Golden Anniversary

This is my fiftieth blog; there have actually been fifty consecutive days of published content. At first I was really worried about having something to write about, that has never proved to be a problem; indeed on some days I have a number of articles queuing up. The great thing is that sometimes I see something that is of interest and research it because it will make potential blog material; I also try to be careful to fact check. Whether the subjects have been interesting I will leave to my readers.

I was worried that I would not have the time or that events would get in the way. Again the only day when this was a problem was when I unexpectedly drove to London and did arrive back until late. I had a subject so I just had to get on with it instead of going to bed. Indeed blogging is a great activity for hither to dead times, like being on a train for instance. I suspect that a real challenge will be on our four week holiday to France, not the content but reliable Wi-Fi, still I will be a veteran by then.

I realise that I am not publishing enough pictures, this is for two reasons, I am not a natural picture taking sort of guy so often forget, and also in general I have a self imposed rule to not identify individuals. So I will try to remember to take more pictures and miss the people out.

I want to say a big thank you to my commenters, to Karin who always puts a great perspective on things from the US, to Jane’s humour, to Thomas who as always takes me down a peg or two particularly over dairy products, and finally to Marion who always bolsters my confidence. This segues nicely onto the fact that I am not good enough at responding to comments; I will try to get better.

By and large the blog is being read by a group of friends and family, I am nervous about extending it any further. You may have read the blog concerning the reunion that I attended, I had a request there to share my blog, and I am still reluctant, as I am not yet convinced about the quality or the interest.

I am always open to guest bloggers, just send me some content and I will publish it, I guess that is how the Huffington Post started.

Personally I have found writing the blog a great pleasure, it is not a diary or journal but allows me to reflect on life, I find it genuinely therapeutic. So onwards and upwards for the next fifty!

Old School

I had an enjoyable day in the South East yesterday making the most of an overnight trip to London. Lunchtime and the afternoon was a liquid lunch and a gossipy time with a former work colleague. It really is therapeutic have a good bitch and gossip, particularly for me, as I no longer have to work in a political environment. Also everything is always easy with the benefit of hindsight. However in this respect I have to continually remind myself not to hang onto the past.

One of the pleasures of the day was to meet my friend’s 18-month-old daughter and take her for a walk. While she walked well, she would not keep her gloves on. I would say there was almost a malign pleasure for her in letting them drop to the ground and watch as the adults scurry around to pick them up and put them back on her hands.

In the evening I met up with four guys who I went to school with at a pub in London. As I left school in 1973 you can guess the average age. Now I am not normally a great fan of reunions, as they can turn into competitive events, who has the biggest car, most intelligent grandchildren etc… This was completely different and a great evening, with the right degree of reminiscing and finding out about everybody's interesting lives. I really am in awe as to what my friends have achieved, and the interesting experiences that they have had. The conversation never flagged all evening. It really had a buzz.

What was interesting was the way that memories of those school years flooded back, the names of teachers, the cross-country course, and particularly the way that somebody would recount an anecdote that I had no idea had taken place. I remember vividly a “field trip” to Portsmouth when I was seventeen, I particularly remember the drinking, but for the life of me could not remember visiting sewage works – well it is passé to just visit the Victory.

Some still lived in the school area and they were able to update us on how the school and the area had changed. Though it still remains a grammar school, one of the most selective in Kent, but now takes girls into its sixth form. As one of my friends said the nearest we had got to girls was the ballroom dancing lessons at the local girls school.

Plans are already being laid for a wider, outside gathering in the summer. I shall look forward to it.

I cannot let a blog pass on this the January 24 without mentioning Boro’s fantastic win in the FA Cup at the reigning Premier League Champions, Manchester City. I will be glued to Match of the Day tonight. Dreaming of Wembley!!!!

The War on Terror begins at Home

In a lot of ways the reaction to any terrorist event is entirely predictable, there are always calls for greater powers for the security services. This strikes me as a gut reaction as I heard one security professional comment, “if you are searching for a needle in a haystack, you do not increase the amount of hay”. There are also proposals for making more rigorous the controls on firearms ownership. Now this got me thinking, and forgive me here I am not seeking to be rude to my North American friends in this blog, just curious.

In the last few weeks I have read about three tragic killings in the US. The first was when a toddler riding in a supermarket trolley opened their mother’s purse, removed the weapon inside, pointed it at the mother and fatally shot her. In the second case a husband seeking to treat his wife to breakfast in bed returned to the marital bedroom to be shot by his wife thinking that he was an intruder. Lastly only yesterday a toddler again found hone of his parent’s guns, turned it on their self and fired a fatal shot.

All of these deaths were entirely preventable and would be less likely to happen in Europe where there is no right to carry firearms. Yet I do not hear a clamour in North America to make gun ownership more restrictive. The constitution of the US framed in very different times seems to guarantee the contrary. So I pose a rhetorical question, does a potential terrorist have the right to carry weapons just not the right to use them?

Perhaps I am approaching this through the lens of a Briton where even the ability of the police to carry firearms is much agonised over. But it does seem to me the right of the individual to carry firearms is in reality much more threatening and the consequence of which are utterly preventable. The malign effects of this have been far more extensive than domestic terrorism. It is also some thing that government can control, whereas countering terrorism is difficult, that is not to say that we should not attempt difficult things, of course we should. I am a believer of doing the simple things first, the principle of taking the low hanging fruit before climbing to the top of the tree.

My apologies for my lack of understanding here, but I am really curious.

Bonnie Scotland

Tonight I am going to attend a Burns Supper. Now this is not my normal milieu, I like a glass of whisky like the next man, however haggis is not a gourmet treat, and listening to some poetry in a dialect that I cannot understand accompanied by the banshee like shrill of the bagpipes is not pleasurable. However the dinner is with friends so I am expecting good fellowship and discussions. This together with the published proposals concerning Scottish devolution that are published today led me to consider what I thought about Scotland and how it impacts me.

Firstly I rarely visit Scotland despite the border being less than 150 miles away from our home. The last time we crossed into Scotland was around three years ago when we took advantage of cheap train tickets to spend a couple of days in Edinburgh. It was a good couple of days, an excellent Italian restaurant and interesting sightseeing. I suppose the main reason that we do not visit Scotland more regularly is that we are prejudiced about the weather. Our perception that is maybe incorrect is that it is cold and wet. In the summer we would prefer to head for warmer climes where there is a greater guarantee of sun. We also have a perception that it is a somewhat dour place. Part of this comes from I think the architecture; the dark granite stone imparts a slightly gothic impression.

There is of course an upside, I like drinking malt whisky in moderation, there are some excellent Scots beers, and I enjoy the frission present at rugby games between England and Scotland.

What I really do not enjoy is the faux nationalism that is present in both England and Scotland but particularly in the latter. It is great to respect and celebrate your heritage, but it is just that. Both countries are now more modern regions of the European community. They should be seeking to maximise their synergies not emphasising their differences. One man’s caber tossing is another man’s cheese rolling!!!

Where I think that Scotland has a case is for devolution, and the problem is that the English Regions have not recognised that it is an issue for their own governance. If there is a case to devolve policy making to Scotland surely there is an equal case to devolve power to the North East or to Yorkshire. These regions have as rich a heritage, and have issues that are distinct from those in London.

So I have not answered my own question, but I will enjoy the whisky and company, I will eat the haggis and think of other things during the poetry.

Of Grave Concern

As promised here is a picture of the stadium last night. I think that this gives a good impression of how it stands out at night, and the greater atmosphere of a night game. Better still my pessimism was unfounded and there was another critical win for the Boro, albeit in a very scrappy game. It was also very cold, never were the heated seats in the car more welcome.

A complete change of subject I have been dealing with a peculiar piece of British officialdom. This is over the ownership of a grave, not that anything is in dispute, but there are a lot of boxes that I have to tick. I suppose from my six years as a church treasurer I should have known that graves are private property in the same way as any other piece of land is. The grave where my father is buried is in a town cemetery in Sherborne, the closest that my family has to a spiritual home. We had all agreed that we would bury my mother’s ashes there, and have a small family ceremony and get together.

So far so good, should be quite simple – find an undertaker, organise the service, and get the accommodation/lunch sorted. That was the plan, so in my spirit of encouraging local businesses I found the only local undertaker in Sherborne, a very nice man called Daniel telephoned me. There my problems started, it turns out that Daniel has a prolapse and cannot dig the grave and all his staff are on holiday.

Ok this is only a minor setback, onwards to the next undertaker albeit one belonging to a chain. I have a pleasant conversation with a lady called Catherine, then comes the killer question – “Who owns the grave?”, pardon “Who owns the grave?” Well I have no answer to this question. Even that is not issue; I am now referred to another nice lady at the local town council who tells me who is the proud owner of the grave, my maternal grandmother Helena Sheppard. However as my grandmother died in the late sixties and nobody in my family mentioned a grave in their wills we have to establish a chain of ownership.

So I have despatched my mothers will to Sherborne and am hopeful that everything will be settled by next month. Otherwise we will have a lot of lunches to eat and rooms in a boutique hotel to stay in, my main failing was that I organised the accommodation before the ceremony. I conclude that I learn something everyday.