Artichokes

Architects have been a source of annoyance for me in the past. You could never get the b***ers to do what you wanted, as the 'client', and as for doing it to time and within budget... I am old enough, however,  to realise that the antipathy was probably mutual.

I really enjoyed the Architect's Apprentice by Elif Shafak. The link gives the review in the Grauniad which may entice you or not but I have spent the last week with Sinan and Jahan whirling about my head and have fallen asleep with the sights sounds and smells of Istanbul infusing my brain. The construction of transports of delight.

Do No Harm

Stories of life death and brain surgery may not be your cup of tea but I read Henry Marsh's book, Do No Harm, for a variety of reasons. I came across neurotmesis  in the eponymous chapter 14.  Having herself returned to me after life saving surgery, but not alas the function of her lower left leg, I was interested to see it defined in another context.  Mr Wikipedia has it as a peripheral nerve injury, the most severe, which in most cases cannot be completely recovered from even with surgical repair. It led me to the thought that - Life is so precious and hangs by such a frail thread that when it is cut.

Marsh seems like an interesting cove. I listened to his Private Passions last year and I think they are still available, as a downloady mp3 thing in good old you kay at least. On p195, in chapter 18 charmingly titled Carcinoma, he relates moments in the days before  his mother dies. He is, with his sister, caring for her. She is carried to the bathroom, washed and tenderly treated in the full knowledge of the three of them that the end is near. He describes their love for her in such terms that even a brick would weep...

"It felt quite easy and natural for us both, I think, despite our intense emotions. It's not that we felt anxious - the three of us knew she was dying - I suppose what we felt was simply intense love, a love quite without ulterior motive, quite without the vanity and self-interest of which love is so often the expression."

(Are there any perks for us in promoting this Marsh fellow, private brain surgery or what...Ed?)

Herself still has a very strong right leg which she needs to exercise! 

Dimpened

Go, a game I used to play, is under attack from DeepMind's project AlphaGo. Google's official blog on this is given here and  other reports are out there. However, John Naughton has a perceptive piece in Th'Observer.  Different take on the "OMG the robots are taking over we're dooomtd I telt thee, dooomtd" that usually comes with these tales. Fits in nicely with the wrecking ball image of this piece.

(Oh I see what you did there, DeepMind - dimpened, and here I am wearing my fingers to the bone trying to find the blessed word in the collections of Mr Collins and Mr Chambers... Ed )

I had often wondered why you had fingers of remarkably similar length, still you do have the opposable digits in the right place.

Top Shelf Stuff

Seen in local supermarket, exhibit 1 a photograph ( attached).

Thank god the owners are keeping this out of the reach of the children!
I know that some of you meterosexuals think that this kind of thing is passe. It is a short step from soft core fruit muesli to CRUNCHY GRANOLA. Hard core or what?

(My Da  (god rest his immortal soul) - said that it could only lead to one thing - mastication... Ed)

Does that parenthetical interjection not constitute illegal nesting by your Da in my blog?

A Modest Republican Proposal

As you may well know I am a fan of reading and libraries. I used the LRB archive to winkle out the Uncommon Reader by Alan Bennett. It was a straightforward exercise and well worth the old sub. (Are we getting paid for this ...Ed?) I then started to read. I stopped. Such explosions of laughter, merriment, paroxysms of amusement and general helplessness are injurious to one whose health is, to put it mildly, delicate. Besides I have matters pressing and cannot spare the time at the moment. (Then why in god's name am I having to edit this DRIVEL... Ed?)

However it occurred to me that we could combine national library/book/reading day, whatever you want to call it, with a call for the establishment of the Republic of Britonia. How about organising public readings of the work?

(Two for the price of one... Ed?)

Bogof!

Flights of Fancy

A bright sunny day tempted me to take my nose for a run. The local heath provided exercise and a measure of solitude for myself, various dogs and their owners and assorted family groups. The, relative,  peace was disturbed by a micro lite, or some such, imitating a Singer (sewing machine) with a bad cough going at full belt! But the day was such a delight that it was easy to let it slip by with some grace. I moved from the light into the shadow of the trees to hear the raucous call of a bird. I saw a RookCrow challenge a much bigger bird.  Beyond this a buzzard was taking advantage of rising air to circle above the fracas. Its partner left the RookCrow with a disdainful flap and joined the stately dance. Like unwhirling dervishes they slowly precessed up and away. A ghostly half-moon looked on and down.

Miss Placed in Translation

Interesting project reported in the Grauniad.

Literary travel: around the world in 10 must-read books  Ann Morgan spent a year reading a book from every country in the world – 196 in total.

In the article she picks 10 favourites.
Discussed at the dinner table one of the ten reads - The Ladies are Upstairs, a volume from Grenada.
It  prompted...

 Las mujeres estan arriba...

Until that is I corrected my pronunciation of the island nation!
The project is contained in the website Reading the World

(Conversations at the dinner table is it now...Ed?)

A Seasonal Salmagundi

To compensate in some small measure for the lack of postings.
(Phwaat in god's holy name is a salmagundi...Ed?)
Mr Collins (and others) will with their usual accuracy provide a brief description for those with energy left in their fingertips.

- Thinking about old age & forgetfulness. We will all, no doubt find ourselves in the position of wondering what it is that we wanted to go upstairs for. It is only the realisation that  we are now living in a bungalow indicates we have a problem.

- Told by Hugh Stephenson, the Grauniad Crossword Editor against himself...
 ‘How many times have you made pathetic excuses and tried to shuffle the blame onto someone else? You, sir, are unfit to run a whelk stall. Stand down, please, and let someone with more clout, more guts, more pride and more self-respect take over.’
Now who do we know to whom that could apply, answers please on a postcard to D Cameron!

- Shooting the bries with Pete and Sophie.

- Again the phrase in a book...

"almost her entire family had ended up behind bars"

... had me thinking that the tribe were all in catering. Tell me
 "Did they all work in pubs?"

Late Post

Well a belated good new year to all our readers, yes you at the back!

What have we been up to?

There was, of course, a glut of birthdays.

I'm not sure where the cake came from but...

(Ed... tell me do they make dog biscuits as well?)

Very creepy, very creepy!

The Quality of Silence

Super-Coolio  AWESOME SAUCE

(PHWATT on earth is going on? I see neither sight nor sound of you for over a month and then there is a three word post with the photo of a book... Ed)
Have you had a good holiday yourself? I have to admit the weather has been a bit disappointing. Whenever is it not?
We were reduced, much to our embarrassment, to a sing along with the Grauniad Bank Hol.  Xword!


Aputiak - from the Quality of silence by Rosamund Lipton. An igloo, built swiftly for shelter?

Postliterature

Interesting piece from Oor Pauli on Scribid.

http://www.scribd.com/doc/250612659/Wtf-is-Eleni-Haifa

Particularly like the heading

If you give Frodo Baggins a cellphone The Lord of the Rings becomes a considerably shorter book. 

Perhaps that should be Post Literature - Animal Farm anyone?

I'll just be off to my book group then!

Post Capitalism

I was castigated recently by the acquisitions department of our Library Service. (That must have been painful...Ed)
To continue. I had suggested Post Capitalism by Paul Mason as a suitable volume for the worthy burghers, neo-marxists and no good boyos of the county. A very swift reply advised me that 

 'Our Stock Team have responded, saying that they have ordered a copy of this title for our stock. They added that it is not yet published, and also noted that the correct title has the words elided i.e. Postcapitalism'.

As frequently happens when I am wrong I play out the Philosopher's Gambit in my head as a first defence.
Oh really! I was in fact looking for that book which discusses the role of capitalism in the fencing industry and it's effect on the restraint of beasts after the enclosure of the commons. Of course, silly me, that is by the renowned economic historian Paul E. J. Mason. However, I realised that my gross moral turpitude was compounded not by a lack of elision but a failure to concatenate.

The Grauniad has a wee video of Oor Pauli here. He looks well, Postauntieism seems to suit him.

In other parts of the meja jungle I see the Pinkun has gone east. I hope they retain the Saturday Xwd, one of the few cryptics that I can still do!

We're Younger than that Now

The BFI, whom god preserve, have joined the i madness! There is now a BFiplayer...
This morning, sat with a cup of coffee, I watched an 11 min. short film about the Essex villages of Finchingfield and Great Bardfield in the 30's. Music courtesy of Benji B, the link takes you right there.


A different world, I tell you.

Honourable Friends?

Lots to think about (and do) as a result of reading Honourable Friends by Caroline Lucas.

I attended a celebration of the Life, Loves, Laughs and Liberties of Bob Hall this weekend.
Robert, though I doubt many friends called him that, died earlier this year. He  was an inspiration. He also claimed to have had many fathers and that reversion of scripture(?) was reported in a touching eulogy. Positive stories  emerged in the course of the afternoon, all gave me hope, including the claim  that Bob believed in two things, democracy and that much could be covered by a good coat of paint!

Sometimes, Bob  said, you just need to grab the back of the chair in front of you, stand up, and say what you believe in!
But of course, you also need to organise...

Bob's Organiser's Box

Bob Hall  1923 - 2015

A Spoonful of ...?

You might think the book I have my teeth into at the moment, Swallow This by Joanna Blythman, is a tale of medication in childhood, political obfuscation or unpalatable comestibles. Up to a point Chef Copper, up to a point. The further title, Serving up the Food Industry's Darkest Secrets, gives you more of a clue .
On p92 the description of in store bakeries as tanning salons for products had me choking on my deep fried Mars Bar. According to Joanna it derives from the wit and wisdom of the  Real Bread Campaign. Really our processed food is the great British Fake-Off.

I recognised long ago  that my critical abilities were at the level of being able to read, but not necessarily comment sensibly on, the backs of sauce bottles. I now read them and tremble!

(I've always had a soft spot for sweet and sour prawn balls myself...Ed.)

Pumping Ion

The past few weeks have been taken up with reading The Vital Question by Nick Lane.
The link gives you access to the Grauniad's review by Peter Forbes. I hope your whistle is truly dampened.   I can remember, many years ago reading  Richard Dawkins and thinking that DNA stuff is going to take over the world! Well in many ways this is the story, which I found compelling, of how it did that, possibly.
"It's the energy stupid" as Peter Forbes identifies, but I compress, Of course there is the usual stuff, sex and death and rock!
(Good to see you back; is there not a typo in the title to the post...Ed?)

Nick Who?

Interesting to see the bemused Nate Silver in Panorama waltzed through the seaside, bingo hell, and celtic lands beyond that make up the poor shadow of a nation... (Get on, get on for the love of... First we have a dearth of product then we have more qualifiers in a sentence than the London Marathon...Ed)
I do beg your pardon.
A more interesting analysis is presented on the website 538.
Looking at the figures here, the oft quoted 326 seats needed for a majority resolves into
650 seats less
x seats from non-combatants, Sinn Fein any more?

y from an anti-tory alliance of - Labour (are you sure about that...Ed), SNP, SDLP, Plaid, Green(s) any others out there?

do the math            (( 650-x)/2)) +1 ~ y
Close, very close!

(You could always open a window...Ed)

I would not say I was a great aficionado of defenestration but...

Nota Bene

A sign noted as we passed about the Boddhavista Social Club this Easter Holiday.
Hope you had a good one too.

Well I suspect the worthy burghers of Norwich are glad to see the return, under the Tories, to a more fundamental set of values and plumbing. Victorian Values and Plumbing!

Extra Viginity

Of course I was intrigued by the title of Tom Mueller's book Extra Virginity. (I hope we are not going to be engulfed by a tidal wave of SMUT.  I will, of course, tender my resignation forthwith or with greater emphasis forthwidth... ED!!!)
It relates to the classification of olive oil in the highest category. A qualification  more recognised in the breach than the observance. (ARGHH...ED!) The other end of the quality spectrum is lampante, or lamp oil. The distance between the two leaves much to be desired and this treasure of a book leaves  little to the imagination. Olive oil is the derivative of fruit rather than the extract of seed. It can be produced by mechanical recovery whereas most other oils are chemically extracted by solvents. this has, it is claimed, huge impact on the condition and benefits of the product.  One way of looking at the oil is that it is miracle! You can only feel huge goodwill and gratitude to those who make it, cherish it, protect it and promote it. Be aware though of the opportunities for those who seek to exploit the product, they are legion and the tricks and trucos they employ are many and possibly dangerous.

If you are interested in the book, the oil, or sufficiently curious Truth in Olive Oil is the place for you.

Where are they now:- Rummy, No 93 in a series

I have been attacked, viciously attacked...
(There,  there, sit down on this chair, have some tea, strong tea, maybe a little sugar...Ed)
in an email or two.
(those electrons can be the divi'ls own to shake off, now don't upset yourself...Ed)

I thank you deeply for your concern!
In one of the emails the word 'UNBEKNOWNST' was flung at me  like acid in my face!
I ask you what manner of man goes around using words like that and this a family blog?
I was about to take umbrage, real umbrage, stamp my foot, look fierce and shouty.
Then I remembered Rummy, good old Rummy. I can tell you the thought of that ejit lightened my mood a good deal.
In fact, I thought why not return the serve over the net with..
" would that be an unbeknown, unbeknownst or a beknown unbeknownst?)
But of course in the interest of harmony, peace love and justice I did not.
Life moves on, doesn't it always.

No Mean Affair

The Book - No Mean Affair by Robert Ronsson is not my usual read but I thoroughly enjoyed it. My mother was born in the Gorbals so I have an interest in Glasgow in the later part of the 19th century and the beginning of the 20th. She remembered very little from her early years. Maybe she withheld a lot but she did describe finding a dead body, presumed murdered, after her brother had fled from the clugdie (toilet) where he had found it first! Not much detail in our 'oral history'. Mum can only have been 5 or 6, her brother Charlie was a bit older though having epilepsy and the results of polio needed  looking after, usually by his little sister. Ronsson paints a tough portrait of tenement life, the environment and the society. He has a very interesting  family connection to Red Clydeside through his grandmother and the possibility that the connection goes further. The historical figures drift in and out of the story, Maxton, Maclean, Mosely Ramsay Mac., the 'real' people live their lives in appalling circumstances and with impossible choices to make. 

Sense and Sensibility

Dear god,
What have you been putting in his tea? Old Simon in the Grauniad has come up with a few suggestions!

I tell you what. Whatever it is could we have some? Say a few thousand barrels?

Anyone for tea? Vicar, there you are!

Toodle pip.

New Year Resolution

I seem to remember in the fog of the festive inbox a wee email from Little Matty HandCock, our esteemed representative in the Parliament of Nations. It suggested that at this time of year we may wish to or indeed be going to contact those who are no longer with us! No, not those who have shuffled off the old mortals, (we leave Gerry and his mandering to other parts of the Kingdom) though indeed there are many, but those who have left for other (warmer, more tax efficient?) climes? We might, entirely properly, send them season's greeting and a reminder that they may, if so eligible and inclined, register to vote in the general election.
Why so, I ask myself? Little Matty scored over 24k votes against his nearest and dearest cocoalitionist LibDom at just over 15k votes. Labouring in at 7k the socialist alternative did not represent a major threat. Still Little Matty is, I am sure, a belt, braces and rustically applied piece of string covered discretely by a bacon and egg tie sort of chap. No harm in increasing the size of one's er, majority for preferment in the forthcoming Conservative Government of all the Talents (ConGoats!)

Could it be concern for the forces of Mr Fromage and the Ukickers? If so, he may find that many who have left would be more than willing to throw us to the wolves. All very complicated.

As usual, Mr Naughton has a few perceptive words at his blog based on Th'Observer column.

Could it be that the interweb will play a significant  part in the Action at the Urns to come.
Just remember that many, though not all,  politicians will be muttering under their breath...
it's a lie but what the hell it's election year... as they go on the stump!

(Very, very cynical if you don't mind me saying so. It undermines our belief in democracy, the rights of man, and woman and...Ed)

...continued in UN Resolution No. 94.

A Dog, A Drum, A Kick up the...

Hope y'all had a good one. A good time with the family oop north was enhanced by the realisation that the younguns have little regard for established hacks. As for that nice Mr Fromage, well we had a good larf about him too. 
All I want for xmas is an app, but what an app...!

https://play.google.com/store/apps/details?id=com.fongames.ukick

Greetings

Remember?
In cyberspace only the algorithms can hear you scream.

Thanks to all those that have given us such a laugh this year!
B O'B, KJ-U, Mr Murphy and the wasted eggs, Mr E M and his penchant for bacon butties.
Mr G O. Go Gideon for screwing the, the economy, mainly.....

Christmas Caption Competition

I stumbled on this post in Memex 1.1. If my eyes and the camera do not deceive me, and they often do, they show our own royal Big Ears and his goodladywifethesecond having a sort of royal chortle!

The challenge for this year is to provide a caption suitable to the gravity and solemnity of the occasion.

Please do not lower the tone of this blog by inserting words such as t*dger, jo*nson, will*e or even coc* and think you will get away with it. Our eagle eyed, ever vigilant, editor will be on your case like a rat up a drainpipe. I said our eagle... (I heard you the first time for god's sake. I was up half the night with the bairns...Ed)

Would that be the single malt, 32 year old Bairns by the way? (They have grown  in the last few years I have to admit. Now do you think we could discuss, quietly over a cup of tea, a small cost of living increase in my remuneration.. Ed? As Jimmy Cameron once remarked the cost of living has increased to the equivalent of  £45 a bottle!)

The best, and printable caption will appear in this blog in  the new year.

He said, fearlessly, steadfastly, in the teeth of fierce opposition from the estab (... Jaysus I'm off to my bed before this gets any worse and the big boys come and kick the door in ...Ed)

Do blogs have doors? Possibly they have back doors!

Many thanks to JN for a bit of light  and some fun in a dark world this year!

Tinkers

And another...

If

 'ifs and ands were pots and pans there'd be no work for tinkers'

An article about hacking and it occurred to me that we needed another word for the people who carry it out. That is the good stuff persons who fix things and make things and do not set out to rob you, or otherwise injure you or deprive you of your private life etc.

How about Tinkers. I know there is a lot of negativity attached but it does have a certain ring to it.

( A fairy ring perhaps.. It'll never catch on... I've seen that look in your eye before... God help us all... Ed)

Out of the mouths..

Nice wee film from the Grauniad/Th'Observer, and not because they are two nice wee lassies!

http://www.theguardian.com/film/2014/dec/14/across-divide-northern-ireland-film

Not quite as simple as that but I look forward to the follow up...

Already, a group from Derry plans to challenge Palestinian and Israeli children to do the equivalent – swap a hijab for a skullcap – at an international schools encounter in Genoa.

Can't Play! Won't Play!

As part of a reading project I read Can't and Won't by Lydia Davies.
You can read what the NYT thinks of it via the link.  Members of the project were asked to read selected books and then write a
crit/review/reasons to like /dislike of between 30 - 200 words and assign a green, amber or red traffic light, amber in my case.
My view, should you be interested, is set out below:-

Maybe I got off on the wrong foot expecting A Story of Stolen Salamis to be about the battle. It was a letdown to realise it was about salamis, or sausages if you will.
How I feel about this book!
I do not like Flaubert.
I have dreams of my own, thank you.
Authors should not require cows to stand in the snow for long periods.
I have a good working relationship with cats. In the main I ignore them.
I enjoy reading letters.
I, too, suffer from over preparation and stage fright.

Trees deserve respect and should only be slaughtered for pulp if absolutely necessary.
Alternatively, electrons are available on prescription from the pharmacy at the hospital for literary diseases!

I mention this because the irritation I felt on reading it was dissipated to some extent by crafting thoughts on it afterwards.
(...crafting is one way of looking at it I suppose. Ed)

Leaves that are green

Tom Sutcliffe, during Start the Week (BBC R4 1/12/14), was discussing evolution and other matters with Jules Pretty, Andreas Wagner,  Ruth Padel  and Chris Stringer. In a casual comment he suggested  "solar panels don't grow on trees" only to catch  himself on, as they say in Belfast, as the panel indulged in collective harrumphing!

 Oh yes they do!

Crafted by Ol' Ma Nature over millions of years!
Other suppliers are available 

What a Sauce!

Seen in a barn while xmas shopping on a very wet Sunday in November while the temperature made its mind up about whether it wanted one digit or two.

Nuff said.

An Awfully Big Theory of Everything

Just booked to see the Imitation Game. Top film about a top secret, even the write ups are hush, hush on the QT!

In answer to an advertisement  Smart Boy Wanted,  placed in Secret Agents Classified, Steven Turing applies for the job. Turing, a wizard, mathematical genius and inventor of the Bombe Surprise shortens the Second World War by an average of ten years. He is played by Alan Fry and his faithful butler Higgs to Wodehousean perfection. The film deals sensitively with Turing's Motor Home Disease, a dreadful affliction which leaves him permanently incarcerated in a purpose built cottage with wheels on the outskirts of Cambridge. The crux of the film comes when Turing and Higgs are summoned to the mansion of the Dowager Hawkwind to discuss Life, the Universe, String Theory and how to get the Dreadfulhun off her lawn at Belchly Abbey... (continued, see Blog 94...)

Support your local Quantum Mechanic!

Coming to a branch near you.

Jim and John explain at Th'Observer

Not only do we have to admire the aggressive,  cheeky little bu**e*rs for what they are but they can do QM on the fly!

Autumnal Thoughts

Tinnitus in old age is just nature's way of ringing bells to no effect!

A Purrfect Day

If my memory serves me right, often it does not, Brenda and Cameron were reported to be purring down the phone to each other recently for some reason or other. Well if you want to read the truth, see it written on the back of a bus...

Possibly they were discussing the zoo at Banham?
Or it could be they were looking ahead to the Urns at Clacton-on-Sea?
(Meoww...Ed)

A lying of pardoners

Chloe Rhodes writes in the Grauniad today on ten of the best collective nouns.
There, nestled amongst the murders, parliaments and unkindnesses is the lying of pardoners.
Because we at BP offer such services our ears were pricked.

Medieval society was dominated by the church, and the ticket to heaven was an unsullied soul. In pursuit of spiritual purity, but largely unable to resist the occasional temptation, the desperate populace turned to "pardoners" to cleanse them of their sins. Pardoners were usually friars or priests who claimed to be in close contact with the pope, whom they said gave them the power to grant absolution. For a fee, naturally. Not surprisingly, the profession attracted a large number of fraudsters armed with fake papal pardons and bogus relics. Records held by the Corporation of the City of London dating back to the 15th century reveal several cases of "lying pardoners" being put in the stocks.

Good to see that the CotCoL records the punishments of such scoundrels. However, should the CotCoL require our services in the future they should not hesitate to contact us immediately! (I hope you are not suggesting in any way that CotCoL would do anything to require shrivings of any magnitude...Ed?)
Not in the least but in today's algorithmic, light speed financial markets it is always possible that software can have unintended consequences. At such pace speeding tickets should always be avoided!

Settled Will

It's over then?
For another year of so
Disappointed?
A wee bit.
Is it the wains?
Aye.
Going to be hard enough.
Aye, Gideon's no goin tae splash the bawbees aboot. No much couters candy either.
I would guess a certain amount of sporran squeezing will be the order of the day and the day after.
Do ye think if we had men the size of Maclean, Maxton and Reid we would have lost?
Aye. Where are they when you need them?
Deed!
Still I thought old Gordy did well.
Undeed!
See you the morra!
All's Weal that ends Weal!
Up to a point Lord Cameron, up to a point!

PurdahTory

Soon be over now chaps just a few more hours until the urns shut up shop.
In the meantime we would not want to be leaving you all in Libo, just to Labover the point.
Think of this as a test card like they used to have on the good old Beeb.

and something for you to read.

The Round House  by Louise Edrich and 5742 Days by Anne-Marie Cockburn.

A wise and thoughtful piece on you know what from the Grauniad on the day Andy Murray tweets allegedly for the proposition.
(Enough! I thought we agreed to say nothing if we can't agree...Ed)

Nothing!

Postcards from Purdah 5

Ever think about where all those shy and retiring animals go? The Yeti, snow leopard etc.
Spotted in Norfolk (Groan...Ed)

Postcards from Purdah 4

I thought I would share two lovely thoughts brought on by reading Helena Attlee's the Land Where Lemons Grow. On p83 she states that mandarins are "easy peelers" no suggestion, of course that the phrase could be used to describe a corrupt policeman! Also an event she claims  reported by Salvatino Bonacorso when Leonardo Sciascia is alleged to have walked out of a city council  meeting in  Palermo announcing that the city was irredeemable.

A fascinating book, hugely enjoyable (All I can say is it doesn't take much...Ed)
Do I detect a hint of bitter lemons or is that chinotto I see you are drinking?

Postcards from Purdah 3

Lynton Crosby, smoked.
Lynton Crispy?

Just a thought!

Postcards from Purdah 2 Holiday Reading

A few books for my shelves for a few weeks. They will have to be returned, of course.

Should keep me out of trouble.

Postcards from Purdah 1

As we sit here not quite in the garden of England, enjoying the late sun of an Indian Summer, reading about the Land  Where the Lemons Grow our thoughts turn Citrically to Nato and what would happen if our friends in the north were refused membership of the same on declaring independence. We have heard many views and seen much analysis including the suggestion that Norway and Iceland are unlikely to invade! However, I would be less sanguine about the Jaffas! Blood oranges I suppose.
(I thought you were in Purdah...Ed!)
Greetings from Purdah!

The McTavish Letter

Any resemblance to persons(real or corporate), places or things is entirely,fictitious, fortuitous and as such, is  a failure of the author's poor befuddled brain.
(As a husband, father and deeply religious person I am glad you covered our arses with that one...Ed.)

Dateline London 12 September 2014 15:30 BST
Deep in the bowels of Whitehall a lowly civil servant is scouting for a place for nefary. In a dusty corner of an unused office in a redundant building an envelope sits on an otherwise empty desk. It displays itself, coyly, provocatively, promising distraction to an aching heart and ungirded loins. It is addressed to a certain McTavish in some god forsaken part of the realm, probably as remote and dreek as it is unpronounceable.  The envelope, open and unsealed provides access to the letter within. To the practiced bureaucratic eye it quickly yields its burden. The letter is cover for the return of material strangely not enclosed but which is clearly detailed  and purports  to incriminate certain politicians north of the border in heinous crimes and misdemeanors; treason, spousal abuse, theft, animal husbandry, incest and Scottish Country Dancing are but a few of these horrors. The missive thanks the addressee for provision of this material but states that it would not be, in the national interest for the government to have said material in its possession at this time.

The covering epistle  bears a single letter as a mark of signature. (I take it that is not an X...Ed?)
No we are not talking military intelligence! The address of the sender is a Post Office Box - Whitehall 1212 - not identified further.  

The dutiful civil servant swiftly brings the letter to the attention of the powers that be, thus  shifting the monkey in the box as quickly as possible( but not before making an untraceable copy.) The powers that be, as might be expected, consider that accusations of eating babies, deep fried in batter, require extensive consultation and evidence gathering  before a draft report with proposals for an interim memorandum to the Cabinet Office,  copy of course to the Treasury, could be circulated.

In the fullness of time the news desks of various publications received communications, again from 50 untraceable sources which contained 19 digit numbers of bank accounts which would be in existence in exotic locations for the next 24 minutes. These offices could be used to deposit large sums of boodle and in exchange the originators would provide incontrovertible evidence, evidence of such magnitude, evidence in such depth  that  it would sink any campaign battle bus in a sea of mixed metaphors.

The money goes out, the evidence comes in and 2 countries, like 2 mature adults, consider that for the sake of the children they would be better off together.

I noticed that when I drew the attention of herself to a story on the BBC about a certain Mr Murphy being pelted with eggs recently her only comment was that it's a terrible waste of eggs.  This seemed like a sensible approach or deeply ironic or both.
I believed this to be the case thinking she does not have a pig in the race. However, at a later date she demanded to know of me if she would be entitled to a Scottish passport in the event of a yes vote!

I smell bacon.

Anyways, it might not be a bad idea for this blog  to go into purdah until the 18th so as not to unduly influence our friends in the north. (PAH...Ed!)

A Bawheidet Woman

I was listening to woman's hour the other day... (Phwat in god's holy name is this blog coming to. Supporting gay footballers and flying the, so called, Palestinian Flag next. Ed!)
I thought we might be hearing from you and if you are awake you might like to take a look at the last blog.
To continue... WH, I think it was the 28 July, was having a wee discussion about the independence of our friends in the north.
Nicola Sturgeon was having a heid to heid rammy with some numpty from the NO! I AM NOT SHOUTING campaign ... ( are you sure it is possible to describe a woman as a numpty?  Is it not demeaning, sexist and more importantly likely to get us in the sort of trouble which would seriously effect our cash flow ? Ed)
What cash flow?
To continue.. said numpty challenged Nicola with the obviously well rehearsed interjection...

But Nicola, you are trying to have your shortbread and eat it!

You can supply your own nasal whiny, faux indignant, numpty, Scots accent if you wish.
I had the thought.

That is it, in a tartan tin.

It is their shortbread and they are going to eat it!

A Bawheidet Man Looks at Scotland

A visit to Edinburgh and evidence of a previous claim made on this Blog. Evidence a friend suggested of a second Scottish Enlightenment. Well the words have been there for over 40 years to my knowledge!

And of course, ye ken

Yes up to a point Lord Cameron

Stereotypically naff.

And yes they are what you think they are and that is a hearse being pulled by horses in the background.
Not prophetic in any way I hope.

Vivian Maier, Found!

To the local filum theatre to see Finding Vivian Maier.
Boy that girl could take snaps and if you don't believe me take a look at her official website.
An intriguing story about a woman who combined being a nanny with being a street photographer. Most if not all of her work was unpublished in her lifetime.
The co-director of the film, John Maloof, comes across a cache of her photos and determines to find the person. The truth as we all know is seldom pure and never simple. The film left me with a feeling that Vivian was possibly a flawed, certainly complex but very, very talented individual!

Bee off with you

Another couple of books to tide us over a pretty wet bit (careful...Ed!)
First The Bees by Laline Paul.The Grauniad link gives a good flavour and don't be put off by the SciFi/Fantasy categorisation.
Second a more factual consideration of bees, bumble bees this time, A Sting in the Tale by Dave Goulson. Again I am indebted to the Grauniad for providing finger easing reference material, more time for reading and taking pictures of wee bees!

(I am concerned about the over use of a certain left leaning, organs of news and liberal propaganda. I am also concerned about the over specialisation on the minutiae of whatever takes your lepidopteran fancy. This blog stands four square as a mirror to society leaning neither to the left nor the right, offering opinion only on the basis of the tested evidence, sound judgement and a broad view of the world. Furthermore...Ed)

Buzz off!

Readers Lives

Sunk into two books recently, with considerable enjoyment, if that is the right word.  Elizabeth is Missing by Emma Healey
Very painful but very much worth the effort. As I may have mentioned before, the changing room at the pool where I swim has a polite little notice by the door, asking

- Have you forgotten anything?

I always feel an urge, so far resisted, to add - Yes, what's my name?
I have mentioned it before haven't I.

All the Birds, Singing. by Evie Wyld

We read this as part of the summer reads project.    We also had the real pleasure of hearing the author speak about her book at a very low key meeting in Bury Library. It was an enjoyable insight into her thinking and other readers' ideas. I regarded the book as a very good read before the meeting but the expansion and discussion gave me access to ideas and aspects that I hadn't even considered. Herself was intrigued to see the person behind the novel. Evie is  a very talented writer in addition she appears to be modest, thoughtful and quite open about the sometimes painful process of producing a text.
I would strongly recommend it and if you don't believe me then have a look!

More books - about Bees - to come! Now that will be interesting. (God Almighty! You just can't resist it can you. Here I was thinking that we had gone for a whole blog without one of those... dreadful... dreadful...Ed!)

Summer Fruits

What a pleasant summer this is turning out to be. We attended a convivial gathering in Norfolk of Oliver Bernard's family and friends. I'm sure he would have wished to be there had he not died just over a year ago. His son Joe told a lovely story delivering the punch line in a pitch perfect imitation of Oliver's lugubrious voice.
Oliver owed the doctor some money, £200, whatever, and old sawbones was most insistent on payment. He pressed Oliver increasingly for this despite the poor poet's protestations of payment in the future.  Eventually he pitched up on the doorstep with his demand and was greeted as Oliver opened the door with
    - I really must start eating an apple a day!

Those Pesky Books Again!

I suppose it is too damp to burn books in Florida.
Don't these bozos ever learn.
I like the response that Cory and his publishers are preparing.

Speaking of which our own dear Library, the sun in our hearts, our great book provider and beacon of mutuality has joined in the Summer Reads Project.  Lots of books, lots or reading, plenty to do to avoid any reference to the wORLD cUP of fOOTBALL, (You promised me you wouldn't mention it this year. What is wrong with a good game of shinty anyways...Ed?)

What a good idea!

The Grauniad economics blog comes up with a publication about Local Authority Pension Funds. Ok, no snoring at the back there. The Secret Wealth Garden is an argument about how to organise and deploy large amounts of moolah. I knew that would get your interest, especially when it could be your moolah! Now this is not an attempt on our part at BPinc moolah services to muscle in on the raft of ponzi schemes, hard luck stories by putative, wealthy Nigerians, activities of  the deregulated offshore tax dodging uber gougers, or other delights. Speaking of which the man on the Adam Smith Omnibus is pretty sniffy about it which is praise indeed and if I had not been around the block a few times might be sufficient recommendation. In any case here are a few wee flowers. Other gardens are available.

Books

I've been reading again. Not much else to do on a wet Bank Holiday. It's fun to have family and friends to visit and entertain  but you can't beat a good murder. The Murder of  Halland  by Pia Juul is a good read in its own right but as the linked reading guide indicates there is much more. I was struck by the grief. The book begins with a murder and How a Gunman Says Goodbye by Malcolm Mackay ends with a murder. Lots of terrible stuff in between. This last novel gives central Glasgow the feel of downtown Baltimore!

Treats

We have been traveling and socialising.

(No excuse for the absence of Blogging...Ed)

M'lud I offer evidence that the absence of Blogging is the Blogging of absence in the following...

(oh very good, very good, I see what you did there, point taken, carry on, my breath is baited... Ed) 

My god what with - English whisky. Is that not taking 'better together' too far.

A birthday treat. Angela Hewitt gave a lecture/recital at Cambridge where she is the Humanitas Visiting Professor of Music. I was entranced by the music, Bach, and her interpretations on the piano. Finished the evening with a meal at the Rice Boat. Well worth the trip!

More culture at the local flea pit which put on a digital broadcast from the British Museum around their exhibition of all things Viking.

To continue to Colchester for a book reading. A small bookseller, Red Lion Books.

Our friend Trish, of Patrician Press which we may have mentioned before, was reading with other authors. It was enjoyable and I'm only sorry I didn't get to buy a book but of course it is an excuse to go back. Over a convivial meal later Trish mentioned Food Fetish.    It had slipped my mind, and more importantly not found its way onto my book list. I downloaded it and so began a very enjoyable romp through food and drink.

I was, as a result, tempted/inspired to try to cook Yottams very simple dish/starter with filo pastry and asparagus. Baked with brushed egg and scattered with parmesan cheese and poppy seeds. As usual, we were short of an ingredient, poppy seeds so substituted nigella (seeds that is) and sesame mix. And as always with ingredients left over put mushrooms and parmesan in the filo parcels. Very enjoyable.

Horses and Sticks

Our beloved washing machine of many years service has been 'Pritted'
Phwatt, I hear you ask, is pritted when it is at home?
It has come to a sticky end. (Arrgh...Ed. Surely not original)
Are you jokin? Pelagerism is a dreadful cross I bear willingly!

In the meantime here is a nice snap of Jacob which we took on our  day out at the seaside!

A grand fellow, is he not?
could do with a few more like him, eh  Mr Ed...!

Gained in translation

Reading The Dark Valley by Valerio Varesi I came across a nice expression on p 118

They can't even find a wall to bang their heads against.

Clueless in Italian?

So  Maria Miller
Gee it's good to see yer
Doing the Vatican Rag.

That's another fine mess you got me in Posh Boy.
Anybody seen a wall?

Motor City

Why does anyone still live in Detroit?
An interesting question, thoughtfully explored in the Grauniad piece. (David Uberti extd.09:08 04/04/2014)  The pattern of development in the USA is much different, of course, and the underlying reality of class, race and economy so far from here. It couldn't happen here, right. Could it?

Subsidy Hoggs

A double whammy! Yes before I call down the wrath of Ed. for the cliche here is a conundrum for you to beat.
Not only do we not know the names,  faces,  inside leg measurements of the few, the happy few, the chosen few who got mates rates on the deal of the year - 'Brenda's Mail'  Delivering a Profit to One of 16 Investors Near You - but we do not know if these few, these favoured few...( all right we are well aware they could be Chums of Dave and Gideon. If this sentence goes on for much longer I want to argue for the return of capital punishment...Ed.) But we also  do not know if these investors avoided paying tax on the profit from disposal. I suspect it is possible. If you believe a certain, doughty, Ms Toynbee in  the Grauniad that sort of thing goes on and D and G do not appear to be doing much about it. 

As I have suggested before, why do we not have a cap on the total of tax allowances available to few, the chosen few, the douce wee hoggs that have their snouts in the trough! Far be it from me to suggest capping at the same level as the benefits cap but we are all in this together, are we not... Hello, anybody there?

Ho! Ho!

A Pinch and a Punch for the fist of the Month. I bring you tidings from the Grauniad.

Scotland to switch to driving on the right if independence given green light

And I have in ma hond a piece of paper  that details the plans of the perfidious Nats to invade San Serif in the event of a Yes vote. 

Nothing like trailing your coat around the school playground.

And while we are at it, I stayed up far too late  one night last week watching 13 Days.

So Shreck better get on the phone to Posh Boy and advise him of the intention of an Indie Scotlenad to 'Quarantine' Faslane.
I've gone all weak at the knees. It's the thought of Posh Boy pounding the lectern at the UN with one of his shoes, Gucci of course!
(That is blatant product placement! I edit an ethical blog and in the words of another great man of letters something up  with which I will not put...Ed)

Shelfies

Yes you heard it write in your minds eye. Shelfies. You may find an explanation there, or #shelfie if you are twitterate, or remain a sad bemused old codger much like myself! All this technologistics, tweets of the day, facepaint.... (there, there its surely time you had a cup of hot strong tea...Ed!) And another thing don't call me Sh...

Still the idea had me chuckling into my Ceylon when I saw this #books for prisoners.
I think I understand. My own contribution would be a book by Roger Cooper - Death plus Ten Years. As the author of the book confirms, the sentence was proposed to be served in reverse order!

Now I leave it up to you to decide on the secret shelfies of Posh Boy, Gideon, and the Old Grey Grayling!

Snaps

Mr Getty, who has a lot of snaps (35 million at the last count), has organised his holiday photos so that it is possible for us folk to use some of them in a non commercial way. Check it out here.

Not everyone would be pleased though I guess. Those on the beach with the big cameras and the donkeys to support; well you can imagine. Still there is no standing in the way of progress as your man said to the head scribe at the monastery in Gutenberg. 

Thanks to the old British Broadcasting Corporation for the story. I know I put the reference to it in my pocket somewhere. If you don't want to wait while I find it you could always use the Hypi thingy at the  story.

In the Pink

(Hello. Is there anyone there...Ed?)

In case you are  interested I am well and enjoying the spring air. I have been following the tail wind of this extraordinary world of ours and have to confess to being buffeted by the Beauforts, metaphorically speaking.

(I see that absence does not make the art grow stronger, nor the quality of the text even...Ed.)

The lads and lassies at Newsnight have a new team or a new configuration, though even in this world turned upside down The Great Bandiness, his holiness Pope Paxoid is still there of course but shuffling and new blood are in evidence. I was adopting the Newsnight Slump (this may become an olympic sport soon) when I noticed the sharp and investigative features of Emily Witless (isn't that Maitlis...Ed.) She was well wrapped up, it being a bracing spring day, in a voluminus pink garment which did not appear to possess itself of a volume control mechanism. Underneath said reporter, editor, correspondent, whatever there appeared the helpfull caption 'Will Hutton'.

Begod! I know with the certainty granted only to the pontif and then only when his holy backside touches the Cathedra of Faith that was not Will Hutton.

Your man would never be seen dead in such a shade of pink!

Flowers from an Island

A gift from an island, warm and pleasant. Very welcome at this time of storms and rain and confusion!

Common Currency

A letter from Dame Nichola Misfearsome, Comptroller General of BP Inc. to the Chair of BP Inc.

Dear Snooks,

I attach a spot of bedtime reading  by the bean counters and moolah wallahs about the attempt by our subsid. in the north, Salmo Enterprises, to up sticks, grab the boodle and go it alone!  You know how the M  Ws drone on if you let them so I suggest a stiff Glenbogle if you are not the least interested. In as much as I understand it (GCSE in woodwork 1959) I
passionately agree with its analysis and conclusions.

I know that our relations with the ungrateful bu**ers oop north have not always been of the best but a commercial relationship between different parts of a company is a bit like a marriage. We are the bread-winners, they do the cooking and the cleaning, and after a Friday night session at the club we come home a bit squiffy and... well. We've been screwing them for years and now they want out. They say they are happy to split liabilities as well as assets! I say go forth and multiply and empty your pockets before you do, thieving oiks!

Toodle pip.

Ever
Nickky xxx

Normal for Norfolk

You may have noticed headlines, strap lines and lines of waving locals with words similar to the following

...Norfolk, England Welcoming visitors since 1061

or similar date.

Extensive research by the Buddhist Pizza Reseach Institute (BPRI reg in Cayenne Islands, Charity  number 666) has unearthed a much earlier date for the County's first visitors. As a result and out of a deep respect for the denizens we offer the following as an amendation...

...Norfolk, England Welcoming visitors for over 900,000 years

 (Is it not usual at this point to pass some comment about the stasis in the gene pool or some such like...Ed)

Are you joking? I make occasional visits to the bloody place and have no intention of doing any such thing.

Snowdrops

We listened to Writing the Century, The Dock Nuremberg, a series of 5 dramas on BBC Radio 4 about the painting by Laura Knight which you can see here. Pretty strong stuff in its way. Apparently the US military police at the back of the dock who acted as guards in the trials were known universally as Snowdrops!

 An equally grey scene today when I took this snap of snowdrops at Anglesey Abbey. (The flowers that is, not MPs.

The National Trust has not been indicted for war crimes or crimes against humanity, yet!)

Famous in the Fens

I strode up to the bar where the curate was polishing a pint glass as if it was a Tibetan prayer wheel. He looked a queer kind  of a fellow even for this part of the fens.

-A glass of your finest Vichy Water your grace and whatever takes your fancy.

He looked half in a trance. Big white mutton chops adorned a chin that underbit a not unfriendly mouth. The eyes were more modestly protected behind merest gaps than any regulation burka. They picked up whatever light had crawled into that gloomy sort of a place and a glass appeared in front of me. I was surprised to see it full, a fine effervesence adorning its surface. A second glass was leisurely placed on the bar and a bottle of the finest holy water came uncorked to the curates hands. He raised the glass, half full, to his slightly sensuous lips after breathing the usual order of service in the resonant tones that I had half expected. I supplied the responsary as required quaffing more substantially than the celebrant.

-A civilised language to greet in but not one heard much in this watery kingdom.
-I have done with greetin in this language, my own or any other.

In as much as the acoustics allowed this statement to the body of the kirk boomed. I leaned in to the bar and with a discretion which ignored the empty room and claimed that I believed he had done a bit of translation before now -Ovid and -Beowulf to name but a few! He was taken aback. In as much as I could see his peepers they took on a guarded shift behind the old eyeslits.

-I wouldn't know too much about that.
-Ah man you're Famous after all, unmistakeably so. Well we all thought you dead. What is the problem, is it still the Jaffas, Al Caida, the Roosian Mafia trying to muscle in on the old poetry business?
-No. There was some trouble round about the time of the Nobel gong with the Sufis. Idris makes them out to be fun loving, easy come easy go guys, whirling away like dervishes but I know different. I know they are hard men, strictly dancing to a different tune and bearing a grudge tighter than a Jaffa holds on to his Billie Pot. No it was the wife and kids; a man can only take so much. Then there was the prospect of grandchildren and even great grandchildren. I just wanted a bit of peace and quiet after all these years.
-I know exactly what you mean. Haven't I said the same on occasions. A man like yourself though; a curate's work is not going to keep you, intellectually speaking.
- I have a few ideas and one or two projects on the go if you understand. Looking out on the water in the direction of  Scandinavia I see the big money is to be made in crime. Don't get me wrong, I'm not about to join the ranks of those chased thither and yon by the DMP. No I was thinking of a verse thriller, taking as inspiration the human traffiking of women from Ireland in the 9th century. Those poor country coleens were famed for their storytelling abilities and brutally ripped from their communities to pour out sagas for the likes of Snorri the priest to scribble down in some traduction or other! Perhaps I've said too much.

  I realised that the moment had passed and that I had best be on my way. I patted myself down and gathered my accoutrements, such as they were. I was about to head for the door when that noble head leaned towards me and the chin made the universal gesture requiring the subject to draw near and offer a conspiratorial ear to the speaker.

-I trust I can rely on your discression and good judgement, pilgrim, as a matter of compassion if not professional courtesy.
-As I am an honest man, you have my word!

It was only when I was half way to the car that I realised I had left without making a contribution to the poor box! Ah well the secrets of the confessional come at a price, and Vichy is an expensive way to give yourself bother with the bag!

(Have you been at the Dalkey Archive again...Ed)

Books and Pictures

A few days ago I finished Nature's Engraver by Jenny Uglow.
It took some time, which might be me, however, I enjoyed it greatly. Of the many images 'The Corn-Crake' remains a favourite.
The bird is caught in the split second before launching itself into a dash for cover, a spearlike configuration of beak and bum! It is interesting to think that Bewick would have been driven half mad in early summer with the 'kreck, kreck'. Now we have to travel to the Inner Hebrides for our dose of May madness.

A visit to the Cotes museum in Bournemouth provides lots of visual stimulation

(Lots of Victorian paintings of young ladies with little else but a few whispy things attached. All in the interest of studying your Ancient Greeks no doubt...Ed)
Yes a picture did catch my eye and it was a representation of women -

Spanish Market Women at Bilbao by Eusebio Perez de Valleurca

Of course we do not know what they are saying but we do know what they are saying. The two figures we see to our left are
deep in sotto voce

I really, really love him!

Pobrecita! He's just like all the rest!

(Glad to see you back. Are you looking a bit peaky...Ed?)
Just a cold since you ask. Nothing a hot drink, warmth and an editor who is given to litotes won't cure!

Pandrops

In a school playground in Stockbridge two kids stand square to each other. There is tension. It is not the usual flare of cruelty, anger or a desperate reaction to casual violence. The smaller child, a rotund cherub who looks like he has just finished a long and pleasurable sook on a pan drop, is planted with growing confidence in front of a much bigger boy with greasy hair and florid, rubbery complexion, Macaroon.

Listen Salmo you do what I say or it'll be the worse for you.

Worst!

Worst what do you mean worst.

It's worst not worse!

Whatevs you fat little git.
I am head of school and you've got to do what I say. Don't think the teachers give a monkey's cos they don't. Except Gideon, he really enjoys seeing me kick the crap out of the smallest snot gobblers.

Holding on to his bag, his bladder, the level of his voice and his big idea the smaller boy, Salmo, looked Macaroon straight in the eye.

We don't have to do what youse say if we don't want to. Stockbridge School does not have a head boy. If we had anything we should have a head student and I would vote for Nicola.

Vote, what do you mean vote, we should fight for it. I'd like to see Nicola take me on, in fact I'd like to see Nicola take Rebekah on. Macaroon fell silent at this and a strange look came in his eyes.

Salmo maundered on, sure now he was digging his own grave or worse!

The students should decide, it should be fair, no bullying or bribing people even with pan drops.

Macaroon grabbed him by the ear and twisted, hard. Salmo felt hot tears in his eyes. He looked to see if Nicola was watching. She was. He lashed out with his foot. Macaroon dropped to the ground and moaned. He clutched the part of his short trousers where, it was thought, the largest one in the playground was to be found. He turned white, then green then gave a dry boke. Salmo turned. While the going was good the good got going. He thought what a heap of shite these these big kids were. He knew he would get thumped, Gideon might even use the tawse on him but it would all be worth it. He knew he would get to share those pan drops with Nicola, eventually!

Concert

A concert in Liverpool at the Nordic Church.
In the first part Bridget Marsden & Elin Nilsson played Early Music and Swedish Folk Music on Baroque Violins. I thought it a well constructed session and the music, old and new, sat easy on the mind and in the ear.
After coffee and cakes Bridget Marsden & Leif Ottosson (accordion) gave interpretations of Nordic folk music in new compositions and traditional tunes. The combination of instruments, violin and accordion, might appear to be imbalanced but the finesse of both players delivered a beautiful sound. The music cheered and enlivened but did not shy away from the inevitability of separation and mortality. One piece, describing friends leaving, was dedicated to someone who will leave us soon.

A good day out including, for some, Scouse and a pint in the Baltic Fleet.
(Not for yourself, surely... Ed? )
Indeed not. And another thing, don't call me Shirley!

Amazing Grace

Caught in ma goonie wi haf a grapefruit and boily egg, toast too!
Listened to Grayson Perry delivering himself of the latest in his Reith Lectures.
Enjoyed it greatly. I'm not sure if he was wearing his best frock for Stroke City. They lapped it up as did I.
Link here to the Beeb site.

(Isn't it at this point that you usually say something bad about that well known  'Radio Personality' Sue Crawley... Ed!)

Out of the mouths

Herself recently gave rise to a cracker. We were discussing the Nobel Prize for Physics over breakfast the other day (time for a full body cringe or phwatt...Ed) and she suggested that in the house style we should refer to that particle as

THAT GODDAM DOG PARTICLE...

I thought that was rather good.
Anyway, nice one Peter! I'm sure you deserved the gong.

Grangemouth Smokies

Article by Martin Kettle in the Grauniad linking the proposed closure of the Grangemouth plant to the debate about Scottish Independence. A thoughtful piece and while I don't always agree with the Kettle it is clear sighted and I'm afraid paints a rather dark picture for the rest of us (a rare case of the pot being called black by the Kettle ...Ed)

Moves are, undoubtedly, afoot. The Common Weal  has more than the whiff of an Arbroath Smokie.

A linked article by Adam Price contains the suggestion that:-

 One thing we can comfortably predict is that the future will be another country. 

Amen to that, and while the psephologists are having a few days in the country on the back of all the predicting the urns, I'm not sure their field days provide us with any indication of what like those countries will be no matter what we end up calling them.

Dutch people are tall and wear bicycles.

In the interests of science, with a view to winning a Nobel Bicycle, and not having two scalar bosons to rub together, I offer 
the following thought experiment. (Phwhat in god's name is a thought experiment...Ed?)
If you want Buddhist Pizza Research Institute (BPRI) to shell out a few billion spondulics for a Large Head on Collider
be my guest and make the suggestion to the research committee. We meet once a year in Monte Carlo!

Ladies and gentlemen of science the contention of my thesis is that the Dutch are tall and wear bicycles.
I will offer photographic evidence and densely argued text to support this and I hope you will find it irrefutable.

Obviously as you can see from 1. shoes are now offered on the streets of the Netherlands in 3s!

1.

This leads the observer to the inevitable conclusion that the bu**ers have grown another foot while we were not looking.
Some futher support for this theory is available at 2. below where we see the addition of a further foot, though the evidence leads us to suppose it is for a younger person.

2.

Obviously your Dutchman or woman takes little heed for the welfare of its young. You can see below in 3. children are forced to cling to the back of bicycles, which the Dutch wear as a matter of course. The evidence shows the bicycle/persons approaching the quantum tunnel in a popular Museum in Amsterdam. So many people have dissappeared into this it is inconceiveable that anyone would drag a child into such danger!

 3.

(Tut, tut! I thought that science progressed by the presntation of evidence that enabled us to reject a hypothesis...Ed)

Tell me have you been reading that book again:- the Open Society by One of its Enemies!

The Gentlemen of the Press

It seems that the Good Old Grauniad (GoG) has got itself into a bit of troubba having a spat with the PM and MIn (where n is any number between -1 and 666). GoG has been revealing secrets the like of which will:- cause the downfall of civilization, undermine the natural order, destroy all the good work we have done for chappies in less developed parts of the globe, reduce peace goodwill and justice to all men and women even. They should be ashamed and if it weren't too hush hush we might even have to mention the operatives in the field who have been put in danger by that blackguard Rushbridger, I ask you what kind of a man is that.  (How in the name of all that is good and holy can poor old Alan be accused of causing danger and distress to farm labourers. Has he been kicking over the spuds or hurling them at the heads of the poor tattie hawkers...Ed?)

These matters require a deep knowledge of diplomacy and some acquaintance with state secrets, I would not expect you to understand, away and get the printers ink of your fingers before we have our tea!

(I know a few people who know a thing or two and they seem to think quite highly of him...Ed!)

Hacks, all of them, probably paid by the yard!

Still Light with Window

This is the new window in the Nieuwe Kerk in Delft, it is stunning with the light streaming through. My snap does not do it justice.

The Link  gives an indication of the symbolism but the sheer joy and glory of the light is well above the bees knees!

Let there be light...

and the rest is silence.