Leaning over
the balcony the flotsam and jetsom passed below like tumble weed,
drifting on the wind, humanity aimlessly moving up and down the Camden
High Street. Short ones, fat ones, tall ones, all colours, the typical
multicultural society, on the move, doing its thing on a hot Sunday
afternoon.
We had been to a Permaculture event which was not my
normal cup of tea but I went along to make up the numbers and meet a lot
of tree huggers. The life of the "worm" and the importance of breeding
the little guys was dealt with in some detail, including how to drain
their wee !! Growing foodstuff in "containers" on the balcony seemed a
good idea, much neared than Tesco but, as always, when it comes to
out-thinking nature one has to balance the soil with this and that, not
too much of this and a little more of that. The people were engrossed,
the questions flowed but apparently this was low level stuff and my
warders hurried me off to do some shopping.
Camden a trinket Mecca,
the smells of spice, the exotic Indian silk fabrics tumbling in
colourful folds from the rolls of cloth, hand made this and that, its
all there, a magnet for the casual shopper.
The Northern Line was closed for maintenance, and we had to rely on the bus service which had been laid on.
Being
on the surface instead of being underground is much more problematic.
The contest for road and the pavement, on going, and very tiring. Where
to get on and where to get off is not as simple. The buildings hem one
in and other than the Post Office Tower you soon become confused.
The simplicity of the tube, hop on and your there,with its famous directional map is like magic, and very comforting,
Soon we began to hanker after sleepy,secure Bishop's Stortford, a pub meal and civilisation !!!
There is no
doubt that some people have a masochistic streak. Most sporting
endeavour is a question of fitness and balance. The footballer uses his
feet and soon can kick the ball roughly in the direction he wants it to
go, the runner, the rugby player, the snooker player, the cyclist all
these games are conducted using the body largely as it was designed to
operate. Not so in golf.
Was there ever a game designed to frustrate
and embarrass more than golf. The ball is small and therefore difficult
to hit. Add, that you are required to hit it with the end of a 4'
stick, flattened and angled at the end so there is only one spot, on the
surface of the angled bit at which, coming into contact with the ball
can you be sure the ball will be flighted in the direction you want it
to go. To hit the ball the stick has to be propelled through an arc
starting behind your right shoulder sweeping down in front of you and
continuing to finish behind the left shoulder.
Never satisfied, they
strew the ground ahead with obstacles to prevent the ball from
advancing towards its goal, a small hole in the floor down which you
manoeuvre the ball to drop.
You need a lot of sticks and quite a few
balls to play the game and so on a hot day as you climb up and down the
hills in search of a hole you drag a large heavy bag from point to
point selecting, with much false optimism the right stick for the next
shot.
Like life, the game is built on optimism but optimism isn't
enough and disillusionment is the attendant bedfellow. Why when I go
through the same routine, the legs positioned, head rigid, three
practice swings just like last time but this time the ball veers off to
left or right or more embarrassing, you miss it all together. Par for
the course, they count it as a shot !!
Only the thought of the
19th hole keeps the golfer going. A cold pint and the rueful explanation
of how such and such a shot went so disastrously wrong, makes the day
complete.
Is "giving" an elementary part of the human condition ?
Is
it natural to give money, ones time, ones emotional commitment to a
cause or an individual. Have we lost our appetite to give as the giving
industry steps up its efforts to draw from us the issue of our innate
responsibility towards society as a whole and to do what is required to
make things better.
I had a conversation yesterday with someone who
feels responsible for, not only his mother but all the other members of
the family. He foregoes the opportunity to move and reward himself with
a nicer place for the benefit he provides to others in his family by
staying in close proximity, to be on hand with his time and money when
needed.
It all seemed a far cry from the modern British nuclear
family, of leaving home and travelling far away in search of
independence.
I was a perfect example of the modern trend. I
left home with few thoughts towards my Mum and Dad. I left home to see
for myself what life in different parts of the world was like and as I
travelled further afield I became more immersed in my own needs. I took
it for granted that my parents would be ok that they wouldn't miss me
because, in the reality of "new things happening every day", I forgot
them !!
How far I was from my friend who has his eye in the needs of his birth family.
Perhaps
being an "only child" is one reason. There is a natural gap between
parent and child, a gap which can be narrowed by the child having a
sister or brother to bind them more fully into the family. Another
factor was the "distance" and the substantially different surroundings
which removed one from the the daily, psychological connection but this
is a poor excuse, I simply did not match up to this man's commitment to
his parents when in truth my parents had done everything "and more", to
protect me as I grew up.
Yes, I communicated through letters,
(no Skype in those days), and the telephone but my sense of
responsibility was simply not there. I feel there was something missing
in my make up. Religion plays a part, it teaches the importance of
family and the hierarchy of family relationships. Perhaps being a none
religious person I missed this teaching, it never crossed my mind !!!
Its not
apathy, its not indifference, but given the choice of sitting at home
with an onion sandwich and a hot mug of tea or, venturing out to a party
with a load of semi strangers. The onion sandwich wins out every time.
After the onion, any mixing is out of the question anyway !!
Where
does this, "can't be bothered" attitude come from all of a sudden. I am
naturally gregarious. Talking to strangers has never been a problem,
probably an ability crafted when I wandered in various countries alone
for months if not years.
Looking out of the window its a beautiful
day, there's a pub not far away that sells independently brewed beer
from the barrel. On a day like this they often have a barbecue and
sometimes a jazz band. The people are an intelligent, successful, mature
lot, the conversation flows around every subject under the sun, so why
aren't I there with them ?
Well on the one hand Marie doesn't want
to go and and it isn't an easy choice to go alone, there is usually a
whiff of resentment if I do go. Strange as you may think the
psychological equivalent of a thick skin is not an attribute I would
claim to have (although some of you would contest this).
Being
in ones own surroundings is "a cop out", since no effort is required,
nothing to conjure up, or appear to be what ever the group your with,
require of you. You run to the beat of your own agenda which might be
just simply, to do nothing !!
Of course I have my blog to keep me
company, to offload my empathy. My thoughts can be captured, my emotions
set out in the hope that someone out there is listening and hopefully,
marginally, interested ?????
The
interviews needed translation, so many Welshmen so many heroes but what
was it they were saying ? Mrs Jones boy had performed marvels in the
dark art of the scrummage, turning the tables on last weeks performance
of the scrum against the Aussies. It was a strange game in that a lead
was quickly built due to getting the fundamentals right and playing the
game in their opponents, half waiting for the whistle to blow and 3
points on the board for the asking. The possession in the early part of
the game was all Lions, nearly 30 passing moves in one consecutive
session but little ground gained. The Australian back line looked to me
the more dangerous with their darting, probing runs and with a try on
half time they drew up to within a score.
The game was shown on Sky
and so I had to drag myself to the nearest pub to watch it. How we
suffer to become as spectator. The pub had to get a special licence to
open earlier, 11am to show the game and a cooked breakfast was also on
sale as we settled down to watch the contest. Pubs have a special place
in the lifeblood of this country. They have changed over the years I was
away, the prices have selected a different type of clientèle and many
pubs have closed because of affordability. The supermarkets offer huge
discounts on booze and many of the younger end buy their drink from the
supermarket and pre-load before they go out. Its always a sad aspect
attached to a British night out, they seem to think that half drunk is a
waste of time and are a scourge in the town centres and worse when on
holiday on the Continent.
The game resumed with the points gap
drastically reduced, who would take up the cudgel. The Aussies were
first to score and the gap was further reduced, would this be a turnover
after the elation of the first part of the first half would those pesky
Aussies do it again. Suddenly gaps opened up and the Lions threaded
through to score, the game was won and we cheered as we ordered another
pint !!
Daryl Impey
is the first South African to wear the Yellow Jersey on the Tour de
France. This race probably the most gruelling sporting event, played out
under blue sky's in the beautiful French countryside is an interesting,
photogenic three week extravaganza.
The raw speed of the sprinters as they position themselves, the team
lead-out-man, burying himself with his last bit of energy to present the
sprint specialist with a clear run to the line. The impossibly
gruelling climbs, gradients that normal people would find difficult to
walk up, and yet these icons of the cycling world, speed up the
mountains, round the hair pin bends, pulling on the handle bars as they
drive on through the spectators crowding the road.
These spectators are a
spectacle in themselves having camped for a couple of days to find a
position to view the race they are hyper by the time the riders arrive.
Some dressed in pantomime costumes run alongside the riders for a few
yds, eager to capture the limelight as the cyclists peddle by. The
climbers carry the names of the gods of past races, it is the climb that
sets the mortal from the immortal and it is the climb that ones jaw
drops open as the leader finds more energy to slowly draw away to stamp a
mark on their opponents.
Dropping down the other side of the
mountain, hairpin bends, as on the assent, now are a stamp of the
courage of the man who can descend in a way that makes one truly fear
for their lives. A drop that would lead to awful injury or death if he
misjudges anything, makes a fast decent only for the very brave or very
stupid.
Impey carries on his shoulders the South African dream. A dream, which in another context is dying as your most famous person begins his own
final journey.
Would the outcome of the Rainbow nation have
been different if Mandela had been a younger man and contested the
longer race ?
Debate is
rising about the release of the killers of James Bulger, the little lad
who was led away from a shopping centre to be tortured and killed by two
11 year old boys,Robert Thomson and Jon Venables. The parole board gave
permission for their early release and although Venables was rearrested
and served another two years for another offence he is again due for
release.
The media and sections of the public still want what they view
as justice and the pair are still vilified.
My interest was raised because of a similar event in Denmark at about the same time. This time it was two
6
year old boys who killed a little girl. Instead of an uproar and a hang
em at all costs frenzy, as it was here the Danes accepted the fact of
their age and did not vilify the kids. Their sentence was commensurate
with their needs.
It could be argued what about the victim what
about the loss to the parents and so on and of course these arguments
are equally valid. My interest though was in the way the general
population responded and since the response was so different, why.
Of
course we are very susceptible in this country to what our media say
and the way they present a story. I am sure it is true in all countries,
that many people buy the same paper and watch the same TV channels for
their news and events. We are all therefore, prone to being influenced
by the same people and rarely step outside the bubble to think and form
our own opinions.
In Denmark story received a balanced report and
more importantly the killing took place in a village where the people
knew the victim and the perpetrators. They knew them as children and
found it difficult to judge them as anything else. Thomson and Venables
were older but importantly they came from a city background where no one
really takes time to know anyone, other than family. If the media
demonised them then they were demons.
A case study in the power of the Fourth Estate
