Between Xmas and New Year

So what's left in your fruit bowl? Ours has the hopes and aspirations of Xmas past. The bowl was given to A when she worked at the coal face of the NHS. A family were so pleased with one of the GPs that they gave him a family heirloom. The fruit bowl. Said GP did not like same. So the bowl was passed on to A, peacemaker and disposer of bodies!

It sits in pride of place on kitchen table. At the moment it has, post Xmas, 4 bananas, two apples, a papaya and two avocados. A's Mum, a very sweet lady at 90 up but with some short term memory problems, kept asking what the avocados were. Various explanations and gentle promptings produced the same round of questions as to what on earth these things were. Good gracious!

Brendan Barber of the TUC has just been complaining about the enormous buckets of boodle that the captains of industry pay themselves. Nice one Brendan!

However, what about the the grubby little deals that go on all the time, Xmas boxes to the milk persons and newspaper delivery operatives; money paid over in cash to window cleaners. A nod and a wink, a heartfelt thanks, and a handful of cash to the person who sorts out car, central heating, roof, or drains in extremis. I'm sure A, the bounder, never entered the fruit bowl in the register of employees interests or gifts. Only joking! Humbuggery! Great fun, remember you heard it here first.

I can remember one of the few times I successfully pulled the leg of our DoH (he was a saint) when I worked in a London borough as his assistant. We had both taken time out after 6pm to visit the opening of some sheltered housing we had paid for. The developer had provided some cakes and biscuits and fizzy white wine. I drove the DoH so he decided to have a glass. I looked at the bottle and decided that a glass was probably worth 4GBPs; well over the casual hospitality limit in local government terms at the time! I kept a straight face and said that I expected to see it entered in the hospitality book the next day. I never bothered to look.

The other time I brought a belated smile to his lips, poor sod, was when we passed a poster announcing a meeting to be addressed by Tony Cliff. I pointed it out to DoH who had a whistfull look in his eye, being a bit of a firebrand in his yoof. As he perked up I couldn't resist the - I've got all his records line.

Anyway, the domestic godless tip for Avocados. Use horseradish sauce instead of mustard!

Nuestra Bandera de Paz y Amistad

The kitchen has been full of the smell of celery and parsley (perejil- our flag of peace and friendship; with acknowledgment to Karlos)
We are so fortunate. I have so much! So many books as gifts. A and I will need a reading week; but more of that later! A's mum has been telling us the story of her early years in between our Cava and prep for dinner!

Felices fiestas a todo!

One Mouse Per Child

There are some really interesting developments at the moment in the area of microfinance, IT software and equipment.

The Cambridge Ndiyo project ndiyo.org has been working with partners in Bangladesh and I imagine a whole raft of applications will come out of that.One that seems to be working is the putative 'Grameem Internet' built on the back of the GrameenPhone.

Having heard, ad nauseam, about one laptop per child, I much prefer the more realistic and co-operative idea of

one-mouse-per-child

Anyway! I found the story below interesting and a small glow for me at the end of the year if mince pies and mulled wine are not enough; they may not be.

http://www.prweb.com/releases/2006/11/prweb477752.htm

My thanks to John Naughton and the Ndiyo blog for setting me off on this one!

The Green Isle of the Great Deep

An article by George Monbiot this week points out the cruelty and barbarity which we seem to be capable of. I was reminded of the discussion at the beginning of The Green Isle of the Great Deep published, I think, in 1944 by Neil M Gunn. Such horrors were very close then and this was Gunn's response to them. A pdf by his nephew sets this in some context and can be downloaded from www.scotiareview.org/files/downloads/DairmidGunn.pdf.

I read this book as a result of a strange encounter, in the 1970's, in the middle of Sandwood Bay with a man, who claimed to be Sandy McRory and carried a large quantity of home brew in a dried milk tin. We were staying in the bothy, Sandwood Cottage, which had a roof then. The bay provided lots of driftwood and Sandy became a fixture at our evening fires in the bothy and he generously accepted our hospitality, fags and whisky. However, I am grateful to him for the introduction and went on to read and enjoy The Silver Darlings by Gunn.

I hope that humane and active protest against such evils continues. We must not let these beggars get away with it.

On a Lighter Note:- Hairy Pumpkins!

A was gardening the other day. This activity, for those that are not rural or conversant, involves putting nose 6 inches away from soil and doing things. Out of the corner of her ear and through a hedge much depleted in its folliage by the late onset of autumn came a curious sight with following dialogue.

Short sturdy man, hat firmly fixed on head, was scuttling his way along the path that joins church and mill in our pueblo. He was followed by a woman without hat but with stick, hurpelling along, trying to keep up. Man says words to the effect of - Come on you hairy pumpkin; try and keep up!

A was shocked, raised nose from soil, and stretching to her full height was about to view the bounder in full sight, possibly even clear her throat. The patriarchal caravanserai passed and at that point A noticed both figures had hairy little pumpkins in tow. Obviously the fierce, proud and faithful West Suffolk Sugar Beet Hound; not a breed recognised by the Kennel Club but equally not one to be triffelled with. It is a small part of the story of how the Hun was finally defeated. I can say no more.

The image kept us in fits.

Memento homo, quia pulvis es, et in pulverem reverteris

So, then, General Pinochle! Keith's mum said that you have finally bitten the dust!
A came into my room yesterday evening with the news. It is hard to celebrate the death of another human being even when he had such evil to his name. Perhaps it is the fact that I am only too concious existence is but a febrile heartbeat away from oblivion. However, I did go into the kitchen and finding a glass of Spanish red unaccountably in my hand, looked A straight in the eye and without saying anything clinked glasses! It was a small tribute to those who suffered, to those that survived and good old Baltazar who made his life legally and justifiably hell(ish) for a few months.

Gracias a la vida que me he dado tanto.

Politics 2.0

I was interested in this on line petition. An attempt to join the race after the favourite has romped home? I know the interweb and the e-waves are a great way to do nothing! However, we live in hope after having lived in Hackney for over 20 years. You have until Feb. 2007 to make your voices heard and of course the real purpose is to allow the usual suspects to collect your emails and addresses; as if they didn't have them already.

I am also interested in the growth of the number of e-signatures and may, in between mince pies and sherry, try to plot the plot, as it were, over the holiday period.

So click on the link and drive those figures, exponentially!

Enough!