Arthur's Journal

Nice relaxed weekend of culture, cats and even a wee bit of cooking. Lodger was away on a running holiday weekend (yes, these two words really do go together) so it was blissfully quiet.

Friday was as aforesaid, interesting IP /Pirate Bay film, followed by an evening of Shouting Book Club. I drank rather less than usual and we discussed the actual book rather more than usual. I don't THINK these were connected :) Paul Torday's The Girl in the Picture: a well worn tread of is-he-mad, is-he-evil, murder-mystery thing, with  a soupcon of magical realism and ghostly pre-Celtic stuff; but altogether better than this sounds. We had all finished it and all liked it, which hasn't happened for a *very* long time! I may read his first one now..

Saturday, Adele and I went to see the Mark Morris Ballet; I've been trying to make time to see more contemporary dance lately and though I've seen Rambert, Michael Clark, LCDT and Nederlands Dans Theatre several times and loved them, I strangely hadn't ever seen MM. In fact I thought  the programme (despite rave reviews, see attached) was a bit tame,  pleasant but a bit inconsequential; but the music was lovely, including a live singer, so a nice enough night.

Sunday I went with Steph's gang to see the Scott and Shackleton Antarctica photography exhibition  at Holyrood Palace's art gallery. Amazingly still, luminous and bleak shots of the Discovery mired in ice amid June Polar midsummer blackness and moonlight. I'm strangely a sucker for this icy stuff, ever since I got the info dump from KSR's Antarctica. Nice bunch of people there tooand I haven't been actually TO the Palace since I was about 8!. 

And home via Tescos' to make canneloni and watch Merlin, House and Garrow's Law with the odd spot of stilton and port (yes, it's officially the run up to Xmas!). I could do with more weekends like that.

Next: 3 films and a  Google article!

I am watching a documentary called Words of War. It's rather good, and very BBC, despite being on ITV1.

There's a mixture of serving soldiers, actors, descendants and linked persons reading letters and poems aloud. The only person who can't read aloud well is Andrew Motion, the poet laureate. He also has unpleasant eyebrows. His own poetry is shite.

A few moments of respect, some emotive images of Western Front graveyards and googling of half-remembered poems from school. That's the response of most of us to this time of year, and it's my response here (see icon above and poem below).

The dead are poignant. The living, and those left living with the consequences, are not always quite so tastefully emotive or photogenic. The young veteran for whom I acted as an advocate during his hospital treatment, was not the kind of chap most people reading this would like to go down the pub with. Out of uniform, he's easily dismissed as a hard-drinking, gobby chav. In uniform, he's obliged to put his balls on the line at the bidding of the government most of us voted, and he did that for a measly £18K a year,significantly less than the average expenses claims of our elected representatives. If, as is probable, his injuries mean he will not be able to return to his unit, even in a reduced capacity, he is statistically quite likely to end up in jail. Something like ten percent of the prison population are former members of the armed forces. left completely adrift in civilian life when the support network and camaraderie and sense of purpose offered by military life is lost to them. His injuries, physical and psychological, will limit significantly the choices he can make and are likely to limit - drastically - his life expectancy.

Silence is not enough. The charities that take care of men in his situation are woefully underfunded, given the demands they are presently facing. The price of a drink in a London bar is about a fiver these days. If you can spare that today (I appreciate it is probably the cost of a whole round up North) please give it to one of the following:

http://www.combatstress.org.uk/

http://www.helpforheroes.co.uk/

http://www.britishlegion.org.uk/


TOMMY
by Rudyard Kipling (1865-1936)

I went into a public-'ouse to get a pint o' beer,
The publican 'e up an' sez, "We serve no red-coats here."
The girls be'ind the bar they laughed an' giggled fit to die,
I outs into the street again an' to myself sez I:
O it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, go away";
But it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play,
The band begins to play, my boys, the band begins to play,
O it's "Thank you, Mister Atkins", when the band begins to play.

I went into a theatre as sober as could be,
They gave a drunk civilian room, but 'adn't none for me;
They sent me to the gallery or round the music-'alls,
But when it comes to fightin', Lord! they'll shove me in the stalls!
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, wait outside";
But it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide,
The troopship's on the tide, my boys, the troopship's on the tide,
O it's "Special train for Atkins" when the trooper's on the tide.

Yes, makin' mock o' uniforms that guard you while you sleep
Is cheaper than them uniforms, an' they're starvation cheap;
An' hustlin' drunken soldiers when they're goin' large a bit
Is five times better business than paradin' in full kit.
Then it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, 'ow's yer soul?"
But it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll,
The drums begin to roll, my boys, the drums begin to roll,
O it's "Thin red line of 'eroes" when the drums begin to roll.

We aren't no thin red 'eroes, nor we aren't no blackguards too,
But single men in barricks, most remarkable like you;
An' if sometimes our conduck isn't all your fancy paints,
Why, single men in barricks don't grow into plaster saints;
While it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Tommy, fall be'ind",
But it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind,
There's trouble in the wind, my boys, there's trouble in the wind,
O it's "Please to walk in front, sir", when there's trouble in the wind.

You talk o' better food for us, an' schools, an' fires, an' all:
We'll wait for extry rations if you treat us rational.
Don't mess about the cook-room slops, but prove it to our face
The Widow's Uniform is not the soldier-man's disgrace.
For it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' "Chuck him out, the brute!"
But it's "Saviour of 'is country" when the guns begin to shoot;
An' it's Tommy this, an' Tommy that, an' anything you please;
An' Tommy ain't a bloomin' fool -- you bet that Tommy sees!

Long-standing readers of this blog will be well aware that Tom Lehrer is one of my heroes, and one urban legend that everyone knows about old Tom is that he supposedly gave up satire when Henry Kissinger won the Nobel Peace Prize, citing the reason that political satire had become redundant. While that anecdote is not true, sadly, I couldn't help but think of it on finding out that the old war criminal has been invited to Britain by oleaginous Tory Liam "Dr" Fox in order to receive something called the "Margaret Thatcher Medal of Freedom", which to these ears sounds like the kind of thing that the Franklin Mint would advertise on a "SEND NO MONEY NOW" basis on the back of the colour supplement that comes with the Heil on Sunday. The fact that the organisation behind this beano refers to the butcher of Peterloo as a "great statesman" tells you all you need to know about them. H/t to BenSix via Septicisle.

Much talk of The X-Factor amid the rarefied intellectual circles of my flist; Ford only knows why, and I don't buy into the Baudrillardian view that they're all being coolly ironic and detached in a po-mo stylee by doing so, though I'm sure there's a meejah studies thesis in there somewhere involving a primitive society voting to continue the absence of politics. I've never watched an episode, and nor do I intend to, yet still there is no escape from modern-day Hughie Green Simon Cowell and these strange Irish twins with Eraserhead haircuts. I guess the job falls to spiritof1976 to actually watch the bloody thing so I don't have to. At least there was something worth watching on television last night; just found out in the nick of time that BBC Four (who else) were screening Wolfgang Becker's delightful Good Bye Lenin by way of marking the 20th anniversary of the fall of the Berlin Wall. There have been some very clever, charming, and good-humoured films from Germany that have come to international attention in recent years and this is one of the best, though anything Ostalgie-related was always going to push all the right buttons for me.

Hmmm, looks like there could be Battery over in Mancy Town next week. Where are the best real ale pubs within short walking distance of Piccadilly, I wonder? The Manchester pub scene has changed a bit since I used to get over there on a regular basis; the Marble Arch is still there, though the wrong end of town, the Queens is now a keg 'oil, the Castle has been refurbed for the Nathan Barleys and now charges London prices for its Robbies' beers, while the Grey Horse would be chocka with more than about five people in it. And the 'Spoons on Piccadilly is so not an option; second only to their central Sheffield outlet for vile chavitude. A bit of research reveals this pub could be a contender, what with it having Holt's beer and being in the right area, but it's not one I know being a new pub. Any Manc people on here know more?

* - A virtual pint to the first person who knows where today's subject title comes from and why.

.. well at least if you come from Edinburgh! "The Silence of the Trams"...!

12.43pm and both kids are napping so I can use the computer.

Oh, spoke too soo

Birth Story

( Cut for detailed description of natural birth, so no scary medical stuff, but lots of unmentionable fluids. )

If you don't want to read behind the cut, I had a lovely baby boy five weeks ago today, at home in the birth pool. Around 2 and a half hours for first stage (but only the last 20 minutes hurt) 12 minutes of pushing and just over an hour for the 3rd stage. He has spiky dark hair and is as lovely as his big sister. He weighed 3.5 kg.

I was lying in my parents bed next to my mum after dad had gone to work one cold morning in our little terraced house in Old Swan, bored because I wanted to get up and mum wanted to sleep. My space hopper rolled in front of the one-bar electric fire and promptly exploded, waking mum up for good.

I still remember its sad little deflated face.

That opening lines meme, by sbp out of atommickbrane, and arbitrarily assembled by me thanks to the shuffle feature on my iPod. You know the drill, no Googling;

1) So wide, you can't get around it - Funkadelic, One Nation Under A Groove (andrewhickey)
2) I could have read a poem called Ozymandias to her instead - The Stranglers, Ugly (sarahx)
3) There were mourners on the street of every shape and size - The Auteurs, Lenny Valentino (hano)
4) Distant cousins, there's a limited supply - Captain Beefheart, Big Eyed Beans From Venus (nja)
5) Time flies, time crawls, like an insect up and down the walls - Magazine, The Light Pours Out Of Me (nja)
6) See that black boy over there running scared - Gil Scott-Heron, The Bottle (hano)
7) A seasoned witch could call you from the depths of your disgrace - Yes, Close to the Edge (caerleon)
8) David's on piano and I may play on a drum - Matching Mole, O Caroline (a_bonsai_tree came closest)
9) I'm eternally grateful to my past influences - The Fall, How I Wrote 'Elastic Man' (nja)
10) You came to watch the band, to see us play our parts - Be Bop Deluxe, Axe Victim (hoiho)

EDIT @ 10AM, 4/11; Blimey, you got 'em all between you. What remarkable music tastes you all have.

“The worst enemy of truth and freedom in our society is the compact majority” - Henrik Ibsen

In many ways, I guess you have to hand it to Peter Mandelson. Not only has his Machiavellianism and sheer stubborn unflushability taken him to the top of his field, sometimes he has been known to let the true intentions of the NuLab project fall from his lips where others would obfuscate it in managementspeak. And so it is with his announcement later today where he sets forward his "vision" for the future of Britain's universities. Strange, I thought higher education was the remit of Education and (ecch)Skills rather than BERR but what do I know being a mere provincial peasant? Unsurprisingly, the Dark Lord calls for more ties with "business" (read "corporatism"), he refers to students as "paying customers", and denies outright that there's been any collusion with the Conservatives regarding the retention/increase of tuition fees, thus meaning in practice that the gifted A-level pupil from the disadvantaged background misses out in favour of Tarquin and Jocasta with their two Es at A-level and access to Daddy's trust fund once again, with knobs on. Also, while the accent on science is in some ways laudable, one cannot help but feel it's a sop to Stürmer-readers and their preconceptions that universities are hotbeds of Marxism where the students read non-subjects like Tarantino Studies all day in between plotting violent insurrection against Middle England. It's surely nothing to do with this Government - or the next - actively fostering an interest in science. Certainly not after the affair of Postman Pat and his Nutt-sack at the weekend; a petty, unjustified and completely political decision, and counter to the Government's own figures on the dangers of drugs, let alone Nutt et al's independent research. Indeed the reasons why I haven't blogged on the subject are that a) it's been done to death by better bloggers than myself and b) I needed a bit of a break over the weekend and spent it cooking elaborate meals and restoring an old Hacker Sovereign II radio from the dead rather than pontificating to an audience that either don't read blogs at the weekend or have chosen to throw themselves into NaNoWriMo or both.

Of course the story of Big Corporate Business shafting scientific innovation is nothing new in Britain. Last night BBC Four ran a wonderful documentary about the life of John Logie Baird; while I was aware of some of the great man's projects after his company's snubbing by Lord Reith in 1937, the sheer excellence and technical advancement of particularly his later work was astounding. Indeed, some of his innovations are on a par or even ahead of contemporary technology; his stereoscopic colour television system and his prototype high definition transmissions to name but two. And yet, at times it was as if JLB was one man against the world; not only did he receive only grudging help from the BBC, he was repeatedly shafted by big corporate interests who ended up getting rich by stealing his ideas. A joy to watch, and good to see contributions from a couple of people I know through some of my geekier forums and mailing lists. There's plenty more on the man and his work at this extensive archive of a site, curated by his son and grandson.

At public request I have decided to do another Auntie Oxidant's Problem Page.

Ask, anonymously if you like, and screened whether you do or not, and it shall be answered. Probably by Thursday.

I stopped by the local Majestic Wine Warehouse on the way back from the physio yesterda.y because I wanted to take some GIN to K's weekend and it occurred to me an easy way to get it carried up stairs to my house was to order a case of 12 assorted from MWW. with free delivery  (yes a bit lateral I know - but also house almost out of wine and I used to get it delivered by Virgin Wine Club but seem to have fallen off that..)

Anyway MWW has LOVELY wine, and some very unusual Spanish and Italian varietals , and all for insanely good prices if you buy 2 of almost anything. I got 2 Ribero del Duero, 2 Viognier, 2 Primitivo, 1 pink Loire wine,  2 gins, 2 fiizzes, and a luverley bottle of Ozzie Rutherglen dark liqueur muscat  which will be  a Xmas treat methinks:)

Apparently when the wine got delivered I was congratulated on my choices:)

I just drank some of the Primitivo. MMMMMM.

Next: packing!

I already know there are many reasons to like Shappi Khorsandi, and last night's performance on the Abbott and Portillo Show just franked the form further. Her little film insert about "Big Brother Britain" and the interview with Brillo afterwards will have done wonders to bring home the sleepwalking-into-a-surveillance-state message - and much more effectively than the false-flag op that is "Big Brother Watch", upon which the Graun wasted a whole CiF column yesterday, despite it having been thoroughly debunked as nothing more than a Taxpayers' Alliance front by Clifford Singer over at LabLibCon nearly two months ago. Jeez, Rusbridger, has the novelty of this "blogging" malarkey worn off so soon after the Trafigura affair?

Bah. Tomorrow is the night of the year, much dreaded by me as mentioned in posts passim, when feral chavlets around the country put bangers through letterboxes in the name of the stupid 'Merkin "tradition" of Halloween (note lack of apostrophe). Whatever happened to "penny for the binliner in a jumper"? Swanning off to Leeds for pubbage is also out, because half the city centre will be full of fascists and the other half full of Trots, forming a sort of unpalatable sandwich of which the filling will be finest Yorkshire pork. Silly sods; don't they realise their demo and counter-demo won't rate so much as a few lines on Look North seeing as there are much larger ones in Lahndahn, where all the news is?

Ah well, at least I now have my set of Ace of Wands dvds finally, and best of all, following on from my post last month about obscure old telly on YouTube I HAVE TRACKED DOWN A SOURCE for Clochemerle and Big Jim and the Figaro Club at last! They're here, and I'm saying nothing about their provenance, what with the rights being in limbo and all that. We thought they were public domain, honest guv. Mr. keresaspa of this province might enjoy some of their back catalogue, come to think of it.

In keeping with this upcoming weekend's twin themes of silly Americanisms and vampires, this extremely NSFW toy spotted elsewhere on my flist is something that just needs to be brought to a wider audience. I'm scared. Thing is though, if it's there to cash in on Edward Cullen, the prototype would be soft and nowhere near 6 3/4" (but it would still sparkle). Wouldn't it, annajaneclare? ;)

A sad note to end on, bearing in mind I much prefer umpires to vampires. Raise a leg to dear old David Shepherd, a much loved and respected official and a pretty damned fine clouter of a cricket ball as part of that wonderful Gloucestershire one-day side of the '70s alongside legends like Mike Procter, Zaheer Abbas and the immortal Jim Foat. Shep was a true gentleman whose sporting achievements gave hope to pie hammerers everywhere. He'll be missed.

I *really* wish i could get to this.. Roger Clarke is a Hero Name..

Security Seminar, 02 Nov - Roger Clarke: Surveillance in
> Speculative Fiction: Have Our Artists Been Sufficiently Imaginative?
> To: cl-security-seminars@lists.cam.ac.uk
>
>
> Please note the unusual location and/or time.
>
>                          ***   ***   ***   ***   ***
>
>                  University of Cambridge Computer Laboratory
>
>                            SECURITY SEMINAR SERIES
>
>
>  TITLE:      Surveillance in Speculative Fiction: Have Our Artists
> Been Sufficiently Imaginative?
>
>  SPEAKER:    Roger Clarke, University of New South Wales
>
>  DATE:       Monday 02 November 2009, 14:00
>
>  PLACE:      FW11
>
>
>  Abstract:
>
>  There are many variants of surveillance, many pitfalls, and potentially
> serious
>  consequences for 'good people' as well as 'the baddies'.
> Fiction-writers of all
>  kinds have taken advantage of the enormous scope this provides.  Writers
> of
>  speculative fiction have been running ahead of reality for decades;  but
> they
>  need to display more imagination, because reality keeps catching up with
> them.
>  This paper reviews speculative fiction genres and imaginations, and
> uses them as
>  a means of identifying several different interpretations of what the
>  surveillance epidemic means for privacy and human freedom.
>
>  Roger Clarke is a Canberra-based eBusiness consultant, and a Visiting
> Professor
>  in Cyberspace Law & Policy at  UNSW  in Sydney, and in Computer Science
> at the
>  Australian National University.  He has conducted dataveillance research
> since
>  the early 1980s, and has been active in privacy advocacy even longer than
> that.
>  He is currently Chair of the Australian Privacy Foundation.
>
>  Further details:
>
>    http://talks.cam.ac.uk/talk/index/21129
>
>  Full seminar programme and travel directions:
>
>    http://www.cl.cam.ac.uk/research/security/seminars/

I should be packing for Whitby so of course I am here instead.

It has been a busy few days. Thursday night was a trip to the Magistrate's Court with anadel1976. We stayed much longer than planned (seeing a mock trial where the audience was considerably more lenient than the magistrates was a surprise to all the court staff). I now have a Probation Service balloon, a Witness Protection Programme pen and an Inside Justice week cloth bag. Why is it so hard to stop yourself collecting this stuff you don't need, just cos it is free? There was a strange age range too - almost exclusively *either* over 50s *or* under 20s.

After that, we needed sustenance, so we went to Fiesta Mehicana for some food and a long and fascinating conversation about art.

Saturday was Katherine's formal(ish) birthday party at the local Hotel du Vin. After a little hitch with the dress which was ably sorted out by ms_siobhan and planet_andy we headed over there and had a great time - the venue was lovely as was the company and Katherine looked very elegant indeed. It was particularly good to have the chance to chat to people who aren't in York much (and especially to gossip with childeric who is always just the right side of indiscreet while telling you exactly what you want to know :-)

People were taking pictures as the night progressed so there is copious evidence of 'vampire mouth' from the red wine. I'm sure there's something you can do with vaseline to keep your dignity but who ever thinks of these things before the awful moment you're looking in the mirror realising that you've been grinning like a medieval witch and talking nonsense for at least the last hour. Sometimes it is SO traumatic, darlings, not liking champagne.

As a result most of Sunday was spent on the sofa but in the evening I went to meet Cathy WINOLJ to see the Illuminating York installation at King's Manor. Beautiful and atmospheric and a lovely way to start the evening (and it's on for most of this coming week). We got some food and had a bit of a gossip and then it was off to the pub for wendels birthday drinks.

It's been a funny few weeks and a lot of people have been having a hard time of it. Let's hope it eases up a bit between now and Christmas.

In the meantime, it's late and I'm going to see if I can beat my 'pack for Whitby in 45 minutes' record.