I was building a support structure for my sugar snap peas today, and made a startling discovery. I like string – a lot. It has to be the right kind of string, of course. Nylon string is horrible. Even though the stuff I unwound from some discarded fishing net on a beach in Northumberland once is strong enough to lift a battleship, it’s still horrible. Apart from the fact that it doesn’t tie well, it feels artificial – and it’s orange! Orange string. Pfhh...
The string I bought for the spring garden work this year is natural jute twine, not the dark green coloured variety. It’s a pleasure to work with. Simple, naturally textured, unpretentious, functional – and it has an earthy but sweet smell that I can’t stop sniffing. I’ve become a string sniffer. Blow me; after all these years I’ve found my substance.
Two other notes before you go away again:
Hello and welcome to Lauren. Glasgow! Now that really is exotic. ‘Scottish steel and Irish fire,’ as one Glaswegian once described the character. Billy Connolly, Rab C, the gritty romance of the Clyde... The only time I drove through it, I got stuck in the slowest moving traffic jam ever. I was late getting to the Highlands, but never mind. The journey isn’t about getting there, is it?
And don’t forget, Mr Grimshaw goes up at the other place tomorrow.
Off you go.
Monday, 31 May 2010
Brief.
Just a brief note before retiring.
Hello Russia, land of music and mystery. You’re very welcome, whoever you are.
Costa Rica, too. Wonderful!
Hello Russia, land of music and mystery. You’re very welcome, whoever you are.
Costa Rica, too. Wonderful!
Sunday, 30 May 2010
Excited.
On a lighter note, I have to mention my flaggy thing again. I’ve now had a visitor from Russia. Russia! Imagine that! There’s something dark, mysterious and exotic about Russia. Samovars, balalaikas - and dancing troupes that blow your mind. And, I have now had visits from seventeen US states. Only thirty three to go for a full set!
Now, you might think that all this excitement about the international diversity of my blog visitors is a bit, well, childlike. Er... maybe. But it’s also about connections. It’s about hands around the world. And who wants to be a grown up anyway?
Now, you might think that all this excitement about the international diversity of my blog visitors is a bit, well, childlike. Er... maybe. But it’s also about connections. It’s about hands around the world. And who wants to be a grown up anyway?
The Scapegoat.
Ian Duncan-Smith, the Work and Pensions Secretary, announced the details of the new Welfare Reform Bill last week. They’re going to clamp down on the unemployed, apparently. This is an old cloaking device that governments trot out occasionally when times are financially difficult. They know that there is a sizeable portion of the population who like to entertain the simplistic notion that the unemployed are responsible for the unemployment rate. I’ve frequently heard invective along the lines of ‘Why should I pay taxes to keep the layabouts on the dole queue in the lap of luxury?’ It’s an old story.
Well, let me say a couple of things here. Firstly, I know there is a hardcore of perennial unemployed who’ve never contributed anything to society and never will; but they’re in the minority. Secondly, I’ve been unemployed a couple of times myself, and I can assure everybody that, for most people in most situations, the level of benefit is woefully inadequate to pay for even the most fundamental living expenses. It isn’t even comfortable, let alone ‘the lap of luxury.’ But let me go back into recent history for a slightly broader view of this subject.
When I left school there were very few unemployed people, because if all else failed, all you had to do was go to the nearest factory and pick a job from the vacancies board. It’s how I got my first job while I was waiting to go in the navy. Something like 80% of the factories in that city have now closed. The second biggest employer was mining. There are no pits there any more. The third biggest employer was a major steelworks. That’s gone, too. The same is true of industrial areas all over the old world. Alternative jobs have been created in things like call centres and the leisure industry, but they’re not as stable and they’re not enough.
In the 90’s we saw example after example of banks announcing record profits, followed by a further announcement of job cuts. Technology was doing the work, so why employ people? By getting rid of the jobs, they could make even more money for the executives and shareholders. The primary aim of the private company is to make money, not provide jobs. Jobs are only the means to an end, not an end in itself. They like to crow about how many jobs are being created when they’re trying to get over planning objections, but it’s just a tactical device which really shouldn’t fool anybody any more.
Running alongside this process has been another one. The minimum school leaving age was raised, and then pressure grew on young people to stay in education even longer by going to college or university. A large chunk of the working age population was removed from the job queues that way. And yet there are now an estimated – depending on how you define it – 10% of the working age population of Britain who are unemployed and claiming some form of benefit.
Doesn’t anybody see the bottom line here? There aren’t enough jobs to go around. It doesn’t matter how much pressure you put on the unemployed, it won’t make any difference. The only way to get the figure down is to create jobs, which isn’t happening. Ironically, the government also announced cost-cutting measures last week which will destroy even more jobs. Blaming the unemployed for the unemployment rate is a shabby political device, but it works because too many people can’t see beyond the bigotry and the rhetoric.
It also seems ironic to me that a mere three weeks into the present government’s term of office, a minister has already had to resign over fraudulent expenses claims. And who stood up and said he was ‘very sorry to see him go?’ The very same Mr Duncan-Smith who wants to beat up the unemployed and make them scapegoats for a situation created by the move towards a more free market economy, the development of technology, and government policies over the last few decades. I have to wonder where the said minister’s priorities lie.
But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The business of government isn’t about doing the right thing. It’s about making impressions, creating illusions, and maintaining popularity by pandering to mass prejudices. And when any government wants an easy target, the unemployed are the first against the wall.
Well, let me say a couple of things here. Firstly, I know there is a hardcore of perennial unemployed who’ve never contributed anything to society and never will; but they’re in the minority. Secondly, I’ve been unemployed a couple of times myself, and I can assure everybody that, for most people in most situations, the level of benefit is woefully inadequate to pay for even the most fundamental living expenses. It isn’t even comfortable, let alone ‘the lap of luxury.’ But let me go back into recent history for a slightly broader view of this subject.
When I left school there were very few unemployed people, because if all else failed, all you had to do was go to the nearest factory and pick a job from the vacancies board. It’s how I got my first job while I was waiting to go in the navy. Something like 80% of the factories in that city have now closed. The second biggest employer was mining. There are no pits there any more. The third biggest employer was a major steelworks. That’s gone, too. The same is true of industrial areas all over the old world. Alternative jobs have been created in things like call centres and the leisure industry, but they’re not as stable and they’re not enough.
In the 90’s we saw example after example of banks announcing record profits, followed by a further announcement of job cuts. Technology was doing the work, so why employ people? By getting rid of the jobs, they could make even more money for the executives and shareholders. The primary aim of the private company is to make money, not provide jobs. Jobs are only the means to an end, not an end in itself. They like to crow about how many jobs are being created when they’re trying to get over planning objections, but it’s just a tactical device which really shouldn’t fool anybody any more.
Running alongside this process has been another one. The minimum school leaving age was raised, and then pressure grew on young people to stay in education even longer by going to college or university. A large chunk of the working age population was removed from the job queues that way. And yet there are now an estimated – depending on how you define it – 10% of the working age population of Britain who are unemployed and claiming some form of benefit.
Doesn’t anybody see the bottom line here? There aren’t enough jobs to go around. It doesn’t matter how much pressure you put on the unemployed, it won’t make any difference. The only way to get the figure down is to create jobs, which isn’t happening. Ironically, the government also announced cost-cutting measures last week which will destroy even more jobs. Blaming the unemployed for the unemployment rate is a shabby political device, but it works because too many people can’t see beyond the bigotry and the rhetoric.
It also seems ironic to me that a mere three weeks into the present government’s term of office, a minister has already had to resign over fraudulent expenses claims. And who stood up and said he was ‘very sorry to see him go?’ The very same Mr Duncan-Smith who wants to beat up the unemployed and make them scapegoats for a situation created by the move towards a more free market economy, the development of technology, and government policies over the last few decades. I have to wonder where the said minister’s priorities lie.
But I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised. The business of government isn’t about doing the right thing. It’s about making impressions, creating illusions, and maintaining popularity by pandering to mass prejudices. And when any government wants an easy target, the unemployed are the first against the wall.
Money.
The concept of money fascinates me. It doesn’t actually exist, does it? It’s just a mechanism operating by mutual consent. It’s no more than countless billions of electronic impulses flashing about in the computers of the world’s banks, and being given the appearance of reality through scraps of paper and chunks of base metal issued by groups of people we call governments. It’s the most obvious of life’s illusions. And yet it dominates the very fabric of our existence.
Those who have ‘lots’ of this thing that doesn’t exist can have almost anything they want. Those who have ‘none’ of this thing that doesn’t exist can literally die of starvation. We have so rarefied the concept of value that we have completely lost touch with its relevance to worth. This strikes me as an odd way to carry on. What am I missing here?
On a more philosophical level, I argued in one old post that we shouldn’t persuade ourselves to contentment by comparing our situation with those worse off. In so doing, we are likely to fall prey to the corollary; we are equally likely to persuade ourselves to a state of discontent by comparing our situations with those who are better off. There was a news report today which said that a study had shown that those who compare their salaries to others’ are more prone to depression. Really? It took a study to work that one out, did it?
It reminded me of a ‘study’ carried out by a British university a couple of years ago. They spent a lot of time and money establishing whether ducks actually like water. It seems they do, so we can all now rest easy in the reassuring knowledge that lots of this thing that doesn’t exist has been wisely used in telling us something we really needed to know. Hallelujah!
I have little doubt that one day in the not-too-distant future, all this will come crashing down around our ears. And then the human race will be forced to re-evaluate the concept of value.
Those who have ‘lots’ of this thing that doesn’t exist can have almost anything they want. Those who have ‘none’ of this thing that doesn’t exist can literally die of starvation. We have so rarefied the concept of value that we have completely lost touch with its relevance to worth. This strikes me as an odd way to carry on. What am I missing here?
On a more philosophical level, I argued in one old post that we shouldn’t persuade ourselves to contentment by comparing our situation with those worse off. In so doing, we are likely to fall prey to the corollary; we are equally likely to persuade ourselves to a state of discontent by comparing our situations with those who are better off. There was a news report today which said that a study had shown that those who compare their salaries to others’ are more prone to depression. Really? It took a study to work that one out, did it?
It reminded me of a ‘study’ carried out by a British university a couple of years ago. They spent a lot of time and money establishing whether ducks actually like water. It seems they do, so we can all now rest easy in the reassuring knowledge that lots of this thing that doesn’t exist has been wisely used in telling us something we really needed to know. Hallelujah!
I have little doubt that one day in the not-too-distant future, all this will come crashing down around our ears. And then the human race will be forced to re-evaluate the concept of value.
Saturday, 29 May 2010
Mysteries.
This little flaggy doo-dah that I now have attached to my blog is proving an endless source of mystery and amusement. Sixteen visits from India. India? I have a soft spot for India; I would love to talk to somebody from there. But I haven’t a clue who it is (or who they are.) Same with Arkansas – three visits from there. Who lives in Arkansas? Hello, Arkansas. *Waving* Talk to me.
Then there’s Chris from the Emerald City (Followers, not flags.) Are we talking Seattle or Oz here? Hello Chris, whoever you are.
I do wish you’d all introduce yourselves. Hands around the world, and all that.
It’s 1.30am in dear old Blighty. I think it’s time for bed.
Then there’s Chris from the Emerald City (Followers, not flags.) Are we talking Seattle or Oz here? Hello Chris, whoever you are.
I do wish you’d all introduce yourselves. Hands around the world, and all that.
It’s 1.30am in dear old Blighty. I think it’s time for bed.
Friday, 28 May 2010
So, instead...
I keep meaning to post a rant about our new government running around like children with a new toy, exulting in their new-found power and telling us that this is going to change, that has got to stop, these people are going to be forced to do this... etc, etc. They only formed their coalition two weeks ago! For heaven’s sake, let us breathe will you? Frankly, their overbearing and oppressive attitude is getting on my nerves - and that’s the problem. Every time I lay the details out in my head, I start to get depressed about it. If there’s one thing I really, really hate, it’s control mania.
So instead, I’m posting something to the other blog. Dear Andrea (or Molly – such a nice name, Molly) from Tennessee has rekindled the ‘bit of a thing’ I have about the Brontes. During the winter I re-read Wuthering Heights – twice! I’d already done some groundwork on the whole Bronte family, and Emily in particular, and saw the novel in a completely different light. So obvious was this ‘revelation,’ that I decided the whole world has been misunderstanding it for 161 years, and set about writing an essay on the relationship between Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw. Since it’s unlikely ever to get published anywhere else, I thought I might as well put it up here for anybody interested in either the book or Emily Bronte.
I do realise that some people have already read it. Rest assured that I still intend to post the next story, Mr Grimshaw, some time early next week.
So instead, I’m posting something to the other blog. Dear Andrea (or Molly – such a nice name, Molly) from Tennessee has rekindled the ‘bit of a thing’ I have about the Brontes. During the winter I re-read Wuthering Heights – twice! I’d already done some groundwork on the whole Bronte family, and Emily in particular, and saw the novel in a completely different light. So obvious was this ‘revelation,’ that I decided the whole world has been misunderstanding it for 161 years, and set about writing an essay on the relationship between Heathcliff and Catherine Earnshaw. Since it’s unlikely ever to get published anywhere else, I thought I might as well put it up here for anybody interested in either the book or Emily Bronte.
I do realise that some people have already read it. Rest assured that I still intend to post the next story, Mr Grimshaw, some time early next week.
One World.
And now there’s one from Vietnam! Isn’t that just splendiferous? People from eleven countries have visited my blog. Connections, connections. One world! Let’s all just get together, have a bloody great party, and be friends.
La Belle France.
With all due respect to everybody everywhere in the world, I have to say that I got quite a lift when I saw that somebody from France has visited my blog. Amelie, La Mer, Monsieur Hulot...
And it reminds me of a funny story.
The parents of an ex of mine went to France on holiday. Her mother was reasonably fluent, but her dad wasn’t. He was an old time Lancastrian who still commented on the lowering sky of an approaching storm with the time-honoured phrase ‘Ee, it’s a bit black over Willie’s ’en pens.’
They stopped at a service station, and dad decided he wanted a map. He asked his wife to make enquiries. She remonstrated with him, saying that all he needed to converse with the locals was confidence. ‘Don’t try to translate,’ she said, ‘just BE French.’
OK.
He went up to the assistant, performed the best Gallic shrug he could muster, and said ‘Got a map?’
Whoever it was who looked in, bonjour et bienvenue.
And it reminds me of a funny story.
The parents of an ex of mine went to France on holiday. Her mother was reasonably fluent, but her dad wasn’t. He was an old time Lancastrian who still commented on the lowering sky of an approaching storm with the time-honoured phrase ‘Ee, it’s a bit black over Willie’s ’en pens.’
They stopped at a service station, and dad decided he wanted a map. He asked his wife to make enquiries. She remonstrated with him, saying that all he needed to converse with the locals was confidence. ‘Don’t try to translate,’ she said, ‘just BE French.’
OK.
He went up to the assistant, performed the best Gallic shrug he could muster, and said ‘Got a map?’
Whoever it was who looked in, bonjour et bienvenue.
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