Musicians From Another Planet.

I've asked this question before but I'm going to ask it again: How do pianists play two different - and often disparate - strings of notes at the same time, one with the right hand and the other with the left? I'm led to the serious suspicion that they must have two brains, one for each hand. What other explanation could there be?

And then there's the other question that occurs to me when I hear a piano being played: How do they always contrive to have at least one free finger to play the next note no matter the speed and complexity of the ink blots? That's not as simple as it might sound on the surface, and I suspect there's something of the metaphysical going on.

So are pianists all undercover aliens walking furtively among us? If so, what is their purpose? Are pianists not what they seem (like owls), and what should we do about it?

The Room Behind the Rock Face.

During one of my return trips from Ashbourne in the community transport bus recently, we had an extra passenger – an elderly lady who lived in a village about seven miles from here. We dropped her off first, and the house she lived in was one of a run of stone-built terraces fronting onto the main road. Access to the house, however, was gained by way of a dark, narrow passage at the back, and on the other side of the passage was a rock face which I estimated to be around fifty feet high. Apart from the physical discomfort of feeling hemmed in, the house must have received very little light through the windows at the rear.

But it got better…

The rock face continued beyond the terraced houses to be in full view of the road, and what a forbidding aspect it presented: damp, dark brown sandstone which appeared to have water constantly running down the face from the land above. And then I noticed something extraordinary. It had a door and two windows in it. I wondered whether they might have been some kind of whimsical curio because surely there was nothing behind them, or so I thought.

The following week I asked a different driver whether he was familiar with this oddity. He was, he said, and told me that there is indeed a room behind the door, and that somebody once lived in it.

Lived? Lived how? Did this room have gas or electricity? Did it have running water (apart from what was running down the outside walls)? Did it have a fireplace to provide heat in the winter, and if so, was there a chimney driven up through fifty feet of rock to let the smoke out? He didn’t know, but in all my life I’ve never seen such a ‘dwelling’ and had no idea that such a thing might exist.

But then it’s a well attested fact that during the Middle Ages and a little beyond, there were people living in caves dotted around the various dales in this area. To people such as those, I expect having a room in a rock face complete with a door and two windows would have been quite the height of luxury.

Ups and Downs in England.

This morning I went for my customary Thursday walk which takes me up the tree-lined Hollow en route to the fairy glen above the village. As always at this time of year I was reminded of Robert Browning’s immortal and evocative line:

Oh to be in England now that April’s here.

The day matched the sentiment, being mild, calm, and sunny, and the whole Shire being awash with the whites, the yellows, the blues, and the pinks of wild spring flowers and well trained cherry trees in many a cottage garden. And on the way I met a comely young woman and her boisterously friendly young dog, and was the beneficiary of much enthusiastic fussing and evident delight in my company (by the dog, you understand, not the comely young woman. Heaven forbid at my age.)

Life in an English April felt worth having after all.

This afternoon I needed to contact Her Majesty’s Revenue and Customs to get a simple answer to a simple question. After half an hour of frustration and primal inner screaming I was no nearer to reaching the object of my simple quest. And then the phone signal failed anyway, so I gave up.

And life returned to normal.

A Few Rare Notes.

The Shire is a picture at the moment, especially when the grey clouds move away and the wind stops taking the edge off the temperature. So much of the wild growth is not only precocious, but rampant as well. Such is true of the bluebells – my favourite wild flower – and the wild garlic, both of which are not only prolific but springing up in places where I’ve never seen them before. Most notable of all, though, has been the abundance of blossom on the blackthorn trees and bushes. Thick blocks of white everywhere in hedgerow, field, and at the margins of wood and copse. Hawthorn next, hopefully.

Elsewhere…

I answered a woman’s question recently with disarmingly simple honesty. She called me ‘a beautiful soul.’ Well now, fine opinions are very much a rarity these days so I chose to bask briefly in the light – lime or otherwise – and decline to mention the rust gnawing away at the chassis.

And a man said ‘nice to see you’ today. My immediate response to any man who says ‘nice to see you’ is suspicion, and the same would hold true for many women. There is, however, one woman from whom I would like to hear ‘nice to see you’, but the likelihood is exceedingly remote and so I choose not to dwell on the matter. Oddly enough I saw her today for all of around two seconds. She was driving a passing car, but she evidently didn’t see me. She hardly ever does. Maybe I’ve developed that skill which some spies and secret agents are said to have – the ability to remain invisible in plain sight.

On Sub-Standard Humans and Sudden Epiphanies.

On my way out yesterday I saw my neighbour and mentioned my suspicion that Donald Trump might be genuinely mentally ill. Her reply was unequivocal: ‘Of course he is. He’s got Alzheimers.’ I was in a hurry and therefore unable to ascertain whether she was expressing an opinion or stating a known fact, although all the current talk about the 25^th Amendment makes me wonder.

So should we now feel sorry for poor old Donald because he can’t help being an utter jerk? Well, a lot of his incomprehensible statements and behaviour found their expression in the most extreme egomania and nastiness, and I suspect I’m right in saying that those character traits must have existed long before any possible dementia took hold. Awaiting developments.

And this morning I saw a photograph of Itamar Ben-Gvir celebrating the new capital law relating to Palestinians, while no doubt cheering those Israeli settlers who commit murder the other way round. I wonder whether anybody has ever mentioned karma to him, or reminded him that even his own holy book mentions the whirlwind which awaits those sowing the wind.

*  *  *

Two entirely unrelated notes:

I was standing outside Sainsbury’s yesterday and saw a vision: a young woman in her late teens, around 5ft 8” tall, slim and perfectly formed, sporting long blonde hair, and skimpily dressed. I had an epiphany. I realised that my interest was no longer libidinous but merely aesthetic. It was a proud moment.

I also realised last night that Japanese culture is uncommonly awash with paranormal incidents and awareness, and that led to a theory that the less a culture is dominated by religion, the more attuned it is to spirituality. Am I right? You tell me.

Little and Late.

My little friend, Bear, has left the Shire and gone to live in another town in the Dales. He wrote me a letter in his child's hand to say he'd miss seeing me in the lane. It's a bit sad because I don't like many people, but I liked him. He had character. Tomorrow I'll get him a 'Good Luck' card.

Still awaiting that email which never comes. The years continue to turn.

Currently listening to old Enya tracks. A host of memories stare silently at me from a fading screen.

I haven't jotted a post like this in many years. Here goes...

Trump and the Wacky Baccy.

I gather D Trump has promised to destroy a whole civilisation in one night if the Iranians don’t do as he tells them. Should we take that seriously, or should we remember his earlier claim to be able to end the war in Ukraine in one day? (And it’s interesting to also remember that Putin said he could ‘take Kyiv in one day’ at the start of those shenanigans.) Certain types of people just can’t help dribbling foolish babble, can they? Sometimes they don’t seem to be in control of their own mouths.

So here’s the point. Does Trump’s incessant blathering constitute evidence of mental instability? I’m no qualified psychologist but I do seriously wonder whether there’s any machinery in the US establishment or constitution which could force Trump to undergo psychiatric assessment. It strikes me as being an urgent imperative now.

(And wouldn’t it be a refreshing change to have sympathy for a poor ex-President when we see him strapped into a straightjacket and confined to a secure facility. Maybe Alcatraz could be reopened just for him and his acolytes. That would be nicely ironic.)

Failing that, we’re back to the military having the balls to say: ‘Democracy is to be temporarily suspended while we remove Mr Trump and his entourage to a small rock in the Atlantic approximately a thousand miles south of the Azores with no means of escape. Americans are advised to carry on as usual and normal service will be resumed in about six months.’

It’s unlikely though, isn’t it? As I understand it, Americans are brainwashed from the cradle to believe that patriotism – which includes unthinking and unstinting allegiance to the President – is the one absolute and inviolate requirement for claiming American citizenship. And so that might give the military personnel a bit of a dilemma:

‘If I remove my Commander-n-Chief from office – even if he is an utter loony about to set the hay barn on fire – wouldn’t that be unpatriotic and consign me to the centre of perdition’s flame for all eternity?’

‘That depends,’ I offer.

‘On what?’

‘On the single question of for whose benefit you are performing the act, yours or the American people. The latter, surely.’

‘Oh I see. In that case…’

Still not going to happen, though, is it?

And I’m concerned that this post might be guilty of trivialising what might turn out to be a very serious situation. It’s just that Trump has become such a comic book character now that it’s difficult to know how to react to statements and actions so absurd that they feel like drug-induced illusions.

American Cowardice and Middle Eastern Madness.

The BBC world news this morning was all about the rescue of the American airman in Iran. (As well as Trump’s childish invective about his intent to rain down – or even ‘reign down’ as the BBC journalist spelled it – the horrors of hell if the Iranians don’t do as they’re ordered immediately.) So let’s ask what this means:

The conflict in Iran is constantly being referred to as a ‘war.’ Clearly it isn’t. A war is a competition in which thousands, or even tens of thousands, of combatants on both sides are blown to pieces or at least simply killed, nearly every day. There is no place for a news headline on the rescue of one man in a real war.

This goes back to what I said at the start of it all; this is shooting fish in a barrel. This is the action of the big bully in the school yard beating up the little kid just because he can. And what do we say about bullies? We say they’re cowards. So where is America’s worldwide reputation going while trump bombs and blusters the hell out of a small nation? America is being seen as the world’s biggest bully and therefore its greatest coward. Do Americans, I wonder, revel in such a reputation? Somehow, I don’t think so. The bravest thing the America military could do at the moment is what gives rise to my current favourite, and hopelessly unrealistic, dream: It is to read the headline:

Military Coup in USA

Trump and Minions Arrested

Free Elections Promised in Six Months

*  *  *

So now let’s turn our attention to the bully’s sidekick, Mr Netanyahu and the Israelis:

It appears that antisemitism has been on the rise around the world ever since the terrible situation in Gaza. I predicted it would happen and so did plenty of other people. Antisemitism is a feature that’s been buried in the gene pool for many generations, just awaiting the trigger to bring it back to the surface. Gaza was that trigger, and excessively violent activity in Iran and Lebanon is feeding the trend. And so its rise is unsurprising.

But I doubt that most of the anti-Israeli sentiment is actually antisemitism, but rather anti-Zionism which is not the same thing. (And I’m constantly infuriated by supposedly intelligent people in establishments everywhere failing to see the difference despite it being plainly obvious to anybody with a measurable IQ.)

Zionism is the inviolable presumption that some mythical being called Yahweh, who was regarded as chief among gods, granted the descendents of Abraham all the land between the eastern Mediterranean and the River Jordan in perpetuity – theirs to take as a right no matter how much death, suffering, and destruction was caused in so doing.

(Let’s just add a rider here and question the very existence of Yahweh. Many see him as a mere myth. Some other religions claim that Yahweh exists but is actually a lower god at the base of a higher pantheon. Those of Gnostic persuasion call him the Demiurge and regard him as a flawed being, part good and part evil, and urge their congregation to bypass him in order to reach spiritual maturity. And let’s add another rider and point to those genealogists who claim that modern Jews are not actually the descendants of Abraham's people. These factors are all part of other arguments.)

OK, parenthesis over. I and most other reasonable people have no problem with the fact that Jews should have a homeland just like everybody else. Israel should exist and Israelis are welcome to be a member tribe of the human race just like all the other tribes. We don’t want another Holocaust, for heaven’s sake. We don’t even want another Diaspora, just some proper and reasonable balance. We want the whole of the human family to exist in peace and harmony. Instead we get tears, suffering, death, and wholesale destruction. And that’s why anti-Zionism is on the rise and often misconstrued as antisemitism.

And I suppose I’d better get off my rickety soap box now.

Just a Thought.

I see Donald is having a tantrum and sulking again with his ‘get your own oil.’  He’s showing yet again what a sociopathic, spoiled little brat he is. It would be quite amusing if it didn’t affect the rest of us, but it does.

You know, I really can’t imagine what some Americans have for brains when they put somebody like Trump into the White House. They did the same with Reagan and GW. Trump has no political experience, no diplomatic experience, no military experience… Being a businessman, I daresay he knows a little about low level math(s), but that’s hardly sufficient for running a powerful and complex country.

And I seem to recall that when he first started mouthing off about Iran, it was all to do with saving the poor Iranians from a cruel and dictatorial regime. Now he’s using his military might (and American taxpayer’s dollars) to kill thousands of them – along with his pal Benjamin, of course, who’s well practiced in killing innocents in large numbers.

But enough of the infamous Blood Brothers in DC and Jerusalem. We’ve had a fine day in the Shire and that was nice. And the new horses on Mill Lane came to say hello. It would be good to say ‘all’s well that ends well’, but heaven knows what this world might sink into before long.

The Footnote.

I made a post last night around the quandary over whether or not to get another car. After the decision was made I reasoned (if that be quite the right word) that choosing not to get one was a victory for instinct, and perhaps some deeper spiritual need, over logic, a practice which has gained some currency in recent decades. But then I had another thought and said I might add a footnote. This is it:

I’ve made no secret of the fact that I’m subject to a lot of depression. It’s been with me since I was a child and has grown worse with advancing age. And I’ve noticed a strange feature attaching to depression which I don’t suppose non-depressives realise.

Depression usually has no obvious trigger; it just happens. That’s part of the difference between being truly depressed and merely being in a bad mood. And our brains are wired in such a way as to function on the basis of cause and effect. So if there is no obvious cause, it makes a certain kind of perverse sense to seek or even create a cause for the depression. And so we tend to find the means to do ourselves down, to deny ourselves something we need in order to make life easier or more pleasurable. The depression is now vindicated and has a right to exist.

It follows a practice common in parental attitudes when I was a boy. If a child was crying for no apparent reason, a parent – usually the father for he was expected to be the disciplinarian – would utter the firm threat: ‘Stop that crying or I’ll give you something to cry about.’ Whether it was common in British culture generally, or only in the grimy, industrial environment in which I was brought up (an environment in which the grim existence among factories, coal mines, steelworks, and slum habitation had instilled an essential mentality of stoicism) I wouldn’t know.

And whether that was the reason for my declining to buy the car, I also wouldn’t know. But maybe some of my odd ideas do, after all, have some basis in fact.