Pay up and shame the devil?!

As my mother used to say when it was no longer possible to maintain the balance of payments in our favour.

I believe the largest debtor in the world is facing a few tricky moments in the trousering department. Could be serious but you can see quite clearly how the old Republican and Tea Party have taken up residence in Dagenham, one stop beyond Barking (not that old chestnut again... Ed.) Powerful article by Mr Krugman of the NYT about the need for imbalance and a nice little interactive graphic from those NYT readers who wished to comment on the crisis(Crisis, what crisis? as someone once famously didn't say!) Draw your own conclusions about that and NYT readers from the shades and distribution. Enjoy; as they say but maybe not for much longer.
(You're getting too transatlantic in the old textual department, cloyingly so, if I may mention it...Ed. Also could we not be a bit more upbeat, positive, cheerful even!)

The new tricks of the old dog

I have mentioned before the numbers of mobile phones in the world, allegedly.
I revisited the lost socks department of my brain after reading this article in Th'Observer.

The involvement of the Grameen Foundation seems very positive and the implications for development absolutely sock loosening. The system Grameen are building relies on community knowledge workers (CKW) who are paid. Hmm... Perhaps we should have few of those.

Interesting contrast then - The old dog and bone. For hacking or accelerated development to the point where we don't have to watch small children starving to death before our eyes.
You choose!

Orphans of the storm

Moving on from the comment that it is all Greek to me.
The excellent Nick Shaxton provides a report of a view from within Greece in his Treasure Islands blog and a link to the Pitsirikos Blog.

Read mark and inwardly digest as they say but in doing this notice a comment:-

Read the newspapers of your country, search on the web and you will see that Greece’s bankruptcy is an orphan.

There are so many poor orphans whereas good fortune has many parents!

Appropriate Conversations

In the excitement yesterday of a statement of regret, protests of innocence and claims of giving a young offender a second chance to prove himself the question of the prime minister's meeting with the representatives of certain News Organs was raised in parliament. Along with the flannel, obfuscation and general verbiage I noticed the phrase appropriate conversations in the subsequent exchanges.

In the dark recesses of my poor brain there is the memory of the phrase criminal conversations. I believe it was used as shorthand for the sort of activity that married couples might engage in, particularly when they were not married to each other if you will pardon the indelicacy.

As a matter of public benefit I think the nation should rise up as one person and provide Mr Cameron with a clear idea of what an appropriate conversation is.

Good morning Mr M!

G'day Rubber Man.

Have you had your breakfast?

(After a long pause) Can't say I have.

Well, let's not keep you from it. I believe they do wonderful drop scones in Alice Springs this time of year!

New Finnish Grammar

I have been reading recently about memory and identity.
New Finnish Grammar by Diego Marani, translated by Judith Landry, takes as its protagonist a rescued sailor who has suffered a blow to the head. He has no memory, no language, and no identity when he is picked up from the quayside near the railway station at Trieste. A series of coincidences leads a doctor involved with his recovery to assume that the man is a Finn. The protagonist accepts this and begins to learn Finnish. He pursues his identity in Finland. This is at the end of the second world war.

Well worth reading. A sample from page 77, about half way through the book:-

Each day meant starting again from scratch. The moment my attention lapsed, the moment I allowed my mind to wander, all the good work would be undone. The words stayed with me, my knowledge of the language became stronger and more rooted, but any sense of truly belonging to that place would have vanished. I had a distinct suspicion that I was running headlong down the wrong road. In the innermost recesses of my unconscious I was plagued by the feeling that, within my brain, another brain was beating, buried alive.

Some of us don't have the excuse of blunt force trauma.

Questions, questions, questions

What did they know; when did they know it and what did they do when they knew it?
In the meantime one to follow -

2.30 at Westminster: The Berkshire Hunt

Runners
1. The Dirty Digger.
An old nag with plenty of form.
2. Jimmy the Peanut.
Sired by the Dirty Digger but claimed by some in the stables to be flawed.
3. Rebbe the Red.
A chestnut filly with staying power and a mean streak. Bad for riders and other nags.

Going to Church on Sundays

A grey day, a bad back in our stout party and a busy week saw us engage with more reflective and meditative activities on Sunday.

A local actor while not breaking a leg, put her foot in it! The Torygraph records the details of her accidental discovery, a further set of vaults at St. Mary's Church, Redgrave. These had been investigated and through the use of small cameras we were able to see them on Sunday.

Since we were in the area we paid a visit to the other St Mary at Wortham. Not so worthy and in a much worse condition but, as in all things, with compensations. Look at this little fellow. I'm sure he has kept heathen and unbelieving children quiet for over a hundred years.

He doesn't make a personal appearance in Psalm 104 but in the general menagerie of wild animals given drink from the gushing springs I guess he has a walk on!

Wyken

Machaca

Fine tunes after a relaxed picnic at Blackthorpe Barn.
Machaca performed in what is to be the last series of a 19 year run of music at the barn. Sad but a great concert for us to end the tradition.

Young musicians playing new music.
As an audience we were just a bit too old to get up and jig about, sadly!

You can't leave them alone for a minute!

A series of posts, I believe they are called tweets (how sweet), from a council meeting in Suffolk.
James Hargrave as reported in Suffolk Wordblog. A more considered view here.

Honestly, I go away for a few days and return to chaos, anarchy and goings on that would not be out of place in a brewery! I must say Cllr Patricia O'Brien looks like a fine filly for a Chairman(!) of Suffolk CC. I admit to feelings I haven't experienced since I lost my heart to the principal boy in the pantomime at Salford Hippodrome many, many years ago!

Suffolk is so bracing!

We have been off to the coast, Aldeburgh, for some R&R.
The Cinema Gallery had an interesting exhibition THE 1928 HOUSE by Tassie Russell and Susan Brinkhurst. The subject is:-

... a house from the 1920s which remains in 2011 exactly as it was when it was first built. William and Rachel Newson moved into 107 Saxmundham Road in 1929 when their baby daughter Joan was just a few days old and Joan continued to live there happily in her totally familiar surroundings until her death in 2009.

Fascinating! Tassie Russell said she had taken some of the photos with a pin-hole camera and long exposure; they are marvelous.

Old books, new tricks

I've just emailed a link to a colleague who lives in the back of beyond, like ourselves, and would like to read the Grauniad every day. There is a certain electronic book reader, others are available, which will allow him to do this.

Correction, we live beyond the back of the beyond. Young persons have been warned by parents, clerics, newspaper vendors and the authorities not to approach the village. Poor souls are lost forever as, dazzled by our sharpened pitchforks, they are lured into the great abyss but I digress.

I was looking at the Grauniad electronically this morning when I read this article on the charm of battered books. David Barnett claims:-

I'm not sure how long I've had that Shirley Jackson book. Ten years at least; probably 15. Maybe more. I've read it perhaps half a dozen times. And each time I take it from the shelf, another sheaf of pages has come loose. The glue in the binding has deteriorated some more. The spine is scuffed and ripped, the cover is fading by degrees. But I could no more consider getting rid of it than I could put a bullet in the head of a geriatric dog.

Books, volume and existence of, is a matter of conflict in Buddhist Pizza Towers.
Herself has an extensive library, in a range of conditions in a number of locations. I have always made gentle protestations as to the order, convenience, location and condition of her library.
I am now resigned to this and will undergo an extensive period of re-education.

Two books good, two hundred books better!

Nasty Niffs

Would the last Murdoch to leave the country please use the air freshener!

The theory of everyday resistance.

Hardly going to have the Murdoch/Brooks shaking in their boots but enjoyable non the less, cryptically speaking.

Evening Primrose

Evening Primrose 21:42 Mid Suffolk 8 July, 2011, no flash!

Trudging

In these times of high drama( the Parish Council have emailed us about the state of our hedge; accusations of hacking can not be far behind) it is nice to have a good steady plod to read about.
Luminous Coast by Jules Pretty has provided that.

I enjoyed it, not wildly but enthusiastically enough to encourage me to switch some of my coastal allegiance from the west to the east. It has also made me consider exploration over the summer which may be no bad thing!

There is a nice running (Ed... shouldn't that be walking?) gag about the lack of snow, skis and the like being mentioned by onlookers as the author, using walking poles, makes his way.

Another one from our recently saved Library Services.

Oh Yes!

The end of the beginning or the beginning of the end?

Never has so much been done by so few with so little.
It's official! Read all abart it!

Suffolk Libraries amongst the worst financed

I may have mentioned before that back in the day I worked with a colleague who claimed not to understand things. He understood why Baroness Dagenham wanted to kill off local government. What he could not understand was why she wanted to torture it to death?

What do you want to be when you grow up?

I've always had a yen to rob banks!
(note to prosecuting authorities; I have always wanted a decent set of teeth, all my own hair, a good singing voice, a deft hand at the the old scribbling business, a warm and attractive personality. You're getting carried away again...Ed)

Maybe now is the time to go rob a few Swiss banks.

Just an idle thought.