Local interest

 

Local interest

Many of our local roads looks somewhat like this!

Source unknown.

The major topic of conversation, apart from the iniquitous Post Office scandal, is the plethora of road works in the area. At one point recently it was almost impossible to escape the village as every route had cones cutting off road lanes and temporary traffic lights controlling the passage of vehicles. There was a noticeable lack of workmen most of the time and occasionally the traffic lights stopped working altogether. That lead to a ‘dicing with death’ scenario as vehicles hesitantly edged forwards, particularly around blind corners.

Gas, electricity, water, telephone, fibre broadband all had fingers – or spades – in the pie. The road surfaces are still a patchwork of filled-in holes, but that doesn’t affect the pot holes that are so old they are almost of archaeological interest.

Occasionally, a resurfacing project is undertaken. This involves shutting the entire thoroughfare for weeks. Only residents, delivery vehicles, emergency services and maintenance people are allowed access. Commuters have much time added to their daily journeys and all alternative routes or 'diversions' are overwhelmed with extra traffic.      

Tempers become frayed!

The Post Office scandal has a local connection, too. The headquarters of Fujitsu UK are based in Bracknell, almost five miles from here. Fujitsu took over ICL in the late 1990s. ICL was not known for its efficacy in computer systems and the take-over did not improve matters, since many of the same people were still employed there. Who advised the government in awarding such a big contract? 

I imagine the Post Office debacle will become an object lesson in universities to teach systems analysis, business ethics and accountability among other things. As an example of how not to do things it is unsurpassed. It is truly astonishing how criminally badly more than 700 sub-postmasters and sub-postmistresses have been treated. Between 1999 and 2015, they were accused of theft, false accounting and fraud. Some were jailed, others committed suicide, families were wrecked and still the Horizon computer system was claimed to be without fault.

I doubt whether the real culprits will be punished. After all, our ‘honours system’ seems to reward rogues who lack a moral compass. That degrades awards for genuine people who work selflessly to raise money for charitable causes or work endlessly in jobs that others would disdain.

I take my hat off to those people, like Kevin Sinfield, who has raised so much money for research into Motor Neurone Disease, alongside his great friend and former Leeds Rhinos team mate, Rob Burrow, who was diagnosed with MND in 2019.

There are genuinely good people in the world but they are too often overlooked and overcome by power-hungry, self-serving people. Those people do not stand on the shoulders of those who came before them, but trample over them in their bid to gain the glittering prizes, or, more prosaically, the recognition and the huge salaries.

 I thought the ongoing Covid inquiry was an insight into the incompetence of the government, but the Post Office scandal trumps it one hundredfold.

 

Little things

 

Little things

Little things please little minds, so it is said. In fact, Ovid (Publius Ovidius Naso) wrote it around 2 AD in ‘Ars Amatoria’, a collection of 57 poems in three volumes. In the first two volumes, intended as advice to men, Ovid advised ‘not forgetting her birthday’ and ‘not asking about her age’. The third volume sought to advise women on how to gain and keep the love of a man. Oh, if only I had studied Latin . . . (Still, I didn't do too badly!)

‘Parva leves capiunt animos’ is translated as ‘small things enthral light minds’ and has been repeated by the great and the good, the simple and the foolish ever since. In 1576 George Pettie rendered it, ‘a little thing pleaseth a foole’ while John Lyly in 1584 wrote, ‘Little things catch light mindes’. In 1845 Disraeli said, ‘Little things affect little minds’ while in 1963 Doris Lessing wrote ‘Small things amuse small minds’. Finally, the Galt toy catalogue of 1973 printed ‘Little things please little minds’ and that, I suppose, settled it!

That was a rabbit hole I had not planned to travel through when I started writing this post. That’s the trouble, you see – no focus!

The little thing that is pleasing me at present is a Kikkerland nail brush in the form of a whale. I am so pleased with it that it will not be employed for any other purpose than to make me smile every time I see it. 

                                             Look at the grain!

It is handmade from beechwood and wears a light smile. The grain is attractive and I wonder if it would be enhanced by an application of linseed oil.

                     Seen from above - '♪ Me and my shadow . . . '

                 Here you can clearly see this cheery cetacean's smile

I cannot say that I am entering my second childhood. Something (many things) tell me I never departed my first!                        

Karl Marx

 

Karl Marx

Karl Marx statue, Highgate Cemetery (East)

Most people have heard of Karl Marx. Some may even have read his writings, the most well-known of which are ‘The Communist Manifesto’ (1848) and ‘Das Kapital’ (1867-1894)

Marx and his wife had seven children, of whom only three survived into adulthood. One rather endearing trait was that all his daughters were given the first name of Jenny, in honour of his wife.

His imposing tomb in Highgate Cemetery in London, in an area reserved for atheists, bears the engraved message, ‘Workers of All Lands Unite’, often misquoted as ‘Workers of the World Unite.’ 

From left: Chico, Harpo and Groucho (seated).

Above two images courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Though he was one of nine children there is no truth in the belief that Chico, Harpo, Groucho, Gummo and Zeppo were in any way related to him. However, he had a sister who is remembered at the start of every race in the Olympics, indeed of every race ever run. From early childhood, children will have been apprised of her name. Like her famous brother, Onya will never be forgotten.

The North wind doth blow . . .

 

The North wind doth blow . . .

 . . . except that it dothn’t. True, the wind was ‘from the North’ at one mile per hour or something ridiculous. That was fine by me. It was quite cold enough without it being shunted along at speed, and I was indoors, for goodness’ sake. The house isn’t hermetically sealed but most of the draughts have been denied access.

. . . and we shall have snow

Well, yes, we have had snow, not enough to write home about, but snow nonetheless. It came down in big, soft flakes, quite impressively, for a while. I noticed from my Reolink camera that it was settling abjectly and rather sulkily on the cars on the drive, as though it would rather be somewhere else.

 . . . and what will the robin do then, poor thing?

He’ll sit in a barn

To keep himself warm . . .

. . . well, he would, if he could find one that hasn’t been snapped up and converted at vast expense to make a desirable property for a human, but if he manages to find a vacant barn being used for its original purpose . . .

He’ll sit in a barn

To keep himself warm

 And hide his head under his wing, poor thing.

There are four more verses to this rhyme. The second one asks,

And what will the swallow do then, poor thing?

Oh, do you not know

That he’s off long ago,

To a country where he will find spring, poor thing.

The third and fourth verses speak of the dormouse and honey bee, both of which hibernate until the spring, and the final verse refers to children.

When lessons are done

They will skip, jump and run,

Until they have made themselves warm, poor things.

Much is made of the joy to be had in the snow – tobogganing, building snowmen, snowball fights, making snow angels. All such pursuits are great fun, but the cold! Who can forget the frozen fingers and the agony of warmth returning to icy hands and feet, the face flayed by bitter wind, nose pinched and cold, drawing arctic breath into aching lungs?

Snow is lovely, in small amounts, for a short while, for those who do not have to travel.

Today the wind is from the East-North-East at 4 miles per hour. The sun is shining fitfully and blue tits are busy in the garden.

Is there a poem that starts, ‘The East-North-East wind doth blow’?

Petticoats

 

Petticoats

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons 

Chris’s blog post on ‘Always smiling’ pointed out that it was 89 years ago that Elvis Presley was born on 8^th January. She mentioned petticoats and that brought to mind the ones we used to wear.

To make them stiff so that they made the skirts over them stand out, they were starched in a mixture of sugar and water and left to dry. My patient mother spent much time starching my petticoats. I remember going to a youth club proudly wearing my sugar petticoat, (or was it paper nylon?) relishing the crackly feel of it. My recollection is that it didn’t stay stiff for long, soon wilting to limpness after a short while.

I’m sure that Beverley Rhodes, younger sister of Dame Zandra Rhodes, went to the same youth club. I didn’t know her very well. Zandra was well known then but not as famous as she was to become later, creating designs for Diana, Princess of Wales and rock stars like Freddie Mercury.

I think they lived on Chatham Hill, a steep hill leading from Chatham to Gillingham. Certainly, it was steep enough that when I cycled to school I always had to get off and push my bike up it. Going home was wonderful, though, freewheeling at speed down the hill.

Microfiction

 

Microfiction

Source unknown

The objective of microfiction was to create a story in 140 characters or fewer, including punctuation. A picture would be provided by the organiser to act as a prompt.

It was fun to do and a challenge to wordy individuals like me. The following two efforts are from January 2011, prompted by the illustration above.

Horrified, he discovered that he had drawn from his scabbard not a sword but a parasol. Valiantly he battled on, blocking his enemy’s blows. (140 characters)

 

 

Forensic pathologists were astounded. Cause of death? Microscopic samurai hidden under cocktail umbrella.  The victim never saw his killers. (140 characters)

 

 

 

 

Days to remember in January 2024 - 2

 

Days to remember in January 2024 - 2

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Plough Sunday is the Sunday closest to the 5^th day of January and this year will be on 7^th January. It marks the beginning of the agricultural year, when the land is being prepared for sowing, and is a way to applaud the work of farmers. Notable services are held in Chichester and Exeter Cathedrals, Sherborne Abbey, in Dorset and Hedenham Church, in Norfolk. It is common for a ploughshare to be taken into the service and for farmers to attend with their tractors.

January 7^th is St Distaff’s Day, though there is no Saint named Distaff. It was traditionally the day people returned to work after Christmas. It is also known as Roc Day and occurs the day after the Feast of the Epiphany, on 6^th January.  The distaff or roc is a tool used in spinning, designed to hold unspun fibres, preventing them from tangling. It was the mediaeval symbol of women’s work, and women of high or low estate would be occupied in spinning.

For men, Plough Monday is the traditional return to work for agricultural labourers. It is the Monday following the Epiphany and is 8^th January in 2024.  

 

Straw Bear Day is celebrated in the Fenland area of Lincolnshire, Cambridgeshire and Norfolk on the first Monday following Twelfth Night. In Whittlesea, Cambridgeshire, this year it will take place on three days in January, 12^th, 13^th and 14^th. The Straw Bear is a man covered completely in straw who is led from house to house to dance to bring about a good harvest. On the final day the Straw Bear is burnt, though without the man inside it! The Straw Bear Festival is an opportunity to dress up and have fun, while raising money for charity.

 

 

Rain

Baby Bertie in the rain, 2011

 

The rain is raining all around,

It falls on field and tree,

It rains on the umbrellas here,

And on the ships at sea.

Robert Louis Stevenson (1850 – 1894)

It has rained excessively, bringing misery and chaos to travel and business. So many areas have been severely flooded and many people face a difficult beginning to a new year.

It is dreary, on a dull, rainy day, to put away the bright ornaments of Christmas.  Were the sun to shine, the task would feel less glum as the angels, the glass baubles, the silver bells, the ropes of red beads are packed away. My pretty tree has stood for a month or more, but now it must be undressed and stored until needed once again, many months from now. The strings of lights which have shone so gaily, giving colour on cold, dark mornings are now extinguished. They were a source of pleasure and hope during Christmas week as we succumbed to Covid, a feast for the eyes even as we lacked appetite for food.

Now we look forward as the days lengthen, new ventures beckoning to cheer our jaded souls and prove, once more, that the earth keeps spinning, that life goes on. The pyracantha berries are all gone, thousands of them, stripped by hungry birds, and already and for some time, spring shoots reach up to the sky. Nothing deters these fragile plants. They may be battered by rain and wind, frozen with frost and snow, but they survive, brave harbingers of Spring.

Among the trees, the blue tits dash from branch to branch, stopping to pick small insects from the undersides of leaves and crevices in the bark, joined by others of their kin, the great tits and the coal tits. A small flock of long-tailed tits darts here and there and blackbirds and robins, dunnocks and elusive wrens make their preparations for nesting and breeding.

As Percy Bysshe Shelley expressed it, in the last line of the last stanza of ‘Ode to the West Wind’, ‘If Winter comes, can Spring be far behind?’

Gilbert, one year on . . .

 

Gilbert, one year on . . .

Baby Gilbert - first night in his new home, relieved to see a big dog to rest his chin on

We took the dogs out for a charge about yesterday and were gone some while. Jellicoe and Herschel were left alone and were pleased to see us when we arrived home, miaouing at the door as we came in. Gilbert availed himself of the chair and Herschel promptly sat on him.

 Gilbert has been with us now for a year. He is a lovely boy with a great sense of humour and we are very privileged to have him in our lives.

How small he was when he arrived and how big he is now!

Days to remember in January 2024

 

Days to remember in January 2024

Tactile street sign at Albert Street and Alice Street, Brisbane

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

 January 4^th is World Braille Day.

Louis Braille was born on January 4^th, 1809, in Coupvray, France. Until he was three he had perfect sight. He was accidentally blinded in one eye in his father’s harness making shop by a stitching awl, a sharp-pointed instrument used to punch holes in heavy materials like leather and canvas. An infection set in in the damaged eye and spread to his other eye, causing total blindness.

When he was a student at the National Institute for Blind Youth in Paris, formerly the Royal Institute, one of the first schools in the world for blind children, he used and improved systems of raised letters designed by Valentin Haüy and raised dots by Charles Barbier. Louis Braille’s system, completed in 1824 when he was 15,  simplified the code, using six dots in different permutations to represent the letters of the alphabet.

Although his fellow students applauded Braille’s work the system was not adopted until two years after his death. Haüy’s successor was afraid that its implementation would negate the need for sighted teachers. Now, braille is used throughout the world and continues to develop and be adapted to modern technology.

There is more information here and here.

New desk diary

 

New desk diary

Tulips adorn the cover of my 2024 diary.

There were tulips on the 2023 diary, too.

I don’t know why I have a desk diary rather than a smaller pocket diary. I haven't even got a desk! I suppose it stems from my working days when important dates were filled in at the beginning of the academic year and added to as the terms wore on.

Anyway, I like space to write in and like to pretend that I am organised. I haven’t yet ‘gone through’ the 2024 diary, writing in birthdays and anniversaries. It’s not a task I enjoy very much. Perhaps it’s something to do with my dislike  of making mistakes and maybe to alleviate that I should write in pencil. When I was a teenager, it took me ages to write a letter because I had to keep starting again after I’d made a mistake. Quite ridiculous!

It is now January 2^nd and I have yet to write in my journal. I’d better get a move on before I forget all the exciting things I’ve done so far this year. 

The blank page stares, challenging me to mark its pristine surface.

It’s grey and dreary and very windy today. We drew back the curtains earlier to let in what little light there was – it gets quite depressing to have the world shut out all the time and we were rewarded by the antics of the blue tits pursuing each other across the garden.

Barry saw a rat cross the patio a couple of days ago and Herschel and Jellicoe have been absorbed by activity out there. The patio lies one step below the level of the sitting room and so they sit at the patio doors and gaze down, tails twitching, ears pricked, observing the comings and goings of wild rodents. Roxy and Gilbert have become interested in specific areas of the patio, as well, pushing their snuffling noses between the rustling, dead stems of asters. We hadn’t seen rats for a very long time until recently and, while each creature deserves its space in the universe, we don’t want to oversee a rise in the population.

Maybe the sun will shine tomorrow. Maybe the gale we’re promised will not materialise. Maybe – a wonderful word, full of promise.

Leap Year 2024

 

Leap Year 2024

Image courtesy of Wikimedia Commons

Happy New Year!

2024 is a leap year, a year with an extra day to balance the calendar year with the solar or tropical year. An astronomical year lasts slightly less than 365 and one quarter days. Without an adjustment every four years our calendar would soon become out of synchronisation with the tropical year; in four years, it would be out by about one day and in 100 years it would be out by approximately 25 days.

Julius Caesar introduced the leap year in 45 BC. The Julian calendar ruled that any year number divisible by 4 would be a leap year but this resulted in many leap years. Pope Gregory XIII introduced the Gregorian calendar in 1582 to regulate this. The Julian calendar is 13 days behind the Gregorian calendar. It is still used in parts of the Eastern Orthodox Church as well as in Oriental Orthodoxy and by the Berbers in parts of North Africa.

Leap years occur every four years except for years that are divisible by 100 but not 400. 1900 was not a leap year, but 2000 was. For most of us, at least until 2100, if the last two numbers are divisible by 4, the year is a leap year.

The summer Olympics are held every four years, usually in a leap year. The 2020 Olympics were postponed for a year because of Covid. This year, Paris is hosting the summer Olympics from 26^th July to 11^th August. 

The opening ceremony is usually entertaining though sometimes needs to be interpreted by the commentators, as the dance/drama sequences can be quite mystifying. I wonder why, when all the nations of the world can put aside their differences for two weeks to participate, such willingness to cooperate cannot translate to daily life. Of course, the athletes are competing for medals, not attempting to annex other people's lands. The spirit of apparent goodwill does not last. Consider the 1936 Olympics in Germany, which so incensed Hitler. 

What state will our world be in by the summer of 2024?

Traditional pursuits in January in UK

 

Traditional pursuits in January in UK

First-footing is practised in the Isle of Man, Scotland and Northern England on New Year’s Day and may take place immediately after midnight on New Year’s Eve. The first foot is the first person to enter the house on New Year’s Day and is the bringer of good luck.

Ideally, he should be tall and dark and should not have been in the house when the bells strike midnight. He may step out before the chimes and come back in or he may be a completely new visitor.

Traditionally, the first-footer brought a gift of coal to symbolise warmth for the household.  In modern times, the bearer might bring whisky and shortbread, warming in a different manner. Fair-haired men were thought to be unlucky first-footers perhaps because of their association with blond Viking invaders of yore. Women had no place in the proceedings, being thought to presage ill fortune.