Tondonia.

I have had little acquaintance with Spanish wine. (No laughing at the back please!) The delicious wine that came out of a barrel in a bodega in our pueblo in Cantabria was unbranded and retailed at about 100 pesetas a litre. Perhaps 110 if you were after the good stuff (50p at the time). I have since graduated to an upper limit of a fiver a bottle, or thereabouts. The kindness of family, friends and strangers sometimes takes me into deeper waters. Let me share the tale of such a gift which secured a great deal of affection in my heart for the parties concerned, they know who they are!

The bottle, Tondonia, Cosecha de 1985, Gran Reserva, was placed in my hand with the strict instructions to drink and enjoy over the holiday period. (Will you please stop laughing at the back! Thank you.)

The wine comes from the Bodegas R. Lopez de Heredia in Haro, in the Rioja Alta. The link gives details and they have been making wine for 140 years so perhaps they know a thing or two.

The bottle was sealed with wax the colour of the stuff that comes out of the mouths of mafiosi and sucklings when they have been shot in the lungs, in glorious Technicolor. Could I open it? It wasn’t a screw top. Would it be corked or oxidised? Would I be able to tell? I applied the waiter’s friend, double pull, with shaking hands. (Now then!) The wine was fine, no sign of taint and, of course, I just had to have wee sip to clarify the position on oxidation, ahem. It tasted very young and fruity. I decanted it and got on with the business of cooking my goose, which was in fact a free range chicken! About an hour later I had to have a further sip to make sure it hadn’t oxidised, evaporated, or suffered some other terrible mishap. (Sniggering is not allowed either!)

Of course it was fine and when I sat down to my meal later I was able to enjoy the wine. I do not have the language to describe it in expert terms but it was smooth, had lots of fruit, complex but pleasing flavours and no hint of rough treatment from the barricas that they use. If you are interested there is a man in an anorak who seems to know what he is talking about and who am I to disagree.

Strangely enough I did not finish the bottle. (Watch it!)

I left half for the following dayand I had my meal after Brenda, god bless her, had given her address to the nation. For any youngsters or diehard republicans this is like a You Tube that has been going on for 50 years, before You Tube was either profitable or popular, just a Glaswegian insult.

The wine was a revelation. A good wine, a very good wine, was transformed overnight. It was like seeing a pretty baby one night and finding a beautiful 22 year old the day after. A flower grown from nothing in a day’s turning.

I decided not to risk a third day and gave it the coup d'état, as Des would have said.

Muchas gracias!

The Worship of Conies.

The eve of the big day and a quick stomp up Hut Hill at Knettishall.

I am starting my celebrations after the festival of 9 lessons and karaokes.

I wonder if it will begin with the well known ‘Once in Royal Dave’s City’ This is only fair given the rise in the prominence of certain members of an undergraduate drinking club!

A grey day at the stricken tree but I am intrigued later by the appearance of red and green conies. Obviously this is prime evidence for the lost tribe of Athapascans that turned left at Siberia rather than right.

I have heard stories from old boys in Suffolk pubs with greasy flat caps that fit into ridges in their heads. Their trousers are belted with bailer twine and coats held fast by hemp rope tied in a knot that requires a specific gene to understand how to secure it. They have mentioned ‘ogans, sweat lodges, blessed ways, and then looked furtive, glancing to either side.

I return home to the watery, winter, Anglian sun setting across the winter Anglian fields. Still the glass is now half full and rising.

An aside for those brave enough to attempt the festive XWD.

Additional clues, it being the season of good cheer, cryptic parts only.

12 – Woody plant with child, soldier?

18- It’s difficult to blink

20 – You may be on the right lines, sounds like it.

The Shortest Day.

A great time of the year for me! Perhaps that is why I am wide awake at 5 am. Better than xmas for a kid, the shortest day of the year. Dear god! East Anglia is such a terrible place.

The view on the way home with papers, crosswords and other comforts at the years turning.

A trip to Titchwell to avoid the ‘Xmas Thang’. I am greeted by a pair of swans heading straight for me like F16s. Having checked me over they wheel away, satisfied that I am no jihadi. Following the line of telescopes I catch a Marsh Harrier, I think. Then to the beach!

Twitchers snapped!

Do you want to see my mussels?

Plodding towards the car I am struck by the skeins of geese, flights of ducks and swans looking for a night’s bed and breakfast. Clouds of smoke, long and twisting against a grey sky. When they wheel the line of sight changes, the birds disappear from view. Turning again, they reappear to take their place in the great order of things. Lagyalo!

Sherry and minced pie charts!

Just when you thought it was safe to break out the sherry and mince pies.

Open Democracy has a very scary article by Ann Pettifor.

Globalisation: Sleepwalking to Disaster!

One of the least understood, but potentially most lethal financial products they have engineered - away from the regulatory scrutiny of central bankers and finance ministries - is called a credit default swap (CDS). In reality, they are not "swaps", but a form of insurance.....

The International Swaps and Derivatives Association, in its most recent biannual survey (covering the second half of 2007) assessed the total notional amounts of CDSs outstanding at $45.5 trillion. This staggering figure is about twice the value of the United States stock market, and three times the value of the gross domestic product of the US ($13 trillion).

If you find these figures difficult to believe, let alone understand, I would suggest some holiday reading:- Cityphylia in the LRB by John Lanchester. (Thanks to John Naughton's blog for the link and suggestion)

Damn! I've just had my first mince pie and I thought it was Xmas.
Wrong again!
Very scary numbers.
Now where is that sherry?

Boiled Head

It’s a long story but the moans of this particular boiled head (slap head is so…violent!) reminded me of the time when the old ticker gave us all a fright. In the middle of Cantabria I was dispatched to see an ancient Spanish cardiologist at the local polyclinic. Excellent service! We chatted about this and that and he asked some questions and gave some advice.

Did I drink?

Shuffle, cringe, squirm. Yes I did! What did I drink.? Red wine…

Of course, no, but did I drink alcohol. Whisky, spirits…? No. Good.

I must walk, yes it is cold in the winter but I must walk. If it is very cold I must put a newspaper between my chest and my shirt. It will be fine. El Pais is usually good!

The tastelessness of wolves.

Homelessness and housing!
Haven't we come a long way since Cathy came home

We all know the story of the three little piggies.

So, to take the curly tail further.

Along came a man, with a wolf. He answered to the name of Al. He had a stocky frame and a broad nose. Occasionally, but not in polite company, he grunted. In polite company he merely sighed! The wolf was a sweetie with big yellow teeth and a wicked sense of humour.

The first pig offered to introduce Al and his wolf to Little Red Riding Hood’s (LRRH) granny. She had a room in her home; for 400 sovs they could have the room, a bath once a week and go outside in the woods if nature called. There was no access to the kitchen but there was a McOndos at the entrance to the forest. Al took it; he had no choice. He did have the 1600 sovs deposit for the month, and the deal was done.

Granny got weaker and weaker because of the pollution from the pig factory in the heart of the forest. Al and the wolf looked after her as best as they could, after their 16 hour shifts at the pig factory, but to no avail. She faded away and eventually Al and the wolf were evicted by the property developers who offered LRHH 1 million sovs to allow them to create a rustic holiday village. Naturally enough this had a value in excess of 100 million sovs from the word go!

Al said what do we do now, the wolf smiled, LRRH said "Jings I canna be doing with this." and went off to the bank.

So, the second pig offered Al and his wolf a room. 600 sovs a week, fair share of the kitchen and bathroom, outside loo, lovely views of the municipal recycling dump, and all the methane you can breathe. Al took it; he had no choice. He did have the 2400 sovs deposit, after a fashion, and the deal was done.
Al worked to get the money for the rent. An uphill struggle as they say.The wolf watched and waited as wolves do, it’s in their nature.

Times were good. Al had enough to pay the rent, feed himself, the wolf and go down the pub. Time marched on.

Along came a pig called Credit Crunch (CC) he was wild wacky and lotsa fun. He offered Al ‘A DEAL’ 2000 sovs! A little bit extra for the holiday, festival, wolves…...

The wolf growled, CC jumped, but he clinched the deal! So, Al now had the uphill and a little bit more. Well you can imagine; not a happy story.

Especially as the pig factory had to close. Damn those economic cycles! Don’t you just hate it when they do that?

So, there’s Al. Nowhere to go, no home, nothing to do and no sovs to do it with. The wolf still looked pretty sanguine, as wolves do, even though it is going to be a hard winter.

As they shuffled through the woods, somewhat downcast, Al and the wolf met Da Guy!

“Hello!” said Al.

“WHATEVER !” said Da Guy.

Al said he was sorry and the wolf grinned, after a fashion. No! Da Guy said that it was 13 down, eight letters,

‘Where VAT is applied regardless’

nice one.

The wolf said that Bunthorne can be such a bugger!

They moved on quickly, Al had other things to think about.

Da Guy called after them and asked if there was anything he could do.

“Not unless you can dig me, and the wolf, out of a hole, give us some sovs, and put a roof over our heads!?” said Al.

“Sorry,” said Da Guy, “ain’t got a shovelbut. How about an affordable loan and an affordable place to rent and a place for you and woolfie to work?”

“Don’t patronise me.”

said wolf.

Al asked how he could pay for this. Did it involve signing away parts of his body, the rights to his first born plus 16 hours a day of hard labour?

“No. Just work down at the community woodland coop.”

“Think about it!”

“We’ve thought about it.” said wolf.

“Where does he sign?”

“On a piece paper, usually at the bottom.” said Da Guy.

The wolf thought humans could be such a pain.

In praise of Capitalism?

Sometimes, even wild eyed, hate filled, pinkos like myself have to stand back and mutter, sotto voce, that capitalism is awesome. In the midst of dreadful conflict it does restore one's faith in inhumanity!

An article in Open Democracy makes this point very clear with the following claim-

In 2001, the last year of the Taliban government in Afghanistan, the production of heroine was seventy-four metric tonnes; in 2006, under the nominal control of the US-led "coalition of the willing", the production of heroin in Afghanistan reached 6,100 metric tonnes.

Faced with such productivity what can one say but 'Our Ford'!

Better 2 - Do Things Better

I mentioned that I had started reading a book by Atul Gawande

Better. A Surgeons Notes on Performance

Worth ordering from the library, at least if you think about what you do and want to do it a bit better without too much effort, ehem, maybe not the last bit!

In an afterword he suggests that becoming a positive deviant is a good thing and you can make a start by:

- Asking an unscripted question;

- Not complaining;

- Counting something, something you are interested in;

- Writing something;

- Changing - look for opportunities to be an early adopter.

So I expect to see you Do Things Better! (DTB)

Your pre-Christmas resolution.
Why wait to the New Year, it’s so middle of the bell curve.

From mice to pigs.

The best laid schemes o' mice an' men

Gang aft agley

You’ll forgive me if I sound like Chris out of Northern Exposure groaning away on the good old kay-Bear but 'The Rabbi' (Burns) did appear to have an insight here.

I was hooked by the link to the Open Democracy article.

As a practising moneylender and property speculator I was shocked to learn that the fruits of such positive activity could be used to such ill effect. But then why should I be.

Hey, if de big guys can do wrong den why can’t de liddle guys.

More evidence of the ripe fruits of capitalism, if any were needed, in a Grauniad article on banks' use of charitable trusts. I particularly like the idea that when caught with hands in the cookie jar the big, bad, old bear told the charity one thing and the newspaper another, allegedly!

And finally a suggestion for a tank without taint!

Saudi free petrol! Is any other particularly clean? You've got to start somewhere.

Not sure if it is possible or even if it would be popular but I still enjoy a good old campaign.

I (think) I remember reading Hunter S. writing about a campaign organised by LBJ to discredit a fresh faced, honest looking, clean as a whistle, young opponent in Texas.

Let’s put it about that he f**** pigs!

His campaign manager, who presumably was forever washing his hands when he wasn’t handing out dollar bills and promissory notes, could not understand it. Even given his personal powers of persuasion and a large war chest, no one, not even Ladybird, was going to believe said opponent f***** pigs. LBJ’s reply was classic.

Course they ain't but we're going to have ourselves some fun watchin' him deny it!

Better

If you had told me even 2 years ago I would be inspired by a book subtitled :-

A Surgeons Notes on Performance

I might have demurred.

However, the book by Atul Gawande has given me a bit of a lift and a few things to think about in the money lending and property speculation business!

Have a look for yourselves.

Of course there are prescriptions.

Three things, (Tres cosas, siempre tres cosas!) which influence performance in medicine.

Maybe they apply elsewhere!

-Diligence

-To do ‘right’ (like that one, easy peasy!)

-Ingenuity.

Cooking the tea, ok dinner to you folk, tonight I was inspired by brother Bach’s sonatas and partitas. I suggested to goodladywife (GLW) that although the man himself might be regarded as a bit of a dry old stick, cerebral, mathematical, repetitive and so on, he could touch you in the humanity department! It is something I have come to gradually over the years. Glad I did too.

Pre-Christmas Shopping

Scooting about in Big Market Town, which is really quite small, I had to go into Waterwell's Bookshop. I am much more a creature of libraries as our many regular readers will know! However, needs must and the devil drives.

Having made my purchase, a present for a colleague, and secreted it about my person I was hovering by the door waiting for the tide of pre-christmas shoppers to subside so I could limp from the building. A woman of uncertain age and social background flounced into the shop and demanded at the top of her voice,

'Ave you got any funny books about, er, er, senior moments!

I slipped out of the door and jotted down the statement verbatim. My memory is not what it was.

Our friends in the north

Christopher Harvie has an interesting piece in Open Democracy

"Choosing Scotland's future": a compressed history.

I leave you to ponder that from the man who used Deep Fried Hillman Imp for a book title.

He has, in the article, used the phrase sub-prime minister. I’m sure that Gordy finds it very wounding! I’ve not seen it previously. Who knows it may catch on!

For all I know, one of the cabinet wags may have attached it to Gordy's back on a post it note