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Modern life

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…and what do they want?

It is – I suppose – emblematic of the ‘post truth’ world in which we live that I can quite brazenly declare (as I did in my last post) that I will spare you any more of my jaundiced thoughts on the current precarious political state of the western world – only now to bring you yet another post containing just such. In my ‘defence’ I can only plead that I realised that I had not fully covered one aspect of Brexit (and beyond) that was in consequence rather letting the villains of the piece get away with things that they should not (not that they would care!).

But we wouldn’t want that, now – would we?!

I have referred more than once to the small elite who stand to gain hugely from a hard Brexit, at a cost to those more humble souls upon whose hopes and fears they have so crudely capitalised. This coterie of already rich men (some of whom are involved in politics themselves; some in the media; some in finance and the ‘service’ industries) belong to the now much despised grouping that we might for simplicity term ‘neo-liberal globalists’. With the sort of outrageous chutzpah that is typical of their breed they wave the patriotic banner and appeal to the basest instincts of the population whilst they themselves are actually citizens of the world (if of anywhere at all!) who see nations only as opportunities to enrich themselves. In truth they actually have no ties to any nation.

These people do not just want the UK to leave the European Union – they also desperately want the European project as a whole to fail. Their wish is that Europe would revert to being a continent of individual nation states doing bi-lateral deals with each other. This would give them an excuse to drive the UK to become more ‘competitive’ – by means of a bonfire of regulations, the removal of workers rights, the forcing down of wages and the privatisation of any remaining public services (including the NHS and the BBC) – in order that that we (or rather they) might benefit from the sort of cut-price deals that they would be able to strike as a result. Once the nation has been fully stripped of its assets they would simply move elsewhere and start again.

If all of this sounds familiar, then it should be. This is – after all – the same agenda that Trump is pursuing in the US and Bannon et al are hawking to fascists all around Europe.

On the subject of familiarity I would encourage the gentle reader to think back to the last era during which Europe consisted entirely of nation states intent on making deals with each other. That’s right! I refer – of course – to the decades leading up to the Great War. Perhaps a re-reading of the history of how the continent found itself sleep-walking into that most hideous and unnecessary conflict largely against its will might prove timely, though since this year marks the hundredth anniversary of the end of that war one might have thought that it would not be far from our minds. Sadly I have no doubt at all that there are some more extreme individuals involved in the current debate for whom such an outcome would not be entirely against their interests!

How is it that this small group of extremists has managed to sway so many others to support their cause, even amongst those who would themselves inevitably be the ones to lose the most. This is one of the great mysteries of our times – as is the extent of the ‘rabidity’ that these converts display. Their relentlessness reminds me of nothing so much as the assortment of flat-earthers and conspiracy theorists that I have been unfortunate enough to encounter. The Brexiteers, having spent years complaining that British jobs were being lost to immigration  – on grudgingly accepting just how badly the economy is likely to suffer in the event of a ‘hard Brexit’ – claim that the damage will be ‘worth it’ even if it means greater job losses than immigration ever caused. This simply makes no sense.

Neither – however – does the debate on democracy. It has been suggested that the current impasse may only be resolvable by means of another referendum. The Brexiteers are implacably opposed – not on the grounds that they might lose, but because in their minds this would somehow represent the denial of their democratic mandate. Surely if one referendum formed a valid part of the democratic process a further one must do also – since it would again reveal the current ‘will of the people’…

But I fear that I am now just going round in circles, which – given the very nature of the whole debate – is hardly surprising.

And with that I will now move on to more ‘important’ matters… summer & boats & music & friends & wine and so forth…

‘Nuff said!

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(Just one – honest!)

Whilst pontificating on the subject of Brexit – and I promise that I will shut up again about it hereafter – there is one other thing that exercises me greatly about the current situation in the UK – and that is the nature, the misunderstanding and the abuse of democracy.

Two years down the line from the ill-thought-out exercise that was the 2016 referendum (at which everyone claims to have known exactly for what they were voting though, of course, none of them can now agree with each other as to what that was) the loudest cries come from the Brexiteers who demand that the democratic will of the people be honoured. Any suggestion that the ‘willofthepeople’ might have shifted somewhat since the referendum is met with sneers of:

You lost. Get over it!

It seems that to these folk democracy is a static concept and that having achieved their goal in gaining a slim majority the result is now immutable. For all time!

This is, of course, the favoured modus operandi of despots, fanatics and extremists of all hues – those who fervently demand their right of access to the democratic process – once! Should power be gained history suggests that such democratic rights as exist tend mysteriously and irrevocably to be withdrawn shortly afterwards – usually as a response to some sort of emergency (such as any opposition to those now in power).

I am not, of course, for a moment suggesting any equivalence between the Brexiteers and such fascistic regimes (though you may choose to draw your own conclusions) but I am troubled that in all of this I detect a tone – a mood – of which I had not hitherto been aware. The constant chatter of the many and disparate voices of the more prosaic Brexiteers online and in the media suggest that they believe that, through the referendum, something fundamental has changed – that those like them who had previously felt deprived of a voice have now gained one – that the dis-enfranchised, the ignored and the forgotten now have a hand on the levers of power. It is clearly this to which they refer when they talk of ‘taking back control’ and their dark mutterings against any who threaten to deprive them ever again are intended to chill.

One almost feels that one should call out a warning – so oblivious are these zealots to what is really happening. They seem blind to the obvious fact that they are being ‘played‘ by a relentlessly determined and extreme ‘elite’ who are almost certainly going to be the only ones to emerge from a ‘hard‘ Brexit (should that be what the UK ends up with) better off (in their case probably considerably so).

Further – having observed the emergence of this new mood throughout significant parts of the land, those who are actually calling the shots will certainly ensure that never again is the populace as a whole given the slightest chance to repeat this ‘show of strength‘. Control may well have been ‘taken back‘ – but not by those who currently suffer the greatest democratic deficit.

When what I should almost certainly should not call ‘the great unwashed‘ discover that not only are others going to enrich themselves at their expense, but also that their glimpse at the controls of the mechanisms of state has been but a fleeting one…

…they are not going to be happy!

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I mean… WT actual F!!

I do try – tucked away as us semi-retireds are in this idyllic corner of the planet – not to let myself get too exercised about the frankly bizarre goings on in other parts of the world. Regular browsers of these meanderings may also have noticed that I have been trying in these dog days to refrain from allowing my feelings regarding the current political – er! – climate in the western world from igniting my admittedly short fuse and triggering one of my more intemperate rants on the subject.

Sometimes – however – such a zenlike state of restraint is just too difficult to maintain…

It is bad enough having to watch the orange buffoon re-invent international diplomacy by adoption of the mores of the play pen. Following the roaring ‘success’ of his apparently entirely content free summit with the North Koreans the tiny-handed blob has clearly determined to outdo himself. His recent European tour involved giving NATO a good kicking and then lying about the outcome of the summit, followed rapidly by issuing a (twitter) declaration that the European Union is an enemy of the US! He then trashed his hosts in the UK in an interview with a tabloid rag even before the visit had properly started, announcing that the Prime Minister of that independent state had got it all wrong and that she would be better replaced as leader by the rebarbative (and recently resigned) BoJo – a buffoon even more ludicrous than the 45th president himself.

All of this was, however, merely a teaser for the climax of the tour – an historic summit with Russian Premier Putin in Helsinki during which the orange one happily threw his own country under a bus over Russian interference in the 2016 US presidential election (a position from which he has inevitably retreated once again back home). It was all that Putin could do to keep the smirk off his face whilst the cameras were still rolling. Jeez!

And what of Brexit – I hear you whimper? What indeed? Watching the tories tear themselves apart as they lurch from crisis to crisis is usually cause for amusement (as it is with Labour – though somehow never quite as funny in their case) but this has gone way beyond a joke. Having spent now fully two years getting somewhere near the point that they should have been before invoking article 50 in the first place they are now rapidly approaching the terminus with all the velocity of a runaway train and the resultant cataclysmic collision is not just going to hurt the tories as a party – it is also going to cause as yet unimagined damage to the United Kingdom itself.

This worries the hard-line Brexiteers not a jot. They simply force open the throttles and pile on the steam, whistles awailing, pounding ever onward toward their unicorn-inspired ignis fatuus of a low-regulation, low-wage economic playground in which they can all filthily enrich themselves before retiring from the resultant wasteland to live abroad.

At each of their successively more outrageous stunts Prime Minister May – seemingly almost as cowardly as her predecessor – bends over and gives them what they want. What neither she nor they seem prepared to admit is that the parliamentary topography has shifted to the extent that none of the possible options for Brexit is now likely to be able to attract a majority in parliament. Do any of them care? Eyes closed, fingers firmly in ears they simply chant “Na na na na na!” at each other.

Let us be blunt – no-one has the slightest idea what will happen next or how this farce can possibly be resolved!

Thus far the EU has itself had little say in the proceedings – and nor has it yet had to. The image that comes to my mind is that of a championship golfer – or tennis player or suchlike – who, geared up for the big match, watches in amazement as their opponent simply implodes psychologically before their eyes – gifting them an unexpectedly easy win.

Seems Putin is not alone!

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidThe previous owner of of our beautiful peninsula home left us a number of unwanted gifts of the variety that keep on giving! Quite enough has already been said on the matter of sun-rooms, law suits and heart-stopping contractors’ invoices and I promise that no further mention will be made thereof. There is one other (very minor but most irritating none-the-less) ghost-like and continuing reminder of the past.

We did not actually ever meet the old lady (who shall remain nameless). All of our dealings went through her whack-job of a realtor. We do know that we she moved to Vancouver, but we know not where or even if she still inhabits that other place. She and her (deceased) husband clearly at some stage had a small bank account with the CIBC. We know this because we still receive – through the post –  monthly statements addressed to the departed owners.

Now – I am a patient soul and quite capable of playing the long game. For the last two and a half years I have been marking the envelopes “Return to Sender” and popping them back in the post box. Towards the end of last year, however, I finally got a bit fed up with this rigmarole.

I called CIBC…

As seems so prevalent these days with customer service departments the world across the conversation did not go well and, sad to report, satisfaction was not to be had. Apparently the only way of stopping these statements is for the account holders themselves to write to the CIBC to request such. I enquired of the young man who was not helping me what might be the outcome should the elderly person concerned have expired in the meantime. He was no help with that query either.

I have no means of contacting the vendor and am certainly not prepared to go to any great length trying so to do. I returned instead to my previous course of action. Then – a couple of weeks  ago – one of the envelopes that I had inscribed reappeared in our post box. Unimpressed I added a further curt missive and pushed it back into the post box.

Two days later it was back again!

I visited the post office. They informed me (most politely) that had I just crossed through the address and written “Moved” upon the envelope they would have been obliged to return it to the sender. Clearly adding more invective gave them an excuse to abrogate their responsbilities

Now – this is all very irritating and one begins to marvel at the dogged determination that all concerned have shown in generating an entirely wasted sheet of paper, stuffing it in an envelope, paying postage to send it across Canada – only for it to be sent back via the same route presumably to be simply shredded (one hopes!) and thrown in the recycling back at the bank.

This sort of situation simply must arise all the time. I find it hard to believe that no remedy can be devised for such madness…

Bah – say I!

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Photo by Andy Dawson ReidOn the 9:00pm ferry from Tsawwassen to Swartz Bay – en route home after a weekend in Vancouver at the Canada Rugby Sevens (of which more later)…

Though clocks have already gone forward in Canada it is yet early in the year and the light has gone completely by the time we and a hoard of other contented rugby fans are ensconced in the cafeteria, snarfing down much needed victuals after a long and rousing day of cheering ourselves hoarse and singing lustily.

We have not even noticed that our moorings have been slipped and that we are heading out across the Georgia Strait when the purser comes the Tannoy:

Would the owner of a black Chrysler 300, licence plate xxxxx, please return to the car deck. You’ve left your lights on.”

BC Ferries run a tight ship (see what I did there) and do not care to have their schedules imperiled by a car or truck with a dead battery holding up the unloading.

We all snigger a bit at the poor sap who has left his lights on…

Five minutes later the purser is back on the horn:

Correction to my previous announcement concerning the owner of the black Chrysler 300, licence plate xxxxx. The lights aren’t the problem. The engine’s still running!

Incredulous guffaws fill the cafeteria. How embarrassing is that?

Five minutes later the purser is on again. In spite of the previous announcements it is clear that forgetting to turn his car engine off is only one of this particular driver’s shortcomings. He is, perhaps, deaf as well – or at least has his head wedged firmly where the sun don’t shine!

Full of sympathy for the poor schmuck we naturally all fall off our chairs laughing…

There are no further announcements. Either the recalcitrant owner has finally engaged his brain and put in a belated appearance or BC Ferries have simply decided that enough is enough, broken into the car and silenced it!

I guess we’ll never know…

 

*Part 1 here, by the way!

 

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There are many reasons to look forward to escaping from our semi-subterranean hidey-hole and taking up residence again on our newly renovated main floor. This recent experience is just one more such to add to the list.

Our basement does have a kitchen – of sorts! It is quite small and the equipment is – er – ‘old’ to put it mildly. Like some other old things in the house it does not always function as efficiently as once it did – many, many years ago when it was still full of life and charged with the vigour of youth…

Ahem! – sorry about that!

Anyway… a couple of days ago I was roasting some vegetables in the antique oven downstairs. The temperature therein always seems on the low side so I had pushed it up a notch. Unfortunately when the cooking time was up and I opened the oven door a billow of smoke was released into the room – and into the ceiling-mounted smoke detector.

Now – when we purchased the house back in 2015 we inherited with it an alarm system. An eye-watering cancellation fee persuaded us that we should stick with it. The service – which is I believe monitored from somewhere in northern America – not only provides break-in sensors on doors and windows and motion sensors throughout, but also fire and smoke alarms on each floor. When an alarm is triggered a disembodied voice hails one through the console outside the master bedroom, endeavouring to establish whether or not this be a genuine incident.

On this occasion the alarm sounded and I had to rush upstairs to converse with the distant operative. I cancelled the alarm on the console and informed the enquirer that it was a false alarm. I was obliged to give details such as my first and last names and to quote the secret password – to prove that I was not in fact an arsonist who had broken into the house. All this time the smoke was wafting around downstairs.

As the conversation finished the alarm was again triggered. I cancelled it once more and assumed that the distant overseer would recognise that this was in fact the same incident. I went back downstairs. As I was dealing with the oven I heard a call coming in on my cell phone in an adjacent room. I did not get to it before the caller rang off but was informed that a voicemail had been left. It was from the alarm company enquiring about the second alarm. I called them back at once and patiently talked the lady at the far end through the sequence of events. After a couple of minutes of conversation she asked me if I wanted them to cancel the call to the fire brigade. “Yes!” – I exclaimed urgently, somewhat perplexed that it had taken her this long to ask.

At that moment the doorbell rang. It was a fireman! Outside in the road I could see an appliance and a couple of other fire service vehicles – lights a-flashing. I patiently and apologetically explained that there had been a false alarm and that I had cancelled it and spoken to the alarm service. Apparently they had tried to reach me over the console again after the alarm went off for the second time but I was clearly already flapping about downstairs by that point.

I suppose that I should be grateful that we are this well covered – particularly given that this is a wooden framed building – but I can’t help feeling that a little common sense on this occasion would have saved a fair bit of panic on all sides.

Hey ho!

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Image from PixabayGentle readers in the UK will doubtless already have seen this announcement. Today – January 4th – is ‘Fat Cat Day‘!

It is upon this day – at around lunch time – that the UK’s top ‘fat cats’ across the land can lounge back, replete with the knowledge that they have already been paid more than the median of their full-time employees… and that is on the assumption that they took January 1st off!

Less than three days!

Now – does that seem right to you?

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“Conservatives are not necessarily stupid, but most stupid people are conservatives.”

John Stuart Mill

I have manfully resisted (with but a few exceptions) making any commentary on the grim farce that is being played out in the old country in the matter of the leaving (or otherwise) of the European Union. The reasons for my reticence will – I feel sure – be obvious to many. Quite aside from any other consideration it is hard in the extreme to know what one could possibly write about this farrago (which quandary does not, sadly, seem to stop many of the more rabid online commentators).

If it weren’t all so damnably serious it would be quite good fun watching the Tory party twisting in the breeze as they try to hold together the fractious coalition of extremists of all hues that is their core constituency. Unfortunately the matter is serious – and thus no fun at all.

Yesterday’s ‘deal’ – which will apparently enable negotiations to move on to the next phase (trade talks) in the long, long process – was such an extraordinary piece of work, however, that my breath was quite taken away. I cannot decide whether it is a work of utter genius or just more stupid than can possibly be imagined. Without going too far into the nuts and bolts of the whole ghastly business, much of the recent debate has concerned the impossibility of maintaining a soft (ie – no controls) boarder post-Brexit between Northern Ireland (part of the UK) and the Republic of Ireland (very much a member of the EU). The rebarbative Democratic Unionist Party (DUP) of Northern Ireland  (who are currently keeping the Tories in power as a result of a desperately poor post-election decision by the PM) scuppered the first attempt at an agreement on the very reasonable grounds that they didn’t want a ‘boarder’ between themselves and the UK either.

The essential paradox at the heart of the ‘interesting‘ compromise that was eventually agreed was summed up by online commentator, Andrew80, thus:

“That agreement in plain text:

  1. We’re leaving the EU single market and the customs union.
  2. There will be no hard border between NI and Ireland.
  3. To avoid that, we’ll come up with something clever.
  4. Failing that, we will stay in the single market and the customs union.”

The devil is – as ever – in the detail and the detail here will be decided at a later stage in the process… or not! This classic fudge – essentially kicking the can as far down the road as is possible – seems to have achieved the impossible and united all shades in… in what no-one quite seems to know! According to a range of commentators of all complexions the agreement is a vindication of their position. Others – again of all hues – are apoplectic with rage at this ‘betrayal’.

I guess that for Theresa May this counts as a ‘result‘!

You literally could not make this stuff up…

 

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Image by Andrew Thomas on WikimediaI could not resist sharing with the gentle reader this extract from a longer opinion piece concerning public offence – by Tim Dowling of The Guardian. In my view Tim absolutely nails it!

This snippet goes under the banner “In-flight entertainment“:

 

“Which brings me to the giant penis in the sky. If you know about it at all, you will have seen the image online at the weekend: a huge penile outline – with testicles – drawn using the condensation trail of a US military aircraft. About 2,500 people from Okanogan county in Washington state had a brief opportunity to be offended by it, although I can’t find any accounts of actual outrage – and one has to assume the locals are the source of all those gleefully retweeted pics.

I will admit that my first reaction to the image was: skill. I think all trainee pilots should be able to trace a passable penis in the sky before they graduate. The US navy thought different: it apologised for “this irresponsible and immature act”, and grounded the air crew of the E/A-18 Growler responsible. But I have to say that this is my kind of public offence: immature, irresponsible and absolutely massive. If there’s a better use of the $67m fighter jet, I can’t think of it.”

Too true…

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“At any given moment there is an orthodoxy, a body of ideas of which it is assumed that all right-thinking people will accept without question. It is not exactly forbidden to say this, that or the other, but it is “not done” to say it… Anyone who challenges the prevailing orthodoxy finds himself silenced with surprising effectiveness. A genuinely unfashionable opinion is almost never given a fair hearing, either in the popular press or in the high-brow periodicals.”

George Orwell

I found myself quite taken aback the other night whilst watching the season opener for the new series of ‘Saturday Night Live’ on the TV. The item concerned was actually pretty funny; a skit featuring actor Ryan Gosling delivering a rant about the designer of the credits on James Cameron’s film ‘Avatar‘ having chosen the font ‘Papyrus’ for the main titles.

I was surprised because I had not heard that this was ‘a thing’ – (or what would now probably be referred to a ‘meme’). The InterWebNet rapidly set me right – informing me that Papyrus is one of the most hated fonts ever and offering me a panoply of websites dedicated to pejorative references to its usage. The level of loathing was well up to usual InterWebNet standards, comparing the antipathy toward the typeface to that of ‘Comic Sans’ (though I did find it amusing that some wag had apparently merged the two to create what was briefly called ‘Comic Papyrus’ before being renamed for legal reasons to ‘Comic Parchment’. Blimey!).

Now – let’s sort out issues of self-interest right away. I use Papyrus in the banner for this site and have also used it in other places for titles. I like the font and I think that – in the right place – it works pretty well. So there!

Clearly at least some of the antipathy is simply down to popularity. Microsoft inadvertently created a monster by including the relatively obscure font with their Office suite, thus giving access to those who had no right to such things. Popularity seems to bring out the worst in some people and when Microsoft is involved it is clearly open season.

Certainly a case could be made concerning over (or inappropriate) use, but I suspect that something else is going on here. On one design website an article going by the title ‘10 Iconic Fonts and Why You Should Never Use Them’ includes the following:

“Unlike other reviled typefaces, though, Papyrus isn’t bad because it is overused: it’s bad because it just doesn’t look good. Kitschy, cheap and vile, Papyrus has no place in your designs.”

Ok – so those judgements are subjective in the extreme and the designer who wrote the article is an eighteen year-old entrepreneur, but do I detect a slight whiff of professional snobbery here?

Now – I spent forty years as an IT professional and it was certainly annoying when someone who had bought a computer from a store and read a couple of magazines believed that they knew better than I how to run an IT service – but the world has changed and the gap between the professional and the ‘amateur’ is no longer as wide as it used to be. Yes – I studied Computer Science and built a career in IT; I also spent more than four decades learning without formal training how to be a musician, a composer, a writer, a theatre practitioner… and in each of these I was aided by the rapid development of tools that placed in the hands of those who cared to put in the time and effort the means to reach a pretty decent standard.

The point surely is that – counter to some recent views to the contrary – ‘experts’ are a good thing… but that their expertise should be based on wisdom and such wisdom is usually acquired through (extensive) experience. Once achieved such doyens will doubtless be wise enough to recognise when some spotty youth armed with an iThing has actually produced something that they themselves could only dream of.

Flame off!

 

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