As a young
man, staring out from an old scull I sometimes catch my reflection and
its scary !!
Its not the reflection of the shaving mirror I'm used to
that, somehow with that reflection, I contrive to believe that my looks
are still attractive, there is a twinkle in the eye and of course the
years have brought a sense of satisfaction, endowed as I am, with a tale
or two to tell.
No its that "other face" caught unaware, not yet ready,
introspective, perhaps unsure.
How we grow into the later image of
our parents. I am my Dad, caught at a time when he was probably
troubled by nagging doubt, a twinge of pain that kept recurring, a
little unsteady on his feet, perhaps a touch of blood pressure. He must
also have considered the future and what it held, not in a maudlin way
but as a practical summation of the situation and the issues, getting
old brings. Its only a fleeting moment but it reveals more of the truth
than the concoction we contrive to project to others.
My Dad was in his late 30s when I came along so we never had that close, "elder bother" link that some father son relationships have. I was doing "kid" things and he was busy doing "dad" things.
He
was academic in outlook, head in a book or a quality news paper, ear
cocked to a piece of serious music.
He used to take me to the Reference
Library and I would sit and contemplate this world of hushed silence and
musty filing systems. The people who used to use the reference room, a
large space lined with books, big solid ornate tables and noisy chairs,
were from across the social spectrum. Many were students escaping from
the noise and disturbance of their family home, others, people perhaps
in business who wished to look up a tax problem. There were the lovers
of books and the written word for whom a day out amongst the tomes of
history, geography,and science were as a day to the races is to a
gambling man.
Then there were the men of no fixed abode. They came
off the street for a place to find some warmth and a little rest. Some
were well read, they had the time and their education, not formal, was
spread across every subject under the sun. The only draw back, given
their limited means, they smelt of yesterday.
I
mentioned the filing system. A card for every book kept, in logical
sequence, devised for and by the Librarian. The holy grail that made
everything accessible. There was a logic and a trail to follow, the
sections and subsections led to a request form to be filled in and
handed over the enormous desk behind which the librarian and his team
sitting waiting. On receipt they would
to scurry off with your piece of paper, into the bowels of that part of
the library where the bulk of the books were kept. If it was a project
and needed many points of reference it needed many books and the reason
for the stout tables was plain, as book upon book was delivered.
Today
we have at our fingertip every book every piece of reference material,
gathered and sorted by our friend "Google". We are led with highlighted
links into pathways we could never imagine, sub plots of knowledge, the
events and the people who made the events happen. I had only asked for X
but was treated to Y & Z for a better perspective. Its marvellous,
but I do miss the community of the Reference Room.
How quickly we move on and forget.
I have just been watching re-runs of various Olympic competitions, cycling, rowing, athletics. I had forgotten the atmosphere, the noise, the tension, the emotion and the excitement. It was immense as the drama played out, could we do it again, another win and yet another.the excitement in the voices of the commentators the thrill of seeing their friends and athletic colleagues pull out the stops, lay it all on the line and offer the last drop of energy the last drop of mental commitment.We ordinary mortals can't
understand the stress at this level of competition, we could only
marvel at the events as the wins unfurled and we continued to win and
win and win.The expressions of wild elation from those slight, wispy figures in the women's double sculls, we've done it we've done it, we are the champions!! The expression on the lass in the bow her face was pure poetry, can it be true, it is true we've done it !! My own throat was full, my eyes were wet with tears as I relived the emotion of the moment. The athletes
were the centre piece but a close second came the spectators who
cheered and cheered. The country had come alive, had woken to the fact
that we could win and win in style.The opening ceremony dashed aside our natural pessimism and the athletes did the rest.
The rain
beating on my window woke me up. It was two in the morning and as the
wind and rain raged outside I felt like the pig who built his house with
bricks. The weather has been atrocious in the UK we seem to be at the
mercy of high and low pressure areas drawing air in and out over the surface of the globe bringing the wind and the rain. We feel smug and secure, a house built in the 50s on high ground and above all, paid for !!
Not
far away a different situation as a homeless guy draws the plastic
sheet around him trying to keep his bedding dry. His home is a canvas
bag, increasingly sodden as the night drags on, its a long time before
dawn. He had hoped to settle in the station waiting room or at least
under the protection of the bus shelter but the authorities moved him on.
The smell of my cooking at breakfast time, bacon sausage and eggs usually causes acrimonious comment from Marie but then when one has heard it all before and with Angela staying, I thing I will risk it !!!
Our
friend on the canal bank has no aroma stigma to contend with. He is on a
different planet, inhospitable and very wet. He would admit to being a
free spirit but at what cost! Breakfast will be what he can find in
the "takeaway" bins, the left overs.
He is a leftover, the Tories would describe him as a ne'er
do well perhaps a scrounger, certainly a man down on his luck.
He also
had a house and a family but things went wrong when his firm laid him off. Divorced he was turned out of his home onto the street with few opportunities, there's no egg and bacon for him !!!
Of course the scale of things in Africa fuelled by a high birth rate makes my illustration seem puny.
Having read my history, The Mississippi/Louisiana scandal, The South Sea scandal, The Tulip scandal right up to the Dot Com and recently the Derivatives scandal linked to abnormal credit, were all manufactured scandals. Manufactured by people in power, people of influence who hood winked millions of gullible folk into a gamble which, until it burnt out, raised for a few, many millions of pounds.
The power of capitalism seen during the second world war, to mass produce ships and armaments, the many many millions spent on building ever taller buildings as a signiture for some super rich oligarchy to tell the world, we are the richest. The phenomenal wages paid to footballers, the grotesque bonuses paid to the traders in the financial centre's, all the result of the lop sided bias that unfettered capitalism brings to society and you say - what can we do ???
If we had the "will" we could do a lot, but self-aggrandizing gets in the way and our own effacement in the plight of the poor is a large contributor to its on going blight on our social conscience.
And what next ? The build up to Christmas and the day its self now passed, what do we have to look forward to.
For those in work there is the routine of someone else's call to activity, hopefully stimulating as well as rewarding but for many there is no call.
For the unemployed, the drift into inactivity is soul destroying. Another round of job applications or job centre visits to search for something. Notice I stress the term job. A job is far less satisfying than a career which indicates some sort of progression. A job is usually fixed and defined in narrow perimeters, probably repetitive
and often poorly paid.A job is a means to an end (to pay the bills) and
not an end in its self. There can be the self satisfaction of doing the
job well but in general there is not a great deal of character development as there is in a career in which one is seen as a team player, consulted and valued.
So for the majority the on coming year is quite a dreary prospect in so far as the bulk of our time, other than sleeping, will be spent. No wonder so much store is put on the parties, football, the summer holiday anything outside work. This is very sad and a major factor in our poor performance when asked to compete with other nations in industry and commerce.
Its shown in our schools and the attitude of the kids towards learning and achieving goals.
For the bulk of them there is no pay off for hard work, they see only a job and not a career!!
Why
can't we begin to treat our workforce with respect and encouragement.
Why can't we take them into our planning, let them have a role in
deciding how things should be done, how economies can be made, how to do
their own specific job and to reward them by acknowledging their contribution, their ownership of what they do. If productivity increases set, aside some of the increased profit by increasing the wages, recognising that sustainable profits come from a contributing workforce, its not just down to management.
And then there's the old folks, how do they look to the future and the year ahead
? If incapacitated and in pain there's no easy answer other than
close family and friends to be there, supporting. Most of us are not in
that category. Our main inhibitor is our lack of confidence and an inability to see that, other than some frailty, we are much as we were but with the time now to do some of the things we wanted to do.
Get out pencil and paper, log those places and they may be local, where you've
wanted to go. Start that hobby, walk that trail,photograph the
wildlife, write the book and visit places and friends as if there's no tomorrow - there mightn't be one !!!!
Pass the gravy !! Yes its over for another year and we now sit sprawled on the couch wishing I hadn't had that last potato.
Christmas, like so many events, is part build up, part execution
and part reflection. The build up is full of anticipation particularly
the shopping for presents and the anticipation of pleasure when given
both for the giver and the receiver. The shopping can be
a chore in so far as one often sets out with no idea what to buy and
then, through poking around one comes across something or other that one
hopes will please.
Wrapping the gifts one had smuggled indoors, struggling with the sellotape, piling them under the tree and handing them out on Christmas morning. This is the routine which
we follow across the Anglo Saxon world followed by being seated for a
slap up meal. You will notice I have little recollection as how the grub
got cooked but I'm always a very satisfied customer !!!
When young one is keen to carry on the festivities, a party,the pub anything to sustain the mood. When you reach a more advanced age the digestive system plays an increasingly important role in the next move. Sinking into the chair we stare at each other, congratulate the cook and reach for the TV control !!
The tree is up and the presents are around the base waiting for the grand opening.
It brings back happy memories when the kids were kids and the extended family lined up in someone's house having corralled all the offspring together on Christmas day to await Santa. The presents were piled high and I mean "high"!!
Somehow we had become victims of a competition which believed that our kids mustn't feel inferior, out bid, in the present stakes. It was a case of swamping the child in an excess of giving. Of course receiving so many gifts the children hardly had time to tear off the wrapping before having another gift thrust in their tiny hands, they had no idea what they had received, or a sense of its value, in the non monitory sense.
Years ago when individual consumption was limited, the giving focused within the actual family. A
few simple gifts were highly valued and I can remember, even today,
the excitement of opening the Rupert Annual or digging down into the
pillow case for a toy I had mentioned to my Mum and Dad who cleverly had informed Santa. Mummy, Daddy look what he brought me !!
Well today Santa was nowhere to be seen so I had to do the job myself. At least gifts were carefully weighed. What would she like, what size does she take, will the colour suit ? Now they are sitting in the wrapping paper waiting for the day, no peeking !!
We have "Spotify" on my Lap-Top, linked by the amplifier to a pair of humungus speakers.
Spotify is marvellous, it provides a catalogue of thousands of records covering a multitude of different types of music from countries across
the globe. The ease with which one can dip into a musical experience
simply by typing the artist, a description covering the type or perhaps
the country of origin and you are there at the tap of the enter key.
Today it was Christmas music from Perry Como, complex rhythmic sitar music by Ravi Shankar, the music of Cuba,Spain,Angola, The Jazz Quartet, Bert Kaempfert and more. Classical, Folk, Jazz, Country & Western you name it, its there for a fiver per month.
Andrew
is missing, living in Mackay but the ease with which the internet links
one up to a store in Perth to ship something to Queensland is the phenomena of global shopping. Christmas cards that sing to you from the computer screen add an unique feature to giving and remembering.
I
remember the old days, having to set aside 4 to 6 weeks to be sure the
mail man delivered. A phone call was routed through an overseas operator
who dialled the number and
made the initial contact, "I have a call for you from ***. I remember
making a call from the streets of New York.
First
I had to find a bank that traded with the public to obtain coinage for
the phone box. I then found a phone box and made the link to the
international operator. "Please insert the coins". Three quarters
through the coin feeding the coin box filled up without full amount
being paid, what shall I do. Find another phone sir and continue to
deposit the money. I walked to another street, found phone and rang international. Remarkably
they knew I would call and ask me to resume inserting the money. Mum
who was waiting for the connection, was on edge, would he or wouldn't he
get through.
A pound a minute phone call was a significant sum in the 1960s.
In the 60s the flight from Paris to Mozambique cost £60.
A 5 week sea trip, all found, from Australia to Europe cost £120 !!
Today you chat on Skype for hours, free.
Happy Christmas
Cats. We had a black cat we called Simba, rescued from the "Stars" print room, I took it home as a pet for the kids.
The first mistake was to believe that cats are like dogs, ready to bond with their human friend, to love, honour and obey! Not a bit of it !!
The
kitten, covered in printers ink needed cleaning so I ran some warm
water in th e bath and tried to convince the little jet-black bundle
that it was all for the good. Of course I hadn't quite understood that
my "good" didn't correspond to Simbas. The bath water turned red with blood, my blood as the bundle set about defending its life and limb.
Simba was always aloof, deaning it possible, just possible that a stroke or scratch would be acknowledged with a deep purr, an occasional meow a lean against the leg and then off, imperious, investing his time in cat things.
There are families who surround themselves with these manifestly singularly, self-absorbed animals and in effect, fall under their spell. Its as if, we humans can't quite come to terms with an animal that treats us with so much disdain. Unlike a dog who is in thrall to its master the cat will capture the high ground and treat us to the proverbial cold shoulder if we show emotion and then switch their interest at feeding time !!
I was always amazed. Simba seemed self contained, even keeping his hygiene under wraps. I never discovered where the cat went but he didn't seem to think it proper to make a mess on his own doorstep.
I think if the cat has friends and family, a colony forms and takes over home and hearth. Humans begin to take a back seat and the house looses its purpose. Never satisfied, the felines curl and stretch all over the place, whilst the humans pick their way gingerly around the room, seeking a spot to call their own.
We have just had a interim budget statement from the Chancellor of the Exchequer.
He has highlighted the dilemma we are in as a country. Completely
out of alignment in terms of our income and our expenditure, we are
like the family who need to go every week to the loan shark to get the
money to buy the essentials. How we got here is history what we do from
now on is critical !!
When the man in the street is severely overdrawn there is only one thing for him to do - go ask his boss for a rise ?? Just joking ?
The propensity for employers to pay as little as they can, especially in times of high unemployment ( the ball is well and truly in their hands), is made even easier as the state plugs the gap to subsidise, shockingly low wages.
No wonder we pay such a high benefit bill.
The
traditional remedy used to be, to cut down on expenditure, and of
course, that's the Governments case. Cutting expenditure on the Welfare
State is in vogue.
We are continually being conditioned to believe,through the media, that many people in a section of society, who
claim some sort of benefit, are in some way weak and debauched.
I am
sure these self same outraged people would be equally outraged to have their,winter
fuel allowance, the child benefit, the bus pass and so on, questioned in
this way.
One man's benefit is another man's scrounging.
The middle-class and
the wealthy have these benefits paid into their bank accounts probably
without noticing, because these benefits are called, Universal Benefits and therefore the benefit is paid to everyone
regardless of need !!!
This is plain stupid and should be stopped, why don't they do it ?
Could it be pressure from closer to home ?
Given
the size of our borrowings, a ticking time bomb, has given this
Government the opportunity for draconian cuts to the benefits for people
who are already on the boarder line, (given that food is, 50%
of their out going expenditure).
We are told that the Benefits mountain is our greatest problem.
Not the unpaid tax of our company proprietors, the Philip Greens of this world,Amazon and Starbucks who pay little or no tax at all !!!
The issue of paying tax,"income" (the other side of the Benefit account conundrum) is always down played
by the establishment. In fact we, the public, are warned that if these
people, and their companies, are made to pay the tax, they may leave us and
then, - what a pickle we will be in !!!
Its the same with the huge bonus cheques the
Bankers pay themselves, completely out of line with anything the man in
the street can comprehend, especially in times of austerity - remember, we are, all in this together !!
No its easier to feed the public with this diet of "malingering benefit claimants", who must be hit hard.
The
right wing media are part of the Establishments strategy to formulate
and soften public opinion for even more stringent changes to come.
The
issue of our police (now partly privatised), the issue of our schools
(now partly privatised),{and I don't mean the oddly named Public
Schools} the issue of selling off the fire engines in London for £2 to a
private investor, the issue of the National Health Service, on route to
have large segments of the service privatised.
Its
a full scale assault, by the Conservatives on the root and branch of
our society.
Who are the beneficiaries,
the faceless entrepreneurs,
the money men, friends of friends.
I'v just watched a program on the BBC showing the Beach Boys appearing in a come back concert in the States earlier this year.
They were terrific. The harmony and falsetto voice of Brian Wilson brought it all back.
I
was in Corpus Christi in 1966, the sound of the Beach Boys were
everywhere. All the commercial radio stations were playing their records
and every party was alive to their sunny beach lifestyle music
California Girl, I Get Around, Good Vibration Wouldn't it be Nice. The
songs were played everywhere. They perfectly complemented the sunshine and the leggy girls and were all a far cry from the bleak landscape back home.
It was great to be young and caught up in the buzz !
Watching them perform tonight they were wondrously, spot on with the lead singer Mike Love, rolling back the years and creating a
tingle as the beat and the extended lyrical harmony flooded from the
stage to a rapturous audience, up on their feet, doing the moves,
reliving their youth.
Music which has a hold as has no other, on the years when we were young and imperious
The
excitement and the memories that tumble out of the brain when hearing a
song or rhythmic beat played by a band, morphing ones personality into a youth full identi-kit of who we might like to be, again !!!
So
once again we find ourselves caught up in the convention trap bursting, to relive a time when we were unabashed by anything and totally absorbed
by hedonistic youth and the desires that keep the whole thing
rolling !!
Corpus Christi, Clifton Beach, the hot sun beating down mercilessly, the bikini girls always unaware and we, tormented by our shyness unable to bridge the gap !!
Music and dance somehow broke the barriers down. the conventions that inhibited us, suddenly opened up an avenue to communicate and risk ones ego.
Somehow the formality of dance and the common thrill that the music imparted made the route to 66, seem less daunting.
As the song goes, "Girls, girls, girls, Good Vibrations" !!!!!!
