs Llc Obo Chicago X Softcore Songs.
Best album.
Well, you know, taking the above into account, the one that means most to me, the one I would run into a burning house to save it, this means so much to me.
I read about A Few Small Repairs winning a Grammy, so when leaving Nellis AFB in November 1999, it must have been, though I am thinking it might have been 1996 when it would have been nominated? I don’t know, and matters little.
I picked up a copy at the checkout as we walked to catch the long flight on the C130 back to the UK, I would come to play the CD over and over again in the next few years.
I had already been through one divorce, and was about to get into another. So, A Few Small Repair’s story arc is the ending of a relationship and the glimmer of hope at the other end, when you then ex is trying to drag you down, but you realise “You’ve Got Nothin’ on Me”.
It was my soundtrack through the winter of 1999, and through 2000 as my marriage to Estelle ended in bitterness and hate.
The production and engineering by John Leventhal and Bob Clearmountain give the songs space and air to breathe, and on "Wichita Skyline" conjures up the image of thewide open plains of the Mid-West.
Unlike other albums I have, there is not one track, one note of this I do not love.
This record saved my life.
Well I don't tell jokes
And I don't take notes
You been sayin'
There ain't much hope
You got nothin' on me
I got friends uptown
And they don't talk down
They be keepin' me safe and sound
We got somethin' to be
So in case you hadn't noticed
I'm alright
Not like it was before
Things used to be so hopeless
But not tonight
Tonight I'm walkin' out that door
I'm not gonna cry
When wavin' goodbye
And I know this time
You got nothin' on me
Well it ain't that tough
Just more of the usual stuff
One heartache is more than enough
There ain't nothing to see
Nothing
I got friends uptown
And they still come 'round
They be keepin' me safe and sound…
written by Shawn Colvin and John Leventhal.
Originally, this was to be a blog on the ten best songs you have never heard of, but I prepared one, but then lost track of time and failed to do the other nine.
I listened to just about every John Peel show between 1981 and 1986, so absorbed much that was more than just left of the dal, it was a different waveband altogether. Getting some of the more obscure stuff was all but impossible, but I did manage much.
Patrick were a four piece from Teeside, I think, I wrote to them, including a SAE, but never heard anything back. I am only aware of one of their records, self pressed, so on a white label, bought from the Newcastle branch of HMV in 1986, the final copy they had.
Immigrant is a great record, one for our time, really, about the plight of immigrants to the US, it has a picture from Ellis Island on the cover. If you click on the picture above, it takes you to my Flickr stream, and it has a link to a TV performance by the band.
A radiogram was bigger than the sideboard, was filled with valves and electronics, it had a multi-band radio, mostly shortwave, listing all those fabulous places in Europe you only heard on Eurovision nights, like Hilversum. It also had a record player, that could play records at 33, 45, 78 and even 16 rpm. I never saw a record that played at 16, but I believe these were spoken word?
It had a central spindle, on which you could balance upto ten, maybe more, singles, and at the end of the record it was playing the next on the spindle would drop down. Sound would get poorer, and sometimes a pile of pennies had to be put on the tone arm, but was good for parties, I guess.
And yet I can’t really remember the record player being used that much. I was obsessed with their collection of records which included two Reader’s Digest box sets; one a history of rock and roll and the other the “magic” of James Last. I never understood James Last. I put one of the records on, and it was rubbish. And he wore brightly coloured suits before Michael Portillo made them “popular”.
Hmmm.
We had new neighbours in about 1970, Marion and Keith, and they used to come round some evenings for cocktails and listen to music, a bit on an Abigail’s Party thing going on. I guess it was the desire to appear hip, show off a new recipe learned from Graham Kerr or try out the new coffee perculator.
It didn’t last.
At home, the radio was always on, Radio 1 for the most part, I can remember Jimmy Young being on the morning show. He called it the JY prog, I thought he said frog but never heard it croak, though he had a fake dog, Arnold, which he gave to Tony Blackburn.
Radio 1 had shows at the weekend for children: Junior Choice, and so I used to listen to those every week, a mix of Bay City Rollers, David Cassidy and old favourites like The Laughing Policeman and Camp Grenada, which must have been quite up to date at the time. Imagine a national radio station catering four hours a week to children who did not buy records?
Imagine that.
I suppose we all have aspirations; I know my parents did. We used to watch the Holiday show every year, and fawn over the exotic locations. We did go on a continental holiday in 1973, by coach, staying in Ostend and travelling to Amsterdam, Brussels and Paris. Was very adventurous. But something like a holiday to the US was out of our reach, even with Freddie Laker and Skytrain. That period coincided with a downturn in the family’s finances, and we stayed with friends in Essex for two summers in the mid-70s.
My parents bought records, occasionally. I seem to remember there was a Jim Reeves compilation, a Beach Boys greatest hits, but not much, and none of it was really played that much. The radio was always on to Radio 1, 2 at weekends to listen to Two Way Family Favourites. So, radio became important to me too.
Maybe its because I have no older brothers or sisters, no younger ones either, and no older friends that were into album rock, maybe its that what meant I never really liked albums much. Never did, and still don’t really. I was always listening to the radio to see what was new and happening, be that on the chart shows on Tuesday lunchtimes, or later on, Kid Jensen or John Peel shows. No time to listen to LPs, I might miss something new.
I whisper this now, but even the LPs f Joy Division I only listened to a few times. At times, they’re not an easy listen, which was the point, I suppose. I should like them, and do, I suppose in my own way.
If that’s not bad enough, I can say that I have only ever heard one Beatles album all the way through, and that was because my friend in the US was shocked I hadn’t and insisted I hear Sgt Pepper. It was on the car CD player when we drove to Niagara, I can’t say I remember any of it.
A few years ago, Danny Baker hosted three TV discussions where he and friends listed the best 12 LPs in three categories. I think I had listened to one out of the 36. I was going to put it right, but never did. I was going to create a new blog, and review these classic albums as I heard them for the first time. Never did.
Those albums I did listen to a lot, I love. And they are an odd mix, Hounds of Love by Kate Bush and Don’t Stand me Down by Dexy’s Midnight Runners, I listened to whilst playing on my Commodore 64 computer, and I would have those two records on a constant repeat, on tape.
One Mississippi by Brendan Benson, The Bends by Radiohead and A Few Small Repairs by Shawn Colvin I had on tape when I went down to the Falklands on a four month tour, and became my best friends thanks to my trusty Walkman.
Which brings me to the point of this, the 5,000th blog.
I will be interviewed by two journalists in August as a reward for my support for their podcast, and the final question they ask of all guests is, what is the best record ever made.
This poses some difficult questions for me, as I have to decide what is the definition I would use for the best record ever made, bearing in mind I have heard so little of what you would consider the best LPs, or albums, of all time?
That’s a tough one.
For blog 1,000 I did a list of my desert island discs, using the definition, which eight songs were the most important in my life. Although not necessarily my favourite records or songs of all time. And I could do that now, if I put my mind to it, what tracks do I go back to again and again, and which never let me down. Because, and whisper this too, there are some great sings that I am just too over familiar with, Ever Fallen in Love by the Buzzcocks for one. Great song and all that, but I much prefer What do I Get?
So, lets start with the first album I got: Out of the Blue by the Electric Light Orchestra, who from now on I will call ELO. When I started high school, I struggled, as most do, to find a group to be part of. Well, imagine, going to high school where you are all new guys looking for a group to hang out with? Well, my alma mater, named after local composer, Benjamin Britten, was new in 1978. So new, in fact, only half it was finished and it had no playing fields. Sports lessons were spent walking the grassed, soon to be football and rugby pitches, picking up stones, so when sport did start we did not get badly injured.
The half of the school that was languages, maths and had the canteen, theatre and home economics area opened first, the rest opened a year later, this is where the science and humanities classes would move to.
Anyway, I had many fellow students who had the same classes, so we gravitated together, and the boys, always the boys, bonded over a shared or adopted liking of ELO. At the time, Out of the Blue was out, and every single they released were great, even if the words didn’t bear up to much examination.
So, I must have always been talking about ELO to my parents, they recognized the budding music fan in me, so Mum sent off for two cassettes from a mail order catalogue, A New World Record and Out of the Blue. I should mention that at the time all we had to play them at the time was an old Sanyo mono radio cassette player, whose heads had never been cleaned, so playback sounded like it was under water. My friend Simon, remember him? Well, he had a vinyl copy, an American import on UA label, and so the running order on his LP was different to the cassette.I fixed this a year later when we went to Germany on an exchange trip in October 1979, and in a daring move, we escaped the care of my exchange partner in the middle of Hannover, and I spent 20% of my spending money for two weeks on a vinyl copy, also an American import.
Out of the Blue isn’t the worst album in the world, but neither is it the best, though if I’m honest, when I played it at the end of last year, it was much better than I remembered, even “The Jungle” and “Birmingham Blues”. There are worse groups to get fixated on, and an appreciation of ELO has lasted a lifetime, and one of their records, from this period, is like meeting an old friend you’d forgotten about, and takes you back to the common room at high school when we would make puns on the members of the group, which we all knew off my heart, including both cello players.
But tastes change, and with their next album, Discovery, my love affair with ELO faded, but that was replaced by someone else.
Record Mirror once described Pat Benatar as “light alloy” rather than heavy metal, which is fair. Was fair, I don’t know what she is doing now, playing the convert circuit with her husband, Neil Gerraldo, I guess. But, how this guy from rural Suffolk came to adore Pat from Brooklyn is maybe not curious, but the fact my friend in New Zealand, Tony, also fell in love with her music at pretty much the same time.
Small world.
Anyway, I was laid up in bed with mumps, and listening to the radio when on Dave Lee Travis’s show, he made Heartbreaker by Pat Benatar, his record of the week, and so played it every day. Anyway, I was hooked, and although as I say above I wasn’t really an album listener, it didn’t stop me buying them. So, I ordered IN the Heat of the Night, her debut record produced by ChinChap, the team behind Blondie’s success.
It took months to arrive, winding its way from the Chrysalis warehouse somewhere in London, on the stagecoach to deepest Suffolk, but it arrived, and had pictures from the sessions that had produced sleeves for the singles, something that might be called “prostitute chic” but that might be harsh. She sits in a hotel room, lit by neon and ruffling her hair in maybe a provocative fashion.
It is, by some way, her best album, or it could be that it is the one I played the most as there was little competition on my turntable at the time. Who knows?
But I bought every one of her records between 1980 and 1990, all the UK singles, most of the US singles, several Japanese pressings, coloured vinyls, picture discs, and so on and on. Still have them. And I even play this from time to time.
I came to The Clash late. I mean, any later and there would have been no Clash. Almost. But for some reason, Combat Rock struck a chord. I had liked them since London Calling, but not enough to buy a record, but I liked Combat Rock. I liked the lead off single, Know Your Rights, and the follow up of Rock the Casbah backed with Should I Stay. I bought the album. I have played it off an on then, researched Sean Flynn, and get lost in the melodies of the second side, lost somewhere in south east Asia.
They looked so cool on the front cover, standing on a railway line somewhere, probably in Asia, and my copy came with a free poster, a shot of them inside a restaurant, also in Asia, it was like they were the coolest gang in the world, and you wanted to be a member.
More than anything else, the record is about Straight to Hell, the lasting aftermath of the Vietnam War, the war babies left behind, and the political turmoil.So, to the best records ever made:
Best single.
Singles were more important in the UK, or it seemed to me. Its all radio talked about through the 70s, at least daytime radio. What was a hit, what wasn’t, what went up, what went down, and all the while it was a marketing tool, doubly so at Christmas when Grandparents would buy their grandchildren the Christmas number 1.
My Dad said many times, the best records don’t get to be hits. Not always true, and this was a hit when it came out, although in 1980 I was a different person and getting into NWOBHM. Sad but true. Love Will Tear Us Apart is a perfect pop record, and a perfect independent record too, on the surface it seems to bounce along, driven by frenetic drumming of Stephen Morris, and underpinned by the mournful bass of Peter Hook. But up front and centre is Ian Curtis, is pean to a failed marriage and relationship.
I came to love it listening to Rob Fairclough and James talking about it in the 6th for common room, going over the song, line by line, and marveling at how it says so much in three short verses. It become legend after Ian killed himself at the time it came out, so it is even more shocking to see it written out:When routine bites hard and ambitions are low
And resentment rides high but emotions won't grow
And we're changing our ways, taking different road.
Why is the bedroom so cold turned away on your side?
Is my timing that flawed, our respect run so dry?
Yet there's still this appeal that we've kept through our lives.
Do you cry out in your sleep, all my failings exposed?
Get a taste in my mouth as desperation takes hold
Is it something so good just can't function no more?
But love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again
Love, love will tear us apart again
Songwriters: Morris / Curtis / Sumner / Hook
Love Will Tear Us Apart lyrics © Universal Music Publishing Ltd., Universal - Polygram International Pub Inc, Universal - Polygram Obo Universal Music Publ. Ltd., Sony/atv Songs Llc Obo Chicago X Softcore Songs.
Best album.
Well, you know, taking the above into account, the one that means most to me, the one I would run into a burning house to save it, this means so much to me.
I read about A Few Small Repairs winning a Grammy, so when leaving Nellis AFB in November 1999, it must have been, though I am thinking it might have been 1996 when it would have been nominated? I don’t know, and matters little.
I picked up a copy at the checkout as we walked to catch the long flight on the C130 back to the UK, I would come to play the CD over and over again in the next few years.
I had already been through one divorce, and was about to get into another. So, A Few Small Repair’s story arc is the ending of a relationship and the glimmer of hope at the other end, when you then ex is trying to drag you down, but you realise “You’ve Got Nothin’ on Me”.
It was my soundtrack through the winter of 1999, and through 2000 as my marriage to Estelle ended in bitterness and hate.
Unlike other albums I have, there is not one track, one note of this I do not love.
This record saved my life.
Well I don't tell jokes
And I don't take notes
You been sayin'
There ain't much hope
You got nothin' on me
I got friends uptown
And they don't talk down
They be keepin' me safe and sound
We got somethin' to be
So in case you hadn't noticed
I'm alright
Not like it was before
Things used to be so hopeless
But not tonight
Tonight I'm walkin' out that door
I'm not gonna cry
When wavin' goodbye
And I know this time
You got nothin' on me
Well it ain't that tough
Just more of the usual stuff
One heartache is more than enough
There ain't nothing to see
Nothing
I got friends uptown
And they still come 'round
They be keepin' me safe and sound…
written by Shawn Colvin and John Leventhal.
Originally, this was to be a blog on the ten best songs you have never heard of, but I prepared one, but then lost track of time and failed to do the other nine.I listened to just about every John Peel show between 1981 and 1986, so absorbed much that was more than just left of the dal, it was a different waveband altogether. Getting some of the more obscure stuff was all but impossible, but I did manage much.
Patrick were a four piece from Teeside, I think, I wrote to them, including a SAE, but never heard anything back. I am only aware of one of their records, self pressed, so on a white label, bought from the Newcastle branch of HMV in 1986, the final copy they had.
Immigrant is a great record, one for our time, really, about the plight of immigrants to the US, it has a picture from Ellis Island on the cover. If you click on the picture above, it takes you to my Flickr stream, and it has a link to a TV performance by the band.
Wednesday 27th January 2021
We knew changes were coming. Big changes. But I always assumed that we would all be part of them. I mean not just the audit team, but the ladies in the compliance team as well. Maost of them I have known since I joined the company back in 2010, so they long ago became friends. The are the people who know how the business is connected and how it works, it seemed that they would be the first people to be certain of joining the ond/new owners.
But yesterday morning, I was told that the whole team, from Charlotte, my manager up to the middle of November, would be leaving. There was no place at the inn for them. Anette has 32 years experience with the company, in its previous forms. She is going too.
Even worse than that is that my friend in the Warrington Office, Teresa, an hour after we all received a mail telling us the firings had ended, she got the call to say she wasn't needed either.
It sucks.
Some with all that news, a slough of despondancy hung over me like a weight, not knowing if the next minute or hour would bring the call to say I was done. We'd survive, but our trip to NZ would have to have been scrapped. I called my colleague, Rune, and we were talking when we got an invite to an "onboarding" meeting from our new line manager in the new company.
We had survived. For now, as there will be more restucturing.
But now the trip to NZ is safe, COVID notwithstanding.
Sigh.
I actually burst out crying, I suppose the stress, though denied, coming on top of year of COVID was a bit much. I composed myself.
So that was that. Up to that point the day had been spent waiting, as we had been told to, for a phone call, that in my case never came. I could not focus on anything, and then after getting the news, I was filled with loser's guilt, guilt that I have survived while other, better people did not. It doesn't seem fair, and never will.
But life goes on, and we had a meeting with our new boss's boss. If that makes sense.
At two there is a Zoom meeting, we sit and listen and are told, well, little more than we already knew, but we are to be central to battles coming up, Eddy made each of us feel special and wanted, although her did pronounce my name "Iron". I did correct him, but said as my boss he could call me what he wanted.
My brain was frazzled, so at half three I wrap up and sit on the sofa trying to take it all in.
I am a lucky pup.
I cook burgers for dinner, mainly because at six there was an event on Zoom, where there former editors of Smash Hits talked their way through an old editon of the magazine, now some 40 years old. Hard to imagine that Adam Ant was quite the big thing back then, but he was. And he and the Ants were on their holibobs in the south of France, and Mark Ellen found them, interviewed them and took their photos, which he took into Boots to be developed before they were published.
I am finishing cooking when Jools comes home, we eat and am done just before six so I can join the virtual event.
We, the audience, we asked to bring memorobillia to show and tell, and I had a flexi given away with the magazine, so I talked for a bit.
It was all good fun.
Then over.
We had a brew, some chocolate then listen to the radio until nine, and with the rain lashing down again outside, we go to bed to be covered in cats and kittens. As it should be.
But yesterday morning, I was told that the whole team, from Charlotte, my manager up to the middle of November, would be leaving. There was no place at the inn for them. Anette has 32 years experience with the company, in its previous forms. She is going too.
Even worse than that is that my friend in the Warrington Office, Teresa, an hour after we all received a mail telling us the firings had ended, she got the call to say she wasn't needed either.
It sucks.
Some with all that news, a slough of despondancy hung over me like a weight, not knowing if the next minute or hour would bring the call to say I was done. We'd survive, but our trip to NZ would have to have been scrapped. I called my colleague, Rune, and we were talking when we got an invite to an "onboarding" meeting from our new line manager in the new company.
We had survived. For now, as there will be more restucturing.
But now the trip to NZ is safe, COVID notwithstanding.
Sigh.
I actually burst out crying, I suppose the stress, though denied, coming on top of year of COVID was a bit much. I composed myself.
So that was that. Up to that point the day had been spent waiting, as we had been told to, for a phone call, that in my case never came. I could not focus on anything, and then after getting the news, I was filled with loser's guilt, guilt that I have survived while other, better people did not. It doesn't seem fair, and never will.But life goes on, and we had a meeting with our new boss's boss. If that makes sense.
At two there is a Zoom meeting, we sit and listen and are told, well, little more than we already knew, but we are to be central to battles coming up, Eddy made each of us feel special and wanted, although her did pronounce my name "Iron". I did correct him, but said as my boss he could call me what he wanted.
My brain was frazzled, so at half three I wrap up and sit on the sofa trying to take it all in.I am a lucky pup.
I cook burgers for dinner, mainly because at six there was an event on Zoom, where there former editors of Smash Hits talked their way through an old editon of the magazine, now some 40 years old. Hard to imagine that Adam Ant was quite the big thing back then, but he was. And he and the Ants were on their holibobs in the south of France, and Mark Ellen found them, interviewed them and took their photos, which he took into Boots to be developed before they were published.
I am finishing cooking when Jools comes home, we eat and am done just before six so I can join the virtual event.
We, the audience, we asked to bring memorobillia to show and tell, and I had a flexi given away with the magazine, so I talked for a bit.
It was all good fun.
Then over.
We had a brew, some chocolate then listen to the radio until nine, and with the rain lashing down again outside, we go to bed to be covered in cats and kittens. As it should be.
Priti dumb
Yesterday, the Home Secretary, one of the great offices of State, made a state ment to the House regarding "COVID hotels".
THis made all the BBC new bulletins, and sounded fine, and sensible, of being done a year later, nearly that either Australia or New Zealand.
But closer inspection of her words and questions put to her on that subject shows that this is just another announcement with no actual planning to cak it up.
They have no identified hotels.
How many hotels.
Which countries traving from whould require a stay in one of these.
Which legislation covers such a scenrio.
I mean, this is the usual way for former journalists, writing headline, fluffing up the story with made up shit, but when push comes to shove it means as much as me saying that by May I want to get inside a pair of thirty two inch waist jeans. I have no plan on how to do it, but it sounds good.
And even if Patel decides this is the way to go, such hotels are at least two weeks away, and the details have yet to be considered, let along mitigated.
Meanwhile, over 1700 more people died yesterday.
Nothing is now said of track and trace, the billions spaffed all gone into the black hole that is Dido Harding.
The supply of vaccines has been turned into a weapon with the Astra-zenaca one now only being supplied in reduced amounts to the EU, while the front pages of the Mail, Times, Torygraph et all call it "our" vaccine, while yesterday the Conservative Party put out Tweets of a picture of the Union flag boasting the UK was leading Europe in vaccinations carried out.
There is no "winner" in COVID, only for humanity when all people on the planet are vaccinated. Manufacture of the vaccines should be nationalised, other companies allowed to make all varients and supplied free to all people on the planet. Without that, millions of the poorest people on the planet will die, but the Big Pharm and their shareholders will make a ton of cash.
Which is what it is all about, making fortunes out of a pandemic.
THis made all the BBC new bulletins, and sounded fine, and sensible, of being done a year later, nearly that either Australia or New Zealand.
But closer inspection of her words and questions put to her on that subject shows that this is just another announcement with no actual planning to cak it up.
They have no identified hotels.
How many hotels.
Which countries traving from whould require a stay in one of these.
Which legislation covers such a scenrio.
I mean, this is the usual way for former journalists, writing headline, fluffing up the story with made up shit, but when push comes to shove it means as much as me saying that by May I want to get inside a pair of thirty two inch waist jeans. I have no plan on how to do it, but it sounds good.
And even if Patel decides this is the way to go, such hotels are at least two weeks away, and the details have yet to be considered, let along mitigated.
Meanwhile, over 1700 more people died yesterday.
Nothing is now said of track and trace, the billions spaffed all gone into the black hole that is Dido Harding.
The supply of vaccines has been turned into a weapon with the Astra-zenaca one now only being supplied in reduced amounts to the EU, while the front pages of the Mail, Times, Torygraph et all call it "our" vaccine, while yesterday the Conservative Party put out Tweets of a picture of the Union flag boasting the UK was leading Europe in vaccinations carried out.
There is no "winner" in COVID, only for humanity when all people on the planet are vaccinated. Manufacture of the vaccines should be nationalised, other companies allowed to make all varients and supplied free to all people on the planet. Without that, millions of the poorest people on the planet will die, but the Big Pharm and their shareholders will make a ton of cash.
Which is what it is all about, making fortunes out of a pandemic.
Wednesday, 27 January 2021
Tuesday 26th January 2021
So for weeks I have been complaining in these posts of a lack of news. On Tuesday and Wednesday, there was lots of news, and most of it bad news.
But more of that when we get there.
Tuesday dawned where I had something close to nine hours sleep, so felt much better than I did the previous evening.
I get up and you know the usual score.
Jools rushes aroud getting ready, goes for a walk then leaves for the factory.
I log on for work.
Now, I work with a close team in what could be called central quality. We know a lot of shit, so when news came of redundancies, I thought, as we all did I guess, that the axe would fall elsewhere, as our function was so critical.
So, when I got the mail soon after eight that my new manager was one of those to be let go made me realise that all bets were off.
I like her, she has been a good manager, if only for a short time, and I appreciate her support, and hopefully I did a good job for her.
But the problem with the lay offs is that unless they sent a mail out letting their team and/or frineds know, we don't know as it is all confidential. So, for the rest of the day we sat by our laptop and mobile phone waiting for the call to tell us we were no longer needed.
Or just wait all day.
No other news came in.
And nothing for me. The message from our online meeting from Warrington was that if you have not been told by the end of Wednesday that you had no job, then you were safe. Of course, mistakes are never made.
So it was a day of waiting.
And waiting.
I hustle people to close items from audits, threaten them with meetings are five in the afternoon unless they do their job. Godammit.
I bake a loaf of bread, because after the crap loaf I had to eat last week for sandwiches and toast, the bread was only edible toasted, and even then wasn't good. I can now make a batch of dough in ten minutes or so, have it in a tin, rising before I start work. Set to cook at ten, so by eleven or half past, was cool enough to eat, and was yummy. So yummy that the crust had to be cut off and smothered in butter to eat as soon as it was out of the oven.
Did I mention it was yummy?
Also good with slices of leftover roast beef for actual lunch.
Which was nice.
And then through the afternoon, with a whole load of no news to digest.
I stay online until five and yet hear nothing.
Dinner is an experiment: Whole truffle roast celeriac with cheese sauce & hazelnuts. Served with smokey chipotle rubbed chicken and creamed spinach.
Celeriac is baked whole in the oven after bing rubbed with truffle oil, the sauce is easy enough, and with it we have creamed spinach with yet more creamy sauce. It would lay heavy.
And for the meat, smok(e)y chopotle rubbed chicken breast. I rubbed both sides, and only then I was told by my friend and spice pusher, it was quite hot. I decided there was more than enough cool creamy sauce to cool it down, and was right.
Work is slowing down at the factory, so Jools might be furloughed again soon, we shall see.
Dinner is ready when she arrived back, I pour some wine and we tuck in.
Delicious.
For the evening there was the comedy that was Ipswich v Sunderland on TV. And it was dreadful stuff, neither team any good, and Sunderland scoring with the obly move of any real skill in the whole game.
So it goes. So it goes.
Time for bed.
Clarity in the morning.
Probably.
But more of that when we get there.
Tuesday dawned where I had something close to nine hours sleep, so felt much better than I did the previous evening.
I get up and you know the usual score.
Jools rushes aroud getting ready, goes for a walk then leaves for the factory.
I log on for work.
Now, I work with a close team in what could be called central quality. We know a lot of shit, so when news came of redundancies, I thought, as we all did I guess, that the axe would fall elsewhere, as our function was so critical.
So, when I got the mail soon after eight that my new manager was one of those to be let go made me realise that all bets were off.I like her, she has been a good manager, if only for a short time, and I appreciate her support, and hopefully I did a good job for her.
But the problem with the lay offs is that unless they sent a mail out letting their team and/or frineds know, we don't know as it is all confidential. So, for the rest of the day we sat by our laptop and mobile phone waiting for the call to tell us we were no longer needed.
Or just wait all day.No other news came in.
And nothing for me. The message from our online meeting from Warrington was that if you have not been told by the end of Wednesday that you had no job, then you were safe. Of course, mistakes are never made.
So it was a day of waiting.
And waiting.
I hustle people to close items from audits, threaten them with meetings are five in the afternoon unless they do their job. Godammit.
I bake a loaf of bread, because after the crap loaf I had to eat last week for sandwiches and toast, the bread was only edible toasted, and even then wasn't good. I can now make a batch of dough in ten minutes or so, have it in a tin, rising before I start work. Set to cook at ten, so by eleven or half past, was cool enough to eat, and was yummy. So yummy that the crust had to be cut off and smothered in butter to eat as soon as it was out of the oven.
Did I mention it was yummy?
Also good with slices of leftover roast beef for actual lunch.
Which was nice.
And then through the afternoon, with a whole load of no news to digest.
I stay online until five and yet hear nothing.
Dinner is an experiment: Whole truffle roast celeriac with cheese sauce & hazelnuts. Served with smokey chipotle rubbed chicken and creamed spinach.
Celeriac is baked whole in the oven after bing rubbed with truffle oil, the sauce is easy enough, and with it we have creamed spinach with yet more creamy sauce. It would lay heavy.
And for the meat, smok(e)y chopotle rubbed chicken breast. I rubbed both sides, and only then I was told by my friend and spice pusher, it was quite hot. I decided there was more than enough cool creamy sauce to cool it down, and was right.
Work is slowing down at the factory, so Jools might be furloughed again soon, we shall see.Dinner is ready when she arrived back, I pour some wine and we tuck in.
Delicious.
For the evening there was the comedy that was Ipswich v Sunderland on TV. And it was dreadful stuff, neither team any good, and Sunderland scoring with the obly move of any real skill in the whole game.
So it goes. So it goes.
Time for bed.
Clarity in the morning.
Probably.
“We did all we could.”
So said the PM yesterday in the daily briefing where he announced that the UK's death toll from COVID using his metric had passed the tombstone of 100,000.
By the end of May 2020, we could point to two decisions, that the PM or his Ministers made, that each cost 20,000 lives.
Since then there have been two lockdowns imposed too late, a relaxation of restrictions allowing social mixing indoors over Christmas, and the borders have never been secure, despite that being the whole bloody point of Brexit.
On top of that, spaffing £32 billion on track and trace and dodgy PPE and more on Operation Moonshot on top of that.
I would call that a total failure of leadership and a total failure of lessons learned. The PM talked of those yesterday, and yet where has been the LL from the first wave, the failed lockdowns, the failed track and trace?
He takes responsibility, but none of the blame, because, “We did all we could.”
Their best wasn't good enough, never was, never will be.
By the end of May 2020, we could point to two decisions, that the PM or his Ministers made, that each cost 20,000 lives.
Since then there have been two lockdowns imposed too late, a relaxation of restrictions allowing social mixing indoors over Christmas, and the borders have never been secure, despite that being the whole bloody point of Brexit.
On top of that, spaffing £32 billion on track and trace and dodgy PPE and more on Operation Moonshot on top of that.
I would call that a total failure of leadership and a total failure of lessons learned. The PM talked of those yesterday, and yet where has been the LL from the first wave, the failed lockdowns, the failed track and trace?
He takes responsibility, but none of the blame, because, “We did all we could.”
Their best wasn't good enough, never was, never will be.
Tuesday, 26 January 2021
Monday 25th January 2021
Time heals.
And that's the scary part.
Two years ago we woke up to find out that Meg had died.
We mourned.
We went to her funeral.
We spent months asking if there was anything we could have done.
And life went on. We went back to work, we went shopping, orchid hunting and went on holiday.
But wach January, we remember.
For poor MIke, the weekend also saw their beloved dog pass away due to cancer. Life is never kind.
It was Monday. We could lay in bed to five, and should have, but my brain had me awake at ten to four. I tossed and turned, but sleep would not return. Well, until ten minutes beofre the actual alarm went off.
Urgh.
I get up half an hour after Jools, the sits sit around, washing after their breakfast. Poppy requests, kindly, that we entertain her. So we throw her favourite ball of silver paper from one end of the living room to the other and back again. She ran after it a couple of times, and was happy.
Jools goes for a walk, then packs the car and leaves for work. I have my second coffee and listen to a podcast while the cats find four places to sleep and settle down for the day for a hard day's snooze.
I get dressed and prepare for the start of the working week, a week in which we should know things regarding our futures. Or not.
At the meeting, neither of the managers know any more than they did on Friday, but it feels like things are moving.
Brace. Brace. Brace.
And so to work, I have no e mails to respond to.
I have a third coffee, watch the sun rise in the south, it feels like spring is coming, even with frost and some fresh snow or hail covering the garden.
More of that later.
Or now.
I have to go to the surgery for my pills, and as they are only open ten to eleven four days a week for this, I have to make sure I go.
Outside it is cold, but clear skies above. It might be tricky walking down Station Road, I remind myself to take care.
So I had to set off before the snow and ice had melted, slithered down Station Road, past the old Red Lion and then down by the side lanes past the village pond to the surgery.
All was going well, photos for the day taken, until I was walking past the school when I slipped on black ice and ended up on my back, looking at the sky.
No damage done.
I got up, made it to the surgery and back home without further incident.
Which was nice.
Once back home, I have a fresh brew, breakfast of fruit and yougurt and another coffee.
I still felt like crap.
I had missed nothing in Outlook.
So the day drags. I have warmed up soup for lunch.
Nothing happens.
It gets dark.
We are told that in the next two days those who will be let go will get called in the next two days.
Eeeek.
But not today.
Dinner is steak and ale pie with the leftover gravy, roast potatoes and lots of steamed vegetables.
It was all very good.
But, I am pooped. I was getting a headache, there was no football to listen to, just the radio.
I retire to bed to listen to Marc until half eight when I give up and go to sleep.
With cats at my feet.
And that's the scary part.
Two years ago we woke up to find out that Meg had died.
We mourned.
We went to her funeral.
We spent months asking if there was anything we could have done.
And life went on. We went back to work, we went shopping, orchid hunting and went on holiday.
But wach January, we remember.For poor MIke, the weekend also saw their beloved dog pass away due to cancer. Life is never kind.
It was Monday. We could lay in bed to five, and should have, but my brain had me awake at ten to four. I tossed and turned, but sleep would not return. Well, until ten minutes beofre the actual alarm went off.
Urgh.I get up half an hour after Jools, the sits sit around, washing after their breakfast. Poppy requests, kindly, that we entertain her. So we throw her favourite ball of silver paper from one end of the living room to the other and back again. She ran after it a couple of times, and was happy.
Jools goes for a walk, then packs the car and leaves for work. I have my second coffee and listen to a podcast while the cats find four places to sleep and settle down for the day for a hard day's snooze.I get dressed and prepare for the start of the working week, a week in which we should know things regarding our futures. Or not.
At the meeting, neither of the managers know any more than they did on Friday, but it feels like things are moving.
Brace. Brace. Brace.
And so to work, I have no e mails to respond to.
I have a third coffee, watch the sun rise in the south, it feels like spring is coming, even with frost and some fresh snow or hail covering the garden.
More of that later.Or now.
I have to go to the surgery for my pills, and as they are only open ten to eleven four days a week for this, I have to make sure I go.
Outside it is cold, but clear skies above. It might be tricky walking down Station Road, I remind myself to take care.
So I had to set off before the snow and ice had melted, slithered down Station Road, past the old Red Lion and then down by the side lanes past the village pond to the surgery.
All was going well, photos for the day taken, until I was walking past the school when I slipped on black ice and ended up on my back, looking at the sky.
No damage done.I got up, made it to the surgery and back home without further incident.
Which was nice.Once back home, I have a fresh brew, breakfast of fruit and yougurt and another coffee.
I still felt like crap.
I had missed nothing in Outlook.
So the day drags. I have warmed up soup for lunch.
Nothing happens.
It gets dark.
We are told that in the next two days those who will be let go will get called in the next two days.
Eeeek.
But not today.
Dinner is steak and ale pie with the leftover gravy, roast potatoes and lots of steamed vegetables.
It was all very good.
But, I am pooped. I was getting a headache, there was no football to listen to, just the radio.
I retire to bed to listen to Marc until half eight when I give up and go to sleep.
With cats at my feet.
One hundred thousand
Earlier today, the Office for National Statistic (ONS) revealed data from all death certificates, and said that 107,000 had now died due to COVID, including those outside the Government's 28 day limit.
That mattered little, as this evening a further 1,631 had died in the previous 24 hours (including a lag from the weekend) bringing a total of 100,162 dead using the 28 day limit.
The Government won't ask itself why the UK has done so badly compared to other EU countries, why three times it locked down too late meaning the lockdown would be harsher and for longer.
To make the mistake once is bad enough, but to do so in September and again in December and the almost total failure in track and trace, its like they want to kill off as many of us as they can, they feel nothing for us, for doctors, nurses, key workers, children, their parents, the old, the sick, just care how to placate their backbenchers and the editors of the Main, Torygraph and Express.
I make no further comment as I hear myself saying the same things over and over again.
This is a total failure in leadership and communication, and quite possibly, they'll get away with it.
That mattered little, as this evening a further 1,631 had died in the previous 24 hours (including a lag from the weekend) bringing a total of 100,162 dead using the 28 day limit.
The Government won't ask itself why the UK has done so badly compared to other EU countries, why three times it locked down too late meaning the lockdown would be harsher and for longer.
To make the mistake once is bad enough, but to do so in September and again in December and the almost total failure in track and trace, its like they want to kill off as many of us as they can, they feel nothing for us, for doctors, nurses, key workers, children, their parents, the old, the sick, just care how to placate their backbenchers and the editors of the Main, Torygraph and Express.
I make no further comment as I hear myself saying the same things over and over again.
This is a total failure in leadership and communication, and quite possibly, they'll get away with it.
The State of our Union
The United Kingdom is less than a century old, and is barely a decade older than the idea of European political union.
Political unions endure only as long as there is a need for them, and they can break apart much easier than how they formed.
Despite what Johnsn, Gover or JRM says, the TCA has broken the Union of the United Kingdom, in that for many good, NI remained in the SM. There are border posts on either side of the Irish Sea, paperwork has to be completed, and as a result there are shortages of some food and goods in NI.
In the next few weeks, it will be easier for stores and companies to get restock from the Republic rather than the rump of the Union, Great Britain.
That is a direct result of the Brexit that Vote Leave, who make up a large part of the Cabinet, negotiated and ratified. Rather ironic for the Conservative and Union Party, but there you go.
As pointed out before, there were just three choices for the regulatory border for NI, all of which raised major political questions, but one had to be chosen. May chose the border across Ireland, which would have been good for the UK but bad for Ireland, and against the GFA.
A border around Ireland would have meant that the UK would have remained in the SM and CU, politically it would have left the EU, but economically tied to it. A vassel state in the words of JRM, but a common sense solution to a complex issue. It would have executed the madate of the referendum, which simply asked if the UK should leave or stay in the EU. This would have satisfied that question.
But no.
So, Johnson had little other choice than the third option of a border down the Irish Sea, just how that would be managed. In the end, the border was harder than might have been expected, but Johnson denied there would be a border at all for menths. If you are asked to fill in a form, then send it to me he once told NI business leaders.
There are many forms now. Not just one.
So, with economic union with the Republic, the political question remains, and under the terms of the GFA, if it appears a majority of people in NI would like reunification then a refendum or vote shall be held. Who can't see that happening within the next decade?
All the more odd then to have the DUP, a Unionist party, pushing for Brexit, still, but railing against its effects. Brexit was always going to have consequences, there was never a cakeist outcome for it, least of all in NI. So, the DUP's support on the Commons for May's Government kept the Brexit flame alive by allowing May to win important votes. Until Johnson took over, held an election and won a majority, so didn't need the DUP's support, so NI was betrayed. Or the DUP was, and NI's place in the Union of the UK was negotiated away.
Useful idiots, I believe is the phrase.
And so to Scotland.
The Acts of Union 1607 (Scottish Gaelic: Achd an Aonaidh), united England (with Wales) and Scotland. I seem to remember there was some political issues, and a window of opportunity which allowed the acts to go through, but I can't remember the details, but I'm sure there is a good Wiki page on it.
So, as we can see, this political Union has endured for nearly 320 years. A remarkable amount of time.
This came after King James VI of Scotland also took the English Crown after the death of Elizabeth I to become James I. The two Parliaments united on May 1st 1707 to become the Parliament of the Great Britain.
So far, so good.
Up to the joining of the Common Market, trade and the such was a simpler, based mainly on tariffs to protect domestic economies. Up to that point, the UK was a single, simple market, with shared standards in many areas, including food.
The the UK joined the Common Market, which became the EU, do try to keep up.
Then, 1997, the then PM allowed referendums on the three non-English members of the Union, Scotland got a Parliament because more people voted for it, whilse Wales and NO got Assemblies, with more limited powers.
But nothing changed, as all member states were in the EU as part of the UK, so there was no conflict in food or other standards. Scotland could, impose standards on GM crops, unit price of alcohol and so on, but there was no issue, because all this was allowed under EU rules.
The SNP, over time, became the dominant party in Scottish politics, and their prime policy was independence. So in 2014 Scotland was given a "once in a lifetime" refendum on staying or leaving the EU. All sorts of promises and pleas were made to stay, and Scotland voted to stay.
But, there was the West Lothian Question: The West Lothian question,[1] also known as the English question,[2] is a political issue in the United Kingdom. It concerns the question of whether MPs from Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales, sitting in the House of Commons should be able to vote on matters that affect only England, while MPs from England are unable to vote on matters that have been devolved to the Northern Ireland Assembly, the Scottish Parliament and the Welsh Parliament. The term West Lothian question was coined by Enoch Powell MP in 1977 after Tam Dalyell, the Labour MP for the Scottish constituency of West Lothian, raised the matter repeatedly in House of Commons debates on devolution.
The produced the opposite, in other words, English votes for English laws. And this, I believe is the root of Brexit, though in the Conservative arty, Eurosceptisism has never gone away.
Then along came Brexit.
How can the UK negotiate a trade deal with, say the US, with lower food standards, if Scotland has the devolved power to decide its own food standards?
The Internal Market Bill.
But before then, convention dictated that the devolved administrations should be consulted and consent given to Brexit. I can tell you, that no such consent was sought or given, the three non-English countries of the United Kingdom were dragged out of the EU against their will by English votes, the Prime Minister and his Conservative and Union (!) Party.
One of the first areas to suffer the effects of Brexit was the Scottish fishing industry, with many fishermen and wholesalers under severe financial pressure, with many of them expected to fold.
All this comes in 2021, when in May there is scheduled to be elections for the Scottish Parliament, whic the SNP is expected to win a landslide. Already the First Minister is pushing for a second vote, partly on Brexit and partly on the broken promises of 2014.
One, speaking as an Englishman (who identifies as European) can understand that.
As we have seen from Brexit, referendum can be blunt instruments, ramming through poorly thought out policies under the term of "the people's will". No thought was given or offered by the Brexiteers on the consequences of Brexit, just that any questions were called unpatriotic, and efforts to raise issues that needed to be overcome as "project fear".
There can be no dount that Scottish independence would have many issues to overcome too, and whether the country would ride to leaving the Union without a though of the implications, time will have to wait on that. But just leaving is the first part.
If leaving the UK is the first step in rejoining the EU, then would Scotland have to go through the lengthy Article 49 process that app prospective new members have to go through?
And how will the resitance of Spain be overcome, as the independence of the Basque Region is still very much a live issue, and Madrid would not like some kind of presedent to be set.
Would Scotland have to ditch the (Scottish) Pound and join the Euro?
How would the border with England work? If it were in different reglatory areas, then a border would be needed.
And, in theory, needs to approval of the UK Government to have a new referendum, something which Johnson so far has denied. But denial of what is likely to become an overwhelming desire to leave will only strengthen the SNP's case of not having a referendum is undemocratic, and the further damage wrought by a hopelessly executed Brexit will further add weight to the cause.
In short, the arguments used by Brexiteers for leaving the EU by the UK can be used, and is used, by the SNP for Scotland leaving the UK. They both have to be right or wrong, not the case for the UK leaving the UK right, but Scotland leaving the UK wrong.
Political unions endure only as long as there is a need for them, and they can break apart much easier than how they formed.
Despite what Johnsn, Gover or JRM says, the TCA has broken the Union of the United Kingdom, in that for many good, NI remained in the SM. There are border posts on either side of the Irish Sea, paperwork has to be completed, and as a result there are shortages of some food and goods in NI.
In the next few weeks, it will be easier for stores and companies to get restock from the Republic rather than the rump of the Union, Great Britain.
That is a direct result of the Brexit that Vote Leave, who make up a large part of the Cabinet, negotiated and ratified. Rather ironic for the Conservative and Union Party, but there you go.
As pointed out before, there were just three choices for the regulatory border for NI, all of which raised major political questions, but one had to be chosen. May chose the border across Ireland, which would have been good for the UK but bad for Ireland, and against the GFA.
A border around Ireland would have meant that the UK would have remained in the SM and CU, politically it would have left the EU, but economically tied to it. A vassel state in the words of JRM, but a common sense solution to a complex issue. It would have executed the madate of the referendum, which simply asked if the UK should leave or stay in the EU. This would have satisfied that question.
But no.
So, Johnson had little other choice than the third option of a border down the Irish Sea, just how that would be managed. In the end, the border was harder than might have been expected, but Johnson denied there would be a border at all for menths. If you are asked to fill in a form, then send it to me he once told NI business leaders.
There are many forms now. Not just one.
So, with economic union with the Republic, the political question remains, and under the terms of the GFA, if it appears a majority of people in NI would like reunification then a refendum or vote shall be held. Who can't see that happening within the next decade?
All the more odd then to have the DUP, a Unionist party, pushing for Brexit, still, but railing against its effects. Brexit was always going to have consequences, there was never a cakeist outcome for it, least of all in NI. So, the DUP's support on the Commons for May's Government kept the Brexit flame alive by allowing May to win important votes. Until Johnson took over, held an election and won a majority, so didn't need the DUP's support, so NI was betrayed. Or the DUP was, and NI's place in the Union of the UK was negotiated away.
Useful idiots, I believe is the phrase.
And so to Scotland.
The Acts of Union 1607 (Scottish Gaelic: Achd an Aonaidh), united England (with Wales) and Scotland. I seem to remember there was some political issues, and a window of opportunity which allowed the acts to go through, but I can't remember the details, but I'm sure there is a good Wiki page on it.
So, as we can see, this political Union has endured for nearly 320 years. A remarkable amount of time.
This came after King James VI of Scotland also took the English Crown after the death of Elizabeth I to become James I. The two Parliaments united on May 1st 1707 to become the Parliament of the Great Britain.
So far, so good.
Up to the joining of the Common Market, trade and the such was a simpler, based mainly on tariffs to protect domestic economies. Up to that point, the UK was a single, simple market, with shared standards in many areas, including food.
The the UK joined the Common Market, which became the EU, do try to keep up.
Then, 1997, the then PM allowed referendums on the three non-English members of the Union, Scotland got a Parliament because more people voted for it, whilse Wales and NO got Assemblies, with more limited powers.
But nothing changed, as all member states were in the EU as part of the UK, so there was no conflict in food or other standards. Scotland could, impose standards on GM crops, unit price of alcohol and so on, but there was no issue, because all this was allowed under EU rules.
The SNP, over time, became the dominant party in Scottish politics, and their prime policy was independence. So in 2014 Scotland was given a "once in a lifetime" refendum on staying or leaving the EU. All sorts of promises and pleas were made to stay, and Scotland voted to stay.
But, there was the West Lothian Question: The West Lothian question,[1] also known as the English question,[2] is a political issue in the United Kingdom. It concerns the question of whether MPs from Northern Ireland, Scotland and Wales, sitting in the House of Commons should be able to vote on matters that affect only England, while MPs from England are unable to vote on matters that have been devolved to the Northern Ireland Assembly, the Scottish Parliament and the Welsh Parliament. The term West Lothian question was coined by Enoch Powell MP in 1977 after Tam Dalyell, the Labour MP for the Scottish constituency of West Lothian, raised the matter repeatedly in House of Commons debates on devolution.
The produced the opposite, in other words, English votes for English laws. And this, I believe is the root of Brexit, though in the Conservative arty, Eurosceptisism has never gone away.
Then along came Brexit.
How can the UK negotiate a trade deal with, say the US, with lower food standards, if Scotland has the devolved power to decide its own food standards?
The Internal Market Bill.
But before then, convention dictated that the devolved administrations should be consulted and consent given to Brexit. I can tell you, that no such consent was sought or given, the three non-English countries of the United Kingdom were dragged out of the EU against their will by English votes, the Prime Minister and his Conservative and Union (!) Party.
One of the first areas to suffer the effects of Brexit was the Scottish fishing industry, with many fishermen and wholesalers under severe financial pressure, with many of them expected to fold.
All this comes in 2021, when in May there is scheduled to be elections for the Scottish Parliament, whic the SNP is expected to win a landslide. Already the First Minister is pushing for a second vote, partly on Brexit and partly on the broken promises of 2014.
One, speaking as an Englishman (who identifies as European) can understand that.
As we have seen from Brexit, referendum can be blunt instruments, ramming through poorly thought out policies under the term of "the people's will". No thought was given or offered by the Brexiteers on the consequences of Brexit, just that any questions were called unpatriotic, and efforts to raise issues that needed to be overcome as "project fear".
There can be no dount that Scottish independence would have many issues to overcome too, and whether the country would ride to leaving the Union without a though of the implications, time will have to wait on that. But just leaving is the first part.
If leaving the UK is the first step in rejoining the EU, then would Scotland have to go through the lengthy Article 49 process that app prospective new members have to go through?
And how will the resitance of Spain be overcome, as the independence of the Basque Region is still very much a live issue, and Madrid would not like some kind of presedent to be set.
Would Scotland have to ditch the (Scottish) Pound and join the Euro?
How would the border with England work? If it were in different reglatory areas, then a border would be needed.
And, in theory, needs to approval of the UK Government to have a new referendum, something which Johnson so far has denied. But denial of what is likely to become an overwhelming desire to leave will only strengthen the SNP's case of not having a referendum is undemocratic, and the further damage wrought by a hopelessly executed Brexit will further add weight to the cause.
In short, the arguments used by Brexiteers for leaving the EU by the UK can be used, and is used, by the SNP for Scotland leaving the UK. They both have to be right or wrong, not the case for the UK leaving the UK right, but Scotland leaving the UK wrong.
Monday, 25 January 2021
Sunday 24th January 2021
As usual for the weekend, we were awake before six on Sunday, and looking out from the back of the house there was a wintery scene as a light dusting of snow had fallen during the night.
But even better was the clear skies, and already there was colour in it from the approaching dawn, still over an hour away.
45 minutes later, we were suited and booted, and heading out for the cliffs to see the sunrise over France.
As we pulled out onto the street, the frost sparkled like a million diamonds, each facet catching the headlight's beam.
Down Station Road and into the village, before turning off towards the Monument. Off the main road, again Granville Road was covered in hoar frost, twinking and glistening.
I took it easy, and we arrived at the parking area where there were no other cars, no one.
Just us.
We climbed out, wrap up and I get my camera from the boot.
We took care on the concrete, but soon were on the clifftop, making our way to the bench, which overlooks the Channel and France from the very edge of England.
Minute by minute, the colours in the sky changed, meaning I just snapped and snapped away.
The cliffs themselves reflected the colours, and instead of being white were pink, and once the sun did rise, changed to a deep rose pink.
The sun showed as a glint, a sliver above the houses in Bleriot Plage some 23 miles away.
And as we stood there, the sun rose, its light getting stonger, turning the cliffs from rose pink to almost blood red.
We turned and walked towards Kingsdown, but a combination of the cold and lack of breakfast meant we turned back after 15 minutes, only to see the sky cloud over in a few minutes, the colours faded, it got colder, we doubled our pace to the car.
Once back at the car, we have one look towards France, climb in and drive carefully home, reversing down the drive and under the car port.
Once inside, I put the kettle on, put croissants in the over and in a few mintues we had breakfast, with the last of the RadMac show on the wireless.
And then with the cloud getting ever thicker, and the threat of sleet or even snow, I start to prepare lunch, which was to be roast beef, and Jen was coming over too, to share in the feast.
It doesn't take long, some 90 minutes from starting to cook to dishing up, by which time it smelt selicious, and we were more than hungry. Jen arrives, they play Rummikub while I finish lunch, carving the beef and dishing up the vegetables and Yorkshire puddings.
It was fabulous, but as we ate, the sleet that had started soon after Jen arrived, turned to snow. Huge great big lumps of snow, that looked like it would turn into a blizzard for a while. Jen didn't want to be caught out and stuck here, so she made a dash for it, leaving us with the washing up.
But we do it quick, and the snow turned back to sleet, and what little had settled, melted quickly.
I take to the sofa to watch the Man Utd v Liverpool cup tie, and very good it turned out, with them sharing five goals, with Utd running out 3-2 winners, and deserving to win, and was entertaining. Certainly, I did not come close to nodding off.
Jools and I listen to the radio, have mince pies for supper and a brew.
And that was the weekend, all done.
And the new week should bring news.......
But even better was the clear skies, and already there was colour in it from the approaching dawn, still over an hour away.
45 minutes later, we were suited and booted, and heading out for the cliffs to see the sunrise over France.
As we pulled out onto the street, the frost sparkled like a million diamonds, each facet catching the headlight's beam.Down Station Road and into the village, before turning off towards the Monument. Off the main road, again Granville Road was covered in hoar frost, twinking and glistening.
I took it easy, and we arrived at the parking area where there were no other cars, no one.
Just us.We climbed out, wrap up and I get my camera from the boot.
We took care on the concrete, but soon were on the clifftop, making our way to the bench, which overlooks the Channel and France from the very edge of England.
Minute by minute, the colours in the sky changed, meaning I just snapped and snapped away.The cliffs themselves reflected the colours, and instead of being white were pink, and once the sun did rise, changed to a deep rose pink.
The sun showed as a glint, a sliver above the houses in Bleriot Plage some 23 miles away.
And as we stood there, the sun rose, its light getting stonger, turning the cliffs from rose pink to almost blood red.
We turned and walked towards Kingsdown, but a combination of the cold and lack of breakfast meant we turned back after 15 minutes, only to see the sky cloud over in a few minutes, the colours faded, it got colder, we doubled our pace to the car.
Once back at the car, we have one look towards France, climb in and drive carefully home, reversing down the drive and under the car port.
Once inside, I put the kettle on, put croissants in the over and in a few mintues we had breakfast, with the last of the RadMac show on the wireless.
And then with the cloud getting ever thicker, and the threat of sleet or even snow, I start to prepare lunch, which was to be roast beef, and Jen was coming over too, to share in the feast.
It doesn't take long, some 90 minutes from starting to cook to dishing up, by which time it smelt selicious, and we were more than hungry. Jen arrives, they play Rummikub while I finish lunch, carving the beef and dishing up the vegetables and Yorkshire puddings.
It was fabulous, but as we ate, the sleet that had started soon after Jen arrived, turned to snow. Huge great big lumps of snow, that looked like it would turn into a blizzard for a while. Jen didn't want to be caught out and stuck here, so she made a dash for it, leaving us with the washing up.
But we do it quick, and the snow turned back to sleet, and what little had settled, melted quickly.I take to the sofa to watch the Man Utd v Liverpool cup tie, and very good it turned out, with them sharing five goals, with Utd running out 3-2 winners, and deserving to win, and was entertaining. Certainly, I did not come close to nodding off.
Jools and I listen to the radio, have mince pies for supper and a brew. And that was the weekend, all done.
And the new week should bring news.......
Back to the future
It is a little known fact that the EU hasn't actually ratified the TCA. It has kicked that process back into April, and possibly beyond, just because there are other more pressing matters with COVID, Russia and Biden, so the UK is on probabation, really, with the EU being able to see how we react politically to the new reality.
If there is any doubt about the UK's long term commitment to the TCA, then ratification might not hapen and it all ends in (UK) tears.
Johnson, JRM and Gove sees scrutiny and oversight as something to be avoided, the be able to ram through major legislation in a few hours so MPs who voted for it, don't really know what they voted for until it is too late. It happened with the WA and WAB, so why not the TCA?
The TCA binds the UK to abide by a set of agreed rules and operate with a set of agreed parameters, and if it steps outside those then there will be ramifications, which in the most severe case wil result in the TCA being halted and there being a no deal. This can happen very quickly, and at any point in the future.
Also much in the TCA has yet to be agreed. Talks are ongong, with deadlines at the end of most months. Further in the future, things like fishing are to be reviewed every few years or so, so we can see that Brexit wasn't really an event, or series of events that have now ended, but an endless brexit that will drag on until we decide and the EU allows us to rejoin, or there is close enough alignment to make oversight un-neccessary.
At no point in Brexit has the UK side looked ahead to the next stage, as the Government has been fighting with either its own backbenchers, the Commons of House of Lords about getting something agreed to getting past the latest barrier without any thought of what they were agreeing to or what it would mean in the future. While the EU had a set of stategic goals, red lines and political agreement over 27 member states, with any change being agreed between them and passed onto their negotiating team under Mr Barnier.
There was good news this weekend that Nissan would built its new electric motors in the UK, it is in reality just confirmation of what they had already stated, but must have received political assurances post-Brexit to agree to continue. Thing is, to be able to supply the EU market, the motors will have to conform to the Rules of Origin as detailed in the TCA, and if that were to fail the investment in the north east by Nissan would be for nothing. This is the last chance saloon for the UK and high volume automotive manufacture, so if the headbangers and ERG push for breaking the TCA, it puts plans like this and thousands of jobs, direct and indirect, in jeopardy.
The current TCA isn't fit for purpose for cross-border just in time supply chains or in the movement of high value, short life produce. Either we and our businesses accept these will have have friction so become unaffordable and inefficient, or they will need to be renegotiated sooner rather than later. And the EU has appointed Mr Barner to be part of the oversight going forward.
While in the UK, many Ministers are still in denial about the reality of borders between Dover and Calais and between Britain and NI.
These realities are not teething problems, but here to stay and a direct result of the Brexit that the ERG and other headbangers wanted, remember its as hard a Brexit as it could be while still having a deal in place. The decision to leave the SM and CU was the UK's and UK's alone, the EU accepted this and moved on, whilst preparing. The UK pretended that there were no problems ahead.
So, much more Brexit right through Spring, and beyond. And at any point the EU could stop everything.
Who has the control?
If there is any doubt about the UK's long term commitment to the TCA, then ratification might not hapen and it all ends in (UK) tears.
Johnson, JRM and Gove sees scrutiny and oversight as something to be avoided, the be able to ram through major legislation in a few hours so MPs who voted for it, don't really know what they voted for until it is too late. It happened with the WA and WAB, so why not the TCA?
The TCA binds the UK to abide by a set of agreed rules and operate with a set of agreed parameters, and if it steps outside those then there will be ramifications, which in the most severe case wil result in the TCA being halted and there being a no deal. This can happen very quickly, and at any point in the future.
Also much in the TCA has yet to be agreed. Talks are ongong, with deadlines at the end of most months. Further in the future, things like fishing are to be reviewed every few years or so, so we can see that Brexit wasn't really an event, or series of events that have now ended, but an endless brexit that will drag on until we decide and the EU allows us to rejoin, or there is close enough alignment to make oversight un-neccessary.
At no point in Brexit has the UK side looked ahead to the next stage, as the Government has been fighting with either its own backbenchers, the Commons of House of Lords about getting something agreed to getting past the latest barrier without any thought of what they were agreeing to or what it would mean in the future. While the EU had a set of stategic goals, red lines and political agreement over 27 member states, with any change being agreed between them and passed onto their negotiating team under Mr Barnier.
There was good news this weekend that Nissan would built its new electric motors in the UK, it is in reality just confirmation of what they had already stated, but must have received political assurances post-Brexit to agree to continue. Thing is, to be able to supply the EU market, the motors will have to conform to the Rules of Origin as detailed in the TCA, and if that were to fail the investment in the north east by Nissan would be for nothing. This is the last chance saloon for the UK and high volume automotive manufacture, so if the headbangers and ERG push for breaking the TCA, it puts plans like this and thousands of jobs, direct and indirect, in jeopardy.
The current TCA isn't fit for purpose for cross-border just in time supply chains or in the movement of high value, short life produce. Either we and our businesses accept these will have have friction so become unaffordable and inefficient, or they will need to be renegotiated sooner rather than later. And the EU has appointed Mr Barner to be part of the oversight going forward.
While in the UK, many Ministers are still in denial about the reality of borders between Dover and Calais and between Britain and NI.
These realities are not teething problems, but here to stay and a direct result of the Brexit that the ERG and other headbangers wanted, remember its as hard a Brexit as it could be while still having a deal in place. The decision to leave the SM and CU was the UK's and UK's alone, the EU accepted this and moved on, whilst preparing. The UK pretended that there were no problems ahead.
So, much more Brexit right through Spring, and beyond. And at any point the EU could stop everything.
Who has the control?
Sunday, 24 January 2021
The COVID elephant in the room
Some 97,329 people have so far died from COVID using the Government's narrow definition. This week that will pass 100,000.
A truly shocking firgure, and if 18 months ago you would have said that such a death toll, caused by Government inaction and moor judgement, and yet mostly ignored by the national press, with the exception of the Daily Star, they wouldn't have believed you.
And yet for two weekends now, the Sunday Torygraph has lead on the so-called "war on woke", creating culture wars where there is no need, when forcus on the carnage unfolding in our hospitals is largly ignored. The Torygraph and the rest like to spin the lie that somehow, we the people are to blame for the rise in infections, when it is the mixed messages and confusing number of laws, guidance and regulations that have been updated since the beginning of March every 4 or 5 days, on average.
To my knowledge, just one person, Adam Wagner, a solictor, has kept track of these, and offers overview videos to act as common sense guidance.
We have the situation where outdoor gatherings are beig demonised, but at the same time, due to the word salad that poured ut of the Home Secretary's mouth on Friday, apparently indoor gatherings of up to 15 seem to be allowed. When the SIs cleary says thare are not.
The UK has sped £32 billion on track and trace through Dido Harding, and the system, centralised, has failed to work. Germany spent £50 million on theirs, and it works.
Cnservatives, either in the UK or in the US, like to spend money until it comes to the point they're not in power when they become deficit hawks.
Make no mistake, through dither and delay, spaffing £50 billion or more on track and trace, PPE, Operation Moonshot and the rest, coupled with the highest death toll (per capita) and the deepest recession, the UK will take longer to recover, and have to do it with Brexit too. History has taught us thanks to Spansih Flu, that jobs saved now means an easier, quicker recovery, and spending a country's way out of recession is the only way forward. But the right don't like to spend on those that need it, happy they are to enrich their friends through tax cuts of cushty procurement contracts, but natioanl projects, creating jobs and skill for life for the poorest, hardest hit is an anathema to them.
As is admitting their mistakes.
We can have an inquiry into COVID, but not to allocate blame, because no number of deaths can do that.
A truly shocking firgure, and if 18 months ago you would have said that such a death toll, caused by Government inaction and moor judgement, and yet mostly ignored by the national press, with the exception of the Daily Star, they wouldn't have believed you.
And yet for two weekends now, the Sunday Torygraph has lead on the so-called "war on woke", creating culture wars where there is no need, when forcus on the carnage unfolding in our hospitals is largly ignored. The Torygraph and the rest like to spin the lie that somehow, we the people are to blame for the rise in infections, when it is the mixed messages and confusing number of laws, guidance and regulations that have been updated since the beginning of March every 4 or 5 days, on average.
To my knowledge, just one person, Adam Wagner, a solictor, has kept track of these, and offers overview videos to act as common sense guidance.
We have the situation where outdoor gatherings are beig demonised, but at the same time, due to the word salad that poured ut of the Home Secretary's mouth on Friday, apparently indoor gatherings of up to 15 seem to be allowed. When the SIs cleary says thare are not.
The UK has sped £32 billion on track and trace through Dido Harding, and the system, centralised, has failed to work. Germany spent £50 million on theirs, and it works.
Cnservatives, either in the UK or in the US, like to spend money until it comes to the point they're not in power when they become deficit hawks.
Make no mistake, through dither and delay, spaffing £50 billion or more on track and trace, PPE, Operation Moonshot and the rest, coupled with the highest death toll (per capita) and the deepest recession, the UK will take longer to recover, and have to do it with Brexit too. History has taught us thanks to Spansih Flu, that jobs saved now means an easier, quicker recovery, and spending a country's way out of recession is the only way forward. But the right don't like to spend on those that need it, happy they are to enrich their friends through tax cuts of cushty procurement contracts, but natioanl projects, creating jobs and skill for life for the poorest, hardest hit is an anathema to them.
As is admitting their mistakes.
We can have an inquiry into COVID, but not to allocate blame, because no number of deaths can do that.
Saturday 23rd January 2021
It was the weekend. Sunny. And cold.
We really should have gone out and enjoyed the day, no matter how cold.
Or should I say I should have gone out, as Jools went out, twice, to litter pick. The first time due to a mix up as to where she was going, I stayed home, and the second time I though she was just going to be ten minutes. Two and a half hour later she still wasn't back.
Oh well.
Seems like Monday will be nice, and I have to go to the doctors, so will get some phys in as the sun shines.
We could lay in bed, well, all day if we wanted, but my brain had me awake at then to five, then laying in bed to see if I could guess how later it was. By the time I turned on the light to check the time, it was twenty past five. Scully took my movement to suggest that it was breakfast time, so began to lick my hand. Then bite it. Cats!
So, I get up, put the heating on, and weave my way down the stairs avoiding cats and cat's bowls, down to the living room, but the table lamp on, and into the iten where my and my following army of cats trailing in my shuffling wake, I go to the cupboard and dish out four bowlfuls topped with kitty kibbles and place them around the kitchen and on the stairs so each kitty could eat in peace, before the scour each other bowls for what each other has left.
It makes sense in cat world.
We have a coffee.
Then another, with croissants. We have the radio on, and outside the sun rises to the south east, lighting the world. There is a thick hoar frost, and I am pretty sure I'm not going out.
Jools went out to get a parchage that could not be delivered on Friday, as we were out also walking. I thought she was going to drive into Dover to the sorting office, but no, just to the post office in the village. So that was the mix-up, so I stayed home and listened to Huey while Jools walked into the village and litter-picked as she went.
When she returned, it was a package, a present no less, from a friend in Canada. We set it down and thenn cut through the wrapping papper, through the tap sealing the box. And inside was a box of delights, filled with fine ingredients for mainly Mexican food, but some interesting looking salted herbs and some maple syrup candies.
Many, many thanks, Liza.
I cook chorizo hash for lunch, well, for mid-afternoon really, as I made a batch of mince pies, and so we had to quality check those, needed two each to make sure they passed muster once again. Meaning we were not hungry at midday or one.
We ate at two, finishing just in time so I could listen to the football on the radio. Bo, but better than that, as it was the Cup, and in the time of COVID, there were game live on the tellybox, so I could watch those, keep up to date with Norwich via Twitter at the same time.
That afternoon rattled along, it got dark, and Norwich lost, for only the 2nd time in 32 games against Barnsley, so we are out of the cup once again, and free to "concentrate on the league". Ahem.
I would like to see Norwich at the cup final once, before I die. I know it doesn't mean as much now, but for my inner child, I would be very happy.
Citeh are on the telly next, playing Cheltenham. And it was a great game, Cheltenham played well, defended like giants, and even took the lead in the 2nd half. Sadly, they tired near the end, Citeh broght on their best players, and scored three good goals in the last ten minutes.
Close, but no cigar, but medals before tea time.
We really should have gone out and enjoyed the day, no matter how cold.
Or should I say I should have gone out, as Jools went out, twice, to litter pick. The first time due to a mix up as to where she was going, I stayed home, and the second time I though she was just going to be ten minutes. Two and a half hour later she still wasn't back.
Oh well.
Seems like Monday will be nice, and I have to go to the doctors, so will get some phys in as the sun shines.
We could lay in bed, well, all day if we wanted, but my brain had me awake at then to five, then laying in bed to see if I could guess how later it was. By the time I turned on the light to check the time, it was twenty past five. Scully took my movement to suggest that it was breakfast time, so began to lick my hand. Then bite it. Cats!
So, I get up, put the heating on, and weave my way down the stairs avoiding cats and cat's bowls, down to the living room, but the table lamp on, and into the iten where my and my following army of cats trailing in my shuffling wake, I go to the cupboard and dish out four bowlfuls topped with kitty kibbles and place them around the kitchen and on the stairs so each kitty could eat in peace, before the scour each other bowls for what each other has left.
It makes sense in cat world.
We have a coffee.
Then another, with croissants. We have the radio on, and outside the sun rises to the south east, lighting the world. There is a thick hoar frost, and I am pretty sure I'm not going out.
Jools went out to get a parchage that could not be delivered on Friday, as we were out also walking. I thought she was going to drive into Dover to the sorting office, but no, just to the post office in the village. So that was the mix-up, so I stayed home and listened to Huey while Jools walked into the village and litter-picked as she went.
When she returned, it was a package, a present no less, from a friend in Canada. We set it down and thenn cut through the wrapping papper, through the tap sealing the box. And inside was a box of delights, filled with fine ingredients for mainly Mexican food, but some interesting looking salted herbs and some maple syrup candies.
Many, many thanks, Liza. I cook chorizo hash for lunch, well, for mid-afternoon really, as I made a batch of mince pies, and so we had to quality check those, needed two each to make sure they passed muster once again. Meaning we were not hungry at midday or one.
That afternoon rattled along, it got dark, and Norwich lost, for only the 2nd time in 32 games against Barnsley, so we are out of the cup once again, and free to "concentrate on the league". Ahem.
I would like to see Norwich at the cup final once, before I die. I know it doesn't mean as much now, but for my inner child, I would be very happy.Citeh are on the telly next, playing Cheltenham. And it was a great game, Cheltenham played well, defended like giants, and even took the lead in the 2nd half. Sadly, they tired near the end, Citeh broght on their best players, and scored three good goals in the last ten minutes.
Close, but no cigar, but medals before tea time.
Jumping the gun. Again
Two days ago, I suggested here that Johnson might have been a tad premature in announcing that the "Kent" varient had a higher mortality rate.
I said that because, well, I don't trust a thing Johnson says.
Anyway, the scientists on whose work Johnson based that statement on, was "surprised" as in his own mind the data was not yet conclusive or clear.
Well.
Johnson uses such things to ram through tougher restriction through under pressure to do the opposite from the CRG, which is the ERG just renamed but with as little research in viruses as they did the EU.
But that is where Johnson is right now, battling a pandemic and his own backbenchers, just with the nation's health at stake.
1,348 death announced yesterday, but hospitalisations have just started a downward direction, and positive cases have been heading down since peaking on 11th January. Deaths will soon start to follow, but not before passing 100,000 deaths, which is beyond shameful. The money wasted on failed track and trace and PPE procurement means something like £50 BILLION has been spent, most of it wasted.
The money given to Did Harding is the same as spending £1,000 a day since stonehenge was built, every day.
That much.
So many nirses, doctors, hospitals could have been employed/built for that £32 billion.
And still we have the highest per capita death rate in the world, and our economy has taken the biggest hit, and will take the longest to recover. And now with added Brexit.
I said that because, well, I don't trust a thing Johnson says.
Anyway, the scientists on whose work Johnson based that statement on, was "surprised" as in his own mind the data was not yet conclusive or clear.
Well.
Johnson uses such things to ram through tougher restriction through under pressure to do the opposite from the CRG, which is the ERG just renamed but with as little research in viruses as they did the EU.
But that is where Johnson is right now, battling a pandemic and his own backbenchers, just with the nation's health at stake.
1,348 death announced yesterday, but hospitalisations have just started a downward direction, and positive cases have been heading down since peaking on 11th January. Deaths will soon start to follow, but not before passing 100,000 deaths, which is beyond shameful. The money wasted on failed track and trace and PPE procurement means something like £50 BILLION has been spent, most of it wasted.
The money given to Did Harding is the same as spending £1,000 a day since stonehenge was built, every day.
That much.
So many nirses, doctors, hospitals could have been employed/built for that £32 billion.
And still we have the highest per capita death rate in the world, and our economy has taken the biggest hit, and will take the longest to recover. And now with added Brexit.
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