Times are hard!

Times are hard!
Yes, you heard me, times are hard.
Every man jack of us is feeling the pinch.
You could take the view that £140 a bottle, allegedly, is not worth getting out of bed for.
Or, you could play up; play the game; deal with the hand that the good lord has dealt you and get on with it!

We all have to make sacrifices.

Many thanks to Memex for the link.

Jigs

A difficult week in some ways but much heartened by the thought that in times past there was an ordinance to the effect that there should be :-

No lewd jigs at the end of plays

Dear god, lewd jigs, ah!
I'm very grateful to Lucie Skeaping who explored the often forgotten world of the Elizabethan stage jig -and put such thoughts into my mind.
The jig is, I am told, a popular form of bawdy musical comedy from the 16th and 17th century.
Amen, sisters.

Black and White

I have mentioned , in a previous post, the prodigious talent of Jane Bown
The Grauniad has an interactive site/tribute to her work set out by decade.
Either it has been a bit unstable today, or my Firefox is on the Fritz.
However, I look forward to exploring it in the future and I hope it is going to be around for some time!

Who are you?

Come on, jump to it, no snoozing at the back or there will be more difficult questions later.
Interesting Horizon last night. The Secret You:- BBC Two, 09:00pm Tuesday 20th October 2009.

Professor Marcus du Sautoy goes in search of answers to one of science's greatest mysteries: how do we know who we are?

Smart boy wanted and Sir Marcus de Saveloy of Hackney is one of the smarter sausages being a mathematician of some not inconsiderable talent and the ability to explain it all.

Well the answer seems to be that we normally (including chimps and orang-utans) become aware that we are individuals before the age of 2. We can recognise ourselves in the mirror and remove a sticker that has been placed on our face taking it directly from our face. Our brains appear to respond very specifically to a picture of a person in the same way that they respond to the name of that person in text!

Our brains light up with electrical activity when we are awake. They can be stimulated by magnetic fields producing electrical activity at a particular point and the whole brain starts behaving like a communications network, which of course it is, with billions of nodes able to get in on the act. When we are asleep The message is delivered but there is usually no one home! However, it appears to be possible to stimulate the brains of individuals in a vegetative state by suggesting they think about, say, playing tennis. The pattern produced appears to be the same as that in conscious volunteers asked to think about the same activity.

The experiment which seem to knock de Saveloy's very pretty little socks off was quite a simple one for this day and age. Your man was wired up and put in the brain scanning machine with the wherewithal to choose between right and left by pressing buttons. His brain was scanned before the choice and then the choice was made. The investigator claimed to be able to predict the choice, left or right, up to 6 seconds before de Saveloy consciously made it!

We may know who we are in one sense but am I the union between my, not insubstantial, corporeal self and the billions of networking neurons producing electro-chemical activity in my brain?

Save energy - recycle thoughts

A post to the effect that previously only Toffs (yes we are in the age of Toffs) could afford to buy books and now only Toffs can afford to read them. Nice one Quentin! But I might take issue with you over this one. Mrs Brown packed a few volumes in and I, a poor and lowly thing, have managed to squeeze a few tomes for nurture.
You may know already, but if you do not, ambulance persons use the term Tof. It may not be proper or correct, however, it identifies the condition where an older person falls over and sustains a fracture to the top of the femur. As an older person who recently sustained a fall in the sobriety of the early afternoon I was reassured, on a number of counts, I was not a Tof.

In addition!





So that is what Dave Mackay looks like.

One of the books you should read is:-
David J.C. MacKay. Sustainable Energy – without the hot air.
UIT Cambridge, 2008. ISBN 978-0-9544529-3-3.
Available free online from www.withouthotair.com.

So it won't cost you anything but the time! You can't afford not to!

Memento homo

So a day of memories.
The Royal Mail, of which much has been discussed, promptly delivered my middle class, middle aged pornographic purchasing mag. Which to be precise!

Sweet memories!

There on the 'Support your local dealer' literature was a picture of Steve, or Mr Hatt to you.
Dear god I have such fond memories. My first Salmon Trout, first sight of a red herring, fish smoked and plain, banter in the Saturday Queue, watching what Terry Kelly (or Tariq Ali)
was buying for the dinner party, finding a Gurnard, buying it, and seeing the look of appreciation in Steve's eyes .... If you are within 75 miles make a detour and just look in the window! You will be rewarded and much good will come to the fruit of your loins.

I had to travel to Thetford. I thought to compensate for this I would play Planxty. Doesn't everyone have a website now. I remember going to a show in the official Edinburgh Festival where they were the backing band. Cracking stuff. Problem was we were the only members of the audience clapping along to the tunes, stamping, and letting out whoops at the appropriate moments.

Strange that but it led me to think that the woman is dead now and no one thought to tell me, but why should they?

Once upon a time in the North.

So; here we are again, happy as can be, all good friends and jolly good company!
Up to a point Lord MacCopper.
Interesting set of articles from Open Democracy, Ooor Kingdom!

We see things very differently below Adrian's Wal, but we do so at our peril.
We do so especially if we are an English Toff about to govern a united kingdom (?) with a government of English Toffs.

Boots

The Post - Tough as Old Boots had me thinking.
One of our Ambling Group is a dedicated walker and clocks up hundreds of miles a year.
He usually gets through a pair after each long walk and, because he keeps careful records of his walking, he is able to link a mileage to each pair of boots. As much for a laugh as anything else he divides the cost of the boots by his mileage . I suspect he hovers around 10p a mile. Interesting! I've no idea what he does with the old boots but I guess they get put in the bin rather than the midden! The post mentions the fact that boots (along with cats) are sometimes found concealed within old houses.

We stayed in a B&B recently that had a child's shoe in the wall.

The Angel's Game

Recently acquired the above through the usual channels. Nudge, nudge, wink, wink, know what I mean!
I enjoyed it greatly, not as much as the 'Shadow of the Wind', but whatever!
I stumbled out of the community lunch, not drunk but with a good excuse. I noticed the Library Van, the one with the big 'Dish' on the roof, was parked outside.
Paranoia!
They know I am not going to return it tomorrow, when it is due, and when some poor borrower is expecting it to be returned.

I will pay my fine, gladly, so herself, who has had her nose stuck in it, can enjoy it!

Life has been a bit hard all round so...

Also got round to reading A Confederacy of Dunces.

Still Room?

We have been on holiday in the land of the Wal, Adrian's Wal.
We have also been plagued by notices which have caused us to stop and think deeply; not necessarily something you want to do while resting your brain on holiday.
This, for instance can not be true for all time and for all capacities.



Maybe the estate has a man who comes round at the appointed time and unscrews the notice putting up another bearing the legend...

That's enough now! No more shoving, you could not get another sardine in there sideways.

Other signs which caught our eye indicated Severe Dips.
What, pray, are these mordant mixtures ready to assail us on the roads?
Barbaric Barbecue,
Caustic Cream Cheese,
Grave Guacamole,
Harsh Hummus,
Tight-lipped Taramasalata,
Taxing Tzatziki.
We never found any of them. Perhaps they were the Hidden Dips which seemed to abound or not as the case may be!

Doors were often identified as Alarmed. I know I can be a sight but I would never, knowingly, frighten a lump of wood! Some doors were Alarmed at Night; poor things obviously scared of the dark!

The sign which gave us most concern advised Caution, Sheep!
I'm telling you we drove very carefully past those beasts, not wanting to provoke a savage attack on our tires or even having our windscreen wipers broken off!

We had a grand time. He built a lot of Wal old Adrian, and roads and ruins and had hypercosts.
Interesting to note even the Romans had dodgy builders and inflation.

Expenses Smexpenses!

At the start of my interweb journey I discovered I was able to read Carl Hiaasen in the Miami Herald. We had enjoyed his novellas for some time and now I could follow his day to day take on a very corrupt part of a very corrupt country. I revisited his column recently and realised that our politicians may be as morally corrupt as anything in the sunshine state but for sheer imagination, brio and off the wall excess you can't beat the guys and gals in this post.

From up in the Panhandle we learn that Rep. Ray Sansom of Destin ran up $173,000 on an American Express card issued to him by the state Republican Party.

Sansom was speaker of the House for about nine seconds until it was revealed that he'd taken a $110,000-a-year job with Northwest Florida State College, after steering $35 million in extra or accelerated public funding to that school...

... Meanwhile, down in old Key West, suspended Monroe County School Superintendent Randy Acevedo was being prosecuted in another case of dubiously extravagant fringe benefits.

Acevedo was accused of trying to cover up some of his wife's alleged ``misappropriations,'' including nearly $200,000 in tuitions and fees that were supposed to fund adult education programs...

...Records show that Monique Acevedo also racked up more than $95,000 on her school-issued credit card for items that she claimed were necessary for classes in cosmetology, GED and English as a Second Language.

These vital educational aids included bar stools, pink silk ties, a chandelier, a table saw, spear-gun attachments and a DVD box set of the popular HBO show, Six Feet Under.

See, that's where we go wrong. The spouse of a british politician would, say, hire a few videos from the local shop porno section. Flickering images, passing clouds, fleeting pleasure compared to a box set of Six Feet Under! Plus you get to rip Thomas Newman's catchy little tune to MP3.

By this shall all men know....

A very sad post, a sign of the times, shades of things to come. What the hell will they do with our libraries when they get round to cuts. I'm sorry I'll re-phrase that. When they review, reallocate and prioritise existing resources in new, exciting and transformational ways.

I'm old enough and wise enough to realise that there are priorities. For the want of money and humanity the right to live is being denied. However, a taste of the post and the arguement that bread alone is never enough...

Think of the millions of lifelong love-affairs with literacy sparked in the collections of those libraries.

Read the post and weep. I'm not sure I should thank John Naughton for the link, depressing.

Bird on a Wire

The end of my chairpersonship of the board of a small non-profit which I hope has done some good in the world. Feelings of relief that the boat was the right way up as I was piped overboard, also glad that it has a purpose and some resources to carry on its mission.
I was downloading some of my recent snaps and this one caught my imagination.

Bird on a wire.
The long tail.
The bottom line.
There's always one.
I'm sure they said 5th wire down 4th post from the windmill.

Never a Grauniad Sub when you want one.

Xwords

Just finished the Paul and sent it off in the fax;
believe the spoiler was 3 down.

As someone once said, oats are for horses and Scotspersons!

Could be wrong but we will see.

The dirty digger can drink his heart out

I am reliably informed by esteemed colleague Memex 1.1 that Flann O’Brien's Research Bureau had solved the problem of tinternet and journalism before it was even invented. Smart boy wanted as it were!

I do not remember the column or if I do a surfeit of Trink has done its work. However, I too believe that we are onto something here.

But why stop at journos, who are notoriously undiscerning when it comes to booze.

I think we could develop a niche market with Trink in the book trade all we need for the future is the electronic version.

Just think about it:-
Homage to Catalonia:- fumes of La Rioja or Penedes wafting from every page of the electronic Trink and to fund it, there, the offer of a lifetime, locked into your Kindle or Sony E-reader.
Buy your own vineyard!
Invest in the future of Tempranillio!

The House of Bernada Alba:-
Wafts of mothballs, and lavender.
However, cunningly, underneath these overtones the brazen, saline sensuality of Manzanilla, the bargainbasement enjoyment of Montilla-Moriles.

At a tangent:-
Once upon a long time ago in a far distant land, La Rioja, I remember standing around in a garage with a guy known to all but himself as Garbanzo. He proffered the potable result of his vinicultural endeavours out of large green plastic containers. Un be fucking lieve able. It was white, it came from La Rioja but it would never pass the test, it would never be certified but, Jesus, you could drink it till the cows came home.

Why I get up in the morning

A daily dose, seven days a week, from 6 am BST

Feel the coffee, smell the zeitgeist!

And now for those who do not tweet; Roland, ma man, give me some skin?

Latest offering:-

Just finished all 5 of POTUS's beach reads. Loved Tom Friedman's "Hot, Flat and Crowded", his take on Martha's Vineyard.

Foxy, very Foxy.

Quality and Symmetry

So herself claims that her Aunty Jenny won second prize in a competition for embroidery when her work was presented the wrong way round.

Sad, undoubtedly true, and a testament to the quality of the work of people who had better things to do and did them!

I did enjoy the visit to the undercrypt of the PoW.
There are some very good people in the world.
Happy birthday!
I hope you enjoyed the trip to Paris.

My thoughts go up

Three meetings to complete work, for the summer at least. I feel my steps light as a feather.
A bacon sarnie, last night's edition of the Wire, some cooking and a relaxing evening. Bliss.
My mobile vibrates just outside our local village 'Hub'. I pull over as no one rings me on the mobile. I am Johnny No Mates Mobile.

Heigh ho! Family emergency involving carers, ambulence persons district nurses and frantic phoning. I collect the survival kit and head for the hills. I joke later in the car that if I have my survival kit, an apple, a pork pie, a crossword and a book I can survive all but a direct nuclear hit.

Bookism!

I've just finished Rick Gekowski's - Tolkein's Gown. Most of the last three chapters I read under the shade of a tree in the vicinity of Wicken Fen. We spent the morning going round the main part of the Fen, which was a bit flat in terms of flora and fauna at this time of year. However, we did have clear sight of a Painted Lady.


After lunch I thought I would find a pleasant bolt hole under the tree and read, undisturbed!
Indeed, I did and enjoyed it. My companions returned with tales of watching kingfishers fish.
Maybe life is a mixture of joys experienced and joys to come!

I am convinced that Rick Gekowski is a real person, he trades in books, he has a catalogue,
he has pictures of himself on the web, etc, etc. What if he were a fiction of someone's imagination?

Retable

So; I thought it would be good to go back and take a picture at Thornham Parva church.
Even though as a lad I had been steeped in the trappings of holy mother church I was not conscious of the word retable until my late forties. A trip to Burgos and its churches produced more retables than you could shake a stick at. In fact they probably had retables in the bawdy houses but, of course, we didn't check. Anyway here is a poor snap of the one at Thornham, very famous.

In the church we were able to look on the Retable and ponder.

Making our way through the churchyard we stumbled across the last resting place of Sir Bas and Lady Joan Spence.

Being creatures of little sensitivity and lowly station we pitched up on the only bench in the churchyard amongst the departed and had our picnic. The heat of the day and the food caused some of our stout party to lie back and enjoy the sun. Those of us on the bench promised to cover with the vicar, if he appeared, and say that they were only getting in some pre-burial practice.

We had a good walk and if you are interested you could trace our steps here!