West Wing Mark II

A find in the podosphere. A Mr O'Bama has recently stood down from some job or other and I have not always been appreciative as I might have been! (I very much doubt that he even knew let alone gave a tinker's damn... Ed)
However, the link gives about 40 minutes of thoughts, banter, and a few flashes of what the progressive future might have involved (and hopefully may yet involve). I must say that my one moment of queasiness came when your man O'Bam was discussing what the hell happened if the USA defaulted on its debt. Jokes with the gang about minting a trillion dollar coin aside, nobody knew! You have to give it to him, he did keep the show on the road in some very difficult times. His analysis of how the Trumpet of massive investment in infrastructure will lead to a call much later for a roll back on welfare is very scary. A Mr Freedland, who scribbles for some lowbrow rags from time to time, had an equally scary scenario for this in, The Third Woman, his latest penny dreadful.

Reasons to be cheerful!

Given the winter of our discontents - the Americans have elected an eejit, we didn't get the chance to elect our eejit, The Wall of Shame etc.. Thought you might be interested in a little cheer,

You may have heard of Chris Thile or not, ditto for appreciating his music making but the smile on the face of Yo Yo at about 8 min. 30 sec. in the video says there are reasons to be cheerful.

Thanks to all the wonderful people who linked me through the Interweb, the Grauniad, NPR, to this.
Full disclosure:- I am not able to establish that cats were not harmed in the production of the instruments on which this music was played.
(I'm gutted, truly gutted! I will have to consider my position carefully, very carefully. I was always led to believe this was an animal friendly blog... Ed)
How come the cat never gets anyway near your tongue!

Tess of the Submarines. Maybe!

After a few rounds with the doughty Mr Marr yesterday Tess had avoided saying yes no or even Maybe to direct questioning as to what she  knew and when she knew it. We had dropped a b.....k or even a rocket when the lads were on their nuclear hols off Florida. This would be  before the common people were asked to detrouser  billions of pounds for renewing Trident. Well, you can judge for yourselves if she was being forgetful, vague or a squirming politician.
What intrigues me is the kinetics of the thing. I have it on good authority, The Beeb News Corp, usually quite reliable, that our lads were sunning themselves 200 miles from the coast of Florida when this came to pass. Mr Wikipedia assures me that after huffing and blowing for about 2 mins. a Trident rocket reaches a flight speed of 13,600 miles per hour( Eat your heart out Southern Rail) So if I inquire of my calculator how long it would take to travel  from the the good sub Tessa Maybe and land on the  Sunshine State, the answer is less than three minutes and counting down... ( It would give all those snowbirds a fright too, poor dears, as they are sat around the aircon singing the state song - Old Folks at Home. My geography is a bit sketchy but didn't I hear that Cuba is only 100 miles or so from Florida... Ed)
I heard the same also!

Avid for crime(reading)

I may have mentioned before that I have read without benefit of a book group for many, many years.
However, I joined a small group a few years ago. The advantages are that it is sponsored by a public library which provides a room and about a dozen volumes of the same book each month. Our convenor, a calm and well organised woman (peace and many blessings be upon her) provides us with a wide selection of crime novels  for us to enjoy throughout the year and discuss if we feel so inclined.  The group has men as well as women in it, it does not follow a rigid pattern for contributions, members come and go and we do not have to 'speak up and shame the devil' if we do not wish. Occasionally, we get a stinker usually because a book has been suggested to our group from outside. I always make notes as a commitment to the group and the activity. Here is one from last year.

Mary Higgins Clark - The Lost Years
Notes

Pope finds Thank You note from Jesus. Decides to burn it. Monk feels this is blasphemous. Murder ensues through 5 centuries.
Mariah thinks her dad has found the letter and her mum has killed him. After a bit of twoing and throwing Mariah saves the day, the letter and managed a weak smile as she watched Richard running toward her (Who he? Oh never mind!)... Mariah  felt a sudden peace, a peace that was beyond understanding, fill her being.
Turned out nice again!

Frankie and Johnny

So they weren't lovers after all!
I read in my Grauniad today:-
Split in lay order after senior official was dismissed over distribution of free prophylactics and the Holy See hierarchy sought to intervene.
 (Those subs get away with murder. Split and prophylactics in the same sentence. Fast cars, big cigars, even faster women. They probably wear red white and blue braces. How unlike the code of conduct and dress code of our own humble publication...Ed)
Not many people would wear braces to hold their pjs up, I grant you. 

Energy raw in beak and claw!

Royal Institution Christmas Lectures this year, the subject is energy. Catch the last one this evening Beeb4 20:00 or on the EyePlayer thereafter.
Out for our walk on  Sunday we were entranced for about 20 minutes watching a buzzard working the ground around a small river and large field bordered by woods. There was a stiff breeze and the seeming lack of effort that it took to glide over the area looking for its xmas dinner made me think again "it's the energy stupid". What a marvel of energy it is. Precision hunting machine, power pack attached with renewable energy storage. Amazing what you can do with the old proton pump! Still the poor thing did not get its dinner while we were about.
(Probably too polite to tuck in while you heathens were watching...Ed)

Fiat Lux and a lot more!

Thanks to the excellent Carbon Commentary Newsletter of Chris Goodall a good news video. A P2P Solshare Microgrid Installation in Mymensingh.  When the clowns have escaped from the circus we need a little balance. A good friend has been advised by his US relatives that on January 20th next year the clock will be turned back 60 years. I would say nearer 90!
Best wishes to all (?) our readers and a peaceful New Year.

(Is that it? are we going to be swamped in all this U tubeyfacebookytwittery socialistmedianonsense now...ED?)

Have a good holiday but take care there is a man out there who promises to drain the swamp.

Streaming but not Cold

Now here's a thing. Some of us oldies may be old, very old, but it does not necessarily mean that we always associate the word streaming with the word cold. The World Wide interWeb of Wonders does provide some truly marvellous things, as this article in the Grauniad shows. 
That's what I call neat.
I am still of the opinion, though,  that the accordion is an outdoor instrument despite having a 'connected' party who is a superb instrumentalist and musician; you know who you are! Number ten is a family favourite. Many a long journey, spiritual and physical, has been sustained and enlivened by the McGarrigles' Swimming Song.
(Is that the one about swimming in unsafe places in a lack of suitable attire...Ed?)
I'm a self-destructive fool!

HSL High Speed Library

Books, people, time and it's Bliss!
I don't know if any books were harmed in the process of making this short video from the Grauniad.
As Lenin once famously said when he worked at Salford Public Library "You can't have book, Tovarish, unless I stamp on it!"
(I didn't know Vlad was on the council payroll at Salford. Was he there long...Ed?)

As long as it takes to make an omelette.

Bloody Hell

I've just finished 'His Bloody Project' by Graeme Macrae Burnet. A supposed collection of found documents. It has left me with a very strong sense of place, character and society. There is, as described in the Grauniad review ...

...a healthy dose of Kafka as well as Flann O’Brien in Roderick’s account of laboriously gathering seaweed from the shoreline with his father to spread on the fields, then being forced by Lachlan [The Parish Constable] to return it to the sea because they lack the laird’s permission to use his property. When they summon up the courage to seek clarification of the rules that govern their lives, they are told “that a person wishing to consult the regulations could only wish to do so in order to test the limits of the misdemeanours he might commit”. ...

Shades too of Gunn's Green Isle of the Great Deep but the lasting impression I shared with the reviewer was wondering about the reliability of the perspectives that the 'documents' had provided and the other crimes that may have taken place.

(Did Roderick have a poor mouth on him then...Ed?)

I thoroughly enjoyed wading through the misery and misdirection!

The Third Programme

As was, is 70 years old, aint we all (nearly) dearie!
Charlotte Higgins in the Grauniad  makes a plea

"Furthermore, if the bulldozers came for Radio 3, I would be lying in front of them. To my dying breath I would assert its fundamental importance to Britain and its profound contribution to the country – not just by way of the musical life it has supported and grown, especially through its commissioning of composers, but also through a significant relationship with drama and documentary."

Move over Charlotte! Is there room in front of that bulldozer for someone who has delighted in the sound of the Shagbut, Minikin and Flemish Clacket ever since he first heard them  see R3.


At 23.45

SCHOLA POLYPHONICA NEASDENIENSIS Peter Weevil and John Throgmorton (shagbut) Tatiana Splod (minikin) René Carter-Thomson and H. B. Hogg (Flemish clacket) Introduced by HUGO TURVEY
Hucbald the Onelegged (of Grobhausen: fl ?1452) Instrumental Rondo: Haro! Poppzgeyen ist das Wieselungenslied

Take heed "Mother Theresa" where you wield that bulldozer.  I saw a Prime Minister who had an unfortunate accident with a Shagbut and fell into a Flemish Clacket. It was not at all nice, but very interesting!

 (Did old JSB not write a few pieces for the minikin there...Ed?)

The Bright Web!

An excellent book provided, once again, by the stakhanovites in Suffolk Libraries. The Switch by Chris Goodall.

It's the energy stupid!

IMHO a good overview of the present state of solar energy providing a sustainable supply for our needs in the future. It includes a down to earth (sorry) review of costs and implementation.  He considers  financing, the normalising of demand, the use of the web for this and what to do when some ejit says the sun don't shine all the time! (That's easy, turn the lights on...Ed!)

His website provides lots of interesting facts and figures including an analysis of energy supply and storage for the Island of Gigha!  You did want to know didn't you? There is also a weekly newsletter, if you are so minded.

(Ah for the love of Mike will you give us a break from all this happy, clappy, Corbinista, wooly, sock and brown rice eco-communmitarianism...Ed)

Come on! Spark up princess, anyone would think you had pneumonia! 

Cygnet Ring

Not even wrong

A idea contained within an article in the Grauniad  about the possible negative effects of always being right.  Towards the end of the piece  one of those ideas forces you to say - Why didn't I think of that or if you did why didn't I get off my a**e and do it?
Sabine Hossenfelder   has set up a service  wherebye you get a consultation with a quantum mechanic for fifty dollars a pop.

(Did I mention that once upon a time I was involved in sourcing some livestock for a famous scientist.  Erwin Schrodinger, since you ask. As I am no great shakes in the physics department my contribution was in designing and producing the advertisements in the Dublin Press...Ed)

What did it say? Cats! Wanted dead or alive.

Glad to Bee Gay

Border Crossings

An Item on the LRB Blog about the famous Seamus, his finely honed sense of mischief and barriers to humanity. 
As we know he has not passed on but lives quietly, a suitable presence in the fens, a miasmic curate in some forgotten pub!

"To educate the English" Now there's a thought.
(Do you think they might build a wall? I know a few fellas who could do with a bit of work. The construction business has been on the down for a while now and the family connection would ensure it was done to spec and on time...Ed)
by their walls ye shall know them!

Low Blow Jo

Martin Wolf, Chief Economic Commentator of the Financial Times, had a provocative little programme on the Beeb  (R4 09:00 21/07/2016) about negative interest rates. Very interesting! Monetery Policy may not be your thing but it does throw up some ideas "helicopter money" and a the abolition of cash being some.(Did I hear a German Banker scream...Ed?)  One of them, unless I am wrong and frequently I am, is the printing of money.
Gutenberg Money! Can you see it? The man with the beard and the printing press, stood on the bridge, shouting at a minion who is sweating to screw down the press.
"But Master Gutenberg won't this undermine the whole economy?"
"Shut up and keep printing"

Bit of a Larf

Not much recently to give us a chuckle.
Rooting through the tangle of electrons in my interweb reference box I found this link to the GOG (Good Old Grauniad) live session with Naomi Alderman 'interviewing' Margaret Atwood about her new novel 'The Heart Goes Last' on the 2/10/15
(Glad to see we are still at the cutting edge...Ed) As you already know I am a man with a great future behind him.
Anyway the link is here and is also available as a downloadable mpthingy. Very enjoyable.

Flowers and Horns

A dilemma! The pretty picture below, a flower meadowlet in Suffolk, was taken  with my point and shoot bog standard camera.
(It shows...Ed) Hold your horses now Mr Ed.

Herself had an invitation to go and view the flowers and since I was off to the nurse for my MOT results (I am a martyr to my platelets, apparently.) I suggested she take my camera and, with permission of the field management, a few pictures of same flowers. (Manfully attributed... Ed!)
However, the picture above was taken by the field management with my camera and is, domestic harmony notwithstanding, (are you sure that is alloneword...Ed) the best of the bunch, as it were. So there you have it or not as the case may be.
Many thanks to David.
Pretty though, isn't it?

Amazing Grace

Mick had a hangover. He walked through Norwich Market passing the corner where the kilted one  played bagpipes.  The piper was a man in a Jimmy Wig, with no musical talent and a lethal instrument in his hands. He played the only tune he knew, again and again.  Mick crossed the market and headed for the garden in front of the Town Hall and peace and re-hydration. Sugar and caffeine restored some functioning level of awareness. He saw the  shamboling man, carrying two  sports bags, headed for his bench. The flight path meant touchdown in ten seconds! He could not be arsed and began to turn away. Landing with a bump Mr Shambolic  groaned - “Stapped” - stoned more like -  and  pissed himself but when it hit the floor it was red! Phone, ambulance, police, he needed help. This was not Mick's problem. The last words to Mick were - “No phone, take...”
Oh god what, bombs, guns, drugs, dead babies? The late lamented didn't move, he was doubled over,  chest on his knees looking at the bags with sightless eyes, one hand on each bag, offering them. 

He should phone but moving to the body he  zipped back the flap of one bag. Bundles, money bundles, foreign money bundles.  There was no six foot two copper saying Hello! Hello!  No one wanted to say hello to them and no one was near enough to notice! Taking one bag in each hand Mick heaved and walked off, slowly. Terror, fear, guilt, excitement, I don't care, ran through his mind  as he  passed the library. How much money, what type of money, where can you spend it? CCTV cameras, where are they, how can you avoid them, where can you go? Get a taxi.
The man in the grey hoodie was confident that his movements about the city would not be seen or recorded. They had paid for software and an operator to do this. In any case he was not 'known' in the UK. His mother would not recognise him today. He watched Mick  and spoke briefly into a mobile. A car drew up and the hoodie disappeared into the back seat as  Mick hailed a taxi.
The controller in the CCTV centre had  a lousy day. The senior coppers   breathing down her neck. Words half caught between them “big”,  “going south”, “where the f...”.  The cameras blanking in what appeared to be random fashion and a fatal stabbing. She was confident the cameras were sound, they were regularly checked and rechecked. It must be the software and the communications links. That was the job of Mr Algorithm, the condescending nerd who made her life a misery. God, he would pay for this! 
When she got home the local TV news had the body count at 3 now including a taxi driver and a young man, no pictures of course.

Word Botching

A Kite is pure delight
But a 'fisher is much swisher!

What are they thinking now?

Firstly a picture of that Mr Farridge who seems to have acquired some notoriety of late.
See the estimable Grauniad here.

The man with the hand into which he could be despairing, mightily perhaps, is Vytenis Andriukaitis.
What he suggests he was thinking is reported in this blogpost here.
Worth a look.
(Is that a Wimbledon tie Mr Farridge is wearing? I must say it is in better taste than the tie  Andriukaitis has round his neck. Who is he trying to impress, the wee lassie in front of seat 122 or the jaffas...Ed!)

By their ties ye shall know them. The ties that bind, perhaps.

Helen of the D'Amberponts

Disclaimer.
The proposal for a romance/radio cereal/graphic novel is attached.
Any similarity with an everyday story of countryfolk or indeed Mr Hardy's underwhelming and somewhat febrile novel is purely coincidental. To be continued... (see omnibus edition No. 92)

Mayday

The first Sunday in May and six acres of bluebells in Haughley Park Woods.

Other photos are available -

http://www.haughleypark.co.uk/public-events/

It seems meet and just to celebrate Mayday with something blue. In the interests of balance however and to avoid any any suggestion that all that is yellow is not necessarily red can I direct you to Mhairi Black: SNP MP's maiden speech in full on You Tube! (I am confused, perplexed and banjanxed. You have me completely lost...Ed!)

Oja La.

Wake Up Call

Imagine my surprise listening to Late Junction early this morning on the Beeb's marvelous catchy uppy iplayer type thingy.
(Late Junction 5/04/2016 http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b075prfv ) There at 00:55 - Ed Lee Natay  Zuni Sunrise Canyon Records. He was  singing his socks off to get the horses up and all us idle bu**ers out of bed. Sam Lee (no relation as far as I know), who was the guest on the programme, describes his recognising this track and first hearing it as the arise song at FSC. I recognised it too though I was probably singing it (I could in those days, sing that is.) Is it as haunting as I think or is it just  an association with the great outdoors and a very happy time?

Sam was on  after his own programme went out on Sunday - Taking It All Back Home 3/04/2016 BBC R3 . In it he explored how archives and institutions around the world are looking to repatriate sound recordings.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b075p6n9  If you miss the link or don't have time it is downloadable.

I particularly liked the division of people into coyotes and others!

Reflections on Memory

Interesting article in the Grauniad on art, identity and memory by SJ Watson.

 (Oh I see what you did there, smart boy wanted, very good, very good. Speaking of bright young things I believe one of the related's saucepans has had some success  with the fiddle..Ed)

See for yourself at 1:58. You do have the Swedish do you not? I don't know what I would pay an editor for if it wasn't the Swedish.

(PAY...Ed!)

Paella Marinara

Well what else can you do

on a wet Easter Saturday.

Herself cooks a mean Paella Marinara and with help from family and an anniversary bottle a good time was had by all.
Which is more than can be said for the characters in High Rise (or the audience apparently)

Go Go Dancing

So that's it then we can all hang up our gobans and take to the bottle! (The machines have won. We're doomt, I telt thee, doomt. Are Go Bans like Ray Bans... Ed?)

No! See attached photo, ejit.

For those of you who are interested, there is a brief analysis of Lee Sedol's first game with Alpha Go and a nifty animated pictorial representation at the Go Game Guru site. Other sites are available and you may want to rummage in secondhand bookshops for a copy of the Master of Go.

 Mind how you go!

Thanks for all the fish

I witnessed an attack of the Zombie Herons the other day. It was in Thetford, of all places.

(Do you not feel there is something Trumpish about that hairdo...Ed?)
Strictly for the birds.

Orphan's of the Storm

To Cambridge. Confusing for a Foolish Old Man (FoM) First an Old Library with no books.  (Is this going to be a further tirade against the hardworking Mr Cameron and his Government's entirely reasonable policy of Austerity... Ed?) I believe the books have been moved elsewhere.
A Master who is a Mistress (Easy there! M'learned friends might have something to say about all this transgenderysexual stuff. Holy Mother, The Church,  would have had non of it...Ed!) No they would have had A Pope (and others) on the Grope.
Finally, Robert Macfarlane's Orphans, intriguing. (I had no idea the bloody fellow was deceased. All that walking his socks off and writing business. He would have been better off getting a proper suit and a job and looking after the kids...Ed!)

We pitched up at the Old Library Emmanuel College for the launch of a slim volume,  linked above, by Martin Johnson. The woodcut of a green lane on the cover is worth the price alone, in my view. I have mentioned the Patrician Press before. It is  a very courageous effort in these changing times for publishing. Have a look, buy a book!

Good to get that off your chess.

Here's what  Garry Kasparov had to say about in a review of Chess Metaphors: Artificial Intelligence and the Human Mind by  Diego Rasskin-Gutman, translated from the Spanish by Deborah Klosky in the New York Review of Books in 2010. The insight given into what it is like to be tanked intellectually by a machine is still worth it alone but there are some thoughtful observations about AI and the human mind and the way in which they can work together. I found it interesting that IBM seems to have closed down Deep Blue once the machine beast had bested the man. 'I'm going to take my marbles and go home'. Now where have I heard that before? Maybe Deep Mind has a greater life expectancy!

And six years before the broo ha ha over the computerisation of Go...

With the supremacy of the chess machines now apparent and the contest of “Man vs. Machine” a thing of the past, perhaps it is time to return to the goals that made computer chess so attractive to many of the finest minds of the twentieth century. Playing better chess was a problem they wanted to solve, yes, and it has been solved. But there were other goals as well: to develop a program that played chess by thinking like a human, perhaps even by learning the game as a human does. Surely this would be a far more fruitful avenue of investigation than creating, as we are doing, ever-faster algorithms to run on ever-faster hardware.

This is our last chess metaphor, then—a metaphor for how we have discarded innovation and creativity in exchange for a steady supply of marketable products. The dreams of creating an artificial intelligence that would engage in an ancient game symbolic of human thought have been abandoned. Instead, every year we have new chess programs, and new versions of old ones, that are all based on the same basic programming concepts for picking a move by searching through millions of possibilities that were developed in the 1960s and 1970s.

Like so much else in our technology-rich and innovation-poor modern world, chess computing has fallen prey to incrementalism and the demands of the market. Brute-force programs play the best chess, so why bother with anything else? Why waste time and money experimenting with new and innovative ideas when we already know what works? Such thinking should horrify anyone worthy of the name of scientist, but it seems, tragically, to be the norm. Our best minds have gone into financial engineering instead of real engineering, with catastrophic results for both sectors.

Well maybe not all our best minds. (Nice to get a bit of recognition now and then...Ed!)

Present company excepted. 

A Pun My Word

Some fun, reported in the Grauniad, with the publishing world, receipt books and authors.
I do like the idea of Honning Makrell. Maybe his latest book should have been Quicksandwich.
Fast food indeed.

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.