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2013

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Assorted images of the harvest season in Merrie England – as captured by the Fuji X10. The interminable drizzle and ashen skies give little in the way of encouragement to the casual photographer…

Photo by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson ReidPhoto by Andy Dawson Reid

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earth-upside-downYou must know that for those destined to dominate others the ordinary rules of life are turned upside down and duty acquires an entirely new meaning. Good and evil are carried off to a higher, different plane.

Pope Alexander VI to Lucrezia Borgia

I will be brief!

Chancellor Osbourne’s speech to the Tory party conference in the UK last week included one announcement that had not – contrary to what has somewhat sadly become widely accepted practice – been trailed to the media in advance. The gist of this statement was that – should the Tories be allowed another term in office – once the recovery had stabilised and the structural deficit been reduced the Tories would then focus on running a surplus on the nation’s budget.

This would appear at first glance to be a good thing. One should live within one’s means and it is – of course – good practice to put something aside during the ‘fat’ years to see us through the ‘lean’. What went unsaid was that this would of necessity be achieved by extending – apparently indefinitely – the current policy of austerity, with all that that implies as a brake on growth leading to the further erosion of living standards.

This bitter medicine – though difficult to swallow – might just be accepted as an essential part of the cure for our ills were it not for one glaring omission – one extremely large and utterly disregarded (by the Tories!) elephant in the room. This perpetual belt-tightening will clearly not apply to the Tories’ favoured sons – the one percent!

The bankers – the speculators – the masters of the universe… will all be free to carry on awarding themselves inflationary pay rises, exorbitant bonuses (apparently regardless of performance) and eye-watering severance packages. The stateless corporates will continue to play off nation against nation for their favours, effectively deciding for themselves what – if any – tax they will pay and to whom. Whilst the ‘ordinary’ man (and woman) must take in another notch in their belts and watch as their standard of living slowly dissolves – castles of sand washed away by the incoming tide – the rich aboard their hyper-yachts will simply sail off into the sunset, the income gap between us and them growing ever wider and wider as it has been doing since the 1970s.

I have never understood why it is that – whilst at one end of the spectrum workers are expected to ‘price’ themselves into a job – at the opposite extreme these ‘supermen’ – these Übermensch – are apparently incapable of carrying out the jobs (of which they have had their pick!) for which they are already extremely well paid unless they are further bribed so to do – for what are bonus and incentive schemes but bribery – plain and simple. I have nothing at all against those who enrich themselves through their honest toil and creativity – those who build something which is ultimately of the benefit to all. For far too many of the one percent – however – this is simply not the case.

These men must be truly exceptional to be rewarded as they are. They must indeed be exceptional to be feted so by those who represent us. They are also apparently exceptions to the rule by which the rest of us must live. I feel sure – however – that they will not give a fig that we take exception to them!

Which we do!

Flame off…

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World_upside_downThe modern conservative is engaged in one of man’s oldest exercises in moral philosophy; that is, the search for a superior moral justification for selfishness.

John Kenneth Galbraith

Many of us in the UK breath a hearty sigh of relief at this point of the year – for the party conference season has finally shuddered to a close. Those of like vintage can probably just about recall when party conferences actually meant something – when policies were proposed, debated and then voted upon according to whichever greater or lesser degree of democratic process the party in question espoused. It wasn’t perfect. It was very rarely pretty – but at least there was a feeling that the entire farrago had some sort of purpose.

Nowadays these annual gatherings in corners of the kingdom seldom otherwise visited by many of those in or on the fringes of power, are merely tightly choreographed PR exercises, the prime function of which is to garner headlines in the media and to ‘get the message across’. It is a particular bugbear of mine (one of many, you may have noticed!) that ‘getting the message across’ is now considered to be of such import that it is apparently perfectly acceptable to patronise horribly those of us who make up the great unwashed – presumably on the basis that we possess between us no intelligence whatsoever!

We are unfortunate in the UK currently to suffer what is fundamentally a Tory administration. From the Kickass Canada Girl’s pithy epithets on perusing the news from home I deduce that Canada finds itself in a similar position. Now – for the Tories the ‘message’ that must be ‘got across’ is that the entire global financial meltdown – as well as the subsequent and ongoing international credit crisis – was caused solely by the profligacy of the last Labour administration. (Strangely the inverse now applies – any current woes being the fault of those beyond these shores).

Whereas I can just about understand the Tories holding this view – and indeed trying to make political capital therefrom – it is abundantly clear that every single member of the administration that has been given permission to communicate through the media has been briefed to ram this point home at every conceivable opportunity. As a result there is no question to which the answer is free from this mantra – the recitation of the same hackneyed dogma – an endless repetition of the same trite phrases, presumably in the belief that if a thing is said frequently and loudly enough the rest of us will eventually accept it as the truth.

COME ON!! – for pity’s sake… This is the way that a child ‘communicates’ when it wants something that it can’t have. Show us at least some respect!

Lest anyone – at this point – accuse me of getting ‘party political’ I should make it clear that I consider all parties and pretty well all politicians to be equally guilty in this regard. It comes as little surprise to me that the electorate is increasingly and justifiably disenchanted with those who purport to represent us. The Tories – being currently in power – must inevitably, however, be the prime recipients of our disapprobation.

Oh dear! What was intended to be a brief but pithy commentary on the Chancellor – George Osbourne’s – conference speech, has morphed instead into two less than temperate virtual diatribes. I really shouldn’t let these things get to me, but I do find these preening popinjays so very irritating…

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Harwood ArmsYesterday afternoon found me in the heart of the City of London at St Paul’s Cathedral. The occasion was the School’s annual Founder’s Day service. Long term readers might recall that I posted on the subject at around this time last year. Newcomers may care to catch up here.

As ever I took a moment to stand under the very centre of the dome and offered up a silent prayer of thanks. The significance – for those that must know – is elucidated here.

On which subject – the Kickass Canada Girl was herself in town yesterday – ‘hot-desking’ in the London office. Once my mission to the Cathedral had been accomplished I collected her from Pimlico and lead her away to the mysterious wilds of Fulham – whereat we were to dine in celebration the previous day’s anniversary. She did not know where we were dining (I can’t resist surprises!) and was thus somewhat taken aback when we plunged into the maze of residential streets that lie behind Fulham Broadway.

Our destination was the utterly splendid Harwood Arms. Once a regular street corner ‘pub’ and now belonging more properly to the increasingly ubiquitous ‘gastro-‘ variety (in many cases to be treated with deepest suspicion) the Harwood Arms is a genuine delight. The excellent atmosphere in the dinning room is considerably enhanced by the knowledgeable and personable staff – but the true star of the show is, quite rightly, the food itself. Head Chef Barry Fitzgerald knows how to cook meat – game in particular – and when one gleans that the Harwood is the only pub in London to have been awarded a Michelin star one gets an idea of what to expect.

I haven’t mentioned the wine list. I should! Even if you do not feel able to stretch to the Romanée-Conti Grands Échezeaux (and frankly, who can?) there is a wealth of other wines from around the globe from which to choose. We particularly enjoyed the ‘Ten Minutes by Tractor 10X’ Pinot Noir (from that other Victoria down under) which went especially well with my grouse. If – incidentally – you should find yourself fascinated the wine’s designation you can ascertain its origin here.

On the subject of grouse I was delighted to discover – subsequent to our visit – that those behind the Harwood have also established The Harwood Game Company from which one can order wild game online. I challenge the gentle reader to visit their site and not to come away with mouth watering!

Our server from last night told us that he has a sister (married to a Canadian… sound familiar?) who now resides in Vancouver. He and the Girl spent some time comparing notes about life there and the highlight of my evening (some ask given that the epicurean delights on offer had already set the bar pretty high) was listening to her describing how her father used to take her grouse shooting on the roads of British Columbia.

But enough of this… Look up the Harwood Arms here, book yourself a table and head to Fulham for a serious treat.

I guarantee that you won’t be disappointed!

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Photo by Joey Gannon from Pittsburgh, PA…a year makes!

(With apologies for Stanley Adams for taking a liberty with his English lyrics to María Grever‘s Spanish original).

On this very day a year ago I was doing my best – by means remote – to help celebrate the Kickass Canada Girl’s birthday. She was – the gentle reader may recall – still living and working in Victoria at the time and our celebrations were thus limited to those which might be effected by the good offices of the InterWebNet – and in particular those services rendered by Skype, eCards, Amazon (CA) and the most helpful website of my favourite haven of relaxation – the Brentwood Bay Resort and Spa.

Matters have been greatly facilitated this time round by us both actually living on the same continent! Our merrymaking will – as a consequence – be unrestrained.

I do send commiserations to our dear friends in BC who sadly don’t get to share the Girl’s birthday this year. I trust that our presence at the celebrations in Canada for Christmas and the New Year will go some way to make up for that loss.

I feel sure that all those who are regular readers – as well as those who are only occasionally so – would want to join me in in wishing the Girl a very happy birthday!

Hip, hip hurrah!!

 

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Photo courtesy photos-public-domain.comI do not much care for the recent InterWebNet ‘meme’ that goes by the soubriquet ‘Fail’, or even (apparently in extremis) – ‘Epic fail’. This – frankly bizarre – fad would seem to comprise the sourcing of images or video clips of others’ misfortunes or mistakes, the attaching of a caption – in bold capitals – proclaiming this to represent some brand of failure and then the posting of the result onto the InterWebNet.

Being of advancing years I don’t imagine that I would be expected to ‘get the point’, but I do have to say that I find the whole notion baffling. The nearest analogue that I can think of would be the suggestion that the pratfalls and banana-skin-slips so beloved of enthusiasts of physical comedy might somehow be rendered more funny by the gratuitous presence of a small child pointing a finger and pronouncing – “Ha, ha!”…

It would seem that – in this case – less in no longer more.

I can only imagine that the subtext of this strange behaviour is the implication that the poster is – by some inverse association – superior to the object of the ridicule; an attempt – it would seem – at establishing elevated status in circumstances in which there would otherwise be no connection.

I was moved to this reverie (…and I know that the gentle reader will have been wondering to what exactly this particular rant might be attributed) by the recent disclosure of an incident that would truly have been a failure on an epic scale – and which was apparently avoided by the smallest possible margin and by sheer good fortune.

I refer – of course – to the incident which took place on 23rd January 1961 in which a USAF B-52 Stratofortress carrying two Mark 39 nuclear bombs broke up in mid-air over Goldsboro, North Carolina – dropping its nuclear payload in the process. The arming sequence of one of the two devices was initiated as the bomb fell from the disintegrating aircraft and three out of four safety mechanisms were found subsequently to have failed. On impact the firing signal was sent to the nuclear core of the device and the sole reason that a detonation did not occur was that the single remaining safety system – a simple, dynamo-technology, low voltage switch – remained uncompromised.

Some sceptics claim that a nuclear explosion was never actually a possibility; others that the safety mechanisms as a whole clearly operated as they should have done. All I know is that the incident was just too close for comfort and that the disaster that was so narrowly averted would have changed the course of world history – not to mention the contours of the North Carolina coast.

Some rudimentary reading on the InterWebNet suggests (though it must be borne in mind that when it comes to national security none of the sources are entirely to be trusted!) that in early sixties there was indeed a brief window during which several incidents took place by which the world came within a whisker of calamity – the Goldsboro event simply being the closest call. For much of the first decade of the nuclear age bomber-carried nuclear devices were kept safe by the simple expedient of carrying some of the components separately until the last possible moment – final assembly of the devices being effected at the point of arming. By the early sixties this practice had changed – in response to the increasing complexities of the systems concerned and the time constraints imposed by the escalation of the Cold War – and the devices were fully sealed and armed electronically.

At the height of the Cold War the Strategic Air Command (SAC) kept a number of B-52s in the air at all times to counter the possibility of a Russian first strike catching the fleet on the ground. The dangers inherent in maintaining such an airborne presence with nuclear-armed craft became all too clear as a result of the chain of incidents to which I have already alluded. The Goldsboro mishap took place less than a month after the inauguration of John F Kennedy as president of the US and inquiries subsequently initiated by that administration lead ultimately to the extensive enhancement of nuclear safety procedures – including the implementation of launch codes to verify arming and firing sequences.

The advent of the Inter-Continental Ballistic Missile should thus – somewhat paradoxically – have made the world a safer place, though the later admission that the coded locks demanded for all Minutemen missiles by the then US Secretary of Defence – Robert McNamara – were subsequently set by the SAC to all zeros (00000000) so as not to hold up any prospective launch hardly inspires confidence. Those too young to have lived through this perilous era are encouraged – if they have not already done so – to grab a copy of Stanley Kubrick’s ‘Dr Strangelove‘ – which biting satire still surely goes a long way towards ensuring that the defensive strategy of Mutually Assured Destruction will ultimately be regarded as the lunatic gamble that it undoubtedly was.

With the ending of the Cold War the immediate threat has – of course – somewhat diminished, though this should not blind us to the fact that there yet exist in the world in excess of 17,000 nuclear warheads of various types.

Given mankind’s propensity for hubris perhaps this fact alone might legitimately be accorded the tag – ‘Epic fail’!

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Two ton

Photo by Leo Reynolds on FlickrTime – perhaps – for a slightly muted celebration. ‘Two cheers’, one might say… this being – as it happens – the two hundredth post on this blog.

The one hundredth such was posted a mere day or so less than a year ago which means that I am averaging – even by my rudimentary mathematical calculations – very nearly two posts a week. I am quietly rather proud of this record and certainly would not have expected to have been able to maintain it when I started out some twenty months ago.

It is my hope that some of what I have written will come in useful for those contemplating the move from the UK to Canada – though of course progress on my own project in this regard has (through circumstances beyond our control) been pitiful of late.  Hopefully some of my postings on Long Distance Relationships have provided some encouragement to those of you obliged to live in like manner.

Much of what I write originates simply from the things that move me, the things that interest me and even from the things that irritate me. Sometimes my prolixity has been excessive – and for that I beg your indulgence. Mayhap my meanderings on occasion might have appeared aimless – mere frivolities. Well – life seems to me to be made in roughly equal measure of the meaningful and of the meaningless – and it is my whim to celebrate them both the same.

To that end I raise an (ever-present) glass (in need of a top-up, since you ask!) and tak’ a wee dram to make a toast:

Here’s to all those that I love
Here’s to all those that love me.
And here’s to all those that love those that I love,
And all those that love those that love me.

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Photo by Dave Connor on FlickrShould the rubric to this post make you start asudden – anxious lest you might all unknowingly have ingested some strange hallucinogenic compound which has set your pulse a-racing, your nerves a-jangling and which leaves you wondering if kaleidoscopically hued chameleons might start suddenly to emanate from the light fittings…

…rest easy – gentle reader – relax!

Maybe even – as the au courant slang would have it – ‘chillax’! (Though I find that particular neologism strangely vexing!).

No matter. Bear with me and I will elucidate…

In the course of my occasional series of posts on the subject of seeking out new musics – both here and in Canada – I have previously waxed lyrical on the subject of Celtic fusion. The background to this particular fascination may be revisited here. That particular post extols the talented Paul Mounsey, whose music fuses the influences of his Scottish roots with those of his Brazilian wife.

A couple of weeks ago the Kickass Canada Girl and I were to be found basking somewhat unexpectedly in the sunshine at Twickenham – where we were attending the double-headed fixture that these days launches the Premiership rugby season in the UK. The first of the two games saw London Irish pitched against the Saracens, and the pre-match atmosphere was stoked to a frenzy in part by the splendidly thunderous ‘Irish’ music that was cranked out over the stadium’s PA. At these levels, and with sufficient clarity, such music really can stir the blood and set the pulse racing – not to mention tugging teasingly at the heart-strings of any true Celt.

I wanted, naturally, to know what tune – and by what band – had been responsible for this thrilling elevation of the spirits. As ever the InterWebNet provided the answer – though not without some considerable efforts on my part. The piece concerned turned out to be an instrumental version of I’m Shipping up to Boston by the splendidly named Dropkick Murphys. Their original version sets to music lyrics by Woody Guthrie and features on the soundtrack to Scorsese’s (frankly disappointing) The Departed. The instrumental is apparently widely used as ‘run-out’ music in sporting circles – which comes as little surprise.

Now – the Dropkick Murphys turn out to be American (from Quincy, Massachusetts) rather than Irish – and that itself turns out to be something of a theme once one starts to look for modern Celtic music. The scene in Canada and North America seems to be every bit as vibrant as does that in the home nations.

Further listening suggests that the Murphys – in reality a Celtic Punk band – are a little rough around the edges for my taste, but I am grateful nonetheless that this aural experience has re-invigorated my quest to boldly seek out new musical life forms (well – new to me, anyway!).

Enter the Haggis! No – really… that’s the name adopted by the next ensemble that I encountered in the course of my musical meanderings. Sure enough, they hail from Canada! Their Celtic tinged rock incorporates a wide range of influences and styles and I particularly like some of the tracks on their last two CDs – Whitelake and The Modest Revolution. Here is a taster:

Year of the Rat: Year of the Rat – Sample

It was not, however, until I followed the trail back to Scotland – to Edinburgh, to be precise – that I found what I was really looking for. Please allow me to introduce to you – the inventors of Techno Ceilidh and of Acid Croft (which latter has been described as ‘a fiery and infectious blend of Celtic traditional music and dance grooves that band members like to call “hypno-folkadelic ambient trad!”) – the one and only – Shooglenifty!

What I like about this particular fusion – apart from the infectious rhythms and evocative melodies – is the sheer breadth of influence that the band draws upon to create their unique and adventurous music.

Look – that’s quite enough chat from me… Do your ears (and feet!) a favour and have a listen to these samples. Crank it up!

McConnell’s Rant: McConnell’s Rant – Sample
The Eccentric: The Eccentric – Sample
Walter Douglas MBE: Walter Douglas MBE – Sample

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Photo by Ged Carroll on Flickr…”I’ve got a great idea.”

At the fag end of January 2013 I wrote – in my second ever post on this blog:

“About this time last year Kickass Canada Girl and I came up with a plan. It was a good plan. In fact, we were so impressed with it that we thought it might be The plan!”

That post was entitled “…gang aft a-gley” – a reference, of course, to the immortal Rabbie Burns’s poem “To a Mouse, on Turning Her Up in Her Nest with the Plough”. For those – should there conceivably be such – not acquainted with that timeless ode,  the verse in question runs thus:

“But Mousie, thou art no thy lane,
In proving foresight may be vain:
The best-laid schemes o’ mice an’ men
Gang aft agley,
An’ lea’e us nought but grief an’ pain,
For promis’d joy!

I wound up my post with the observation:

“I’m sure you know the Woody Allen quip: ‘If you want to make god laugh, tell him about your plans’…”

At the time of writing I was – naturally – merely referring to our initial unforseen departure from the script – which arose both from our unexpected inability to sell our Buckinghamshire apartment and, thereafter, from the Kickass Canada Girl’s accelerated appointment to her much anticipated post in Victoria – considerably in advance of the migration date that we had originally intended. As it turned out my sentiments on that occasion proved prescient – and then some! I could have re-used the title for any number of subsequent posts as the edifice that was our beautiful strategy was systematically reduced to rubble – stone by stone. No mere chuckles for this god – he/she was definitely rolling on the floor laughing his/her a*se off!

Soooooo! You would doubtless expect us to have learned from our experiences? Ho, ho! Not us! We are such stuff as… should you slam the door in our faces, when you open it again we will still be standing there – smiling at you…

Yes – we thought that it was time once again to formulate a plan. This time – however – we are going to be a little more devious – to see if we can’t outwit the gods. Foolish we may be – but you have to give us marks for perseverance.

Here’s how it goes:

  • We have set a window. At the near end of the scale I retire at the end of the academic year in 2015 and we move to BC in the summer of that same year.
  • At the far end of the scale we aim to move to Victoria in May 2016. Under this strategy I would probably retire at Christmas 2015 – but could stay on until Easter 2016 if it were to appear advantageous so to do.
  • Either way we will look to re-market the apartment within the next 6 months – probably next spring. The housing market seems to have picked up considerably and – mindful of the UK government’s latest scheme to guarantee mortgage deposits as a way to encourage another housing bubble – it would be madness not to jump aboard the bandwagon (mixing metaphors furiously as we go) with the aim of launching into the market at a relatively high point.

That is the plan, in any case – and as we all know by now…

The title for this post comes – as you are doubtless aware – from the celebrated final scene of that classic of UK 60s cinema – ‘The Italian Job’. Michael Caine announces his ‘great idea’ lying on the floor of a coach which is balanced teeteringly on the very edge of an Alpine precipice.

Let’s hope that is not an omen!

 

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Photo by Rob Masefield on Flickr…of Canada – I fear that I am somewhat tardy in offering my heartfelt congratulations to Rugby Canada for being the first national side – outside those that do so automatically – to qualify for the next Rugby World Cup, which takes place in England in 2015. That this was achieved by beating the USA must – I imagine – render the achievement all the more sweet!

Canada joins Pool C – which already comprises France, Ireland and Italy and to which one other qualifying nation – in this case from Europe – will be added. Canada have only once reached the knock-out stages of the competition – as long ago as 1991 – but these would seem to be exciting times for the development of the game across the water, so we have great hopes.

At the moment it seems probable that the Kickass Canada Girl and I will still be in the UK come the 2015 World Cup, and since all of the Scotland Pool games appear to be taking place at the far end of these sainted islands we will do our damndest to get to at least one of the Canada matches.

 

On the subject of Canadian rugby – the Girl and I are already contemplating to which of the Victorian clubs we should pledge our allegiance when we relocate to BC. Our requirements are:

  • an enthusiastic club with a good Corinthian spirit dedicated to running rugby.
  • a welcoming clubhouse with a decent selection of malts.
  • a friendly group of supporters.
  • good craic!

We would be very happy to receive your recommendations.

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