Who do you trust?

The event most worthy of note this week has been the debacle of the missing data of 25 million British people, floating around on 2 CDs somewhere between the Revenue and Benefits office in Tyne & Wear and the National Audit office in London. Good grief! It looks like what happened is that the Audit Office wanted some names and addresses, but it was easier to just copy the whole of the database rather than do a query. This is probably because all this IT stuff gets outsourced (costing us taxpayers billions by the way) and no-one internal actually knows how the database works, so they would have had to get someone else to do it.

No-one knows where the data is, and police have been searching for it, and it could turn up behind a desk somewhere I guess, but my theory is that someone has taken it home thinking one day they can make a lot of money this, but then got scared, and/or possibly waiting for the fuss to die down before doing anything with the disks. There's always the chance that it will mysteriously re-appear when they think nobody's looking. I wonder if they've realised that they could bring down the whole UK banking system – Northern Rock? peanuts!

One consequence of this state of affairs has been some backtracking in plans to introduce ID cards, requiring a national database – the argument being that we can't be sure the data would be safe. Well der! Personally, I have never been naïve enough to believe that our personal data stays in one place. I know that companies buy and sell it so they can use it for marketing purposes or whatever. The situation is not helped by the fact that UK government has a history of continuing to pay companies to create these ridiculously unreliable IT systems (see health service for details) instead of getting someone who knows what they're on about to do it. Will they ever learn?

A Night of the Unexpected

We had an interesting night in Huddersfield on Friday, as we went to see what this Festival of Light was all about. This entailed some French performers called Plasticien Volant putting on a show called The Pearl, starting at St Peter's gardens and parading through the streets with a growing array of large flying sea creatures including jellyfish, seahorses, octopus, a whale and some kind of snake, chasing a pearl through the streets to St. George's square, where said pearl ended up in its shell. There were loads of people lining the streets, some intrigued, some puzzled, and some downright scared by the strange Europeaness...Well, it is a bit weird for Huddersfield but it probably happens all the time in places like France and Canada. At the end of the performance, there were fireworks being let off from behind the station, which was nice.

We made a quick exit to beat the crowds out of the town centre, as we had tickets for a Huddersfield Contemporary Music Festival event at Bates Mill called 1 Night of the Unexpected. When we got there, there was some what I call bing bang bong music going on, so I distracted myself with a cheap beer and took the piss. my neek partner told me to stop wingeing and accused me of not getting it. Err! I do understand that two tunes were going on at once; I just hate that shit. Thankfully, things got better, with a very interesting violin performance, a fantastic laser show and someone getting toy cars to play records – a cross between spinning plates and scalextrics. There was also a funny DJ who played old random scratched 7” singles, and a woman doing industrial drumming – ah! That took me back to the '80's!

We also experienced a very interesting installation with a Luddite theme (now I got this straight away and hardly anyone else did – including a couple I knew who had just arrived and looked puzzled, and loads of eggheads who just stood there watching people twiddling knobs). We stayed almost 3 hours altogether, then some more awful bing bang bong music started up, this time of the jazz variety so even worse than the brass type, and we made our escape.

All in all, we agreed we had had a very entertaining night; it was certainly different. The HCMF audience made me crack up though – mainly university bods and students, on the guest list of course, chattering on about the last thing they went to rather than actually listening to and watching what was going on in front of them. I wondered how many of these experimental musicians had research grants at us tax-payers expense to pay for their expensive Apple laptops and lasers. Hmm! (sound of me stroking chin and looking pensive!)

nice work if you can get it

A few items in the local paper have been getting us riled this weekend. The first is to do with bidding for some lottery money to do up the park. I would like to know why on earth the council needs £90,000 for this! All the park needs is a tidy up and a few better items in the kids' playground (and getting rid of the stupid skateboard park would help to discourage the wannabe chavs).

The second item involves the local council wanting to stop people complaining about their services. Well, if they actually offered any visibly decent services in return for the extortionate amounts we pay in council tax, people wouldn't complain would they? I have been trying to contact them this week to report a non-working street light. The number I have from the council's own services directory is out of date, and a message which is barely audible gives you an alternative number to ring. I had to listen to the damn thing three times until I could make out the new number! No wonder people get pissed off.

Which brings me to the last item to hack us off namely plans by aforesaid council to spend £100,000 to improve their image, including £30k on a Reputation Manager. They wouldn't need one if they were any good! Still, nice work if you can get it I suppose!

Night of the Tranny Vampires

Last night was our annual fireworks display. We went out and met up with a friend and got a pint before finding a spot on the Marina. We had a laugh with the cheap sparklers we had bought earlier – 3 out of 6 were little better than burning sticks! I said next time we were getting Chinese ones, none of that British rubbish! The firework display was a bit earlier than normal but it was really spectacular! It could have been the best ever! Some of them were like sparkly snow and I wished I'd remembered my camera as I could have had this year's Christmas card piccie now.

Town was predictably heaving and our friend didn't want to go in any crowded pubs afterwards so we went to the White Swan and sat in the garden (even though she had slagged it off earlier for being awful but I don't really know why). I quizzed her about not inviting us to the special night at her local, the Hare and Hounds to celebrate a new tenure. She said it was weird as they were dressed up and the landlord was wearing fishnets and a Dracula cape. Transvestite Vampires in Old Town – excellent! Spooky rural goings-on suspicions confirmed yet again! We predictably started making up Hammer-type film plot lines.

Our friend went home early on the pretext of having to see to a neighbour's cats and so we went to our local. Another friend was on her way to see her daughter and niece at another pub but asked if we'd still be there in an hour. I said I wasn't sure, but we were – unfortunately. On her return, she was full of tales of woe, including her best mate having lung cancer, her daughter self-harming, her sister having an eating disorder and her ex turning out to be a trannie. I must say, the last of these seemed trivial and who cares as long as no-one gets hurt. We said he should move to Old Town!

however, I guess your best mate dying is rather heavy, but I could do without knowing at the end of an otherwise amusing and entertaining night – selfish I know but I really wished we had gone home earlier as originally planned. On the other hand, it is a traditional drinking day and the highlight of the local calendar so it is inevitable that you drink more than you should and stay out later. We seem to be doing this less often now so I guess the odd binge is okay (despite what our nanny state government say).

Apolitical dunce

We went to the Lawrence Batley Theatre to see Our Friends in the North on Thursday . The play was pretty good. It was first written in 1982 and this is a special 25 year anniversary production, a timely reminder of the origins and ramifications of political corruption. The story is quite a bit different from the t.v. version– there is loads about Rhodesia, which doesn't even get mentioned in the BBC adaptation. My friend reckons this is because Mugabe is all the media's fault as they bigged him up. Well I can't remember that amount of detail from the time, but it is interesting the way things get edited and distorted, innit?

I actually found it more depressing than the telly screenplay because, I suppose, of the politics and how much more apparent it was that things are just the same now – there was a theme running through that this was the beginning of political disillusionment among ordinary people, but I wonder if that is true. There's a lot of talk nowadays about apathy and alienation which leads to the British people largely accepting things, and not standing up for what they believe is right; they'd rather have a good winge (see non smoking law for details, as previously discussed) than change things. But with a very few exceptions, I think it's been that way for a long time.

We have currently been watching the BBC version of Our Friends in the North on DVD. This weekend we watched the episode covering 1984, the Miner's strike and all that. This made me think again what a bastard Thatcher was. Why does everyone have this rosy glow about what life was like under the Tories? I mean, Labour are just as shit but what happened to the miners was totally criminal – how could people vote that woman in again after what she did to them? Well, I guess they got their comeuppance with the poll tax riots; this really was the last straw for a lot of people. When the government starts upsetting middle class grannies, they really have to start taking notice so Gordy watch out! People can see past their shiny beads eventually if they're pushed hard enough!

Polish car mystery

I visited the relatively new Polish in Huddersfield a couple of days ago. It's funny going in there, because it's like going to a foreign country. I was the only person who spoke English. It's also funny because some of the brands they sell are familiar, such as knorr, but the packaging is all Polish. Mind you, I saw that most shoppers were buying crisps and other such stuff.

I have also noticed a new bar in Huddersfield which I think is Polish, and there seem to be a lot of young Polish people in the town, making me wonder if they are attending the University. I was musing with Phil yesterday, saying it was strange with all these Eastern Europeans moving in that I don't actually know any (apart from the wife of a work colleague who is from the Czech Republic). When I was a kid I had friends whose families were Polish and Ukrainian and I sometimes went to their clubs for dances and stuff. It made us think about that and how those earlier generations became integrated into the rest of British society, whereas the young people coming over now perhaps don't plan to stay so don't mix as much. I don't know for sure, but maybe this is the case.

A few weeks ago I started to notice Polish cars on the morning commute, which made me wonder about the economics of driving a car overland – surely it's not cost effective in these days of cheap flights or indeed coach travel? Couldn't quite get my head round that. The only thing I thought possibly is that because it is so much cheaper to buy a car in the rest of Europe that this makes it worthwhile bringing your old one over rather than buying one in England. If there's any Eastern Europeans who now live in England reading this, perhaps you could help me out.

Posh it up

There is a growing trend for posh shops in the town where I live, which seems to be accelerating of late, particularly along Market street. As well as Lupino and Rose that has just opened selling jewels and other things you don't need, there is a new jeans shop called Sage & Onion which is far too expensive – about £160 for a pair of jeans, so I can't see it lasting that long! Together with Kloggs and Dynamite which opened a few weeks ago, that makes three trendy clothes shops now. Then there's Ruby Shoesday* which has moved across the road, and a total of three jewelry shops. Still, at least two of these are run by the people who make the stuff.

Hebden has always been full of creative people, but now I guess they reckon there's a market to sell their stuff here so they're opening retail outlets. I notice a lot more people coming into the town at weekends now to buy things other than chips. It might also be that the big cities are getting too expensive for small independents to afford the rents. I think it's quite good for the town, even if some of the stuff is a bit pricey.

Mind you, I can imagine lots of wingeing about it! It's like when Hebden was on the Politics Show last weekend. The article was mainly about the town going plastic-bag free, but they also mentioned other initiatives such as the plastic recycling and the Alternative Technology Centre. Although the main article was on the local segment of the show, there was a short link from the national studio in London who described Hebden Bridge as 'glorious'!

During the interviews with our Mayor, Nader Fekri and two of the Bag Ladies, I was thinking I bet they've blocked the street off to stop the undesirables and nay sayers (i.e., locals) wandering up during filming. I can think of a few people who will detest the fact that the town is getting more interesting, famous and prosperous!

*See Standing Shoes only for an amusing anecdote relating to this shop

The acceptable face of gaming

I recently acquired a Nintendo Wii (TM) as a present. This has already proved to be a good investment gift. Although I only have 3 games for now, I have got into the habit of playing wii sports (TM) when I get home from work about 3 times a week. I started with just 10 minutes, usually boxing, but am now up to almost half an hour. My routine involves a session of wii fitness, followed by a game of tennis or rounders (sorry, baseball) and then a few rounds of boxing. I LOVE the boxing!! This is for lots of reasons - I am quite good at it and my technique is improving; so far I have knocked all my mii opponents out by round 2, and it really makes me sweat so I know it's good for me! At last! Exercise I like that I can do in the comfort of my own home and isn't boring!

There was an article on telly the other night about an old people's home where they all play wii sports (TM ) and have a great social life and keep active. The positive face of computer gaming! Could this be the end of sloth and obesity? I can't believe I'm raving about the product of a large manufacturer – so unlike me! I have had games machines before but always avoided Nintendo as I had a vision of super Mario cart bollox. You do still get that crap, but you get all this other cool stuff too.

Northern Cock

We have been marveling at the antics brought on by the Northern Rock news that they have asked the Bank of England for a loan as no banks will lend them any money. In a nutshell, as far as I understand it, this has been brought on by the American mortgage crisis of last month and due to the unique way that Northern Rock is funded (sic) they can't get the money from their normal sources. Customers (mainly pensioners by the looks of things) have been queuing up to get their money out, in some cases resulting in the police having to come and calm things down. Idiots! Don't they realise the money's not real? Still, there'll be a lot of cash under mattresses now so chavs are probably going to be quids in! Good time to look at different bank accounts too as they are offering really good interest rates.

Some news reports are saying that Northern Rock may be forced to sell off. That's as may be, but I really hope sanity prevails and the madness doesn't spread to the other banks. Just look at what's happened in the past in countries like Germany and Argentina. I don't want to have to take a wheelbarrow of cash to the shops!

I Blame the Parents

Last night I saw they mother of the kid I got out of nick the other week. She told us that they had gone away to her mum's for a week but had to come home because D hit her gran. Good grief! Apparently she ran off but got scared by some Black girls on a nearby council estate and came back. Now D is sleeping in a tent in her friend's back garden on a local estate (so much for not hanging round with her anymore!). Well at least mum knows where she is and they come home when they want to wash their hair and D needs to get a change of clothes.

I don't know! This school holiday it's gone stupid. For example, I got woken up at 3.00 a.m. in the early hours of Friday by what sounded like muntered teenagers shouting and screaming and I yelled out of the window to tell them to shut up and 'phoned the police to report a disturbance but it was a waste of time. Nobody gives a toss about all these kids wandering the streets and drinking round the clock.

Another incident occurred the previous Friday night – well, Saturday morning really – as I discovered a towel had gone missing from the washing line. At about 10.00 a.m. on Saturday, I saw a bunch of lads walk past the house, one of whom I recognised, and he had my towel slung over his shoulder. I called after them and told them the towel looked suspiciously like one that went missing off the line. They said that they had found it on the memorial in the park, apologised and put it back. Well, at least the towel had an exciting night. But I ask you! Kids wandering the streets with cans of lager at 10 in the morning – someone should be watching what they're up to surely!

John Denham, now minister for this new DUIS was on about it on telly this morning saying they needed to tackle the problem. Well, Mr. Einstein, it's simple really – get more coppers on the streets stopping then doing it! It is not rocket science! If they were my kids I would be down the park embarrassing them not going 'ooh, what can you do?' there's loads that can be done. I blame the parents – useless bastards!

Dirty Greedy Bastards

Yesterday we went to Halifax Show. We looked at the funny vegetables and flower arrangements and bees and some crafts. We bought some cake and nice homemade stuff in jars, then had a pause before looking at more stalls and watching dogs doing tricks. We then bought pork pies for lunch and watched some more dog tricks and then went to see the funny chickens. There was one that was absolutely huge! I have no idea how they get it so big! After that, we had a pint of Black Sheep and watched some more dogs – this time with carts, then some horses with carts, then came home.

Most enjoyable, bu the day was marred slightly by a lack of sheep, goats and cattle due to the outbreak of foot and mouth in Surrey the other week. I thought movement restrictions didn't apply outside the exclusion zone anymore but perhaps they got the news too late in Halifax. Anyway, I think it's daft. It looks like that Meriel research lab is to blame anyhow. I bet they get away with it – it's like the Bernard Matthews bird flu scandal. He ends up getting compensation from taxpayers money. Outrageous!

And talking of outrageous, looks like the unscrupulous acts of venture capitalists has finally burst the bubble on the false economy based on loans of non-existent money. So now we all have to suffer – the dirty greedy bastards!

Who is the Real Public Enemy

A friend came round last night to ask if I'd help get her daughter out of nick. She had been arrested following trouble at t'mill and seeing as mum was the complainant, another appropriate adult had to go down to the police station. I was told it was just to collect her, but in fact she had to be processed and interviewed in front of me. D looked scared to death when they brought her out of the cells and she was surprised to see me. Later she said they had told her nothing about what was going on.

She was read her rights, and when asked about wanting a solicitor she seemed uncertain. As we were about to sign that she waived her right to a solicitor, I asked her if she was sure about that. She said that she would like to have one. The police looked a bit pissed off about that but explained that they had to get a duty solicitor. In the meantime, they would do the processing, which involved taking a description and mug shot, fingerprints and DNA swab.
Now hang on a minute: when did that one creep in? Apparently, all suspects are now DNA sampled, and this can be taken by force if necessary. D is just turned 12, and will now be on the national DNA database for life. My god! Which law was that in?
We were, however, impressed by the fingerprint computer – quite outstanding technology there!
After processing, D and I were asked to wait in the interview room, and I asked for drinks – D said she hadn't had anything to eat or drink all day and wasn't sure what time she'd been brought in – I think it was around 7.00 p.m.
I shall now try and relay the events and subsequent charges, according to both mother and daughter's events.

On Sunday night, some friends of D's came round to the house and asked if she was coming out. Her mum said no as it was 9.30 p.m. and too late, and she didn't want her being out with those friends as they were a bad influence. She locked the front door and hid the keys.
After some arguing, D picked up a chair and threatened to break the kitchen window. According to D, her mum dared her to do it and D went for the window with the chair but intended to stop before hitting it, was unable to stop and so it went through. According to mum, D hit the window with the chair twice until it broke. By both accounts, D then escaped through the open window.
D was out all night. She says she stayed at a friend's whose mother said she should talk to her mum, and D agreed but said she needed to calm down first so was allowed to stay over. Her mum reckons she stayed out all night in the park, because...

At 7.00 a.m. Monday morning, D cam back to the house and went into the living room. The telly was on so D thought her mum was awake, but she was asleep on the sofa bed. According to mum, D stole a packet of cigarettes and money from her handbag. According to D, she took the cigs as her friends had asked her to get some, but she didn't even see the handbag thus hadn't taken the money. D left the house again.

D returned later, and tried to go upstairs. Her mum told her to get out, and D replied it was her house too. According to mum, D attacked her, grabbing her wrists and kicking her twice. According to D, mum grabbed her hair, and D kicked her once to get her off, then ran off again.
The police later found D in the park and at first told her they were taking her home. However, I think it was at this point that the police advised mum to bring charges so that D would have to go to the police station and it would put her off crime for life.

From what I saw, it has done the trick, but it's rather a harsh lesson. D was eventually given a juvenile reprimand: the charge sheet itemised reckless damage and stealing cigarettes (she'll laugh about that later). This will be against her record until she is 18. We finally got out at 12.45 a.m., 3 hours after I arrived at the station. As we were leaving, the officers said they new D's friends well and advised her not to hang around with them. I think she had by now worked out for herself this was not a good idea.

Both D and her mum said they wanted to move away, although they had some different ideas as to where.

I've known D since she was 3 and when she was younger, she witnessed a lot of domestic violence between her parents and had no real boundaries or routines such as regular bedtimes. Until a couple of years ago, she seemed to be growing up relatively unscathed, but she is hitting adolescence with a bang.

I was glad to be there for D and I hope it really has scared her enough to stay out of trouble. But I have a bad feeling about her now being on the police database at just turned 12 (even though she acts like she's going on 16!). I have been reading some articles about the DNA database, and a lot of commentators have pointed out that it brings us one step closer to a police state. I concur, but not one of them mentions that it could be yet another way of criminalising a generation of young people. At least D didn't get an ASBO – don't get me started on that one!

Let me just ask - who is the real public enemy? D, or the system that turns her into a criminal for having a fight with her mum?

Beer Garden Party

Just by chance, we found out on Friday that Man-Machine, a Kraftwerk tribute band (the best according to their poster, the only one in Europe according to one web source) were playing in one of our local pubs the following night. My websearch also taught me they were playing Bestival and supporting Chemical Brothers (ironically enough!) and Pet Shop Boys. Well, we thought, this could be great or it could be terrible, but we had to go and find out for ourselves.
We tried rallying the troops but to little avail, although we did manage to convince some very nice people that we had just met to give it a try. We took up our places in the beer garden as the band set up their technology complete with laser displays, under the covered patio. They gave us a good show with the usual favourites including Autobahn, The Robots and The Model, as well as some lesser known tracks.

Predictably, after a relatively nice day, it started to rain and they feared for their equipment and finished hastily on a few tracks from other bands including Faithless. Bravely we stuck it out, marvelling at how pretty the raindrops looked in the lasers – like green and red glitter – a bit like Christmas!

We could tell they were wondering (as were we) what on earth they were doing playing in a pub beer garden in the north of England, and at one point said 'we've never played at a garden party before'. It could only be Britain couldn't it? Sitting outside in the rain listening to electronic music! We had a chat to them as they were packing up, and I asked them what brought them up here from the Isle of Wight. It turned out that one of their wives ran a Punch tavern pub and did an article for their magazine, and they were interested in the band and asked if they could advertise them for hire to Punch pub licensees, hence why Liz, landlady of the White Swan, ended up with them in her beer garden.

Very surreal. Very fun. You can check the band out on myspace, and if you get chance, go see them!

Mini Glastonbury

At the risk of being boring and predictably English, I am afraid it is still the great British summer that occupies my thoughts yet again this week. It is now getting to the stage that I can't even remember the last day it didn't rain. Oh no, wait a minute! It was Thursday so only 3 days ago, but i think that was the only day of the week that was dry.
This weekend there is a music festival on here called 'World on Your doorstep'. The idea is really good – music from around the world, but by people who live in and around the region. As the weather was shit, we went down quite late yesterday and saw just a few acts, the highlight being The Ukrainians who do a mix of trad., original and cover tracks. Very funny in places, especially Anarchy in the Ukraine.

Food and drink (no alcohol) was in the form of Asian cuisine, West Indian BBQ (I think) and an organic fairtrade cafe, ran by floaty organic fairtrade hippies whose heads were obviously full of alfalfa sprouts thus rendering them incapable of serving anyone faster than snail pace. They were cute though and I loved the 'tour of the cakes'. Our mate got quite irate at their ineptitude and tendency to go off and do a spot of washing up when there was a queue of people waiting for coffee.

The muddy kids and dogs were enough to cheer anyone up though. A few toddlers had made an impromptu paddling pool amidst the soaking grass, and many a game was spotted which involved making your mates slip in the mud in interesting and amusing ways. Well, you might as well have a laugh otherwise you'd just kill yourself wouldn't you? It's like having our own mini Glastonbury!


This impression is further enhanced by the presence of a number of middle aged and elderly people in strange clothes with a tendency to partake in strange dancing and generally behave as if they are from another planet. It is a constant source of mystery where these people go the rest of the time. You may occasionally see them in the organic grocers but never in the co-op or anywhere else normal. Where do they hide?

Forty days more?

Today is St. Swithin's day, and they say that if it rains today, it will rain for the next forty days and forty nights. And guess what? Yep, it rained. Even the weatherman this morning seemed to believe this folk adage. Oh dear!

Apparently, the following rhyme has been known since Elizabethan times:
'St Swithin’s Day, if it does rainFull forty days, it will remainSt Swithin’s Day, if it be fairFor forty days, t'will rain no more.'
I must admit to never having heard this before, so thanks to Woodlands Junior School, Kent for their informative website. I have found that lots of schools have informative websites, which I think is brilliant.

Anyway, I went on about the crappy British summer last time, so maybe I should change the record. Actually, yesterday was quite nice – there was even some sun, and there were at least 2 days last week when it didn't rain, although it wasn't what you'd call warm.

Last night we went to the pub for the first time since the smoking ban and it was quite odd.
Predictably, lots of people were outside smoking but as the night wore on it got a bit chilly for al fresco drinking so there was lots of coming and going... and some impromptu entertainment from a couple of women doing dirty dancing. Very funny!

Summer of Mud

Despite the fact that I read in the paper yesterday that it is too early to write off the British summer, I am becoming increasingly resigned to the fact that it is going to be a complete wash-out. After a fabulous April, May was mixed, but June and the beginning of July have been horrendous. While we were experiencing unseasonal weather conditions in Northern Ireland at the end of June, much of England was experiencing some of the worst flooding in years and Glastonbury was a predictable mud-bath.

An item on the Countryfile programme this morning highlighted the environmental impact of festivals (of which there are about 400 this summer) including the amount of rubbish and leftover belongings scattering the Glastonbury site. This included 10,000 tents, and not all of them of the cheap pop-up variety. I was astounded at the waste! Furthermore, I (along with those who leave their tents behind I guess) assumed these would be recycled, but many end up as landfill. I suppose there are just too many of them. People should be ashamed of themselves!

Yesterday we went to an event that was part of Garforth Arts festival called 'Playground Party' We went because there were some good acts on, including Eliza Carthy and the Ratcatchers, Kate Rusby and Courtney Pine (we didn't stay for him). However, it was a small event attended mainly by local people and I was quite surprised at the calibre of musicians they had got to play there. One of the good things about it was that there was hardly any rubbish lying around. Most people seemed to be disposing of it responsibly and a group of young people were also going around collecting waste.

The item on Countryfile raised the issue of whether urban festivals were more environmental, and I have to say that the Garforth event did seem to have less of an environmental impact. Mind you, I had to drive there as the trains stop so bloody early, which was a shame as I do like to use public transport where possible.

If the powers-that-be really are serious about wanting us to 'go green' they should make it easy for us such as having a truly affordable integrated public transport system, collecting ALL our recyclable waste (see my blog 20 May 2007) and stop hectoring us!

Meanwhile, back to the weather. What plans can we make for future festivals and camping trips with all this damn rain? Fields and parks are so waterlogged still that casualties already include the Bradford Mela, the Mytholmroyd Gala, and possibly the Huddersfield carnival. Hardly earth-shattering events I grant you, but the fact that they're not going ahead makes the crappy summer even more dismal. So now we will probably plan an escape to the Med., but so is everyone else so what hope for a cheap bargain? Oh well, I guess if we don't go abroad we can feel smug about the size of our 'carbon footprint (sic).

Notes on a Small Province

We have just returned from a holiday in Northern Ireland, and I think it is no exaggeration to say it was the funniest holiday ever. This was due to a number of factors; firstly, the extreme weather conditions including torrential showers, gale-force winds and night-time temperatures of around 5 degrees Celsius (at the end of June for God's sake!).

Thankfully, our brand new weather-proof tent bought specifically in anticipation of such adverse conditions, withstood the test with flying colours. We even managed to cook dinner most nights. In fact, it became part of the challenge. Even on the last night in camp when we said we would go out to a restaurant if it rained, we changed our minds.

Secondly, the people are quite funny, and I don't mean this in a horrid way but in the new era of the re-convened assembly where politicians from all sides seem to at last be talking and getting on, we got the distinct impression that there might be tolerance, but in many cases that's as much as we can hope for and we should be thankful they can even manage that. Many towns literally wear their colours on their sleeve, and you can tell as soon as you drive in whether it is inhabited by people of English, Scottish or Irish descent, or it is mixed.

Unusually for us, we avoided most public houses as they looked uninviting to say the least. Many had blacked-out windows so you couldn't check it out before entering the door, and you would have had to squeeze past one or more dodgy-looking fellas loitering around the entrance smoking, it already being illegal to smoke inside public premises in Northern Ireland (joined by England yesterday so we got an early glimpse of things to come...). So what's funny here, you say? Well, in the mornings, Radio Ulster has a 'phone in and whatever the topic, it turns into a slanging match between the two sides. The best one was arguing about car parking in the hospital and a woman shouting at the representative of the parking company whose head office happens to be in London 'It's because we're Irish. You hate us 'cos we're Irish!' On another occasion, over an argument concerning taxi pick-up rules, one vociferous caller instructed a man on the other side of the divide to 'fuck off and go fuck yerself!' Charming! You can certainly see how this kind of attitude boils over into violence.

Indeed, there were a few reports of rather nasty murder cases in the papers and on the radio while we were there. In one case, a woman accused her sister who had killed her own husband of being 'an afterbirth .... my ma chucked away the wrong bit'. In another case, the victim feigned death and overheard his attacker asking a mate to go and fetch a saw so he could cut up the body to dispose of it! Jeez!

Another funny aspect for us was how little money we spent, and not for want of trying. It is the only UK holiday where I've spent below-budget. Obviously, not going to pubs much helped, but also lunches when we were out during the day were really cheap cafe affairs, usually involving chips or champ (mashed potatoes with scallions/spring onions in case you were wondering). And hardly anything to buy, although we did get some cheap nice clothes – just as well as the summer clothes we brought were completely useless and we ran out of warm pants and fleeces!

Anyway, we had a really good time in spite of/because of these idiosyncrasies, and I learned a lot about the place and the roots of the troubles etc. (Derry is a fascinating place to visit to get historical perspective). It will be interesting to see if the new era of peace lasts (I really hope so) and if the expected increase in tourism will change the place and there will be gourmet restaurants outside of Belfast (which is fab by the way; may write more about that later!)

Stand up and winge!

I may have mentioned before, but it annoyed me yet again this week how much English people winge about stuff but put up with it. I refer specifically to the impending ban on smoking in all public places, which hardly anyone I know agrees with, whether they smoke or not. Most people do agree that smoking is not healthy and would support a policy where premises such as pubs and clubs were obliged to provide no smoking areas, but to impose a total ban is seen as unnecessary and extreme by the majority of people I have talked to.

It is the fact that more and more, in practically every area of life, we are being told what we can can't do. This week, the 'non-smoking police' came to visit my boss, and the next day, a sign appeared on the door to the premises saying “it is illegal to smoke on these premises”. I felt like writing underneath “not 'til 1st July!” Our offices are already no smoking and people go outside for a cig. I asked my boss why the sign was already up and she informed me that that was the guidance. For a lefty who probably spent time at Greenham Common in her younger days, I found this a surprisingly conformist attitude. Even more so as I haven't seen these signs up anywhere else as yet.

One thing that may not have dawned on a lot of people is that if a professional comes to visit you at home in a work capacity, it is illegal for you to smoke while they are there. Firstly, where do they get off telling you what you can and can't do in your own space, and secondly, what about people that need lots of care at home and people like nurses are there all or most of the time? It really is ludicrous.

The point is though, that nobody ever stands up and says 'no!' anymore. We will winge and but we will comply. Everyone says there's no point actively opposing the ban as no-one else will. This is tru if you have that attitude, but if people stuck together, we could change things, but no-one will.

Someone said yesterday 'what's next?' Well, as reported in the press last week, it's clamping down on people drinking wine at home. Excuse me, but as above this is totally ridiculous. What I do in my home is my business, whether the powers that be think it's good for me or not. Fuck off and stop telling us what to do!

History Repeating

We often use the phrase 'history repeating itself', but do we really think about how true this phrase is, especially when it comes to political shennanigans?

The fantastic series “Andrew Marr's History of Modern Britain” puts things frighteningly into perspective. As a child, I was brought up in a household where opinion was largely;y influence by my father, who was a staunch labour trades unionist. I think he genuinely thought that the sun shone out of Harold Wilson's backside. Either he didn't know, or was in denial about, what a two-faced spin merchant he really was!

I watched last week's episode of Andrew Marr's programme with a deepening sense of foreboding as I realised the stark parallels between what was happening then and what is happening now and in particular, how much like our very own Tony Blair, Mr. Wilson was.

Example:
1970's
Q: So, Mr. Wilson, why didn't you tell the Americans where to get off during Vietnam?
A: Err, because they were bankrolling the UK.

2000's
Q: So, Mr. Blair, why are we following the Yanks into Iraq?
A: Err, 'cos they're still bankrolling us. (Actually we just paid off our debt from WW2 so can we pull out now please?)

Sun and soccer equals sirens

It is a constant source of wonder to me that there is such a close correlation between sunny weather and unruly drunken behaviour. The correlation becomes stronger if a. it is a weekend or bank holiday b. there is a significant football match afoot.

All of these factors were present on Friday evening. After the recent bad weather, it had been a lovely sunny afternoon and England were playing Brazil in a football friendly. This brought out the inevitable crowds of blokes to drink copious amounts of beer and shout racist abuse at the pub telly. England narrowly escaped victory through the now-too-inevitably painful occurrence of the opposition scoring a goal in the last minute of injury time. Still, at least they didn't lose so not too much fighting and trouble afterwards.

The next day, however, the fine weather continued and as we meandered through town on a pleasant stroll, the familiar sound of sirens wailing and the sight of emergency vehicles screeching down the main road could be witnessed at regular intervals throughout the course of the day, and into the evening. What's wrong with people ? Why can't they just
enjoy the moment, and sit in the sun with a nice ice cream or pop? It would make for a much quieter life!