The Old Bull and Johnson

 I have in my hand a copy of the Beer Drinker's Companion by Frank Baillie. It was published in 1973 and my copy is dated 1974. It is a comprehensive guide to the beers that were available at the time and, full disclosure, of which I took refreshment. In addition, I own a well used Edinburgh Pub Guide - The Lore o' Reekie's Howffs and Hostelries - Published in 1976 by ' Pubs Board' (nothing to do with drinking I suppose...Ed?) Edinburgh University Students Publication Board since you ask. The Star Tavern ( 63 in the book, now the Star Bar.) was my local when I lived in Edinburgh. Very local I lived about 5 metres verically from the front door. The point is that despite my current  state of sobriety I know that of which I write and so...

 It is with great sadness, therefore, that I have to announce the death of the Pub.

Having survived years of religious persecution, a reletless bombing campaign by the Luftwaffe, the IRA and various rightwing and homophobic individuals the PUB was finally dealt the Coup de Grace by a Mr Boris Johnson, a Prime Mincer, who is described being as fit as an undertaker's dog, possibly.

The PUB RIP 2020

 

 

Crime and Publishment

 I might have mentioned before that I enjoy a good thriller and at this time sinking into a tale of murder, mystery and mayhem offers a measure of reassurance that all is well with the world. 

 I have recently finished 'A Simple Story' by Leonardo Sciascia. Just 40 pages of pure joy. It is a tale of Sicily that manges to capture the land, the language, criminality and society without descending into excess or cliche. Andrea Camilleri has made a great job of writing about ordinary decent criminals with that backdrop. Sciascia nails it for ordinary decent organised criminals,  and how the psychology of that thing of theirs denatures society just as the sulphurous atmosphere of the island corrodes the copper pans in a kitchen. Great stuff. Off you go then, order it from your local library!

America! Politics! They do things differently there!

 Dave Winer made the comment below on his Blog:-

Joe Biden could stand in the middle of Fifth Avenue and shoot Donald Trump and I would still vote for him.

Not sure I would agree with that and not only because I don't have a pig in the race, or a vote anyway.

Dave Winer, who he? Well he's blogging today after his blog has been running for: 26 years, 0 months, 28 days, 10 hours, 0 minutes, 1 second.  I guess he is a blogger amongst other things. 

(So we need to get a shift on then... Ed) I have only the slightest knowledge of relativity but I'm pretty sure we can't subject the poor man to time dilation, possibly.

 

 

 

We just popped out

 Haven't really had a break from idleness this year so we just popped out. See Holiday Snaps below.

Somewhere warm and peaceful, we thought.

Gaia, Gaia, planet's on fire!

A merry little tune which I have linked before still there after 2 years and still gets the old wooden leg moving.  

Nice one Olie Julian

History as Horse Trading.

 Rewriting History 101

An interesting story from the Grauniad - link 

We offer as part of our Buddhist Pizza Editorial Services the following:-

Gerald Cohen was a central asian businessperson who was renown for his horsepersonship and the wide reach of his network of sales representatives. He ranged far and wide from his home in a humble yurt, named after his nana, Magnolia,  building one of the first worker collectives in history.  Those who traded with him claimed that, though he drove a hard bargain, he was always firm but fair.
CPPRC

 To turn to sweeter thoughts have you ever run across the Be Good Tanya's? Link 

(No I have to admit I have not. I believe I am a more careful driver than yourself ...Ed) 

Beep Beep

Lost in Translation No 92 in a Series.

 I may have mentioned Talking Politics before. Link 

The latest edition, 279 One-Term Presidents, contains a number of interesting ideas and discussion points together with a rare moment of levity in the post match analysis of 'Two nearly bald men fighting over a comb' contest. Apparently the Japanese Broadcaster had real difficulty with the translation of the proceedings as at many points 3 people were talking at once. So a fairly difficult time was had by all, especially with the rendition of the word 'Shitshow', used by commentators on mainstream US TV, into polite Japanese. 

(I hope we would never use language like that on this Blogg. Are you sure it should not be in quotes and italics behind  parenthetical disinfections with suitably placed asterisks...Ed?)

Absolutely!

HT to Memex 1.1 for this little gem, a real autumnal joy. 

As the man said Mother Nature spilled her box of crayons.

 

Two Nearly Bald Men Fighting Over A Comb

 If you want to take your mind off things then sometimes you just have to get up and dance. Link

And when he is in the mood Liam Og O'Flynn is your man. Besides who could resist the title -The Drunken Landlady! (Nice day for it. Might I suggest that there is more to our present troubles  than peluquery and terpsichory. Maybe peace, justice, and the well being of nations play a part? ...Ed!)

Shut up and dance!

Black Lives Matter

A family member pointed to this article in the Grauniad.

I was very grateful to rekindle memories of youthful cricket.

Learie Constantine was a hero of mine ever since I was able to lift a bat and book. I believe he appeared in a charity match at my local cricket ground in Salford. I was not there but I did grace the ground myself once.  My contribution to the sporting conflict which I believe was a friendly was confined to plying the opposition's fielders with pints on the boundary while I waited for my undistinguished turn at the tail end. Neither activity was edifying or effective.  Another man I admired Terry, recounted the following story about the charity match involving Learie. The match started and progressed with good humor and when Learie took the crease, a deal of excitement. Since he had by then  spent more time in the House of Lords than on the pitch he was not on top form. It was understandable, therefore, that the first ball he faced took the edge of his bat and headed in a gentle arc towards the gloves of the very competent keeper. The keeper was not only very able but also astute. He was momentarily blinded by the sun, which witnesses later claimed was directly behind him, and put the dolly down. Sir Learie went on to make a good score which was greatly enjoyed and cheered on by the crowd and a grand day was had by all. According to my friend Terry, that is. He could be a most unreliable witness!

Light Houses.

I may have mentioned before - I belong to a book group. We read crime novels. During this period of LockJaw we read the books as best we may and comment by email. Not the same but hey all things change.

The latest offering by M L Stedman - The Light Between Oceans, is not the usual. While Rosie, our convenor (our Leader, our Great Helmsperson, the Sun in our Hearts) avoids the cruder shootemups she uses the Library stock and this sadly puts limits on what she can offer us and what we may want to read and discuss. It was a real breath of fresh air!

Setting the scene with the body of a dead man, and a live baby in a boat started the plot at a high level. The move back in time to 1918 and the aftermath of war was a deft sharpening of the plot, obviously the marriage of Tom to Isobel and the subsequent miscariage refined my interest. The plot certainly thickened with at least one more miscariage and stillbirth. I couldn’t at that point make up my mind that the characters were made deliberately wooden or just not fully drawn. The story developed well, I feel, to fill them out and the overall setting of the lighthouse appealed to me. I have been a sucker for an Australian thriller lately. 
Tom and Isabel have both experienced great trauma and that may be the skeleton on which the story hangs but it is also the framework for the horror which Hannah has to face with the loss of a child and husband Frank.  In an interview the author claimed that the  story just emerged and I can believe that. The slow pace of its development was one of the aspects I found attractive. She claims they evolved as  “they were who they were, they did what they did, and those actions carried with them certain consequences.”  A key phrase that defined the story  was   ...Love pulled out of shape…  The author said that  towards the end she realised that she  was pulling punches where Tom was concerned, and she had to stop protecting him from his fate. I thought the treatment of the post 1918 world and the difficulty of communication physically and emotionally woven through the telling was a joy. Very, very different from previous suggestions but I found it very satisfying. I have already recommended it to Messers. All and  Sundry.

I’ve been reading reviews as a defense against the idea that this covid stuff might go on for ages. Suggestions I picked up from  NYRB include Leonardo Sciascia’s Day of the Owl, Jean-Patrick Manchette’s Fatale. Also Sand, by the German writer Wolfgang Hernndorf. I’ve really enjoyed Sciascia’s stories  and intrigues in the past so I might look them up!

The NYRB review also rated Dorothy B. Hughes on a par with Patricia Highsmith and Raymond Chandler and suggested - In a Lonely Place  and  The Expendable Man. Both sound good.

(Lots of reading then, not much writing...Ed)

Lines from an Old Man's Forehead

Yesterday we heard from Boris the Bungler. Be alert he said. We said your country needs Lerts, but maybe not in Scotland.
On a much lighter and brighter note, we celebrated the first birthdays of twins in the family. It was a lovely occasion. Babies were dandled, cakes with one candle on were produced and a good time was had by all over the interweb with some technomagic called Zoom. (...Other interwebs and technomagicals are available ... Ed)

I guess we are all becoming Baby Zoomers (...Boom, Boom.)

Chris Goodall - What we need to do now

For a zero carbon economy.

Another good E- one from the Quarantinies in the Library at SLIPS. Coronated or not.
I have been impressed by the email that Chris Goodall sends round every Sunday evening to highlight the items from the week's news which have caught his eye concerning energy, its use, generation and especially the ideas that would lead to a ‘zero carbon world’. This book is a drawing together of his thoughts for such by 2050! I’m often delighted by books thinking, sometimes quite wrongly, yes that’s the way to do it. However, this seems to set out a way through the woods or out of the  coal mine or capping the oil well, if you must.  Hard to fault any of the ideas except perhaps the projects for geo engineering which I guess I would not be around to see or see any of the problems that they might cause. The ideas on a carbon tax look good to me but any tax system would be bent and twisted by the gougers, avoiders and evaders while, as always, those who could afford it the least would be affected the most. Two short legs if I may be so bold. There is much room to roll out energy efficiency on a very large scale I suppose taxation bears on that directly. I do like his analysis of the threadbare insulation and energy saving programmes of yore. Maybe not worth throwing another log on the fire! A radical upgrade of older  properties north of 50k seems like killing 3 birds with one stone, excellent, pardon my enthusiasm. So much of our future lives will depend on the interweb and its infrastructure, efficiency and availability but we do need to guard against creating an alternative energy devouring monster of server farms, cloud computing and energy expensive elements.

Strange appearance on a walk.

A person lying lengthways on a log! Discreetly positioned but noticeable nonetheless.
Do I cough? In this age of corona virus probably not.
Should I offer assistance - is it needed, would it be wanted? The person is swaddled against the cold and not in distress unless they have popped their clogs but considering their position they would have to have been frozen on the log. I turn my back and consider the field before me, some birds and a general feeling of a cold grey end to winter.

The trees have suffered greatly over the last month; flooding and windfall damage. I have an itchy feeling. I could have turned my back on a mass murderer or no good boyo, or whoever? Too much Nordic Noir? In fact as I finally put my bins away and turned to the path again I was able to see that the 'cadaver' was a woman and I offered a wave with, Hi! She explained that she was waiting for the red kite that has been sighted around the village to fly over so that she could video it. No luck so far. We established we were both from the village and that I was familiar with red kites. I wished her well and apologised for disturbing her meditation and bird watching!
Our very own Log Lady.

So if you wanted to start a fight in an empty hall?

I was in the smallest room in the house contemplating BJ's rearrangement of the wheelchairs on the deck of the Titanic when a thought hit me. Why, in the name of all that is good and holy would you sack Julian Smith from his post in the land of the Jaffas and hand it over to that eejit Brandon Lewis. It is alleged that BJ has been heard to mutter, under his breath, f*** the Irish. I have heard many of my country persons express similar views with a range of expletives of greater or lesser obscenity and forcefulness. When I discussed the matter with an acquaintance who I expected to favour the Union he stated that he would be glad to see the back of the red hand.
Of course! Slaps head in theatrical gesture. Pull a fig leaf of democracy over the nether parts of the six counties and you have shot of the whole bally business. A quick border poll. No more whingeing Taigs,  no more grasping Jaffas saying no, no, no, did we say no yet? So you did. And payback time for the peas processed  in the dogs BREXIT. Sorted, done and dusted, dead in the ditch!  I imagine DC would be drooling down his Jilly Jones in delight. His frappuccino would frappeth over. (Err. Is that not a bit too suggestively graphic...Ed?) Anyroads, if you ever needed someone  with size 13s to kick his way through the shamrock unknowing his Essex arse from his Tory elbow Brandon is your man.
So a word to the wise. If Arlene and Mary Lou could find a way to work together on this one it could run and run. Just think of the fun that they could have. Squeezing the likes of Brandon, BJ and DC until their squips peaked!

It's Gota Be Goats

Marina Hyde Nails it again!
Goats, The Government of all the Talentless!

Suella Braverman is mesmerically dim... suggesting that she could not only be outperformed at the dispatch box but that she could  be outperformed by the dispatch box. Or indeed any other item of furniture in the Palace of Westminster. 

A bit ad feminem, but still, nice one Marina!

And for those of you that require visual aids can I recommend a fella who appeared previously in this blog goat link.

(Will he be asking for repeat fees, or PHWhat... Ed!)

That was a rather fine goat curry we enjoyed last night. Thank the lord that we have not been infected by any of this veganitry!

Grey

There is always some colour in the garden even on days when the grey mist descends. Points of pink sparkle on the grey red stems, the gloom giving them a contrast that sits on the retina. I reread, at the LRB's prompting, an article by Kathleen Jamie  highlighting the importance of the dark in a world that seems only to equate light with good.

Winter of Discontinence

Well Then!
Keith's Mum said why don't we all go out and Sell them a Tory, or it could have been Tell them a Story.

Who can explain, for example, what goes on in what might loosely be called Boris Johnson’s mind?

A direct quote from John Naughton In Th'Observer. May not be original of course but caused quite a chuckle. ( See To err is human – is that why we fear machines that can be made to err less? Today)
A wintry little scene below to cheer us up.

To the Urns Chapter 99

I'm shaken by hard evidence that my family, my own brood, my kin, even, possibly, my kith, are participating in a vile traduction of our leader, our great helms person, the sun in our ...(Jaysus are you back on that old thing again... Ed)
I am talking about something which is vital for this nation Which nation...Ed?)
Our sense of decorum in defeat, you eejit. The intervention of this facebooky, twittery, whats uppy, socialistic media thingy, in our sacred duty to elect her majesty's government of all the twatts (GOATTS)
Recently I had a whatsupity thingy showing BJ in an England Rugby Shirt saying that he has been a great fan of the game ever since he saw Garry Lineker score a century at Wimbledon.
Did you hear Nick Clegg has taken a job with Mark Zuckerberg?
There's me bus.
Choir practice tonight.

Anyone There?

(...Hello! Is there anyone there?...Ed)
Ah! There you are. I was wandering. Good to see you again. Nice of you to drop in. Tea?
(...Two months, nearly, without sight, sound or sniff. I was beginning to worry to say nothing of the back pay! There are laws of employment, I'm told, contractual obligations...Ed)
Good of you to ask. I have been well and enjoying life. A brief holiday, most agreeable. Has much happened while I've been away- births, deaths, marriages -resignations, elections  -plague, famine and war, rumours of war? So, not much change there then. Herself deplores starting every other sentence with so, so I thought I would give it a try. Can't have the Language Police rule our lives completely. So, I think it rather suits me. Takes twenty years off my prose if I am not mistaken!
I brought you back a little something. I know I shouldn't but you can't keep real life out of your work, I know. No need to say anything.

I am creating a substantial cultural legacy in these parts.  I sing regularly in a little ensemble, the Barn Owls, We entertain in the local villages, quite a creative footprint now if you ask.
(Don't barn owls screech?...Ed)
There's the phone. Have to go, could be La Scala, they've been after me for weeks.
Soave sia il vento as we say in these parts!

Buckets and Books and Urns.

A villager confessed to me recently, on his election at the local urns,  that it was one of the things that he could now tick off on his Bucket List.  I'm not sure that I have ever had such a thing but if I did it is now, much reduced, to a Book List. Living the dream one book at a time.

To my eternal shame it is the first time I have ever voted for the blue corner. It did contribute to preventing the black shorts getting in. My reasoning was that politics is the art of the possible and it is possible to vote against. The English are not very good at doing that.
It seems we are going to miss the opportunity to obtain a postal vote in the forthcoming Europole because the  local Gauleiters have bollixed getting the postal vote out in reasonable time! And now for something completely different:-

A calming little picture!

Lying on Duty

Mother of God!
As the Grauniad so clearly has it today...
Quote of the week

“No one wants to lie, but part of our duty is to uphold public trust and sometimes that means having a non-exclusive relationship with the truth.”

Gill Bigelow (she of the razor sharp stiletto heels and rather vague moral compass) demonstrates a duplicity that could put even current politicians to shame.
Line of Duty 28/4/19