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Glenda Jackson

1936 – 2023

RIP

 Victuallers and the authors of en:Glenda Jackson and en:Candice Bergen (https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:May9_Woman_of_the_Day.png), „May9 Woman of the Day“, https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/legalcode

 

Very sad to hear of the passing of Glenda Jackson. The United Kingdom has – during my lifetime – produced such an extraordinary run of incredibly talented actors and actresses that sometimes the details of individual careers can be taken a little for granted. Glenda Jackson was one of the brightest of acting talents back in the 60s and 70s and it is all the more to her credit that she moved on from acting to a career in politics – believing fervently as she did that she could make a difference and do some good for the less fortunate subjects of the UK.

It is a great shame that not of all those who entered politics during this period (and subsequently) have held such high moral standards and noble intentions – or behaved with such integrity.

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Coda

When I wrote a post recently raising a cheer for the culmination of the long process towards adding Canadian citizenship (and a matching passport) to my existing British variants of both – I assumed that that was the last I would hear of the process. Indeed – what else could there be to say?

Imagine my surprise, then, when an important and most official looking package arrived for me just the other day in the post. The envelope indicated that it had originated in the Canadian House of Commons – the Canadian parliament – and when I extracted this rather swish folder from within the impression was confirmed.

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid
What could the Canadian government want with me? Was I in trouble already? Did they want their citizenship back?

I need not have feared…

Photo by Andy Dawson Reid
The folder contained a rather splendid certificate, signed by our local MP – Elizabeth May – welcoming me as a new Canadian citizen.

How splendid!

Now – I don’t want to draw comparisons, but when The Girl was awarded her British citizenship back in 2012, no-one from the UK parliament sent her an equivalent welcoming memento.

Hmmmm!

Elizabeth May is a resident of our local town – Sidney by the Sea – and is (joint) leader of the Green Party. She has long served the peninsula and the Gulf Islands as member of parliament and is one of the few Green Party representatives there. We like her!

Even more so now…

 

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“Good news is rare these days, and every glittering ounce of it should be cherished and hoarded and worshipped and fondled like a priceless diamond.”

Hunter S. Thompson

It is hardly feasible – no matter how hard our forefathers may have attempted so to do back in the bad old colonial days – to relocate to the far side of the world without making changes to the way one lives. Such modifications may turn out to be unexpectedly significant or even life-changing. Lesser amendments, on the other hand, might go virtually unnoticed in the moment – though perhaps acquiring greater import with the passage of time and with the benefit of hindsight.

I am writing this – for instance – on a Sunday. Back in the UK a key part of the Sunday ritual would have been the quick trip out in the morning to purchase coffees and a stack of Sunday newspapers. My personal and long standing favourite was The Observer – now part of the Guardian group.

When we came to Canada we looked around for a substitute; only to discover that there really isn’t one…  at least, not in a truly satisfying sense. There are some multi-part weekend papers to be sure, but they are very meagre fare by comparison to their British counterparts. They lack weight in all senses and are sadly not able – in my view – to  boast columnists or journalists of a comparable calibre to their UK equivalents.

It is, of course, quite possible to purchase British newspapers – including The Observer – in Canada… if one is prepared to wait for half a week and to pay a hefty premium for so doing. We are – needless to say – not!

It is further a fact of life these days that pretty much everything print-based has now been moved (or duplicated) online. It is certainly possible to read all of the titles with which we are familiar on the tiny screen, though some are protected by pay-walls to which I am not prepared to donate. Not all of these transitions online has been effected in an agreeable form. The Independent (my daily paper of choice in the UK when I had time to read such a thing) is now an online only journal that is sadly (but inevitably) beset by advertising. No big deal in itself were it not that the implementation in this case results in the screen constantly refreshing and jumping about as one tries to read – in the service of dandling fresh adverts before one’s weary eyes. The whole experience is so irritating that I was obliged to withdraw a routine contribution to their funds and to look elsewhere.

With the BBC website now a shadow of its former self – though still indispensable – I find myself now a subscriber to The Guardian – something that I had not anticipated. Though The Guardian‘s politics have always found favour in our household we have often thought them to be a little too po-faced to be likeable and their writers a little over-fond of the sanctimonious.

A year or so back I found myself searching furiously for a new source of cultural and current affairs analysis; a journal with its heart in the right place but still attractive to writers who knew how to turn a phrase and to frame a persuasive argument. I found just such in The Atlantic – that venerable literary magazine that has evolved into an influential platform for long-form storytelling and news-maker interviews. In addition to its monthly edition it produces a most useful daily digest of articles during the working week – and I would not now willingly be without it.

I recommend it – regardless of where in the world you reside.

 

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Yesterday was a momentous day – and not just because the tory government that has afflicted the UK for longer than I have been keeping this journal appears finally to have plunged itself into a death spiral… though that is indeed a very splendid thing!

Should – incidentally – you want chapter and verse on just how momentously this epochal event will undoubtedly go down in the annals of history once the dust settles, I commend to you Jonathan Freedland’s excellent piece in the Guardian, the which can be found here. Freedland draws the connection all the way from the Suez crisis in 1956, through the joining of the Common Market, the decline of Britain through the 70s, 80s and 90s, to Brexit and on to the current attempts by the free-market zealots from the right wing who have taken over the nasty party… to buck the very markets that they espouse!

I did but a single unit in economics at college way back in the very early 70s – but even I could see that this was never going to work.

Anyway – exciting as this all undoubtedly is, for The Girl and I (yes – I know… ‘me’!) the day had a different import. Finally – at the end of a process that has taken nearly as long as the unraveling of the tory project in the UK – I have become a Citizen of Canada (as trailed in this previous posting)… the which I proudly add to my treasured British citizenship.

Hooray indeed!

The citizenship Oath Taking ceremony itself was carried out – as in the way in these frangible times – on Zoom. This naturally lent proceedings a slightly strange atmosphere though – as with most things Zoom related – it all seemed work out reasonably well without ever coming close to that which a proper face to face ceremony would have afforded. The slightly unreal symbolic cutting up of my Permanent Residency card (rendering me temporarily unable to return to Canada should I have to leave it for any reason) and the strange twist of having to swear allegiance to the monarch (something that as a Brit I have never been called upon to do – as is also the case for native Canadians) was followed by the somewhat forced singing by the massed Zoom ranks of ‘O Canada‘ in a mixture of English and French.

Somehow – in these strange and perplexing times – this ceremony felt not only appropriate but also unexpectedly touching. I am most happy now to add being a citizen of ‘here’ to my armoury.

The Girl is and has always been – of course – the entire reason and rationale for this long and unforeseeable journey. To her – as ever – my endless gratitude and thanks.

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A mixed bag

…random ramblings on a recent rag-bag of topics from the Pacific northwest…

First things first… ‘Tis once again the time of year to wish The Girl a very happy – if slightly belated (in real world, if not in blog-world terms) birthday! Yay! Happy B-day!

Life here on the west coast of Canada trundles along in its usual way. We are both busy and things are returning to some semblance of order now that the western world has decided that COVID is over and done with (even if it isn’t!). Secure in the knowledge that our multiple vaccine boosters and immunity from having had a dose of the lurgy make us a little more protected than we were before, we have on occasion stepped out to eat and to attend other public social events.

We even decided that it was safe enough to go back to the theatre – a least for a few months until the ‘immunity’ wears off. We had tickets for a play at The Belfry for The Girl’s birthday but the performance was cancelled at the last minute due to ‘illness’ (now, what could that be?). Our tickets have been rescheduled for this coming weekend, so let’s see how that goes.

Following the grim (as in cold and wet) spring and early summer, concerning which I posted at length earlier this year, the weather finally got its act together and we are enjoying a most pleasant Indian Summer. Temperatures remain in the 20s C and we have had no rain to speak of for several months. The garden could really do with some to be honest, but I guess it will come soon enough.

Apropos of very little, I feel that I should extend my commiserations to those who yet reside in the UK. Though I try not to comment on politics in these dark days it would not be – I believe – controversial to describe the UK political establishment since 2016 a a complete sh*tshow. However, even by such measures the new incumbents of 10 Downing Street might just prove be the worst and most dangerous yet.

Why do I care? Well – last week’s shenanigans wiped a considerable chunk off my monthly pension income as the chancellor carelessly crashed sterling and sent exchange rates plummeting (or soaring! – depends which end of the chain one is at). The subsequent recovery has been encouraging, but the knowledge that this ruling cabal’s dangerous ideology might well cause permanent damage is chilling to those of us who have no say in the matter.

In a strange Hitchcock-ian coda: yesterday I was out in the garden, underneath our deck (the which forms a sort of veranda across the whole width of the back of the house). It was impossible to miss the fact that – out in the stand of trees that border our property to the east – a huge and raucous convocation of birds had gathered. I could not actually see most of them, as the trees are tall and there is plenty of foliage. They were making sufficient noise, however, that it was impossible to ignore them. Quite startlingly so, in fact.

I took one step out from the cover of the deck and immediately the whole gathering took off. There must have been thousands of them (clearly of more than one species). Their parting darkened the skies for a moment or two and then they were gone – and a sudden and total silence descended.

Now – I wonder what this portends?

 

 

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One of the dubious ‘pleasures’ of ‘getting on a bit’ – and in particular if one takes a diuretic (for hypertension or suchlike) – is that it is much harder to sleep through the night. The call of nature is loud, clear and impossible to ignore.

Thus it was that I was up at 4:00am this morning, availing myself of the facilities!

I had just got back to bed and was drifting off into much appreciated slumber when – all of a sudden – I heard through the quiet of the night a rapidly growing bass rumble. I felt the bed move under me as the crescendo ended in a loud-ish thump and all manner of things on walls and in cupboards rattled vigorously. Then all was at once quiet again.

In my sleep be-fuddled state two thoughts made it though to my consciousness. The first was that a truck had hit the front of the house; unlikely because it was the middle of the night and we live in a place where trucks are not wont to go. The second thought was that there had been an earthquake!

Now – one’s first response to such an eventuality is meant to be to leap from one’s bed and to take shelter underneath some well-reinforced structure. My first thought was to grab my iThing and to look up ‘earthquake‘ on Google. There it was – within 30 seconds of the thing occurring – an entry much like that at the top of this jotting.

Goodness me…” – thought I – “that’s jolly efficient!

I guess I really should do some more work on my priorities.

It has been more than six years now since we moved to the part of the Pacific Rim that forms the North Cascadian subduction zone – one of the well-known hot-spots for tremors that make up this part of the ‘Ring of Fire’. I figured that at some point I would experience a quake – even if it were a small one like this (for those who wish to know the details this one registered 3.6 on the Richter scale, with the epicentre some 10 miles beneath Galliano Island – about 15 miles north-west of us here. To The Girl – who is, naturally, an old hand at such things – it was hardly worth waking up for. To me it was an experience…

…which – having had – I wouldn’t mind not having again!

By a strange co-incidence this quake occurred on the same night that a very different (metaphorical!) quake shook the folks back in good old Blighty! I am referring, of course, to the Liberals defeating the Tory candidate in the North Shropshire by-election… which seat had been held by the Tories for more than two hundred years! As a judgement on the performance, record, behaviour and character of Prime Minister Johnson I find it hugely encouraging that the electorate has finally spoken with such eloquence and clarity.

Let us have much more of the same, say I…

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I made passing reference in my last post to an action taken very recently by the UK government that seemed to me – as it did to many others – to be fundamentally corrupt… and one which by its very nature would lead to a significant denigration of the UK’s much vaunted and centuries old democratic accountability.

As it turned out – however – the old saw about twenty four hours (other time measures available!) being a long time in politics proved most apt in this case.

It occurs to me that those outwith the UK might not be aware of this particular story. To that end I thought I might offer a quick catch up. Here we go:

  • Tory MP and ex-Northern Ireland secretary – Owen Paterson – was investigated by the Commissioner for Parliamentary Standards after being accused of breaking the lobbying rules for MPs.
  • Paterson had been doing extremely well-remunerated consultancy work for several companies but had been accused of going further and actually lobbying government ministers on their behalf.
  • Following the investigation the commissioner found that Paterson had indeed been involved in a number of serious breaches of the code and recommended that parliament suspend the MP for 30 days – the which could have led to his being dropped by his constituency party, thus causing a by-election for his seat.
  • On the day that the case was to have been debated in the Commons the government did two highly contentious things: first – in an attack on the Commission for Parliamentary Standards – they proposed ditching that venerable body completely and replacing it with a new one that would actually be considerably less independent and would be chaired by a tory. Secondly – on the grounds that it would be unfair to judge Paterson before the new body had been instigated – the charges against him were to be set aside.
  • Prime Minister Johnson backed both motions heavily and spoke warmly in Paterson’s defence. A three-line whip was imposed on the vote which resulted in both measures being passed.
  • The opposition parties refused to have anything to do with the new body and even a good number of tories were horrified by this blatant attempt to change the rules retrospectively. One junior minister was sacked for abstaining rather than voting for the measures (though later re-instated).
  • That was the point at which I wrote my last post. What followed was much more encouraging – at least for those who are not supporters of the current regime in the UK.
  • The following morning there was a huge outcry and even the tory supporting press decided that things had gone too far. In the face of this wave of criticism it was announced in the house that the vote in favour of replacing the standards commission would be set aside after all.
  • Since there would now be no reason not to revert to the originally planned debate on Owen Paterson’s future Johnson did what he does best – betrayed his colleague and effectively threw Paterson under a bus – without even communicating the news of this abrupt U-turn to him. Paterson learned of the development through being asked a question by a reporter.
  • Having by this stage had enough Paterson finally did the decent thing and resigned

The entire episode spoke to sleaze and shoddy self-interest (Johnson himself is the subject of several inquiries by the commission) and I suspect this one will run for some time.

I cannot think of a more appropriate party to which this could happen.

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I had an odd experience this evening…

I had just returned – on a dismal and dank November Wednesday evening – from  three hours teaching on the trot at the College. It was almost dark when I reached home and I was the first one back.

I made myself a cup of coffee – as is my habit upon returning home – and settled down with my iDevice to scan the headlines, to bring myself up to date with the goings on in the world.

Now – I was pretty tired… which may explain some of this – and I am getting on a bit… which may explain more.

I was scrolling down through the BBC website and happened upon a list of the ‘Most Read‘ news stories of the day. One of the items was the announcement of the death of Sir Sean Connery. As I studied the tributes I was overcome by emotion and my eyes filled with tears. This was clearly the end of an era.

At this point The Girl arrived home and immediately recognised that something was troubling me. Worried that I had had some bad news she quizzed me gently. I hastened to explain and to reassure her.

It took me yet a while more before the – “Hold on a minute!” – moment struck. Sean Connery died last year. I wrote an entry to this journal at the time. What was I thinking?

I hastened back to the BBC. Sure enough – at number seven in the list of ‘Most Read‘ news stories today was the item from last year announcing Connery’s death.

At a time when the nations of the world are gathered at COP26 in Glasgow in a (perhaps hopeless) attempt to save the world from climate change… in a period when the global COVID-19 pandemic threatens to burst forth anew across the globe… on a day when the US electorate have apparently forgiven and forgotten the GOP’s appalling behaviour over the past five years – on a day when the tory party in the UK has brazenly declared open season for corruption and sleaze in UK politics…

…the seventh most read story of the day was about the death of a film icon a year ago!

Most interesting!

Mind you – given how the story managed to affect me all over again a year on, perhaps that should not come as such a surprise.

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I imagine that, as a rule of thumb, all ex-pats respond in their own manner to having removed themselves from the immediate orbit of the mother country. Some may well walk away with nary a backward glance. Others might occasionally have a look to see how the old country is making out. Those who have family and friends yet back home will doubtless get regular updates as to how things are going there…

…or they may be more like me and follow the news from home daily through one or more of the media sources – in my case primarily the BBC and the Guardian newspaper (online version).

I suspect that so doing has never been an entirely comfortable experience, but it seems to have been particularly tough in the six years that have elapsed since we crossed the pond. The Brexit referendum and subsequent long drawn-out shambles of a transition – the COVID-19 pandemic (in response to which the UK has contrived to perform worse than practically any other European country) – the repeated election of a government apparently spectacularly ill-equipped to deal with the tough challenges of this turbulent era…

At certain points I have been moved to post my own thoughts on the goings-on back home within these pages. Of late I have increasingly refrained from so doing, if for no reason other than an attempt to keep my blood pressure down.

The tragic assassination last weekend of Tory MP Sir David Amess, however, cannot go un-noted. For what it is worth we offer our deepest condolences to his family, friends and constituents.

It is only five years since the appalling murder of Labour MP Jo Cox in the run-up to the referendum and it is no surprise that questions were already being asked concerning the safety not only of those in public service but also of democracy itself. Of course, though such events are horrifying and unexpected, there is – in the UK and elsewhere – and long and ignoble history of attacks upon those holding public office. Is this period really worse in this regard than decades passed?

It may well prove to be the case that – in purely statistical terms – things have not really changed so much, but there have been other societal developments that are deeply worrying. The is no denying that the InterWebNet is a wonderful thing which has transformed lives in many ways. That it also has, however, dark sides cannot be disputed. There has been a dramatic rise in online abuse and in virtual attacks on individuals and institutions that may well be proved to be having a knock-on effect in the physical world.

On the BBC’s ‘Newsnight’ programme last Friday the Tory MP and Father of the House, Sir Peter Bottomley, talked of the increasing levels of online abuse with which he and other MPs of all parties now have to deal. He described how he had subsequently met some of those who posted such offensive missives, but who would not admit that there was anything wrong with having expressed themselves in such a manner.

This saddens me deeply. I find it hard to accept a world in which politeness and consideration do not primarily inform all of our dealings with others. It does not matter how strongly some belief or conviction is held – abuse is not an acceptable way to express one’s point of view. It does not surprise me that the casual disregard for facts, the truth and indeed logic displayed by some of those in the public eye has stoked a febrile climate of rumour, disinformation and suspicions of conspiracy – all of which feeds into this particular cesspit.

These are, as a result, dangerous times… and not just for the UK. The situation in the US is inevitably worse still and even in Canada – whose inhabitants as a whole have a reputation for being even more polite than us (old-fashioned) Brits – there are worrying signs of a decline.

I wish that I knew what might be done about this sad state of affairs. All I can think of immediately is to ensure that my behaviour to others accords with the manner in which I would wish them to behave to me.

R.I.P – Sir David Amess.

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A very dear friend here in Victoria gave me for Christmas a copy of Bob Woodward’s 2020 book on Donald Trump – ‘Rage‘. This friend is building an excellent reputation for giving me thoughtful and imaginative gifts – particularly in the form of books that should be read – and this is no exception.

Now – some readers might well demur.

Trump is gone – thank heavens!” – they may say. “Why would you not just consign all thoughts thereof to the dustbin of history?“.

The reason for not so doing, of course, is that one must always be on guard and must without fail be able to recognise the enemy. That Trump was elected in the first place is scary enough. That he might be so again – or that someone in his image could so do – is an ongoing, clear and present threat.

At one point in the book Woodward recalls an English professor at his college who advised him that – to be an effective biographer – the writer must find true ‘reflectors‘ of his subject – ie: those who know the subject intimately and can provide perceptive character assessments. Woodward toys with the notion of casting Jared Kushner (Trump’s son in law) in the role, but decides that he is too much in thrall to the man himself.

What changes his mind is advice that Kushner gives to unspecified others on how to understand Trump. He points them in the direction of four texts:

  • A piece on Trump by Pulizter Prize-winning columnist from the Wall Street Journal – Peggy Noonan. Noonan writes:

We are not talking about being colorfully, craftily unpredictable, as political masters like FDR and Reagan sometimes were, but something more unfortunate – an unhinged or not fully-hinged quality that feels like a screwball tragedy.

Noonan continues: “Crazy doesn’t last. Crazy doesn’t go the distance. Crazy is an unstable element that, when let loose in a stable environment, explodes.

  • Kushner’s second text is ‘Alice in Wonderland‘ – and specifically the Cheshire Cat! Kushner paraphrased the cat:

If you don’t know where you are going, any path will get you there.

  • The third text is Chris Whipple’s book – ‘The Gatekeepers: How the White House Chiefs of Staff Define Every Presidency‘. In a section on Trump added in 2018 Whipple wrote that:

Trump ‘clearly had no idea how to govern’ in his first year in office, yet was reluctant to follow the advice of his first two chiefs of staff – Reince Priebus and John Kelly“.

  • The final text is Scott Adam’s (the creator of the Dilbert comic strips) book – ‘Win bigly: Persuasion in a World Where Facts Don’t Matter’. Adams argues that:

Trump’s misstatements of fact are not regrettable errors or ethical lapses, but part of a technique called ‘intentional wrongness persuasion’Trump ‘can invent any reality’ for most voters on most issues and ‘all you will remember is that he provided his reasons, he didn’t apologise and his opponents called him a liar like they always do’.”

Kushner adds:

Controversy elevates message… A controversy over the economy – and how good it is – only helps Trump because it reminds voters that the economy is good. A hair-splitting fact-checking debate in the media about whether the numbers were technically better decades ago or in the 1950s is irrelevant“.

Remember that these are texts that Kushner – a fervent acolyte of the then-president – volunteered by way of trying to help others to understand Trump. Woodward concludes:

When combined, Kushner’s four texts painted President Trump as crazy, aimless, stubborn and manipulative. I could hardly believe that anyone would recommend these as ways to understand their father-in-law, much less the president they believed in and served“.

We would be wise – to quote Thomas Cranmer – to: “Read, mark, learn and inwardly digest…

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