Distracted by the Trivial

Once again the Islamic world is up in arms with a matter concerning Salman Rushdie. Some MP in Pakistan is threatening suicide bombers if the knighthood Rushdie has received isn’t taken away from him. The warped thinking that goes on in the Islamic world can scarcely be believed. Firstly, it’s none of their business who the Queen gives a knighthood too – and calling her an ‘old crone’ is hardly diplomatic.
But far more importantly, these same people who condemn a writer for writing something that offends them find no offence in the fact that 75 people were blown up in Baghdad today, and hundreds of others were injured. Do we hear anyone in the Muslim world condemning this act of terrorism? I certainly haven’t. And if we discuss such an omission in the Islamic world the Muslim speakers are likely to say it was all the fault of the Americans. If the Americans hadn’t been in Iraq it wouldn’t have happened. The plain nonsense of such a statement (which has been made before) is self-evident. The hypocrisy of the Islam is so blatant that the Western world can only stand by open-mouthed, wondering what piece of nonsense they’ll come up with next.
They have a great deal in common with Napoleon the Pig from Orwell’s book, Animal Farm. Whatever piece of nonsense he wanted to spout had to be believed, such as: All animals are equal, but some are more equal than others.
The Islamic world seems to say: Everything we say is wise, though much of it is nonsense.

Culture shock

It’s been interesting to return to London 40 years after I first arrived there. At that time I suffered a major cultural shock: people all around me had a confidence I didn’t know; the place was full of the sexual revolution of the sixties, with blatant advertising of what was essentially porn at every turn; advertising itself was a constant in your face; the huge number of people was overwhelming, and the pace of everything was extreme.
Coming back I don’t find things anywhere near as different. The whole Western world is much more on a par, in particular on a technological level, so that England isn’t really further ahead of NZ anymore. Advertising is similar around the world, the tv is the same everywhere, even down to the same faces (tv was in its infancy in NZ when I first came to the UK), and the sexual revolution has left the whole world in much the same mess. As for all the people, well, the sheer number of people is still something I doubt I’ll ever get used to, but it’s different from the first time I experienced it. I was expecting it, for one thing, but I’ve also been in some other places where endless people is the norm.
What’s different about London? More bridges, especially new foot-bridges over the Thames; a cleaner atmosphere (I came at the end of the pollution era); far more people of different nationalities; taxis with advertising all over them, more boats of all sorts on the river, and a number of changes to the skyline. But in essence, London doesn’t seem to have changed much: the tubes still run constantly and for the most part efficiently. Piccadilly Circus station is still the same round building I knew and waited in – often for hours while people came late for appointments. (I sometimes used to go round and round the place wondering if I’d missed someone.) The buses are as ubiquitous as before. And the people are the same mix of really friendly, and strangely distant. It’s nice to be back here, but I’m glad to be able to have far more contact with those back home than I did on the previous visit.

Finding your way

When I went to visit my uncle recently, I saw that he’d been one of the few people in the city who’d taken up the offer of having his house number set into a little rubberish triangle in the asphalt on his driveway. These things were supposed to make it easier for taxis and other visitors to see the house number - especially if the number on the letter box, for instance, was obscured by bushes.
However, I always felt that these little numbers weren’t big enough to be seen, even though, like the cat’s eyes we have in the road, they reflect light. And obviously a lot of other people had a similar feeling. The little signs never took off, and you can see only a few scattered around the city still.
An address plaque needs to be big and visible to be of use. As a former postie, I know how many people’s house number signs are under par in terms of visibility. I can say this with a clear conscience, as our house number is large. But even then, someone will miss it!

Bullets in the air

You have to wonder if the Hamas and Fatah sects in Gaza will ever make any progress towards peace with each other. They’re the same in essence in terms of aggression towards each other as the two Muslim sects in Iraq. These people appear to have no idea how to come to peace with each other, and no desire for it either.
When you see them on tv in the news, they don’t seem to have any organisation; they’re just bullies or little boys in men’s bodies running round with oversized guns. They destroy and burn and loot. And, as always, they shoot their bullets in the air as some sort of celebration. None of them ever seen to consider that bullets sent up in the air will eventually come down. It always looks as though the think the bullets go up indefinitely!

Incheon airport

The airport at Incheon in Seoul, Korea, is a fantastic piece of real estate. From the hotel where we stayed, just a few minutes away, it seemed a reasonably-sized place, but once you were inside it, it was extraordinary: full of space, and with plenty of room in every respect.
Outside, everything is wonderfully designed - the Koreans have a marvellous sense of aesthetics - and you can tell that the architects give a high priority to beauty. The necessary things are good to look at, but there are extras, such as a plane-shaped piece on top of the main part of the building. The walkways from one section of the building to another have a spiralling effect in their design. It isn’t just the large parts of the architecture that are good on the eye: every detail is well thought-out, and innovative touches are everywhere.
But the long distances between the desks where you check in, and the gates where you depart from, are a bit of a pain. Anyone with walking difficulties (such as one lady we got slightly acquainted with) must find the length of their walks unpleasant.

Movies in flight

We had our own screens on the back of the seats in front for the second leg of our trip to London. This has meant we could watch movies as we want, and to watch what we want. However, I tried to watch Road Hogs three times, and each time found the dialogue was in Korean, something that only became evident two or three minutes into the movie. I gave up on it in the end, (though Celia had no problem with it on her screen) and watched one of the half dozen classic movies that were available (Casablanca, Gone with the Wind, Sound of Music and so on). I watched It’s a Wonderful Life again (I’ve got it on DVD at home) and thoroughly enjoyed it again. It’s a superb performance by James Stewart and he carries the movie from whoa to go. Frank Capra directs a large (and very talented cast of familiar faces) wonderfully: the film is full of scenes with thirty or forty people all being individuals. It’s surprisingly long - though Capra’s movies did tend to take their time - and even though it starts out as a kind of flashback, that side of the story takes over completely, and it’s more than three-quarters through the movie before the stuff about the angel surfaces again. But that works fine. The exuberance and energy of the movie is tops and another thing was noticeable: the soundtrack was exceptionally clear. One of the problems with listening to the modern films on the earphones provided by K Air is that you struggle to hear the dialogue. Sound effects, background noises, music are all much clearer. The dialogue, especially if it’s quiet, is hard to hear easily. Yet the dialogue throughout Capra’s movie is crystal clear. But then, of course, the scripts were also very literate!

Because I Said So

The second movie shown on the Korean flight was a chick flick - and I use that word advisedly - called Because I Said So. I think. It starred Diane Keaton doing her most over the top and least subtle performance. Perhaps she thought it would give the thing some life. It’s a pathetic story that never works, and in the end drives you slightly crazy. Keaton plays an overprotective mother who can’t let her daughters go - particularly the one unmarried one. Her catchphrase is Because I Said So - hence the name of the movie. It was a shame this was the one shown as there quite a few other decent ones in the selection.
And the film got rather icky at one point, since the main character (Keaton’s daughter, Millie) was actually sleeping with both the guys she thought she was in love with. Hmm. When she had to admit this, at one point to her mother, and again to the two boyfriends - at different times - these were embarrassing moments that should have be excised from the script. If filmmakers didn’t throw their characters into bed all the time, it wouldn’t have been an issue. And it would have been a more romantic movie.

Crossing the Equator

Written while flying at 34,000 feet, on the way to Korea.
Apparently we’ve crossed the Equator and at various times we’ve gone as fast as 900 or more kmph. It’s hard to credit what that actually means, since we feel as though we’re just trolling along at no speed at all, and the only sense of movement is the occasional shaking.
We’ve spent the last hour and a half or more watching a very gloomy Korean movie, Beyond the Years - with subtitles. It was all about an old man who adopted two children - in the loosest sense. One of them, the girl, and the older of the two, he was going to train as a singer. The boy would be a drummer. I presume the style of singing is some classical form as it’s fairly unmelodious to the western ear. Things continually go from bad to worse: just as you think something good is going to happen to one of the characters, it goes rotten for them. The two children - as adults - survive, but virtually no one else does. The guy is never sure whether she’s his sister or not, and there are hints throughout that she’s not. The old man never quite lets on, and then there are hints as well that he’s caused the girl to go blind in order to make her a purer singer. This is regarded as nonsense by some of the other characters but it’s never quite let go of. And the whole thing is told partly in flashback and partly in the present, and it took me a while to cotton onto this: consequently I had no idea who the two characters talking about the whole story were until I finally realised that they were the two boys in the earlier part of the story. Oh well. It doesn’t help that we don’t recognise Korean faces so readily - although the main character had a somewhat Westernised look about him, because his eyes were more Western in shape.
It was all rather romantic, in a doomed sort of way (though at least the two main characters both survived), and very beautifully filmed. Unfortunately it was also the sort of movie that puts people off watching foreign movies!

Distressed by my ignorance

McCall Smith has a lot of fun with the clothes one of his characters wears in the latest book in the 44 Scotland St series. (The book is called Love Over Scotland.) In particular he talks a lot about a sweater in some colour called 'distressed oatmeal', and in general the other characters think it's not only passe but does nothing for the character who wears it.
I'd never heard of distressed oatmeal as a colour until I read this book and assumed McCall Smith was playing with words. However, I've just discovered that distressed mahogany is quite a normal description for a certain kind of table finish, including poker tables (which is where I saw the description first). I don't normally have any great need to be investigating sites where they sell poker tables, but was struck by the coincidence. Even looking at the pictures of the tables I don't really have much idea what the 'distressed' part of the finish is, and asking Google, 'what is distressed mahogony' turned out not to be helpful. Usually descriptions of tables are fairly obvious, more so than the colours of clothing, in fact, but this one has got me beat. Maybe there's someone out there who can help!

Ms P H again

Well, Paris Hilton is back in jail - or gaol - or both. I only wanted to make a note of this to show that I keep up with the news...
Actually, I haven't been keeping up with the news as much. About a month ago we stopped getting a newspaper at home because we weren't getting the time to read it - and I was reading some of it at work. We don't watch tv news much because it's so often just magazine-style material and not real news at all. And since I only listen to the Concert program - when I do listen to the radio - I don't hear much news on there either.
So, how did I hear about P H?? I'm staying at my daughter's at present, and the tv is always on. Sometimes the news makes it into the room, and so tonight the re-arrest of Ms H was on, and given a good deal more importance than the deaths of 25 people in the floods in the Middle East, or even the deaths of a whole family in floods in Australia. Oh, dear, how we do delight in thinking that so-called celebrities are important.

Ms P Hilton

I thought New Zealand was supposed to be the home of tall-poppy-cutting-down, but when it comes to celebrities, the US of A well and truly holds its own. The cries of 'Jail Paris Hilton' rang loud and clear throughout the land, and have gotten even louder since she's been released on home detention after just a few days in jail. The whole thing is absurd, and once again shows how the American system of justice can be so easily undermined. Celebrities don't appear to get their just desserts, but neither do people who have none of the wealth and power. They are more likely to make up the time that the celebrities don't have to do. You might say that balances things out, but of course that's hardly the point.

Karl Maugham

For a while I used to go round the various art galleries situated near Princes St and take note of paintings I liked, jot details down in a notebook about them, do a rough sketch of them, and 'add' them to my own personal art gallery. It didn't exist, of course, but I gave myself a budget of several hundred thousand dollars a year, and thought of the gallery as being built near the Ross Creek Reservoir, a place I feel has a great peace and quiet about it.
One of the NZ artists I 'bought' several works by was Karl Maugham. Over a period of several years, I'd come across exhibitions of his work at the Milford Gallery, and always found that his paintings of gardens delighted my eye, and pleased me emotionally. Milford Gallery has another exhibition of his works beginning on the 16th June, and you can see some of the paintings on the Gallery's site at present. I don't know how long they'll be on there, so I can't guarantee that this link will always be useful. Check it out while you can, as there doesn't seem to be any other site on the Net showing his work. You need to be aware that these paintings are large: from memory they're usually a good metre square - probably larger. They overflow with colour (one reason I love them) and they always have the feeling of being jam-packed, even though Maugham controls the colour scheme and layout of the paintings very carefully.
I haven't included an example of his work with this post, as they'll be copyrighted, so do make sure you have a look at the ones Milford has on display.

Fallacious Arguments

I've always struggled to understand the justification for radar detectors. People talk about using them as though they were playing some game with the police radars, yet this isn't a game. The intention of the police, whatever many people think, is to prevent speed accidents. Yes, lots of people claim it's to make money out of motorists, but surely if the motorists didn't speed then the police wouldn't make the money. There's some failure of logic on the part of people who want to use radar detectors, I think. But I've always felt as though I was in the minority on this argument. Still, being in the minority on an argument doesn't necessarily prove you're wrong; it may only mean that a lot of people believe a fallacy.
I don't enjoy speed restrictions either, along with most drivers. I always think I can drive safely at the speed I'm going at. But the issue isn't what I think, but what the law is. And in general, the law has accepted the argument that people are killed because they don't know how to control speed. Of course there are drivers who can control speed, but they're a minority, and many people have illusions about their ability to control speed. This becomes obvious on days when the weather is iffy, such as heavy rain, or frosts, or snow (it's just started to snow outside again as I write). Some people don't change their driving habits on those days at all, which to me is foolish. But again, I'm probably in the minority on this argument.

Radio ga ga

I haven't listened to internet radio much - or streaming radio, as it tends to get called here - but it is something quite amazing. It's a bit like the whole business of Skype, which my wife and I have been sorting out for when we go to England next week. Hearing the radio through your computer is a peculiar thing, especially when the quality is as good as you'd get on your own radio - well, most of the time. I've had patches when it's a bit hesitant, or there's some obvious interference, but overall it comes across very well. And it's great to have such a choice! When the program on the Concert program isn't to my liking - for instance, when they're playing something I've heard just once too often, or it's Tuesday night and Kate Lineham is on with her Sound Lounge, where all manner of 'music' is played, much of it quite inferior. It's often only played because it's 'alternative' in some way.
We 21st century people are more than spoiled for choice - there's so much choice in everything that's available to us. Of course, I'm talking about us middle-class Westerners who have the world at our feet, when all is said and done, and who as well off as many of the people who were considered wealthy in the 18th and 19th century. In some cases we're better off, in fact. We just don't realise how well off we are, which doesn't really do us much good, in the long term.

Actors and stars

I wrote about Adam Sandler yesterday and the way his screen persona doesn't seem a lot different from his real life persona. Persona might be the issue: having played a lot of crude-mouthed characters, perhaps that's the 'image' he now portrays in real life. It's hard to know. Screen actors, more so than stage actors perhaps, tend to mould their parts to themselves, and get parts that are moulded to their natural person. I find Danny de Vito, for instance, always seems to play loud-mouthed, and often foul-mouthed, characters. Different, but similar, to Sandler's.

Denzil Washington, on the other hand, is more in the vein of the gentlemanly person, and rarely plays a villain, especially the sort of villain who has sadistic or violent streaks. Whether these are just outside his natural acting limits, or whether he prefers not to play them, it's hard to know. He has played a few unpleasant characters, but something doesn't quite work, it seems to me, when he does. This is not to say he can't be aggressive or strong, or domineering when required. But in general it's his humanity and warmth that we go to see him for.

Maybe because we seem so close to screen actors we find it hard to distinguish between them and the kinds of roles they play. The camera doesn't let an actor away with a lot; it readily picks up false notes in a screen performance, especially that of a major star. (Character actors and supporting players are a different kettle of fish.) You can sense when a star isn't comfortable in a role. The most recent example I've seen of this was Michael Caine In Educating Rita. Caine playing a professor, even an alcoholic, washed-out professor, just didn't seem to work; and you sensed the actor being out of sympathy with the character in a number of scenes.

Johnny Depp, though he produces great characters, still brings a sensitivity and vulnerability to all his roles. This meant, when he played the writer in secret Window, he could engage our sympathy throughout the movie, and give us a nasty shock at the end when he turned out to be the murderer.

Of course, producers play to their stars' strengths. That's only natural. And I guess if a scriptwriter turns up with a story that requires a crude character in crude situations, then they'll ring Sandler's agent, or de Vito's. There's no way Washington or Depp would fit the bill. And equally, you can't see Sandler in one of the 'commanding presence' roles that Denzil Washington – or Harrison Ford – plays.

I suppose actors get cast to what they do best. Whether that's the best approach is another matter, since it never stretches the actor. Whether stars can be stretched may be another issue as well.

Sandler's trademark

Yesterday we arrived at my daughter's place, where we're staying for a few days before flying off to England. I was too tired to do anything much on the computer or to read, and so I finished up watching an Adam Sandler movie, something I'd rarely do. I've seen others in the past, and they're a puzzle to me. Invariably they're loaded on the side of crudity, even including children in the crudity. (There's an Asian character in this movie who has nothing to do with the story; his sole role is to make crude comments on what's going on.) Plainly Sandler appeals to a certain audience, because he's certainly popular enough to keep making movies. The audience doesn't seem likely to be a young audience either; perhaps it's the middle-aged beer-drinking boys' night out audience. But I'm not sure that the movie I saw last night was likely to appeal to such an audience, since it's a romance; though anyone less likely to strike me as romantic is Sandler.
The movie was 50 First Dates, and in it Sandler plays a crude marine biologist who has two even cruder off-siders. One is either a man or a woman - no one seems sure which - who has a mouth like a cesspool. The other is played by Sandler regular, Rob Schneider, who plays a Hawaiian with half a dozen young sons constantly in tow. He not only speaks crudely (often in front of the boys), but acts even more so. Drew Barrymore is the girl Sandler improbably falls in love with, and Sean Astin plays her dorky brother. Dan Ackroyd makes some occasional appearances - and of course is given some crude lines.
There are some funny moments, though most of them are overdone. There are even some funny lines - between the crude ones.
I saw Sandler on Rove one night. He was almost as crude in that interview as he is in the movies, which makes you think he feels this is an okay way of life - and performance. At the end of this particular movie there's a dedication to his Dad. He hopes that he'll always make his Dad proud of him. You have to wonder what his dad was like if Sandler thinks these movies do him proud.

Need more input!

I love sites that are full of information. There’s nothing more interesting than digging around a site that has articles, links to articles, and links to the links. So I came at a site advertising ‘no exam life insurance’ with some enthusiasm, because it seemed to have links to all sorts of info. Being 62 this year, I’m having to think about these sorts of things, although at present the life insurance I’ve got ought to see me through. (And we’ve taken out travel insurance for our six months away: if something happened, the other person could wind up being a millionaire! Scary.)
However, the site’s links must be playing up. There are three articles on their Long Term Care page that just keep bringing you back to the same place, and the links to the e-books, in the right-hand column, do the same. Maybe the site’s having a bit of a sickie itself!
When this sort of thing happens on a site, I always start to think: maybe I’ve missed something; maybe I have to sign up or something before it’ll function. I’ve found that before. But it doesn’t seem to be the case here. Pity, because I wouldn’t have minded looking at some of the articles, particularly the one on annuities. Though there seems to be a word missing in the title: Annuities why are the new choice for safe investments for baby boomers...
Somebody must have been having a bad hair day.

Here be spoilers

I didn’t mention the marvellous Tom Hollander in POTC3 (he’s also in edition 2). He seems to suit historical parts very well, and has appeared in several costume dramas. Unfortunately he often gets to play rather unpleasant characters: he does a marvellously obnoxious Mr Collins in the latest version of Pride and Prejudice and the man at odds with all sorts of issues in Gosford Park. His height is always going to be an issue: leading men usually need to be a couple of inches taller (Tom Cruise isn't tall, but he’s built differently). But he has an intensity about him that conveys deep currents running beneath the smooth surface. The characters he’s played are usually not people you’d want to muck about with.
He’s given a rather ignominious end in POTC3 – of course he would have to come to some sort of nasty end, being the villain – but it’s an ending that’s almost beneath him. His sudden failure of confidence is out of character, and you get the feeling Hollander finds it a bit difficult to reconcile with the rest of his scenes, in which he’s always in control.
Still, I can understand that sudden failure of confidence: it’s something I’ve had to deal with on several occasions in my life, and even more particularly over the last months. It takes quite an effort to hoist yourself up out of loss of confidence, and some people just don’t make it, breaking down, or spiralling into depression.

It's TRUE!

I’ve been looking at a site advertising various options for a Florida rental vacation. On the page listing related books I thought at first I saw one called Existential Florida. It could have been apt, listed as it was between the Lonely Planet and Rough Guides. But the fact is it was called Essential Florida. I think I like my version better.
Looking further into this site, I discover that Florida is the ‘entertainment capital of the world!’ (the exclamation mark is essential). The writer admits this is an overused phrase, but says it’s true. Later the same writer claims the expression ‘shop till you drop’ began in Florida. I have no way of verifying either of these statements, but I can bet your boots there’ll be other States claiming the same things!
And one other interesting point: there are several pages of testimonials. Surprisingly enough, some of them aren’t entirely positive. And some of them are fairly unreadable, as the original spelling and grammar has been left intact. Still, the majority claim their holiday with this particular company was ‘the best’, so that’s all a company can ask for, ain’t it?

POTC3

My wife and I went to see Pirates of the Caribbean Mark 3 the other night. I hadn’t been looking forward to the prospect of a three-hour stint in the theatre, but in fact, the three hours went by pretty quickly, certainly more quickly than the third in the Lord of the Rings series, which was at least twenty minutes too long.
That’s not to say that POTC3 couldn’t have been cut. There are some sequences – particularly the pitched battles – that go on to such a degree you’d have be a numbskull to think there was anyone left alive. But there always is. And several versions of Jack Sparrow on screen at once is almost several too many. It’s only the fact that Johnny Depp’s character is so perfectly realised, and so intrinsically hilarious, that saves these scenes. In fact, Depp saves quite a few scenes.
All the characters are back in full force, plus a few additional ones, such as Chow Yun-Fat as an Asian pirate lord. And the special effects are extraordinary, as befits a blockbuster of this ilk in this day and age. Once upon a time you could spot many special effects; these days it’s well nigh impossible.
Apparently there’s a scene after the credits – which we missed. No doubt we’ll catch up with it when the DVD comes out.
The story line is utterly complicated – almost as bad as the later Star Wars movies. It resolves itself in the end, to a degree, but you have to keep your wits about you to follow it first time round. And it has a nasty twist at the end which really took the edge off the romantic part of the story – for me. I won’t say what it is, as it would spoil it for anyone who hasn’t seen it.

No One Cares What You Had for Lunch

No One Cares What You Had for Lunch could be a line that many bloggers should take to heart, including me. Sometimes we just blog for the sake of it, either because we ‘have’ to write something, or because we want to keep our blog functioning, or because there was nothing better to do (like helping your wife clean up). Sometimes we get obsessional and can’t keep away from the keyboard.
I haven’t read this book, but I see it was recommended by another blogger friend, who’s acted (perhaps without realising it) as a kind of blogging mentor, particularly when it comes to helping me discover other bloggers and approaches to blogging (link and blog challenge, for instance).
No One Cares What You Had for Lunch was written by Margaret Mason, and though I haven’t had a chance to read it yet myself, it sounds worth getting hold of, by the reviews on Amazon. You never know: my blog posts may improve!

Making a Proposal

I had a lot of fun looking at the romantic tips section of the Danforth Diamond site. I’m a bit old in the tooth to think about engagements and engagement rings any more (though I have been engaged twice; married once), but the answers to possible questions people in the engagement market might ask are certainly worth checking out.
You’ll find their ‘romantic tips’ section in the column on the left of their site. It leads to ideas for proposals, how to get a man to propose, and how to propose to a man (Danforth’s say: Thank heavens women are no longer hampered by the old fashioned ideas of the past. Today's woman can propose to a man without being labelled "shameless" or "desperate"!). There’s also a section called Proposal Mistakes, although it’s more about commonsense things to think about when proposing, that actual mistakes. I can’t in the least remember how I went about proposing to my first fiancee – it’s a long time ago – and I’m not going to tell you where and when I proposed to my second. (Danforth’s might not have thought that the occasions was appropriate – and it would probably come under their category of an Impulsive Proposal!) Anyway, wedding rings found themselves on our ring fingers exactly a year later, so the proposal, appropriate or inappropriate occasion aside, must have been satisfactory enough!

Don't take these at face value

All right, if I say the words, Vienna Philharmonic, you’ll think this is another post about music. Nope, this is a post about a 24-carat gold coin called the Vienna Philharmonic. They’re worth 100 euros. I suppose they’re a nicer way to have gold around the house, rather than those chunky great bars we’re used to seeing in crime movies, but they’re probably a bit heavy to carry in the pocket.
But beside Vienna Philharmonics, which have violins on one side and something I can’t identify from the picture on the other, you can get US gold coins, such as the American Buffalo, or the American Eagle. Naturally these have a buffalo and an eagle on them. Plus the buffalo has an American Indian on the other side. Interestingly enough, these coins are legal tender in the States, and are worth $50 each. Fancy walking into MacDonalds or Subway and trying to buy a takeaway with an American Eagle. You might actually get the assistant excited!

Those were the days

Ah, the simple pleasures! We went to see the latest Pirates of the Caribbean tonight (more about that another time) and came home around 8.45 not having had any evening meal. Neither of us felt like cooking, so we ate the cheese rolls I’d got yesterday that were basically in return for a donation to a kindergarten. They were very tasty, and not nearly as oniony as they’d smelt when they first arrived.
And they remind me of the wonderful taste of cheese rolls way back in the sixties, when, together with a late night coffee, they were something of a specialty in coffee bars around town. We don’t seem to be able to make them as well any more, but I can vividly remember how special they seemed at the time, laden with melting butter! No doubt these days the cholesterol police would be onto them like a shot, but back in the days when nobody seemed to worry much about what they ate, they were great!

Deliverance

In the film version of James Dickey’s Deliverance, a story about nothing but the brutal divisiveness of modern life, there is a scene where a city slicker form Atlanta pulls out a guitar, while waiting for gas at a backwoods store. He is a strange in a strange land – and indeed a self-divided man, a true ‘modern.’ But as he strums, his chords are echoed by a banjo from the porch nearby.
The fugue goes on, faster and more complex with each passing phrase. The old man pumping gas begins to dance. Then guitar and banjo finally join in an exuberant duet. For a brief moment the whole world is in harmony – the whole word is in step.

Melvin Maddocks, in an article called, What became of the art to uplift?* originally published in the Christian Science Monitor, circa June 1985.

I originally had this as 'the at to uplift' which didn't make sense, but even the 'art to uplift' doesn't sound quite right. Perhaps it was the 'art of uplift?' Who knows!

Ah! Capella!

Capella must be one of the youngest universities around. I’ve mentioned it before in these posts, so thought I’d have a bit of a look at their history. There isn’t much about it online, just a list of dates when special things happened, but it’s interesting to see that its beginnings only go back to 1991. By 2004 it had 10,000 learners: a fairly speedy increase!
Capella’s focus is online education, and they have some 800 courses available. And the interaction between teacher and pupil is actually better than it is in many ‘live’ universities: "I enjoy this program more than anything I've done in the way of education. If I e-mail my professor, he e-mails me back immediately. It's like having a one-on-one tutor." [Don Felty]
I wrote on another blog about the way some college professors are giving up on email because they’re feeling swamped. But to me email is one of the best forms of communication around, because people can relax as they write. They don’t have to be reading signals from another person all the time, as we do face to face. I’m not advocating an end to face to face communication: it’s just I’m a great fan of email!
This blog post is based on information provided by Blogitive. For more information, please visit Blogitive.com

Casual Friday?

What is the point of casual Fridays in offices? It's one of those strange customs that's crept in over the years, and which doesn't seem to actually contribute anything. Maybe I've been out of the 'business formal' scene for a long time, and have forgotten that most men are still required to wear suits and ties, and most women have to 'dress up' when at work. But making one day a week 'casual' doesn't seem to contribute anything. Does it make people more relaxed at work? I'd hardly think so. And women, being women, will no doubt still dress up whatever the day is: they can't afford to be seen looking underdressed in contrast to other women in the office.

There's an interesting article on the subject on Wikipedia, which says that the idea of Casual Fridays goes back to the 1950s, but that it didn't take off much then. And then there was a period in the 90s when casual almost became the norm. I haven't had to 'dress up' at work for such a long time, I barely posses any real business clothes, and even in my current job(s) there's no need for what you'd normally call business gear – at least as far as I'm concerned. Earlier this year, when I got an interview with a legal firm, I went and bought a suit on the off-chance that I might get the job, and need to be suitably dressed. It was nice to have a suit that actually fitted – the one I already possessed had got a little tight, to say the least.

The trend seems to be getting away from casual on Fridays, or casual on any day, in fact. Casual dress can denote a casual attitude; business dress can denote a business-like attitude. It may not be truth, but it's worth bearing in mind.

While thinking about this topic I came across a blog called Canadian Headhunter. The post is obviously aimed at the bloke, and is written by a bloke, apparently. It has some good advice in it, even though not everyone might agree with the choice of clothing suggested.

Music Capitol!!

I’ve never really heard anything of Branson Missouri, but it turns out to be the Live Music Capitol (their spelling) of the World (their claim). If you want entertainment of the musical kind (light entertainment, that is) this is the place to go. But what appealed to me when I checked out the site for planning your holiday there, was the show advertising the Acrobats of China. When you click on their name on the Branson list, it takes you to the New Shanghai Circus site, where there’s a rather rough-looking video offering selected acts from the circus. The most wonderful and hilarious is one that features two Chinese dragons. Inside these are two acrobats who make these dragons (or are they dogs? I’m not sure) race around, roll, leap on and off a table, and eventually cross a couple of wires. It’s the co-ordination that’s so fabulous: how do they leap up onto things when it requires the person in front to move fractionally ahead of the one behind? It’s an extraordinary thing to see, even though the video looks like it’s been shot from the audience with a hand-held camera! Still it must be legit, since it’s on the circus’ site.
There's a great long list of Branson performers, including one crew called Baldknobbers. Hmm. Baldknobbers? Reminds me of a text my daughter sent us today about a shop called Knobs and Knockers: she thought we might like the name...

Writers and notebooks

There's no doubt that writers should carry some sort of notebook with them at all times. Ideas for small posts or large are easily forgotten. I find some of them, if they're connected to something else I'm doing, will come back to mind – usually when I don't have a pad and pencil – but some just get lost forever. And ideas are too precious to lose.

I've kept a notebook in the past, but it's always a bit of an issue, and you always think – 'I'll remember that.' But you don't. And it gets worse with age. I can't even remember what I've gone into another room for sometimes, so trying to remember fragile things like ideas is tricky.

Writers should never struggle with writer's block, really, if they keep a notebook. But even without one there are plenty of ways to get the juices going. Read a newspaper, read anything in fact. Go through old notebooks (you must have some somewhere. I've got a box of them.) Surf the Net, but don't get sidetracked from your purpose. Read some other blogs, especially those you don't normally read. Look around your house: does anything annoy you about it, or inspire you?

I do understand that writer's block is a real thing, especially if you're a fiction writer. But the best book I ever read on the subject was by Peter Elbow, who advised just writing, even if it what you wrote was arrant rubbish. The fact of writing gets things moving in the brain and the imagination, and often something of value sparks up, and you find you're away.

Writer's block is more often writer's refusal to start writing, a putting off of the task in hand, since writing is work, and requires discipline and organisation, in spite of what the movies show.

Shrinking shirts

It's an annoying thing to buy something and then find it shrinks on you. Three or four months ago I bought three shirts from K Mart. All three of them have shrunk: two of them just a little but one considerably. My wife puts it down to my gaining weight during this time. But I know for a fact that one of the shirts is smaller. When I bought it, it would do up around the neck. Now it won't. You can't tell me I've put on weight round my neck!

I tried to find an image of a person in a shrunk shirt, but couldn't: all the images that came up were for shirts that wouldn't shrink.

In the Kitchen

When we get back from the UK, I think we’re going to have to replace some of our cookware. Our longstanding non-stick pans are no longer non-stick, and our wok rocks on the fire. Our fry pan delights in sticking to anything that’s placed in it, and you wonder what you’re eating along with the fried eggs.
In the course of getting sorted for the trip, we’ve thrown out some older kitchenware, and stored away still more. The kitchen and its cupboards are a great place for things to hide away for years, unused or unopened; or opened and forgotten, or dusting the shelf with pepper, or cumin, or curry powder. We’ve had a good clean out, but it takes constant surveillance to keep a kitchen spick and span. Spick – there’s an interesting word we never use in any other context.
In fact, anyone who delights in the English language must enjoy kitchen words: skillet, poacher, chafing dish, griddle, spatula, trivet, to name just a few.

A little poem to HitTail

Still no news from HitTail, one of my favourite sites. In spite of several emails to them, I haven’t heard a peep. Maybe they’ve taken a snitch to me – even though I promoted them a good deal.
So, for what may be the last time, here’s a post about HitTail. It’s a kind of poem using the last lot of search hits that related to my site.

Blackheads in the neck are never pleasant.
Some would compare them to lemon peel in the compost,
though Anna Leese, and Michael Crowl of Seattle
and maybe even Andrew Mulligan of The Crowd Goes Wild,
are all too polite to say so. Their focus is more on the
Dream Homes Magazine, and Endowment Express –
places they can put their money in. Let’s hope
they all live long and happy lives, and aren’t subject
to the Coroner’s lunch being eaten while he mulls
over their untimely demise.
Brent Stavig may also have something to do with
Seattle, though I have no idea what it is. Perhaps he’s
more concerned with epinions fridge reviews, or
Ronnie Rinalde video clips, or even a Lilburn
Sonatina? No, he’s content with three books on the
bed, and musing over the career of the Lyrical Whips,
or some Naga Baba photos – whatever they may be.
Meanwhile, Simon O’Neill performs in opera, and
visits his home country. Gareth Farr dispenses facts,
such as what a bagette is. Gao Ping presents his latest
2007 composition, and couples sans souci
struggle no more. The Lexus Song Contest does not include
Brent Read, who still has time on his side;
in the meantime he works on a constructionist capella,
using notes from Educating Rita, and
the Dr Who Keyboard Notes.
Finally, Emma Fraser, resting from Opera,
floats on her dockominium in Florida,
from whence she aims to
dream, design, discover and deliver.

The older I get...

It’s Monday here in NZ, so I guess that’s a time to give the Link and Blog Challenge of MeMe Monday a go.
But can I talk about myself? Any more?

My previous fiancee (many moons ago) broke off our engagement because she claimed I ate apples too noisily. I still eat apples in the same way, as far as I can tell, and I’m still married to my wife after 33 years.
I’m talented, but not excessively so: I’m not a great writer; I’m a pretty good one. I’m not a great pianist; I’m a pretty good one. I have a great eye for art, but not the patience to learn how to create it.
The older I get the more I think: there are umpteen thousand books I’ll never read, and umpteen thousands pieces of music I’ll never hear, and umpteen thousand works of art I’ll never see. More important than any of these: there are umpteen million people I’ll never know.
And apropos of that last one: as I get older I find it harder to make friends. When I was young friendship just happened. Now it’s a real effort. You’d think it would be like riding a bike: once learned, never forgotten. But it’s not.

Feedback

It makes a difference when you get positive feedback from your customers. When I worked in the bookstore we made an effort to keep track of good responses, especially when we did the occasional survey, and asked customers about our good and bad points. I’m pleased to say that our percentage of good comments was vastly higher than our percentage of bad ones. So we must have been doing something right!
I noticed the same sort of thing on a site for network cables where they’ve got a page of customer comments. It’s great when a business can not only receive those sorts of comments, but be able to place them in public view. There’s almost no publicity as good as a testimonial whether it’s for network cables or books or ripe bananas!

Birthday tribute

I spoke about my mother in the last post. I’ve no doubt mentioned that she died late last year, just before Christmas. So Christmas, in spite of lots of grandchildren, was fairly sombre at our house in 2006.
Today would have been her ninetieth birthday. Instead, some of the family went out to her grave and stood around and talked and arranged flowers – and froze: it’s been blowing a freezing gale all day. And we prayed and thanked God for her, because even though she was a quiet person, who didn’t like to be in the public eye, she was greatly beloved by our family.
There’s even been a bit of a joke about her ninetieth birthday. Last year, we’d talked with her about having a celebration for it, and she kept saying, “Well, I won’t be there.” She made sure of that!
Happy birthday, Mum. Hope you’re enjoying being in the presence of God and his endlessly delightful gardens, where no weeds grow, and nothing dies.

So what is a futon again?

Don’t know that I’ve ever been sure what a futon is. Had a suspicion it was either one of those things you cooked cheesy mixes in and then dipped your bread into – onto a tiddly little fork – or else it was more like a crouton.
However, it turns out a futon is a day bed: something that looks more like a settee in the day time. I was looking at the home furniture on one site and came across their futon section. Man, futons are cool! They’re elegant, they’re stylish. None of your crumpled up old bed pretending to be settee type of thing; these are models of chic.
When we built another storey onto our house for my mother to live in, the architect provided what he thought would be a long walk-in storage area above the stairs. The only trouble was it was in the lounge and it seemed unnecessary to have something like that there. So my mother put her grandfather’s old settee in the space, loaded it up with pillows and spent some years of her life using it as a day bed. She watched tv from it, she entertained grandchildren and great-grandchildren on it, various people would sit on it and cuddle her and so on. It became a place of serenity in the midst of chaos.
I don’t know that she would have wanted to exchange her grandfather’s old woodeen settee for a futon, but it would have been kind of classy in that spot, all the same.

The Flying Scotsman

Some friends had enthused over The Flying Scotsman, so, when we couldn’t get in to see the latest Pirates of the Caribbean movie, we popped round the corner to see the other movie.
It wasn’t helped by the fact that our seats were so hard that by the end we were in agony, but even that aside (and the sometimes impenetrable Scots accents) the movie is pretty much a B movie bio, and is marginal on humour, suspense, character and most other things.
Jonny Lee Miller plays Graeme O’Bree, an amateur cyclist with great ambitions, most of which he achieves. Miller isn’t a particularly good-looking actor at the best of times, and as O’Bree he achieves a sourness of face that must almost be unique amongst movie ‘heroes.’ (He might play a good Darcy in Pride and Prejudice!)
O’Bree himself appears to have been a fairly difficult character: obsessive about his cycling, depressed by past events, uncompromising, and with a determination that overrode the better judgement of some of his family and friends. Miller shows all this with a jutting out lower lip, and jaw, and haughty eyes. Admittedly O’Bree had some overcoming to do: the World Cycle crew appear to have been quite toffee-nosed in their opposition to him, and dragging himself up out of depression (and an unsuccessful suicide attempt) can’t have been easy.
But Miller lacks much warmth, and consequently you never really respond to him as a character. His wife, played by Laura Fraser, is the opposite, but she has little to do except be supportive, and has almost no time to come across as a character. Brian Cox has a quiet role as a minister who doesn’t reveal his colours until late in the piece (unfortunately my friends had spoiled this me) and is excellent in his portrayal of a man who’s had to face the same sort of distresses O’Bree is facing. Billy Boyd is Billy Boyd.
We should have waited till it came out on DVD.

Hook

I noticed in Roger Ebert’s book, Awake in the Dark, that he classes Stephen Spielberg’s movie, Hook, as one of Spielberg's failures. This surprises me; it’s a superbly made movie, has excellent performances from Dustin Hoffman and Bob Hoskins, (who form a hilarious partnership), a controlled one from Robin Williams that keeps the character in perspective; two marvellous kids – Charlie Korsmo and Amber Scott; and solid supporting performances from Maggie Smith, Julia Roberts and Caroline Goodall.
When I first saw it a few things grated: the roller-skating Lost Boys and some of their other toys that seemed out of place, and Julia Roberts herself. But 16 years on these are minor quibbles. Roberts exudes her usual warmth and has the disadvantage of almost never acting ‘live’ with anyone, which she overcomes in general. The updating of the Lost Boys is woven into the story without much problem, and once accepted, is no longer a concern. The Lost Boys themselves are a marvellous bunch, wonderfully cast, and the performance by Dante Basco as Rufio is full of emotion. (Basco, incidentally, is one of four brothers all working in Hollywood and on TV.)
I’ve watched the movie several times over the years, and it always resonates with me, more than I remember E.T. doing so. The whole business with the father/son thing has particular emotional content for me, and perhaps makes me more partial to it, but it isn’t just that. Spielberg takes a mythic quality story and extends it in a number of directions and manages to make it all work. The design of the movie is a delight, full of magical touches (the appearance of the ‘hook’ throughout, for instance) and there is a great deal of subtle humour (when Tinkerbell flies Peter to Never-Neverland, a tramp on the bridge is lifted off his feet as they pass – not in close-up, but quite casually as part of the shot). Furthermore there’s considerable emotion in the piece: after a number of ‘casual’ and sometimes comic pirate deaths, there’s the real death of Rufio at the end. And the gradual disgust felt by Jack at his father’s lack of interest and lack of ability to save him, is strongly portrayed.
So, Roger, I think for once you were wrong. Maybe the popcorn wasn’t tasting so good that day.

A completely green world

I’ve just noticed one of my earlier posts was about when I was sick with the horrible ‘vomity’ bug, as I called it. It almost links up with the topic of ‘going green’ – because I’m sure that’s the kind of colour I was sometime over the long Saturday when I was feeling ill.
But going green, as you’d expect is more about trying to do something about greenness in a world that’s currently becoming blacker. I’m even feeling somewhat guilty about flying to the UK in a couple of weeks. There’s a worse thought: what happens if they declare the world COMPLETELY GREEN before we come back, and we’re stuck there, unable to come home and hug our grandchildren – let alone our kids!
I notice that the NZ Listener has a long article on greenness in its latest edition; I haven’t sat down to read it yet, but I will. Although I’m almost full up with green stuff: everywhere you go you get something green thrown at you, either from a global warming perspective, or a climate change perspective, or a running out of oil perspective. If I didn’t agree that we have to do something it would be enough to make me vomit all over again!

The picture, by the way, is considerably less gross than some I could have added!

A liddle dab'll do ya

Another jingle from the past. I’m sure it had a great effect on thousands of young men in the fifties. The word ‘little’ was sung more as ‘liddle’ which made the first line in particular very assonant.

Brylcreem, a little dab’ll do ya
Brylcreem, you’ll look so debonair,
Brylcreem, the gals will pursue ya,
Simply rub a little in your hair.

Money where your mouth is

There are certain tv programs I can’t ever imagine myself going on. One of them is Distraction, that appalling quiz show where you can lose as much as you gain, and where the distractions consist of humiliations and pain. Seems to me to be a game show for fools.
Another show I’d prefer not to be involved in is Dragon’s Den, even if I had something that I thought could be funded by one of the dragons. I’ve seen very few people on this show who were both prepared for all the questions the dragons put or who had the nous to put their case in such a way as to impress the dragons. Occasionally someone makes it through, but for the most part I don’t think these self-made millionaires are in much danger of losing any money.

Venpar (Venture Alliance Partners) are a company who fund business ideas, and it’s interesting to see that they require a pretty sound business plan before they’ll consider your approach. The business plan, they say, should include the size of the investment you’re looking for and the structure of the business. It should have a description of the product or service (that’s fairly obvious), a history of the company (could be difficult for someone starting up), the business and marketing strategy – it’s getting harder – and an analysis of the market and the competition. Given in yet? Full resumes of the key players in the management and current financial statements – and projections – are also required.

This is the sort of thing start-up entrepreneurs aren’t very good at. And it’s why many of the people who go on the dragon show fail: they just haven’t given enough attention to all these matters. Usually this is because they’re too busy getting their product off the ground. Still, I guess there’s one thing about the Dragons’ Den: it’s a quick-fire learning ground for someone who does have something worthwhile, but hasn’t put all their info together yet.

Clear, clear water

A generation ago people would have laughed if we’d suggested that in future we’d be buying water from the shops to drink. We used to drink ordinary everyday tap water without blinking an eyelid, and never worried about its level of contaminants. And maybe we should have carried on doing that. But the pure water industry is so ingrained now that few people would go back to the old days easily.
So we accept the position as it stands and get on with it. In my office one of the jobs I’ve inherited is to fill the water bottle every couple of days. The water has to be filtered through a water filter before it reaches the bottle, but it’s no great task, and sometimes I can read the newspaper before anyone else while I’m waiting.
It always seems to me that the filter can’t be doing much filtering, because as far as I can tell the water goes in through it and pretty much straight out again. Still, the water, especially once it’s cooled by the water watchamacallit, is certainly very drinkable.
Purewater2go.com advertises portable water filters that do this task while you’re on the go. So presumably you can grab up some water from any old place when you’re out jogging, for instance, and filter it on the spot. The only difficulty I see here is carrying a water bottle and a filter, but if it’s pure water you want, that’s what you’ll have to do.
The site says millions of people die every year from not having fresh drinking water. I rather suspect that more than 99% of those people don’t live in Western countries, but that doesn’t make it any less true. Perhaps purewater2go has a huge untapped market in Third World countries.

Surviving Childhood.

I have to make mention of a post in a blog called Nickoftime's Sanity Corner, which appears in the same 'house' as a couple of my own blogs.

The post is called How we all survived childhood and is a partly humorous, partly serious look at all the things kids did in a previous generation, a number of which would be greeted with shock/horror by the PC Brigade. Yes, some of them may have been not the healthiest, but the kids survived.

The posts mentioned here were all on a site called Orble, which was suddenly removed from the Net one day back in the noughties, and all its blog posts with it. 

However, the Sanity Corner post was apparently very popular even before it appeared on Orble, and has survived in various forms ever since. 

Play Australia has what appears to be a modified version of it here.

And there's a more detailed one on LinkedIn, under Nicky Mee's name. 

Love Over Scotland

In the following extract, Stuart and Irene are the parents of a precocious little boy of about six, called Bertie. Irene is ambitious for her child, but Bertie would prefer that she wasn’t. Stuart is a bit of a wimp when it comes to be a father, unfortunately, and finds it difficult to break out.

When Stuart returned home that evening, Irene was in the sitting room with Bertie, playing a complicated card game of Bertie’s own invention, Running Dentist. The rules, which Bertie had explained at extreme length, and with great patience, seemed excessively complex to Irene and appeared to favour Bertie in an indefinable way, but the game was quick, and surprisingly enjoyable.
‘Ah,’ said Stuart, as he put down his briefcase. ‘Running Dentist! I take it that you’re winning, Bertie.’
‘Mummy is doing her best,’ said Bertie. ‘She’s really trying.’
Stuart glanced at Irene. He knew that she was a bad loser, and that it was hard for her when Bertie won a game, as he so often did.
‘It’s a very difficult game to win,’ observed Irene, ‘unless you happen to be the person who invented the rules.’

From Chapter 13 of Love Over Scotland, the third in the series, 44 Scotland St, by Alexander McCall Smith. I think McCall Smith probably enjoys writing about these three characters more than any others in the series.

At the Dunedin Club

My friend, Arnold Bachop, the singer, and I performed some songs at the Dunedin Club a couple of weekends ago. I'd never visited this institution, even though it's been going since 1872 or thereabouts. (It resides in a house built by the famous Johnny Jones, known for whaling, amongst other things. He only lived there for about seven years.) There's probably no reason why I should ever have been in the Club. As its name implies it's intended as a place for members to join, and I suspect I wouldn't be willing to part out with the steep membership fee for the sake of hobnobbing with the hoi polloi.*

We entered the hallway, which was wide enough to swallow up any one room in my house, and waited until the butler – sorry, the manager – came to acknowledge our presence. He wasn't at all formal, and told us that the Victoria League AGM was still taking place, and would we mind waiting. We’d come to sing to the Victoria League people.

So we read up on which worthies of the town were members, and noted that many of them were professional people making a good deal of money. The walls had a number of old paintings on them, scenic paintings that seemed to me to lack any real distinction, as well as a sketch of the house by Shona McFarlane, and portraits of Jones and his wife. Cheery-looking Victorian couple.

There was a Suggestion Book on a hall table (some of the other furniture in the hall would collect a very pretty penny at an auction). It dated back to the first years of the Club, and some of the 19th century handwriting took a little deciphering. Most of the suggestions were fairly basic, relating to the hanging up of coats, or umbrellas, or the like. As time went on the suggestions didn't get any less down-to-earth, but perhaps that's what suggestion books are all about. Avoiding dealing with long discussions about the banal in a club meeting.

I took a quick trip up the stairs – which creaked with their age – and glanced around the upper hall. The floorboards were rather uneven, and noisy: certainly you wouldn't want to be taking a quiet trip to the loo in the middle of the night.

Meanwhile the Victoria League continued with its AGM. The Victoria League, I later learned, began at the beginning of the 20th century, and was most well-known in the early days as a group to help men during the First World War. It opened clubs and hostels, and provided beds for both soldiers and their wives. During the Second World War, it worked in a similar capacity, and since then has been strong on assisting students in need.

The League in Dunedin has seen its hey-day, I suspect, as most of the members are in their sixties and upwards. For them it acts as something of an ongoing social club. However, the Victoria League worldwide is still a valuable society.

Finally we went into the dining room and did the songs, which went well. Afterwards, the husband of the president of the League took us around some of the back section of the Club. A long corridor has cartoons and caricatures by Tremain and Syd Scales and others of many of the past presidents and members. The billiard room at the back of the building is big enough to encompass not just a room of our house, but the whole ground floor. Two enormous billiard tables stand waiting for members.

The place has been done up very well over the last decades, helped by the fact that the Club has architects and men with some ready money willing to put their efforts towards maintaining the place in style. Upstairs the rooms have been altered considerably, making them more hospitable for guests. Supposedly the men’s toilets downstairs, which our host was keen to show us, are original, although if that’s the case, they’re very well preserved. Apropos of that, the most extravagant toilets still standing in Dunedin must be those at the old Art Gallery. The building was raised for the South Seas Exhibition back in the twenties (I think) and the urinals are a sight to see (and to pee at!)

* Love this phrase, but I now realise it's inaccurate, of course: the hoi polloi are the great unwashed, not the well to do...

When is a stethoscope not a stethoscope?

A stethoscope is a stethoscope is a stethoscope. Right? Apparently not. I always thought that those things doctor whip out at the drop of a hat in medical tv soaps were pretty much a standard model, used from episode to episode. Not so. When I look on the Light & Sirens Medical Supplies site, for example, I find there’s such a range of stethoscopes that it becomes very hard to choose between them. Even the Littman stethoscope is only one of nearly twenty types or brands the oddly named Light & Sirens company stocks. No wonder it takes so long to get through medical school. Half the battle must be deciding what make of stethoscope to buy!

Wilfred Mellers on Handel

Yet because Handel is a very great, not merely representative, composer, authenticity is not essential to the performance of his music, as it now seems to be to that of Telemann or Couperin. Great works of art, which are those most likely to survive, are also those most likely to over-ride the ephemeral; which is why they may be re-interpreted in terms of a later age, so long as that age has the courage of its convictions.

Bach and the Dance of God, by Wilfred Mellers, appendix, page 308.

I noted this quote down originally in the 1980s. Much later, probably a couple of years ago, I came across this book in the library when I was having a bit of a thing about Bach. Having completely forgotten I’d read it, I was amazed to find some pencil notes in it that I knew I’d written. There was no mistaking my handwriting. Furthermore, instead of finding Mellers to be the last word on Bach, he seemed to be rather silly the second time around!

Bank + Ethics? Wow!

It’s not often you hear about banks being ethical, I’m afraid. I’m sure they really, truly are, but you never hear them saying so. One bank – a co-operative bank – does say so, and says it fairly loudly. On their website you can see an article telling you how they’ve actually lost business as a result of acting more ethically, in the environmental, human rights, animal welfare and other areas. They even detail which businesses they’ve turned down because of what those businesses were doing in such areas. It’s quite heartwarming!
Okay, you say, they’re losing business. What sort of a bank is that? Well, curiously enough (it’s always curious that doing good is actually more profitable!) their loan business is increasing. They’ve gone from providing ethical services to certain individual clients way back in 1992 to being ethical on a large scale. With no loss of custom.
The name of the bank is The Co-operative Bank, and it’s located in the UK. Maybe I should go and visit them when I’m over there in the next few months! Or even set up an account with them!
By the way, there’s a good deal more on their site about the ethics side of things. It’s worth checking out.

The David Bain case is not finished yet

It's hard to avoid reading about David Bain in the news. And to add to all the comments, here's a bit more.

There are two things that strike me as odd about the case. Firstly, the motive. While David's father might have had a motive, why would he have killed all his family apart from David? Surely there was no reason to kill his younger son, Stephen, nor his older daughter, Aroha, if his concerns were about his relationship with his other daughter, Laniet. To go round destroying all the family seems an insanity.

Even more unlikely is any motive in David's case. Here was a mild, quiet young man, a bit immature perhaps, but certainly not one who appeared to be greatly troubled by his dysfunctional family, if his behaviour in the world outside was anything to go by. Unlike other mass murderers, there was no hint of withdrawal from society, or underlying anger, or hatred of the world. Compare David to the young man who killed the students in Kansas. The two personalities are light years apart. And look at Bain when he came out of prison. Here was a man full of light and life. Certainly his pleasure at being released was huge, but wouldn't you think there'd be something else, a certain something you couldn't put your finger on? No sign of it. David Bain is either a very good actor, or he's innocent.

The other strange thing about this case is the fact that the police acquiesced in the burning down of the Bain house. This was done within a month of the murders. Apparently this was at the instigation of the Bain relatives. Doesn't this strike you as odd? There are two reasons why it's odd. Why would the police allow a major crime scene to be destroyed so early in the piece, and how come the family had the power to persuade them to do it? Note that the family have once again had a strong say in what should happen to David: he's not to be allowed to stay in the South Island. Says who?

It's crazy, but I have a suspicion there's someone else out there who knows a whole lot more about these murders. Someone who has sat in hiding for all these years, and has the guilt of five deaths on his or her head. Someone who doesn't appear to have a motive because there's never been enough investigation for motive beyond the father and the son. That might make some sense of the puzzle.

Studdert Kennedy again

The world and the life of men have meaning and purpose. At its heart the world is not mad; but sane. That is the bare minimum of faith for man. It that goes, everything goes, and we can neither live nor think about life; but only take a long time to die.

G A Studdert Kennedy, in The Word and the Work, quoted in Woodbine Willie, by William Purcell, pg 208

The year of the amethyst

This year we celebrated our 33rd wedding anniversary. The traditional stone for this anniversary is an amethyst, but since we were spending a lot of money going to England, the amethyst rather got sidetracked. We haven’t been much good at celebrating anniversaries with the traditional gifts, though the kids managed to find pearls (including pearl cufflinks) for our thirtieth. Last year the traditional gift was a conveyance. A conveyance! Well, the mind boggles at the possibilities – it’s certainly a lot more ambiguous a possibility than an amethyst. Anyway, my wife has gone on about buying a campervan for years, and we’ve never come to agreement about the value of getting one. So last year I managed to find, with some difficulty, a model campervan, and presented it on our anniversary. She took the joke with delight, and it’s still sitting on her computer at work.
I checked out amethysts on the Net just now, to see what sort of things are available. Unfortunately, my wife isn’t much into rings these days. Maybe I should think more in terms of a necklace, if it isn’t too late to celebrate!
By the way, why do Americans spell jewellery as jewelry and jewellers and jewelers? I can understand the second spelling, perhaps, although the full pronunciation of the word must surely be: jew-el-lers, with a degree of doubling of the letter ‘l’. But jewelry? It smacks of a lack of delight in the sound of words. But I suspect I’m going to be banging my head against a wall on this one.