Sunday 29 May 2016
We are old, but we boogie
Yesterday we went to an excellent party thrown by a friend of a friend who had just turned 60. What a marvellous party! A huge garden, two marquees, a hog roast, endless prosecco (or whatever your tipple is), very smart women wearing bright colours, linen clothes and artistic jewellery (is my jewellery artistic enough? Noooo.) and white haired men wearing coloured stripey shirts and chinos. After the eating, drinking and chatting it was a short walk to the village hall, where a band had been hired to play lots of old rock songs so we could boogie, and there were even inflatable guitars piled up so we could all augment our air-guitar moves with lightweight props. I watched closely. It was fascinating. We might have doubled in size since 1975, or we might be pretty much the same size, and just rather more wrinkly, but we dance in exactly the same way as we did when we were teenagers, which is rather wonderful really. Oh, and this is me too. I hardly ever dance; it doesn't seem appropriate. Last night it would have been rude not to, and I can still bop as though I have springs in my legs. In fact, I like dancing. We never learned to dance of course, we just copied each other; we copied the girls on Top of the Pops, and some of my contemporaries copied Mick Jagger's moves - and last night I saw a headmistress doing exactly that. Our children make excellent speeches about what great parents we are ( and even what great grandparents we are). It really is fun!
Tuesday 24 May 2016
Mr Britling Sees it Through by H. G. Wells
I couldn't read the last Book Group choice. It was Dr Thorne by Trollope and I struggled through about three chapters and gave it up. So I missed the meeting.
Instead I took up a book which has been on my shelf for ages. In fact, I think it was on the grandparents' bookshelves in Walton-on-Thames. (Do you remember we grew up in my grandparents house? They had gone, but when we moved in their books were still on the bookshelves and their old coats and hats were in the cupboards, old tennis rackets and hockey sticks in the hall. They were proper people with a history. But maybe I haven't written about this here.)
The book is Mr Britling Sees it Through and it is a novel, but one with no real plot; it is more like a thinly fictionalised record of how it felt to live through the first two years of the First World War. The main character, Mr Britling, is a writer like H. G. Wells, and he has a certain fame and a certain degree of comfort, and he fools around with women who are not his wife and tells himself some good reasons for this philandering - only, of course, he never calls it philandering; but he admits these serial relationships are a kind of game. A game of ego on two sides.
As well as a wife and another woman a motor-ride away, he has a young secretary, who has a young wife and sister-in-law; Mr B also has a teenage son and two younger sons, and a live-in German tutor for his son. And at the outset, he has a visiting American who is keen to gain understanding of the British way of life. All these people are caught unawares by the war and the drama comes in the way the war treats them all. The book was published in the deepest days of the war before the United States came into it. I shall type up some extracts but I believe it is all worth reading. There is a freshness and vividness about Wells, an honesty that's fresh air in a fuggy room; a shot of hard stuff.
I love the picture of the Georgians before the war - the world of rose gardens and no central heating, when women were struggling for the vote and exhilarating in a degree of independence. It's the moment that Mrs Dalloway's daughter (Mrs Dalloway: Virginia Woolf) catches a bus on her own and goes riding up the Strand just because she can; and suddenly freedom is just possible for her... she starts to envision possible careers, possible professions...
Anyway, to set the scene there's a terrific description of a hockey match involving both sexes, very like one of those old school stories, and you imagine what fun they had in the days before we all got scared of being outside.
After the war breaks out, the people of the village start a run on the village shop (Hickson's), amongst them the well-to-do neighbour Mrs Faber.
Then there are reports of the atrocities in Belgium. Mr Britling's American visitor, Mr Direck, has been on the continent to see for himself, and has returned, shocked.
So Mr Britling's thoughts take a different turn. He stops being excited at the new world order he dreams of. The English start retreating in disorder. There are rumours of corruption in high places. And Mr Britling decides his country needs him and takes the train to London where he has contacts; he tries hard to find a role in the war machine. He wants to be of service to his threatened country, and finds that he is not alone; other men men of thirty-eight and fifty-four proclaim themselves fit enough to serve and lobby to learn to shoot and use a bayonet. But they are not wanted: the war machine can't cope with them. They have nothing to do. They feel "left out."
Later on the German population in London come under suspicion and some are badly treated, but not so badly, it seems, as the English population in Germany. Mr Britling is really shocked when he reads a bale of German comic papers in the study of a friend in London. They were filled with caricatures of the Allies and more particularly of the English...
The important character at this point is the German tutor who had taught Britling's son Hugh before the war, and had been an earnest and loveable character in the household - whenever Britling is inclined to hate the Germans he remembers Heinrich (who has gone back to his country), who "became a sort of advocate for his people before the tribunal of Mr. Britling's mind." He also remembered happy holidays in the hospitable village of the Odenwald. And then he is told of young German soldiers who have shot women and babies. In short, Mr Britling tries hard to be reasonable and understand the Germans, but at the same time the war becomes more and more savage; there is the torture of "gas", the use of flame jets...
I think I won't write more - all this is prelude to the moment that Britling's son Hugh goes to fight at the age of seventeen, and the forthright letters he sends home about the experience of fighting in the trenches form a large part of the middle of the book.
But this book has been written to record the truth as Wells saw it and felt it and experienced it; he meant it to be representative, and he meant it for posterity. It was published a hundred years ago and it still has interesting things to say. I recommend it. I shall be pressing it one everyone. It's not a great story or a great book - but there is a boldness to it that makes it remarkable. Good old Wells! what a long time he lived and how hard he worked.
Instead I took up a book which has been on my shelf for ages. In fact, I think it was on the grandparents' bookshelves in Walton-on-Thames. (Do you remember we grew up in my grandparents house? They had gone, but when we moved in their books were still on the bookshelves and their old coats and hats were in the cupboards, old tennis rackets and hockey sticks in the hall. They were proper people with a history. But maybe I haven't written about this here.)
The book is Mr Britling Sees it Through and it is a novel, but one with no real plot; it is more like a thinly fictionalised record of how it felt to live through the first two years of the First World War. The main character, Mr Britling, is a writer like H. G. Wells, and he has a certain fame and a certain degree of comfort, and he fools around with women who are not his wife and tells himself some good reasons for this philandering - only, of course, he never calls it philandering; but he admits these serial relationships are a kind of game. A game of ego on two sides.
As well as a wife and another woman a motor-ride away, he has a young secretary, who has a young wife and sister-in-law; Mr B also has a teenage son and two younger sons, and a live-in German tutor for his son. And at the outset, he has a visiting American who is keen to gain understanding of the British way of life. All these people are caught unawares by the war and the drama comes in the way the war treats them all. The book was published in the deepest days of the war before the United States came into it. I shall type up some extracts but I believe it is all worth reading. There is a freshness and vividness about Wells, an honesty that's fresh air in a fuggy room; a shot of hard stuff.
I love the picture of the Georgians before the war - the world of rose gardens and no central heating, when women were struggling for the vote and exhilarating in a degree of independence. It's the moment that Mrs Dalloway's daughter (Mrs Dalloway: Virginia Woolf) catches a bus on her own and goes riding up the Strand just because she can; and suddenly freedom is just possible for her... she starts to envision possible careers, possible professions...
Anyway, to set the scene there's a terrific description of a hockey match involving both sexes, very like one of those old school stories, and you imagine what fun they had in the days before we all got scared of being outside.
After the war breaks out, the people of the village start a run on the village shop (Hickson's), amongst them the well-to-do neighbour Mrs Faber.
" And would you believe me," she went on, going back to Mrs Britling, "that man Hickson stood behind his counter - where I've dealt with him for years, and refused absolutely to let me have more than a dozen tins of sardines. Refused! Point-blank!
"I was there before nine, and even then Hickson's shop was crowded - crowded, my dear!"Mr Britling is just disgusted with women who just want to be dramatic, like this. But then he starts to worry that there will be "a tremendous change in values"; he worries that all his investments will be worthless and there will be bankruptcy. He tells his wife that they may have to leave home and go somewhere safer. But he, too, is as excited as the neighbour.
"Now I am afraid - and at the same time I feel that the spell is broken. The magic prison is suddenly all doors. You may call this ruin, bankruptcy, invasion, flight; they are doors out of habit and routine ... I have been doing nothing for so long, except idle things and discursive things."
"... Writing is recording, not living. But now I feel suddenly that we are living intensely. ...There are times when the spirit of life changes altogether..."
"They speculated about the possible intervention of United States. Mr Britling thought that the attack on Belgium demanded the intervention of every civilised power, that all the best instincts of America would be for intervention. ...
"It would be strange if the last power left out to mediate were to be China," said Mr. Carmine. "The one people in the world who really believe in peace .... I wish I had your confidence, Britling."
For a time they contemplated a sort of Grand Inquest on Germany and militarism, presided over by the Wisdom of the East. Militarism was, as it were, to be buried as a suicide at four crossroads, with a stake through its body to prevent any untimely resuscitation."
Then there are reports of the atrocities in Belgium. Mr Britling's American visitor, Mr Direck, has been on the continent to see for himself, and has returned, shocked.
"They have started in to be deliberately frightful. You do not begin to understand ... Well....Outrages. The sort of outrages Americans have never heard of. That one doesn't speak of.... Well... Rape. ....They have been raping women for disciplinary purposes on tables in the market-place of Liege. Yes, sir. It's a fact. I was told it by a man who had just come out of Belgium.Meanwhile, the British are unprepared and unarmed. Germany expects to win the war in weeks. Direck says:
"Germany today is one big armed camp. It's all crawling with soldiers. And every soldier has his uniform and his boots and his arms and his kit."
"And they're as sure of winning as if they had got London now. They mean to get London. ... They say it's England they are after, in this invasion of Belgium. They'll just down France by the way. ... They know for certain you can't arm your troops. They know you can't turn out ten thousand rifles a week."
So Mr Britling's thoughts take a different turn. He stops being excited at the new world order he dreams of. The English start retreating in disorder. There are rumours of corruption in high places. And Mr Britling decides his country needs him and takes the train to London where he has contacts; he tries hard to find a role in the war machine. He wants to be of service to his threatened country, and finds that he is not alone; other men men of thirty-eight and fifty-four proclaim themselves fit enough to serve and lobby to learn to shoot and use a bayonet. But they are not wanted: the war machine can't cope with them. They have nothing to do. They feel "left out."
"The great "Business as Usual" phase was already passing away, and London was in the full tide of recruiting enthusiasm. That tide was breaking against the most miserable arrangements for enlistment it is possible to imagine. Overtaxed and not very competent officers, whose one idea of being efficient was to refuse civilian help and be very, very slow and circumspect and very dignified and overbearing, sat in dirty little rooms and snarled at this unheard-of England that pressed at door and window for enrolment. Outside every recruiting office crowds of men and youths waited, leaning against walls, sitting upon the pavements, waiting for long hours, waiting to the end of the day and returning next morning, without shelter, without food, many sick with hunger; men who had hurried up from the country, men who had thrown up jobs of every kind, clerks and shopmen, anxious only to serve England and "teach those damned Germans a lesson."
"Everywhere there were the flags of the Allies; [in London] in shop-windows, over doors, on the bonnets of automobiles, on people's breasts, and there was a great quantity of recruiting posters on the hoarding and in windows.. There were also placards calling for men on nearly all the taxicabs. "
Later on the German population in London come under suspicion and some are badly treated, but not so badly, it seems, as the English population in Germany. Mr Britling is really shocked when he reads a bale of German comic papers in the study of a friend in London. They were filled with caricatures of the Allies and more particularly of the English...
"One incredible craving was manifest in every one of them. The German caricaturist seemed unable to represent his enemies except in extremely tight trousers or in none; he was equally unable to present them without thrusting a sword or bayonet, spluttering blood, into the more indelicate parts of their persons. "... "But it's blind fury - at the dirt-throwing stage."
His friend points out: "They want to foam at the mouth. They do their utmost to foam more." and Wells incudes the lyrics of a "Hymn of Hate" which the Germans sing about England. It is extraordinary - but Britling's friend points out that this is war. "We pretend war does not hurt. They know better..."
The important character at this point is the German tutor who had taught Britling's son Hugh before the war, and had been an earnest and loveable character in the household - whenever Britling is inclined to hate the Germans he remembers Heinrich (who has gone back to his country), who "became a sort of advocate for his people before the tribunal of Mr. Britling's mind." He also remembered happy holidays in the hospitable village of the Odenwald. And then he is told of young German soldiers who have shot women and babies. In short, Mr Britling tries hard to be reasonable and understand the Germans, but at the same time the war becomes more and more savage; there is the torture of "gas", the use of flame jets...
I think I won't write more - all this is prelude to the moment that Britling's son Hugh goes to fight at the age of seventeen, and the forthright letters he sends home about the experience of fighting in the trenches form a large part of the middle of the book.
But this book has been written to record the truth as Wells saw it and felt it and experienced it; he meant it to be representative, and he meant it for posterity. It was published a hundred years ago and it still has interesting things to say. I recommend it. I shall be pressing it one everyone. It's not a great story or a great book - but there is a boldness to it that makes it remarkable. Good old Wells! what a long time he lived and how hard he worked.
Friday 20 May 2016
Green Party Meeting
I went to my first Green party meeting last night as it happened to be in a place convenient to me on an evening I wasn't teaching. So. Sitting around in a circle in a small hall were seven men who you might describe as active elderly, of a type that Wells (H G Wells, or maybe Shaw) would have called "cranks". One had unusual woolly mutton-chops with a lovely shiny balding head. One I had met before when we went leafleting and I thought he was OK; he was like an aging punk rocker.
There were about 6 middle-aged women like myself. There were 2 young people. One was the candidate I had leafleted with, Olivia P. She was chairing the meeting and as it went on she was in despair that the time was rushing on and things were not going the way she planned - there was some dissent about focussing all our resources into the next council election at which Olivia will stand again - she feels she has got her face known now and she wants to capitalise on that. Other North West Surrey wards look more promising, percentage wise, but nobody is willing to stand. I might stand. The other young person was a tall pale young man, painfully earnest and other-worldly, and was rather a rival to Olivia. He is, apparently, on the policy committee.
I was very much reminded of the accounts of the Fabian society's early meetings that I came across in the writings of Wells when I was researching Nesbit. At first it was all very small and cliquey.
There are more plans - for a meeting in Staines debating the Europe question - I said I would help with the teas. I am, at least, experienced in teas, due to years of helping at regattas.
Walton regatta tomorrow and I am just about to go down to the Valley and clean some trophies - we have very fine, historical trophies, which we use for photographs, and then whisk them away.
There were about 6 middle-aged women like myself. There were 2 young people. One was the candidate I had leafleted with, Olivia P. She was chairing the meeting and as it went on she was in despair that the time was rushing on and things were not going the way she planned - there was some dissent about focussing all our resources into the next council election at which Olivia will stand again - she feels she has got her face known now and she wants to capitalise on that. Other North West Surrey wards look more promising, percentage wise, but nobody is willing to stand. I might stand. The other young person was a tall pale young man, painfully earnest and other-worldly, and was rather a rival to Olivia. He is, apparently, on the policy committee.
I was very much reminded of the accounts of the Fabian society's early meetings that I came across in the writings of Wells when I was researching Nesbit. At first it was all very small and cliquey.
There are more plans - for a meeting in Staines debating the Europe question - I said I would help with the teas. I am, at least, experienced in teas, due to years of helping at regattas.
Walton regatta tomorrow and I am just about to go down to the Valley and clean some trophies - we have very fine, historical trophies, which we use for photographs, and then whisk them away.
Sir David Mackay - what a brilliant guy
This is a most tenuous connection - this Cambridge scientist's death was reported on the radio - and I caught the detail that he played Ultimate Frisbee in Cambridge, as did my friend Susie, before she married and moved to the Netherlands. So I asked her about him.
It turns out that he played a key role in her relationship with C - Susie and her friend J asked David if they could "borrow" his holiday home in Wales, and he said Yes, if he could come too, and Susie and J asked that nice Dutch frisbee player C to come along too - and the holiday did not go quite as planned, as it became clear that C and Susie were quickly becoming close.
So this was ages ago, and since then David Mackay worked incredibly hard on computer things that are beyond me, and wrote books on climate change and statistics that are free to download, and got married and had small children and got cancer and was awarded a knighthood, and died. Even during his last days while he was lying in bed he was trying to figure out how to make Cambridge's roads safer for cyclists, and you can see his findings in his excellent Blog which is here
The best way to read it is to go to the first entry which is in 2008 and read it all the way through. Don't worry! He was too busy to write often - about 1 entry per year at first - and you can skip all the bits about computer programming unless they are relevant to you. It's his interested approach to his cancer which is striking.
Read the obituary in the Telegraph for an estimate of his contribution to our understanding of climate change.
MacKay was, he claimed, “absolutely not anti-renewables. I love renewables... but I’m also pro-arithmetic.”
MacKay went on to point out that electricity generation accounts for only one-fifth of our total emissions. So even if we managed to convert 80 per cent of our electricity to renewables (as some environmentalists say we should), Britain’s total CO2 emissions would be cut by only 16 per cent. The majority of emissions are created by transport, heating and food production.
It was here that the consumer could make a difference: “ 'Turn your thermostat down’ is, by my reckoning, the single best piece of advice you can give someone," he told an interviewer. "So is 'fly less’ and 'drive less’. But hybrid cars and home windmills are just greenwash.”
From the Telegraph Obituary:http://www.telegraph.co.uk/obituaries/2016/04/15/professor-sir-david-mackay-physicist--obituary/
MacKay earned an international reputation in the field of machine learning, information theory and communication systems, including the invention of Dasher, a software tool for disabled users which allows them to write text as fast as normal handwriting using a single finger or head-mounted pointer. He also introduced more efficient types of error-correcting code that are now used in satellite communications, digital broadcasting and magnetic recording. His book, Information Theory, Inference, and Learning Algorithms, was published in 2003.
Away from the laboratory, MacKay also helped in the successful campaign to free Sally Clark, the solicitor wrongly convicted in 1999 of murdering her two baby sons. Although he did not know her, he volunteered to set up and maintain her campaign website free of charge and helped to use mathematical arguments of probability to demonstrate the unsoundness of the original conviction.
As well as serving as chief scientific advisor to the Department of Energy and Climate Change from 2009 to 2014, MacKay was a member of the World Economic Forum Global Agenda Council on Climate Change.
It turns out that he played a key role in her relationship with C - Susie and her friend J asked David if they could "borrow" his holiday home in Wales, and he said Yes, if he could come too, and Susie and J asked that nice Dutch frisbee player C to come along too - and the holiday did not go quite as planned, as it became clear that C and Susie were quickly becoming close.
So this was ages ago, and since then David Mackay worked incredibly hard on computer things that are beyond me, and wrote books on climate change and statistics that are free to download, and got married and had small children and got cancer and was awarded a knighthood, and died. Even during his last days while he was lying in bed he was trying to figure out how to make Cambridge's roads safer for cyclists, and you can see his findings in his excellent Blog which is here
The best way to read it is to go to the first entry which is in 2008 and read it all the way through. Don't worry! He was too busy to write often - about 1 entry per year at first - and you can skip all the bits about computer programming unless they are relevant to you. It's his interested approach to his cancer which is striking.
Read the obituary in the Telegraph for an estimate of his contribution to our understanding of climate change.
MacKay was, he claimed, “absolutely not anti-renewables. I love renewables... but I’m also pro-arithmetic.”
MacKay went on to point out that electricity generation accounts for only one-fifth of our total emissions. So even if we managed to convert 80 per cent of our electricity to renewables (as some environmentalists say we should), Britain’s total CO2 emissions would be cut by only 16 per cent. The majority of emissions are created by transport, heating and food production.
It was here that the consumer could make a difference: “ 'Turn your thermostat down’ is, by my reckoning, the single best piece of advice you can give someone," he told an interviewer. "So is 'fly less’ and 'drive less’. But hybrid cars and home windmills are just greenwash.”
From the Telegraph Obituary:http://www.telegraph.co.uk/obituaries/2016/04/15/professor-sir-david-mackay-physicist--obituary/
MacKay earned an international reputation in the field of machine learning, information theory and communication systems, including the invention of Dasher, a software tool for disabled users which allows them to write text as fast as normal handwriting using a single finger or head-mounted pointer. He also introduced more efficient types of error-correcting code that are now used in satellite communications, digital broadcasting and magnetic recording. His book, Information Theory, Inference, and Learning Algorithms, was published in 2003.
Away from the laboratory, MacKay also helped in the successful campaign to free Sally Clark, the solicitor wrongly convicted in 1999 of murdering her two baby sons. Although he did not know her, he volunteered to set up and maintain her campaign website free of charge and helped to use mathematical arguments of probability to demonstrate the unsoundness of the original conviction.
As well as serving as chief scientific advisor to the Department of Energy and Climate Change from 2009 to 2014, MacKay was a member of the World Economic Forum Global Agenda Council on Climate Change.
Sunday 15 May 2016
Watching the telly - The BBC and Gareth Malone's Invictus Choir
I was really pleased last Thursday because the big news was that the government has renewed the BBC Charter for another eleven years, enabling them to collect the licence fee. The BBC isn't funded by the government, and isn't a government organisation: it's independent. It is administered by a Trust and the trustees. However, the government allows it to collect the licence fee. This means that if you watch the TV you have to pay for a TV licence, unless you are over 70, in which case you are exempt. If you don't pay the licence fee, and you are detected by a detector van, watching the TV, then you will be prosecuted and you may have to go to prison. It's a crime.
So the BBC is really a nationalised industry, and the Tory government doesn't like these on principle - it likes profiteering. There was a great scare that the Tories would cut the BBC's funding in some way in order to encourage commercial sponsorship. Naturally there was a campaign to petition the government to keep the BBC as it is. So I filled in a form explaining that I particularly like Woman's Hour and Have I Got News for You, University Challenge and a number of cop dramas and how much I can't stand adverts - there are none on the BBC because of the way it's funded. We don't have nearly so many adverts on independent TV as, for example, the US, where it is really pointless to watch the TV at all.
We watched the British Academy TV awards and all the winners made speeches about how important it is to keep the BBC independent of the government, because another threat to the BBC is that every government decides it's an enemy and tries to influence it: (for example, Tony Blair's PR man, Alastair Campbell, told Andrew Marr, the political correspondent at the time TB was Prime Minister that he would get him sacked for asking probing questions) and the BBC tries to present a balanced view. This is very funny on the News Quiz, where all the comedians take the piss out of those who want to leave Europe, and the audience point out that this isn't balanced, and then they can't find any comedians in favour of coming out of Europe, and then they make jokes on this theme....
In fact, there are many funny consequences of the BBC's independence. For example, they used to not be able to mention any product by its brand name. Then this caused such linguistic constructs as "sticky-back plastic" (Fablon) and "multi-coloured chocolate sweets" (Smarties) and some awkwardness in conversation, and it was decided that brands could be mentioned on the BBC if the presenters then said "and other brands are available".
Then they have a duty to reflect our whole, diverse population. They were slow about this for many years and had mainly presenters with received pronunciation or "Oxford English". Then there came a demand for regional accents and these came in slowly. We had more Scottish and Welsh to start with, and then, slowly, northerners. Now I think they have quotas! So, as on radio 4 many of the presenters like Jenni Murray and Jane Garvey and Libby Purves have the standard accent, all the characters on the afternoon play have to be either northern or Asian or otherwise foreign. So if you've written a play that's set in Weybridge, and they like it, they'll just decide to set it in Rotherham and produce it that way.
The report that came out on Thursday merely stipulated that the BBC's output must be "distinctive" and what this means nobody knows. But I think Gareth Malone's work for the BBC is quite distinctive. GM is a choir master. He looks boyish and tweedy. His mission is to spread the joy of singing in choirs. This sounds boring and worthy, but his work for the BBC is not boring. He was given the project of bringing a choir of injured servicemen together for the Invictus games, giving them something to sing, rehearsing them and taking them to Florida to sing at the opening ceremony.
Every serviceman or woman who came into the choir had their own story to tell, and it came out in front of the camera in an unforced way. One imagines there are hours of footage which are not used. Gareth went to the homes of many of the singers to talk to them personally. He collated their memories and their poetry and their stories to make a song. The excitement they shared at going to Florida was palpable. Their bonding was obvious. Some of these people had been quite isolated and having a group task and a group identity meant a huge amount to them. This is what Gareth does: he stays outside and tries to enable the group to make bonds together, but he doesn't mind showing sympathy when necessary. He always seems like a cold fish but in one programme he cried his eyes out - can't remember what that one was. He stayed dry-eyed this time. I didn't expect to watch this programme the whole way through but it was put together in such a way that I never got bored with it or felt it was superficial. I thought it was an excellent programme.
Available for only 27 days, watch here!
Prince Harry came into this programme - the servicemen love him and personally I think he'd make a very good king. He just sort of fits in with our lives.
So the BBC is really a nationalised industry, and the Tory government doesn't like these on principle - it likes profiteering. There was a great scare that the Tories would cut the BBC's funding in some way in order to encourage commercial sponsorship. Naturally there was a campaign to petition the government to keep the BBC as it is. So I filled in a form explaining that I particularly like Woman's Hour and Have I Got News for You, University Challenge and a number of cop dramas and how much I can't stand adverts - there are none on the BBC because of the way it's funded. We don't have nearly so many adverts on independent TV as, for example, the US, where it is really pointless to watch the TV at all.
We watched the British Academy TV awards and all the winners made speeches about how important it is to keep the BBC independent of the government, because another threat to the BBC is that every government decides it's an enemy and tries to influence it: (for example, Tony Blair's PR man, Alastair Campbell, told Andrew Marr, the political correspondent at the time TB was Prime Minister that he would get him sacked for asking probing questions) and the BBC tries to present a balanced view. This is very funny on the News Quiz, where all the comedians take the piss out of those who want to leave Europe, and the audience point out that this isn't balanced, and then they can't find any comedians in favour of coming out of Europe, and then they make jokes on this theme....
In fact, there are many funny consequences of the BBC's independence. For example, they used to not be able to mention any product by its brand name. Then this caused such linguistic constructs as "sticky-back plastic" (Fablon) and "multi-coloured chocolate sweets" (Smarties) and some awkwardness in conversation, and it was decided that brands could be mentioned on the BBC if the presenters then said "and other brands are available".
Then they have a duty to reflect our whole, diverse population. They were slow about this for many years and had mainly presenters with received pronunciation or "Oxford English". Then there came a demand for regional accents and these came in slowly. We had more Scottish and Welsh to start with, and then, slowly, northerners. Now I think they have quotas! So, as on radio 4 many of the presenters like Jenni Murray and Jane Garvey and Libby Purves have the standard accent, all the characters on the afternoon play have to be either northern or Asian or otherwise foreign. So if you've written a play that's set in Weybridge, and they like it, they'll just decide to set it in Rotherham and produce it that way.
The report that came out on Thursday merely stipulated that the BBC's output must be "distinctive" and what this means nobody knows. But I think Gareth Malone's work for the BBC is quite distinctive. GM is a choir master. He looks boyish and tweedy. His mission is to spread the joy of singing in choirs. This sounds boring and worthy, but his work for the BBC is not boring. He was given the project of bringing a choir of injured servicemen together for the Invictus games, giving them something to sing, rehearsing them and taking them to Florida to sing at the opening ceremony.
Every serviceman or woman who came into the choir had their own story to tell, and it came out in front of the camera in an unforced way. One imagines there are hours of footage which are not used. Gareth went to the homes of many of the singers to talk to them personally. He collated their memories and their poetry and their stories to make a song. The excitement they shared at going to Florida was palpable. Their bonding was obvious. Some of these people had been quite isolated and having a group task and a group identity meant a huge amount to them. This is what Gareth does: he stays outside and tries to enable the group to make bonds together, but he doesn't mind showing sympathy when necessary. He always seems like a cold fish but in one programme he cried his eyes out - can't remember what that one was. He stayed dry-eyed this time. I didn't expect to watch this programme the whole way through but it was put together in such a way that I never got bored with it or felt it was superficial. I thought it was an excellent programme.
Available for only 27 days, watch here!
Prince Harry came into this programme - the servicemen love him and personally I think he'd make a very good king. He just sort of fits in with our lives.
Saturday 14 May 2016
Botticelli exhibition, Victoria & Albert Museum
There are three aspects to this exhibition, split into sections. The first section is worth considering. It shows how modern and contemporary artists - in a wide spread of genres - have bounced off Botticelli's images and produced something of their own - Warhol is an obvious one - but there are many others, for example, Dolce and Gabbana with a suit and dress with a Primavera pattern - recently worn by Lady Gaga. So many different takes on Venus and Primavera. You have only to Google "Venus Botticelli" and you see so many different pastiches of the image of the woman on the Half-Shell -some are really naff - others are thoughtful.
The second section is about the rediscovery of Botticelli in the UK; and how the pre-Raphaelites - from Ruskin to Morris to Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale, in the post-industrial age, tried to find the same kind of beauty that Botticelli expressed, but of course they couldn't, - they didn't have the inherent piety - but they failed in interesting ways. I like the pre-Raphs because somehow, in spite of their espousal of the early renaissance aesthetic, they always seem English and they always seem Victorian - as Jane said, even while focussing on the daisies, you can smell the steelworks in the background.
The third section included some masterpieces by Botticelli - Mystic Nativity - Portrait Giuliano de Medici - Ideal Portrait of a Lady - Pallas and the Centaur - and two versions of Venus - amazing - plus some late work that expresses a change in the emotional and spiritual temperature in the Savonarola era. There are also pictures by Botticelli's "workshop" and pictures not by Botticelli but supposed to be. So some of them are wonderful and some are really bad! You can tell immediately which ones are by Botticelli.
I think these are probably the loveliest pictures in London at the moment and I do recommend everyone to go and see this - take about 2 hours over it. I went with Jane and had a great time.
The second section is about the rediscovery of Botticelli in the UK; and how the pre-Raphaelites - from Ruskin to Morris to Eleanor Fortescue-Brickdale, in the post-industrial age, tried to find the same kind of beauty that Botticelli expressed, but of course they couldn't, - they didn't have the inherent piety - but they failed in interesting ways. I like the pre-Raphs because somehow, in spite of their espousal of the early renaissance aesthetic, they always seem English and they always seem Victorian - as Jane said, even while focussing on the daisies, you can smell the steelworks in the background.
The third section included some masterpieces by Botticelli - Mystic Nativity - Portrait Giuliano de Medici - Ideal Portrait of a Lady - Pallas and the Centaur - and two versions of Venus - amazing - plus some late work that expresses a change in the emotional and spiritual temperature in the Savonarola era. There are also pictures by Botticelli's "workshop" and pictures not by Botticelli but supposed to be. So some of them are wonderful and some are really bad! You can tell immediately which ones are by Botticelli.
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| Mystic Nativity |
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| This picture of Giuliano di Medici was painted after he had been assassinated. |
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| There are two of these Venuses to compare but I prefer the religious pictures myself. |
Friday 13 May 2016
Watching the telly - Grayson Perry
Last night on Channel 4 there was another programme by Grayson Perry. His thing is to go and explore certain experiences of Being a Man and then make artworks out of them. In this show he went to some grim estates and interviewed some gangs of youths who wear hoodies, go about in gangs and get into trouble with the police. Sometimes there's drug-dealing, sometimes there are stabbings of other locals gangs. When Grayson interviews them - and their mums - you see there's more to the story that this. There's a lack of work for the men, and a lack of "roles" for male people.
Anyway, the artwork he made was a statue which was quite horrifying - a totemic figure with all these knives sticking out of it and the title "King of Nowhere". The thing about Grayson is he seems harmless and yet his work packs a punch. He tells you what he's thinking about - that the young men feel humiliated by their inability to find a place in the pecking order, except at the very bottom, and they have no father figure to give them a leg-up. In this case he shows that the young man himself is hurt and gets more hurt (all those knives) even as he struggles along with his balaclava and his hood up and his joints and his mates. They are also very skinny, these boys, as though they live on Monster Munch and tomato ketchup. Certainly, this show made me think about them with a teacher's concern.
It seemed to me that Grayson shouldn't have shown them his artwork, it was a very hurtful moment, as though he was sticking knives in them himself. They shrugged it off in front of the camera - quite funny comments - but how did they actually feel? Grayson is very talented and very famous and I don't think he should use his position to be cruel.
watch it now: 30 days only
GQ magazine article here-suicide
Anyway, the artwork he made was a statue which was quite horrifying - a totemic figure with all these knives sticking out of it and the title "King of Nowhere". The thing about Grayson is he seems harmless and yet his work packs a punch. He tells you what he's thinking about - that the young men feel humiliated by their inability to find a place in the pecking order, except at the very bottom, and they have no father figure to give them a leg-up. In this case he shows that the young man himself is hurt and gets more hurt (all those knives) even as he struggles along with his balaclava and his hood up and his joints and his mates. They are also very skinny, these boys, as though they live on Monster Munch and tomato ketchup. Certainly, this show made me think about them with a teacher's concern.
It seemed to me that Grayson shouldn't have shown them his artwork, it was a very hurtful moment, as though he was sticking knives in them himself. They shrugged it off in front of the camera - quite funny comments - but how did they actually feel? Grayson is very talented and very famous and I don't think he should use his position to be cruel.
watch it now: 30 days only
GQ magazine article here-suicide
Watching the Telly - Cunk on Shakespeare
I was very tired yesterday. Went for a walk and in the evening I had a telly fest and watched 3 programmes. I watched Cunk on Shakespeare to see if it was funny. It's a long mild joke about a woman reporter who knows nothing about her subject and has an unpleasant manner and a face like a slapped bottom. I assume that the pundits she interviews are "in" on the joke, but they try not to show that they are. But at the end of the show she interviewed a person called Ben Crystal about Shakespeare's habit of inventing words. I thought, "Aha, perhaps he is the son of Professor David Crystal, the famous linguistics prof!" and so I looked him up - and found his British Council talks on Shakespeare's original pronunciation. Enjoyed these very much.
Short talk here
So went back to look at the Philomena Cunk section again (on iPlayer) and really thought Ben Crystal very gorgeous.
Website with pics and information
Short talk here
So went back to look at the Philomena Cunk section again (on iPlayer) and really thought Ben Crystal very gorgeous.
Website with pics and information
Tuesday 10 May 2016
Memorials in London: Charles Sargeant Jagger
I have probably been thinking too much about World War 1 recently, but I was glad, anyway, to see some war memorials on our walk in London at the weekend. We have a ridiculous number of memorials and plaques in London, but hey, it's an old place, and interesting if you have some knowledge of history.
Recently, on a programme about Great Lives, a sculptor called Martin Jennings (I wonder if he is related to the Jennings family of Ampleforth?) suggesting another sculptor called Charles Sargeant Jagger, who made a great sculpture in memoriam to the Royal Artillery after the war. It was "direct and honest about the horrors of war". There's an anonymity about the soldiers. He wanted to make a sculpture for the people like himself who had survived the war, and knew the truth of it. It was a new form of art.
Tens of thousands of people went to see the unveiling of the memorial after the war.
Platform 1 of Paddington station.
Jagger's father apprenticed him as a silver engraver for Mappin and Webb. In the evenings he studied drawing and modelling.
Then the war started and Jagger went to fight in Gallipoli; it was a terrible, terrible experience. He spent two days digging a trench with his hands in very hard ground. His platoon sergeant was shot and died in his arms. He was wounded soon afterwards and shipped to Malta. He soon went back to the western front and fought until the end of the war.
Later, he could be very intolerant of those who had not contributed to the war effort.
He went back to sculpture immediately after the war, even though he had not been able to practise his art for all the years of the war. He produced one large sculpture every three months or so for about six years. (1919-25) Once he ceased to make war memorials his work became less interesting (according to Martin Jennings).
The design for this memorial had to be approved by various committees and by the King, because of course it changed Hyde Park corner, an important landmark.
Jagger was perhaps disappointed that he didn't get more letters of admiration. He had critics. Lord Curzon hated the Artillery memorial and called it a "hideous" and "a toad".
Jagger died at the age of 48. In the war he had been shot twice and gassed. His very hard work had perhaps weakened his lungs with dust, and he died of pneumonia.
Recently, on a programme about Great Lives, a sculptor called Martin Jennings (I wonder if he is related to the Jennings family of Ampleforth?) suggesting another sculptor called Charles Sargeant Jagger, who made a great sculpture in memoriam to the Royal Artillery after the war. It was "direct and honest about the horrors of war". There's an anonymity about the soldiers. He wanted to make a sculpture for the people like himself who had survived the war, and knew the truth of it. It was a new form of art.
Tens of thousands of people went to see the unveiling of the memorial after the war.
Platform 1 of Paddington station.
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| A soldier reading a letter from home. |
Then the war started and Jagger went to fight in Gallipoli; it was a terrible, terrible experience. He spent two days digging a trench with his hands in very hard ground. His platoon sergeant was shot and died in his arms. He was wounded soon afterwards and shipped to Malta. He soon went back to the western front and fought until the end of the war.
Later, he could be very intolerant of those who had not contributed to the war effort.
He went back to sculpture immediately after the war, even though he had not been able to practise his art for all the years of the war. He produced one large sculpture every three months or so for about six years. (1919-25) Once he ceased to make war memorials his work became less interesting (according to Martin Jennings).
The design for this memorial had to be approved by various committees and by the King, because of course it changed Hyde Park corner, an important landmark.
Jagger was perhaps disappointed that he didn't get more letters of admiration. He had critics. Lord Curzon hated the Artillery memorial and called it a "hideous" and "a toad".
Jagger died at the age of 48. In the war he had been shot twice and gassed. His very hard work had perhaps weakened his lungs with dust, and he died of pneumonia.
Allotment news (part 6)
We have lost nothing at the allotment (touch wood; and there may yet be frost); we covered the beans
and pea shoots with netting to protect them from the birds. The sun and the rain (it’s pouring down here) should do the plants no end of good. I have got some courgette seedlings in
pots (8 of them) and a few more runner beans as I don’t have that many in the ground, and
tomato plants ready to pot on. I have a really bad record with mange tout – not
many seedlings have appeared, even though I soaked the seeds in half an aspirin
solution.
A man called Brian in the next plot but one gave me some strawberry plants because he had too many; I planted 14 of them. I now have more fruit than I intended with the rhubarb already up (but it isn't doing very much).
The potatoes are just beginning to show their shoots, but that part of the ground harbours the roots of ground bindweed which is sprouting madly, but I hope we will eradicate them this year.
A man called Brian in the next plot but one gave me some strawberry plants because he had too many; I planted 14 of them. I now have more fruit than I intended with the rhubarb already up (but it isn't doing very much).
The potatoes are just beginning to show their shoots, but that part of the ground harbours the roots of ground bindweed which is sprouting madly, but I hope we will eradicate them this year.
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| Bramley Apple tree that is fragile |
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| Beans, mange tout and sweet peas |
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| Other Apple tree very covered in blossom In the background there s a row of parsnips (in the wrong place). |
Voting reform
Lately – on Saturday: I went to my first demo in London. It was a very
small demo, which took place in Old Palace Yard - not a large patch of ground, so just as well.... It was to campaign for Proportional Representation. I am very keen
on this. As you know, possibly, Philip Hammond the Foreign Secretary is my MP,
and he is very involved in the Industrial Military complex; he represents
millionaires doing very well out of the industrial –military complex, and when
I write to him about education or the NHS he sends cut and paste replies that
don’t answer any of my questions and don’t make sense, because of course, he
doesn’t read them himself, he gets some Sophie fresh out of Uni to do it for
him and she has no clue. So I can’t vote for someone who will represent me –
no-one will overturn that particular majority – and I can’t get my MP to listen
to me, so of course I want PR. It is my only (slim) hope.
This government has a majority, and got 39 percent of the vote. How is
that a majority? Yet Cameron will go on about his “mandate”. Urrgh. Of
course, the PR demo was not covered by the press because the country has
already had a campaign for AV PR and the country voted against it – by a
substantial majority. Idiot Nick Clegg, for not making the most of this
opportunity! He just didn’t organise a proper campaign.
Many people argued that the PR system was too complicated. But in the
recent elections for the English and Welsh assemblies there was a PR system
that seems to have worked very well. So these nations are clever enough to have
PR and we, the English, are not? Anyway the demo was good. We had speakers from
all the parties including the Tories (a very good speaker!), my leader, Natalie
Bennett, spoke, and a UKIP woman spoke. Owen Jones failed to show up which was
slightly disappointing but hey, one can see him on Youtube, and I'm sure whatever he was doing, it was a good use of his time.
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| Klina Jordan |
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| John E Strafford: a great speaker for a rally |
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We have Suffragette colours! We are the new Suffragists! Equality for women |
Tuesday 3 May 2016
You're worth it.
I have never liked this slogan which always seems to me to be smug and egotistical - but ideal for the consumer-driver capitalist economy. We discussed it at the sewing group. Catholics against, but not confidently. Protestants vaguely pro. Linda pointed out that you need to have confidence in yourself in order to contribute. Yes - we need to instil confidence in children, but without them seeing their value in terms of materials goods. But at the moment one is linked very tightly to the other, and it is in the interests of the economy that this should continue.
However, this conversation led on from a session admiring Linda's diamond rings - she has the most amazing jewellery, and a husband who likes to buy her jewellery. Michele, too, is not short of lovely things.
I think that if we believe this slogan - and people quote it all the time - it is such a successful tag - we teach our children that a child who has more things is more deserving than they are themselves, which is complete bollocks. All children are equally valuable. It takes a whole religion to teach children that they are valuable because they just are. Self-evidently. And this is where Marx was completely wrong about religion.
However, this conversation led on from a session admiring Linda's diamond rings - she has the most amazing jewellery, and a husband who likes to buy her jewellery. Michele, too, is not short of lovely things.
I think that if we believe this slogan - and people quote it all the time - it is such a successful tag - we teach our children that a child who has more things is more deserving than they are themselves, which is complete bollocks. All children are equally valuable. It takes a whole religion to teach children that they are valuable because they just are. Self-evidently. And this is where Marx was completely wrong about religion.
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