http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/en-UKMokoFeed10http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/http://data5.blog.de/design/preview/be/afe804e84d25ee07f02448b37a3c1d_160x200.jpghttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/28/beware_trackbacks/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-28:/2005/07/28/beware_trackbacks/Thu, 28 Jul 2005 11:32:27 +0200 <p>Does anybody understand the trackback feature on our blogs? I don't. Auto-trackback is enabled by default on our blogs but you can uncheck this in your settings tab. I did so today because, over the past 36 hours, I received a number of emails informing me of new trackbacks to a post I made about a month ago, with a link to edit it. However, I was unable to find anyway to delete individual trackbacks. And why did I want to delete them? Because all of them pointed to urls that were very explicitly porn and quite revolting. The second disturbing factor about these trackbacks is that all but one point to my post on the blog.de domain - I was unaware of its existence. The latest notification I got was on the blog.co.uk domain which means that these malicious people managed to jump domains, based on the same blog post. So, I have managed to switch off the trackback feature and these links are no longer visible on my blog. But are they still visible to search engine spiders, the FBI, and general snoops that patrol adult content - will I be showing up on these radar screens? </p> <p>I have emailed support and hope they will act soon - at least to explain the intended purpose of these trackbacks. In my ignorance, they have proved a backdoor to my site and to a site I didn't know I had.</p> <p>I have been reading the post, <a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/main/index.php/dotdot/2005/06/29/training_in_england">Training in England</a>, trying to figure out why it would be a target for porn marketeers. I can see absolutely no connection - unless training is perv slang for some revolting activity.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/28/beware_trackbacks/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/28/beware_trackbacks/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/24/title_12732/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-24:/2005/07/24/title_12732/Sun, 24 Jul 2005 18:57:20 +0200 <p>A 29 year-old Brazilian electrician - I bet he never expected to die on the floor of the tube in Stockwell. "He looked Pakistani" said the best eye-witness in the land (or so he seemed at the time) but he was Brazilian. We lived next door to Jose and Maria from Portugal for a while, in the grounds of a chateau in France. We were renting and they were the old retainers. Jose had been in France for 31 years, left there about age 20, bit of a soccer player. After 31 years he would still wear vest, shirt and at least 2 jumpers until July. By mid-July he might be seen to bare his arms, but only in a heatwave. </p> <p>They speak Portuguese in Brazil and they wear lots of warm clothes when they are away from home. Maybe he didn't understand English, maybe he was cold, but why jump the barrier at the station. No money for a ticket? Illegal immigrant? Pocketful of drugs? Just scared and pure unlucky? Will we ever know?</p> <p>Until recently I would have assumed that secrecy would prevail and mistakes would be covered up. During recent events the police have been remarkably candid - perhaps because they realise they have to if they are to have any credibility as guardians of our security. An innocent man was pumped full of bullets on the tube by police marksmen working on bad intelligence - nothing good about it. But at least they admitted it - that's a start. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/24/title_12732/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/24/title_12732/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/23/pin_the_tail_on_the_donkey/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-23:/2005/07/23/pin_the_tail_on_the_donkey/Sat, 23 Jul 2005 23:12:08 +0200 <p>Today the Met (London Metropolitan Police) apologised for the Stockwell shooting and admitted they got it wrong. Five bullets pumped into the wrong guy. </p> <p>Why did he run, ignore calls to stop, leap over the ticket barrier? His intention was to escape his pursuers - Why? Was he deaf? Did he not understand English? Was he going about a relatively minor piece of mischief, such as carrying drugs or pirated CDs? Or was he one of London's vulnerable "care in the community" people - festering in an alternative reality in a dingy bedsit in Stockwell. </p> <p>I will add the policeman that pumped 5 bullets into the chest of a "frightened rabbit" to my list of victims of this madness. He has to live with himself tomorrow and the day after. I want to know how they got it so wrong - is their intelligence so flimsy and unreliable? Are we just pinning tails on donkeys or have we got something to go on? </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/23/pin_the_tail_on_the_donkey/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>terrorismstockwelllondonhttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/23/pin_the_tail_on_the_donkey/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/23/more_trouble_in_london/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-23:/2005/07/23/more_trouble_in_london/Sat, 23 Jul 2005 12:14:03 +0200 <p>Last Thursday it seemed to be happening again - three tubes and the number 26 bus in Hackney, just by Bethnal Green. Nobody hurt because the bombs didn't work. One theory goes that the recent police raids uncovered the bombers' stock of detonators and they had to improvise - badly it would appear. </p> <blockquote><p>One fanatical islamic fundamentalist scientist wanted for a variety of freelance projects, must speak English like a native, be of impeccable character (i.e. below the security radar) and be available at short notice. The role will involve frequent travel abroad and multiple passports will be an asset. The candidate will be working with teams of young people and strong motivational skills are essential.</p></blockquote> <p>I just made that up because I am trying to imagine how you recruit for these activities. Seems it's not so easy to make a bomb that works, which was just as well for Londoners at the moment. But there's little consolation to be derived from the knowledge that this week's lot of suicide bombers botched things up. </p> <p>Botchers they may be but they got away! This is very scary. On the tube at Shepherd's Bush (up the road from the BBC for maximum news coverage) one man was described as lying on top of his bag while it detonated but failed to explode. He then got up, ran out of the tube and down the tracks to freedom. Off home for a nice cup of tea no doubt. Like running away after a schoolboy prank.</p> <p>And where is he drinking his cup of tea - in your local caff, next door, by the coffee machine at work? He might be teaching your children or nursing your granny - he could be anywhere, anyone, he is the enemy within. He's as british as anyone else but he follows a different course - his moral map is not british. He probably went to school here, sat through the endless assemblies full of CofE moralising, preaching tolerance and inclusiveness and forgiving. This CofEness is a unique identifier of the english psyche, part of the english condition. Why is Mr. Suicide Bomber unaffected by the monotonous, repetitive power of the assembly?</p> <p>Thursday was followed by Friday (as happens) and a man in a winter coat is shot dead in a tube train in Stockwell by armed policemen. One of the world's best ever eye witnesses was on the TV half an hour later, describing the scene. He was sitting on the tube at Stockwell, reading his paper, on his way to meet his boss at London Bridge (incidentally, my sister's daily route to work). A guy half trips into the tube, is pushed to the ground by 3 armed men, and "they unloaded 5 bullets into him". He described the absolute pandemonium that followed as people fled the scene. He was giving up on work and heading to the pub for a stiff scotch instead. Another aspect of the english condition - the pub is a great refuge in a crisis.</p> <p>Now, London is in shock, like it hasn't been in recent weeks. People being shot dead in the tube is not British - it's something that you see on TV or in Bruce Willis movies. Five bullets seems a bit excessive, but he was wearing a big bulky jacket on a hot day and ignored calls to stop. And in the current climate, failing to stop is either extremely dumb or a sign that somebody has a lot to hide, perhaps a bomb. </p> <p>I was planning a trip to London today. My sister was planning to go up west shopping today. We've both cancelled and people are cancelling all over London this weekend. Why are we scared now after taking it on the chin with stoicism 2 weeks ago, in the face of such carnage? This week's bombers failed but they got away. Will they try again? How many more of them are there? 4 bombers on a carefully orchestrated and executed mission is a major incident. 4 bombers on a botched mission could become an everday occurence - any 17 year old with a rebellious streak could take a shot at martyrdom - if it works he wins and if it doesn't he runs away. And there's plenty more where he came from. Or am I getting paranoid? If I am, I am not alone - paranoia, fear, hysteria - they are all creeping in.</p> <p>Meantime, New Yorkers are subject to random searches on the subway because of the bombs in London. There's something almost peevish about this - like they are jealous of all the attention London is getting because New York should be the mother-of-all targets. Ken Livingstone ruled out such searches in London on logistical grounds. Getting to and from work in London is stressful enough as is without adding the prospect of interminable queues for searching. </p> <p>However, how will people get to work? People are becoming increasingly worried about tube travel and are seeking alternatives. Friday morning's shooting was the last straw for some - it's just not cricket to have to deal with a shooting on the way to the office. Bombs are one thing, but police marksmen and dead bodies are another.</p> <p>Are we about to see a revolution in London society, as people stop going to the office and work from home instead. If we're not out and about on the transport network they can't get us. Even with an endless stream of fanatics, they can't get us all in our houses, can they? This is not giving in to terrorism, in fact it pulls the rug from under it. Perhaps we should have a national work at home day to try it out and send a clear message to the enemy - we'll recognise you because you will be the one on the empty tube looking for a crowd to blow up.</p> <p>I don't like talking about terrorism - it is a misused and emotive term. The notion of waging war on something as vague would be laughable except that it's true. This week, for the first time since September 11, I felt terror - the terror of wondering whether the person next to you is about to trigger a bomb. The absolute terror of realising that a faceless enemy hates you with such intensity that he will not stop until he gets you. The blinding terror of feeling completely and utterly powerless to protect yourself. All day, every day.</p> <p>With every statement, the police and politicians remind us that these acts are the acts of criminals and not of a community. But the noises coming from Islamic communities do not reassure me. Pakistan may be licensing its religious schools but it is also pointing the finger firmly at Britain, saying that it needs to clean up its act. Muslims feel quite at liberty to say that as long as Britain is at war in an Islamic country she must expect what she gets. Excuse me. Why is that so? I don't agree with the Iraq war - what is legitimate about killing me? A 7 year old child has no say in the wars we wage - what is legitimate about killing them? </p> <p>Why do so many people in this country lack a sense of allegiance to their country and who give religion priority over community? Why do so many people in this country think it is acceptable not to speak English, and not to mix with English people? How has this occured and how can we fix it?</p> <p>Ever since Enoch Powell's infamous Rivers of Blood speech in the 60s, English society has been very reticent about discussing ethnic issues - it is dangerous territory, full of potential pitfalls for the politically correct. In France they are not nearly as sensitive and 63% of french people admit to having racist opinions. They think it is quite OK to do so. I don't. However, I do think there should be a couple of basic rules for all immigrants to any country - learn the local language and send your children to school with local children. </p> <p>My mate Nina taught English on a voluntary basis to muslim women in Hackney. One of her students came to her in desperation after her husband divorced her (the immam came to tell her), took their children and left her penniless and on the verge of homelessness. And she did not have enough English to get by. Nina took her to social services and the housing department and the hospital - she was also ill due to the damp in her bedsit. There isn't a Nina living on every block and there are many women in England who are not so lucky, isolated from the host community by lack of English, completely dependent on the goodwill of sexist husbands.</p> <p>In our desire to be inclusive, we have been too tolerant and turned a blind eye to sexism which came packaged with religion. In hindsight I think we are realising we have been too tolerant about a lot of things. Far too many people living here have no sense of allegiance to England; it was never a requirement. The last thing we need right now is nationalism, but it is important to be loyal to your home - this is a kind of essential social value. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/23/more_trouble_in_london/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/23/more_trouble_in_london/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/19/fruit_fest/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-19:/2005/07/19/fruit_fest/Tue, 19 Jul 2005 11:53:35 +0200 <p>More neglect of the blog - this time I've actually been writing and not getting around to posting - how sad and chaotic is that! On the weekend we took the kids to a pick-your own fruit farm. Acting on some halcyon memories of my childhood, sitting in strawberry beds on a sunny day, no need for a picnic, plenty of fruit to eat. Himself had less rosy recollections of working as a fruit picker in Kent - back-breaking work all day and you'd be lucky to clear fifteen quid at the end of it. </p> <p>The lad loved the experience, must have weighed twice as much when we left as when we got there and made nil contribution to the jam-making mission (which was the ultimate goal). Although on the border of the city, we were on the side of a mountain, overlooking the river Tamar, it was blissful. Nestling behind some trees was a grim looking council estate at the edge of the ciy - but out at the strawberry beds all you could see was nature was it was intended to be.</p> <p>We stopped at Tescos on the way home to pick up some jam sugar - their strawberries were cheaper than the ones we had just picked. There's something wrong there. But, given that we didn't pay for the lad's consumption, we were still quids in I guess.</p> <p>We made very runny jam in our electric bread maker which doubles as a jam maker and a pasta maker - every home should have one. We also made strawberry gateau and strawberry milkshakes and pancakes with runny jam. A real fruit fest like I remember from the days when fresh fruit was a seasonal treat only.</p> <p>Now, I'm going to post this before I go to a meeting. Short but very sweet. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/19/fruit_fest/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/19/fruit_fest/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/14/welcoming_the_neighbours/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-14:/2005/07/14/welcoming_the_neighbours/Thu, 14 Jul 2005 19:01:08 +0200 <p>I have neglected my blog as usual - not from lack of inspiration but sheer lack of a minute to myself. Between deadlines and school plays and meetings and the usual end of term/end of year chaos, I haven't had a second. I am stealing this moment because there's a problem with an online editing tool I was using so I can't work through the night to finish the job on time and it may have to keep until tomorrow (what a shame). </p> <p>Through my little window on the world, I watched 4 strapping lads move into a house across the road yesterday. Three of them are pretty laddish - there's a fourth who's rather neat and tidy and cycles a bicycle - he'll be the one that will keep the bills together and clean the bathroom. </p> <p>Another one brought his girlfriend round for the guided tour today. Before she went inside, she tottered back out to the pavement to dispose of her gum - not wanting to mess up the nice house or anything. Before leaving an hour later, they treated us to a fine public display of flesh and affection at the gateway. </p> <p>The one with the small, silver car is out now with his lady friend - who is less exposed. And the other two are in the back and off they go - where to I wonder?</p> <p>This is quite fun - we may have lowered the tone of the neighbourhood, I expect these guys to, at minimum, raise it a few decibels. BTW, did I mention the police dog handler living two doors up? He moved in about 6 months ago and the following night, hearing noise at the front door, the mitten answered - to be pinned to the spot by an enormous german shepherd. This is probably the best possible position to be in when you meet a new neighbour who happens to be a policeman - kinda puts him on the back foot a bit and yourself on the moral high ground. </p> <p>He likes to work out - we saw the equipment being delivered - and, since the lads moved in, he has spent an awful lot of time flexing his tanned biceps by his car. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/14/welcoming_the_neighbours/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/14/welcoming_the_neighbours/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/11/comments_1/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-11:/2005/07/11/comments_1/Mon, 11 Jul 2005 14:28:11 +0200 <p>I forgot to mention some comments I got. This from Ivona:</p> <blockquote><p>Thank you - I am here and I am reading you. I never thought that my formation is the cause of the way I think (I lived 12 years under a communist regime). Anyway, I am trying to overcome my shortcomings and walk in the other's shoes as well.</p> <p>I guess you were right about human rights. The world is not perfect, but I would like to make a contribution to improve it. Starting with myself as a first step.</p></blockquote> <p>From <a href="http://propagandabust.blog.ca">Della R</a>, is a link to her blog where she argues that Bob Geldhof is a pawn of G8 and that Tony Blair is working for Free Trade, not Fair Trade. The latter may well be true but I think you underestimate Bob and Bono. You may not like them, they don't care - they are making noise and getting attention. More than can be said for most of us. It's easy to be cynical, it's far more difficult to have some faith in people once in a while.</p> <p>POSITIVE THOUGHT 5: Things can only get better. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/11/comments_1/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/11/comments_1/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/11/words_for_george_and_positive_thoughts/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-11:/2005/07/11/words_for_george_and_positive_thoughts/Mon, 11 Jul 2005 13:52:31 +0200 <p>With lickspittle wearing a little thin, I thought George might appreciate some new material for his dictionary of archaic idiom. I can hear sneak thievery slavering from his lips in his Glaswegian drawl - actually the image is so real maybe he already said it. Jackass and popinjay could prove useful for self-descriptive purposes - any suggestions for a word to represent his bling thing?</p> <p>It's back to business as usual in Britain. I have a new resolve - I'm going to see if I can write our way out of this morass. Not me alone, nobody is that arrogant, but me and everyone I can encourage to join me. It is possible to fix things. Think local, think sustainable, think switching off the light when you leave the room. Most important, think positive and drink lots of water for the concentration.</p> <p>POSITIVE THOUGHT 1: Very few people are baying for blood - I admit to cushioning myself against fascism and extremism by not reading those newspapers so I could be missing something. But from where I'm sitting, people are calm, reasonable and determined to get on with things. Due process will take care of the rest (we hope - things have been known to go wrong on that score but let's be positive). </p> <p>POSITIVE THOUGHT 2: Bono is right, celebrity is currency and I'm glad he's spending it wisely. </p> <p>POSITIVE THOUGHT 3: I have no celebrity but I can write so that's what I'll do. Let's use our powers of persuasion, in the best language in the world, to talk to the people who hate us, resent us, fear us - and don't know us. The news coverage of the bombs surprised everybody in Saudi it seems - they had no idea that London was such a multicultural place - they thought it was full of proper white English people that say things like golly gosh. So, now that they know what we look like, let's build on it. Let's not wait for more bombs to reveal our true colours, let's take the debate to them.</p> <p>POSITIVE THOUGHT 4: the sun is shining and it's a bountiful day </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/11/words_for_george_and_positive_thoughts/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/11/words_for_george_and_positive_thoughts/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/10/hello_hackney_let_s_make_poverty_history/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-10:/2005/07/10/hello_hackney_let_s_make_poverty_history/Sun, 10 Jul 2005 13:26:27 +0200 <p>I have a new blog buddy - Ivona - she's Romanian and living in London. We don't exactly see eye to eye on things but that's not a problem - it's nice to have a medium to explore differing opinions. Our social freedoms must seem somewhat bizarre to eastern Europeans who were the victims of state-sponsored terrorism for so long. But our freedoms were hard fought for and are there for good reason. And with these freedoms come responsibilities, including the responsibility to be diligent in our pursuit of fairness and equality. </p> <p>Enough preaching. It's Sunday, the sun is shining, the coffee is fresh and all is well with my little world. Spent hours on the phone last night catching up with old friends in Hackney. I house-shared with a bunch of great women there in the 80s and rang on the off-chance that any of them was still there. And they were all there - Mary and Mary and Ruth and they're all OK. And they still know how to party. </p> <p>So - here's a positive outcome from 7/7 - old friends reuniting. Mary's mum, Nina, lives with her in rural France because she's old and infirm and can't manage the stairs in Hackney. Nina had polio as a child which left her with a bow leg and indomitable spirit. She is the epitomy of English grit and backbone. After university, undeterred by her disability, she went to Africa as a lay missionary. Her work took her to Rhodesia where she developed a deep and lasting love for the people.</p> <p>When Zimbabwe became independent, Nina, twice-widowed, mother of two grown up daughters, sold her house in Hertfordshire, split the money with her daughters and headed off to Zimbabwe to offer her help to Robert Mugabe. She had friends in high places in the new government, having befriended many of the country's young revolutionaries in her former time in the country. Due to her honesty and outspokeness, however, she soon fell foul of the regime and my first encounter with her was her arrival in Heathrow airport, following her deportation, worldly goods contained in two plastic carrier bags.</p> <p>The plane was full so they had to stick our bag lady in first class, where she sipped champagne and doubtless regaled the passengers with the extraordinary stories of her life. Nina nursed two husbands while raising two daughters, largely single-handed. They had an unusual and unconventional upbringing, their home always open to the wounded, the lame, and the infirm. Their extended family included transexuals, criminals and down-and-outs - you never quite knew who might arrive on a visit.</p> <p>Nina moved in with us in Hackney. If I feared her presence might hamper our style a bit, I was soon reassured. We were party central and a drop-in centre for the neighbourhood. Every Sunday, she'd perform the miracle of the loaves and fishes and you never knew who might turn up at the dinner table. We'd take her down the local for a G & T and the stories could get quite outrageous - what a life, what a woman.</p> <p>Nina's coming to Cornwall on holiday soon and I hope I'll get to see her. She became like a surrogate mother to me (my mother was enchanted by her) but then she's like everyone's surrogate mother.</p> <p>Another buddy joins the club, stoneleaf, - he says: </p> <blockquote><p>The way the west treats the rest of the world really pisses off a whole lot of people but we just refuse to acknowledge this in its entirety. Sure most of them aren't angry enough to kill, but there're plenty angry enough to turn a blind eye, to lend someone a bed for the night or else help in some indirect way.</p></blockquote> <p>This is so true. Take trip through rural Ireland some time, awash with arms caches buried on remote farms - people turn a blind eye, partly because of the low level support stoneleaf describes, but partly because of intimidation - the intimidation highlighted by the bold McCartney sisters following their brother's brutal death at the hand of terrorists.</p> <p>One man's terrorist is another man's freedom fighter. As long as we continue taking the lion's share of the world's wealth and resources, the ranks of our enemies will continue to grow. Bono is speaking in rhyming couplets these days - he's just too damned eloquent for words. On G8 and Africa he talked about climbing the mountain, reaching the peak only to reveal another peak on the horizon, so you keep climbing. We must keep climbing and make poverty history. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/10/hello_hackney_let_s_make_poverty_history/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>london-bombsg8londonbonohackneymake-poverty-historymccartneyhttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/10/hello_hackney_let_s_make_poverty_history/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/09/plea_recover_the_bodies_please/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-09:/2005/07/09/plea_recover_the_bodies_please/Sat, 09 Jul 2005 22:41:17 +0200 <p>I've tried umpteen times to get writing today but constant distractions. <a href="http://www.werenotafraid.com/?cat=2">Major distraction at WE ARE NOT AFRAID</a>. Daniel Rohrig was front page when I arrived but he's been buried deep in the archives - but you must see this picture - <a href="http://www.werenotafraid.com/?p=388">here's the deep link</a>. </p> <p>I think people in England have been confused, scared and distracted since Thatcher first kicked welly. It took a pair of gobby Irish shites, a successful Olympic bid and 4 bombs to bring Britain back to its senses and restore its confidence. </p> <p>The world expects wailing but instead they get calm. Public displays of emotion are not British - the way of things here in a crisis is to straighten your shoulders and make yourself useful. And people were very useful - offering help instead of running for cover. </p> <p>We're back to the times of suspicion. In the 80s a mate of mine travelled to London, first time out of Ireland, and got rather drunk en route, as you do, it can be a long and emotional journey. Destination Kilburn, he got a bit dozy waiting for the tube and, in his confusion getting on the train, forgot a bag of precious music tapes - did I mention he was a musician and a mighty good spoon player?</p> <p>Shortly after his arrival at base, sans music, the police were at the door and arrested the lot of them. They had carried out a controlled explosion in the tube station and were a mite annoyed - so was my mate, his precious, unique store of Irish music was dust.</p> <p>My mate was no threat to anyone but himself perhaps, and left London, disillusioned, as quickly as he had come, sad lesson learnt. Being Irish and living in London in the times of the Harrod bombing, the Canary wharf bombing - you are not the most popular person in the boozer. You have to modify your tones, whisper at times, in case your accent might give offence or draw the wrong attention.</p> <p>I cannot imagine how difficult it is for London's Muslim communities this week - victims like the rest of us but with the harsh, hostile glare of public suspicion hanging over them. Separated from the local community by social and political events that are not of their design or desire. Pity the parents grieving their children, and the children grieving their parents. </p> <p>This vicious and lamentable assault struck at some of the centres of the Islamic community in London - in Aldgate and Edgeware Road - the former is a focal point for the poor, and the ultra-rich Arabs congregate aroung the Edgeware Road, just a stretch up the road from Park Lane and Marble Arch. Whoever did this thing did not care for poor or rich, Islamic or no. </p> <p>What does this tell us about our enemy I ask. Not a lot is my non-forensic, non-police-like response - haven't got a notion. But I hope the police have. I hope the police catch these plonkers before ordinary people do. I hope they get the evidence together to stitch them up good time. </p> <p>However, TOP PRIORITY is to RECOVER THE BODIES THAT ARE STILL TRAPPED - bugger the forensics. If my kid or next-door-neighbour was missing, I would care less for forensic evidence and prefer to dig in and be done with it. Are the forensic teams hampering recovery or am I just too cynical for words?</p> <p>As time goes by, Kings X becomes our Ground Zero. We've always had the capacity to f**k it up ourselves, with stray cigarette stubs and the like. What blows it for me is the people/bodies are still trapped. Fix it now, please. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/09/plea_recover_the_bodies_please/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>london-bombslondon7-7kings-crosshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/09/plea_recover_the_bodies_please/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/07/7_7_and_then_there_were_seven/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-07:/2005/07/07/7_7_and_then_there_were_seven/Thu, 07 Jul 2005 20:10:45 +0200 <p>I turned on the TV and the news was bizarre - a power surge seemed to be knocking out tube trains all over London, huh? As time went on the power surge story sounded more and more ridiculous. When the bus blew up my fears were confirmed - these were bombs.</p> <p>It was a number 30 bus, on its way to town from Hackney Wick. A tragic way to mark London 2012. Two people confirmed dead on the bus and there's speculation it was London's first suicide bombing. </p> <p>Spent the morning trying to call people. Gradually the texts started arriving but some messages were taking hours due to mobile network congestion I assume. On 9/11 my dispersed family (including some in the states) didn't manage to complete the check in until about 1am. </p> <p>Last week I walked that route in the sunshine as I wended my way to the Papageno. It must be weird there tonight. The renowned bulldog british spirit kicked in like lightening today - talk about stoicism or is it just plain ordinary shock.</p> <p>And so, Tones had to leave G8 and then they were 7. Only for the afternoon, but he's still in town which won't leave much horse-trading time tonight. I'm sure Jacques likes to get an early night and George will be busy at his prayers. Can we squeeze some reality out of George by tomorrow - from a country where it is illegal to teach evolution why would they believe in global warming? </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/07/7_7_and_then_there_were_seven/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>london-bombsg8londonlondon-20127-7http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/07/7_7_and_then_there_were_seven/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/07/the_road_to_2012/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-07:/2005/07/07/the_road_to_2012/Thu, 07 Jul 2005 10:53:57 +0200 <p>What a day it was for Tones yesterday - he's on a roll and so is England. What a coup - Olympics 2012 for London, exactly what the country needs. If you're not familiar with London you are probably visualising palaces and princes and, with Princess Ann on the bid team, I think we can be assured of lots of royal waves during the event. </p> <p>But forget the royals and think Hackney - the poorest borough in Britain - source I presume of the "hackney cab" and "hackneyed" conversations. It's my favourite place in London, my second home for a number of years and where I made many lifelong friends - I even met himself there. </p> <p>My favourite approach to Hackney is to take the 253 bus through the windy streets of the City, via the smells, colour and chaos of Whitechapel market, and finally up Cambridge Heath Road towards Hackney. Along the Whitechapel Road you pass the Jolly Beggars pub where one of the Kray brothers is reputed to have nailed a guy's hands to the floor! The side streets were the hunting ground of Jack the Ripper and small wonder really. For centuries Whitechapel has been the first port of call for immigrants to England - a vast, seething, melting pot of cultures, ideas, languages (and potential victims for murderers and gangsters) . . . They reckon there are 252 languages spoken in London (there are fewer 250 ISO country codes). </p> <p>I like to get off the bus at Bethnal Green, the southern point of Hackney where there's a lovely Museum of Childhood (in Hackney!) if you have time on your hands. Alternatively, the Rose and Crown pub right by the bus stop can often be more tempting. To the right, the Victoria Park Road leads to one of London's finest public parks and straight on is the grime and bustle of Mare Street - main street Hackney. The far side of Victoria Park is our goal - the wasteland that is set to be transformed into a 21st century dream.</p> <p>London's amazing network of canals runs through Victoria Park - you can traverse north and east London along the canal paths without seeing a car or a bus. You do, however, encounter the occasional fisherman, thousands of pounds worth of kit, ice-bag stocked with beer, large dog lounging around and mouth full of squirming worms. I kid you not. The worms wiggle more effectively if they are warm. It's an ancient Cockney tradition.</p> <p>Ali, my flatmate, introduced his 4 year old son to cycling by taking him on a ride north westwards along the canal path through Islington, through King's Cross and right up to Camden Lock - the poor lad slept for a week after his ordeal. Ali was a 40+ bicycle courier - usually a young man's game but Ali had boundless energy. </p> <p>If you travel north east on the canal from Victoria Park, it takes you past the Top of the Morning Pub where a pit stop could be in order. It's a pretty typical pub for the area - like many places near the park it has an air of faded gentility, a bit run down, a bit rough and ready, but noisy and lively and friendly. And they come in every imaginable size, shape, colour and sexual persuasion. </p> <p>Onwards from the pub and you arrive at our destination - Hackney Wick (drop the H if you want to sound local), gateway to Hackney marshes and London 2012. Acres and acres of space lost to the dog walkers and local football clubs. They never built a tube line to Hackney - because it was too poor and now an ongoing reason for its poverty. People thought I was insane to live there because of its cruddy transport links. But if you get into life in Hackney, you only leave when you have to. And with a 38 bus running door to door from home through Holborn, Covent Garden and onto Picadilly, what need had I for a smelly tube?</p> <p>With no tube Hackney is a foreign country to most Londoners. It has so many hidden secrets - the marshes, the canals, the parks, the music, the markets, the pubs and some very cool people. Hackney usually makes it to the news for bad reasons - drug crime, bad schools that sort of thing. And it has its grim side, no doubt about it. But there's a common ground in poverty and there's a "we're all in the same boat together, man" attitude that is easy and relaxed. </p> <p>A bloke I knew wandered, blind-drunk, into a Supermarket by Ridley Road market one evening, filled a basket with goods including more beer, staggered outside without paying and sat down for a little rest. When he was awoken by the security man he spotted that his beers had been nicked from his basket. They immediately replaced the beers at no charge and sent him on his way! It was only when he got home he discovered he had spent no money.</p> <p>Ali used to go to Tesco's in Well Street late on Saturday afternoons to buy up the goodies on knock down pricing. He witnessed an incident where a staff member on the butchery counter spotted somebody eating the goods and accosted him. The hungry customer broke into a run down the aisles, chased by a growing number of the staff. Cornered finally in the back of the crowded store, six members of staff hoisted him up on their shoulders like a corpse, transported him thus from the premises before dumping him on the pavement outside to the amazement of onlookers. I don't see that happening in Kensington.</p> <p>At 8.50 this morning a power surge occured at Liverpool street station - several people injured - other stations affected - walking wounded leaving King's Cross - now described as a major incident and entire system is being shut down. Initial reports of a bomb/terrorist incident have been discounted. Must turn on the TV. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/07/the_road_to_2012/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>hackneylondon-2012http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/07/the_road_to_2012/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/05/continuing_on_the_road_to_dunstan/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-05:/2005/07/05/continuing_on_the_road_to_dunstan/Tue, 05 Jul 2005 23:01:58 +0200 <p>Yesterday I had an email from a Dunstan in Michigan, read my Dunstan musings on this blog and wondered if we were related. A bit of to and fro by email suggests that our great grandfathers were brothers, making us second cousins - too close to marry in the genetic scheme of things and therefore we would be mindful to know of each other's existence. Hello and looking forward to getting to know you, Robert and family.</p> <p>My mother had so much family and local history lore that none of her children bothered with the detail - she had it all in her head. But she's gone, the Dunstan line is paternal, my Dad's gone as well, so the line gets more obscure. Add to the obscurity the big question - whither the Dunstans to Ireland? </p> <p>A Morgan Dunstan, married, seaman, from County Cork, was recorded as living in Pembroke in the 1901 census. Other than him, there is no further evidence in that period that Dunstan has connections with Wales. However, brief online research suggests that Dunstans hail from Cornwall, particularly in the Redruth and Bude areas and they worked their way northwards to Lancashire and other mining districts during the industrial revolution. </p> <p>Given the long history of Cork city as a European trading centre because of the butter market, Dunstans could have arrived in the area for a myriad of maritime or trading reasons. Or was their mass arrival in Moneyvollehane due to the political climes of the time? </p> <p>As an historian I know where to go to follow obscure threads in Ireland but England is a whole new kettle of sources and divergence. I want to map out the boreens to and from Moneyvollehane for the Dunstans - feel free to help. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/05/continuing_on_the_road_to_dunstan/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/05/continuing_on_the_road_to_dunstan/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/05/live8_discovery_and_adventure/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-07-05:/2005/07/05/live8_discovery_and_adventure/Tue, 05 Jul 2005 19:52:42 +0200 <p>Not a minute to spare lately and still no job. Bits of jobs keeping hunger at bay but nothing worth writing home or here about. And then a call today - guess what - Stevenage again. If the Martians were using job ads as an indicator of intelligence, Stevenage would be in the A stream. Picture their consternation when they land in the "shopping centre", the ship is burnt out by the local wide boys, and they can't find the train station.</p> <p>Obviously the last interview didn't work out but it got people reading and buddy Dawn has even pulled out the maps. Ian tells me his worst escape from a new town was from Swindon. My worst was a ladies (euphemism) pub outing from London to a social club in Slough for a jolly. Slough may not qualify as a new town (I don't know what the definition is) but it was new to me and what I saw lacked character and soul. Who would choose such an itinerary - down to the bizarre tastes of a mature scottish barmaid in a pub in the basement of the tower block in Hackney (map reference for Dawn: London, Hackney/Shoreditch, Downham Road off Kingsland road) where I lived at the time. </p> <p>John Betjeman was from Slough and penned the poem, The Slough of Despond. Despite liking Betjeman, I never read it, couldn't make my way past the unpromising title. An Irish poet, Paul Durcan, wrote a similar/parody poem on the subject of Drimoleague (map reference for Dawn: Ireland, County Cork, West Cork). I ran an art gallery there for a while - great times, grim times. </p> <p>These towns should twin and make a joint bid to attract hyperactive tourists who will benefit from the grey, featureless and depressive riches these places have to offer. We could start a whole league of depressive resorts and do a sort of exchange tourism, sending their residents on hols to new towns and Hackney and places with a bit of edge and dangerous creativity - but never any soul.</p> <p>Was there soul and edge at Live8 do you think? It was not there on Saturday when Madonna practically handcuffed a beautiful, dignified African woman to her, the woman whose death's door photos as a baby sparked our generosity twenty years ago. Madonna wonders if England is ready for revolution - her every gesture towards this lovely lady spoke of control, power and was totally devoid of empathy or class. Go home Madonna please, you impress me about as much as George double U at this point.</p> <p>The plusses of Live8 included Will Smith's finger-clicking cleverness and general, all-rounder, hunkability. A favourite Irish singer of mine, Brush Shiels, told me in always aims to be just a shade more entertaining than the previous act - never show them up but never be overshadowed. Dido and Yossou n'Dour did not spare their energies for Live8, hopping from London to the Eden Project and onto Paris to take the 7 second message to a new universe of listeners. Where was Neneh Cherry? How could you not want to be part of that party, singing with the songbird of Senegal.</p> <p>Andy Kershaw was angry at the lack of african music on the original plan and Chris from Coldplay (who has been reading far too many of his own rave reviews, like wife Gwynneth) got straight in there, defending the motives and goals of the mighty Bob Geldhof. My thinking is that Bob Geldhof knows exactly what he wants to achieve, is not particularly concerned by Andy Kershaw's attacks which might be attributed to sour grapes, and has been working towards these plans for a long time, perhaps 20 years. However, I also think he may be wrong, a pawn to Blair, and also reading too many personal rave reviews.</p> <p>I'd prefer to spend radio time any day with Andy Kershaw and the wonderful musicians he discovers and nurtures. But the purpose of Live8 was about glitz and media and spin - to make it sexy and exciting to give back some of the western comfort and wealth to the societies we raped to pay for it. Andy needs to look forward to the future of the continent that is collapsing around the culture he does such a good job at exploring and sharing. There really isn't much time for pussyfooting - we need to hold hands and overlook the little offences right now.</p> <p>Tomorrow I will blog on the march to Edinburgh - not there but I lived there and know the city intimately. It will be fun. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/05/live8_discovery_and_adventure/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/07/05/live8_discovery_and_adventure/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/29/training_in_england/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-29:/2005/06/29/training_in_england/Wed, 29 Jun 2005 16:34:17 +0200 <p>I've been lax of late because I've been dashing around the country to interviews looking for a job. My travels have taken me to Bristol, London and Stevenage, using a full medley of train operators and routes. There's a delightful section of track near Exeter which runs along the water's edge and brings back memories of a less congested era - I always look forward to it. </p> <p>Until Monday's trip with First Great Western. I avoided the crowds by travelling mid-day but I merely exchanged commuters for drunken louts off on their hols (god love their hosts). The train was absolutely manky, with piles of rubbish stacked up at the end of the snack bar, the carpet looking as if a tractor had just passed through and I won't mention the toilets. For their next trick to make our journey a happy one, they announce that opening the windows in the corridors causes the air conditioning to stop working. Red rag to a bull to a drunken lout, yearning for the glory of toppling out onto the tracks, and we sweltered grumpily sitting in fields admiring middle England for unannounced reasons.</p> <p>The trip from London to Stevenage was a commuters dream on the other hand - there's something to be said for new towns built with good infrastructure. Maybe that's all to be said for them, but there, I said it. I left my sister's place in Clapham and had a pleasant 10 minute stroll to the tube. 15 minutes on the Victoria Line and I'm in King's Cross, with plenty of time to spare before my 9.35 train. I don't trust train catering and decided to get breakfast to go - and very nice it was - a toasted bagel with hot salt beef (proper corned beef we call it at home)and a not-too-boiling-bleeding-hot cup of americano - Starbucks doesn't know how to make a coffee that doesn't burn my tongue.</p> <p>A cool clean train and there's just time to digest breakfast before arriving in Stevenage - an hour door-to-door. After my interview I walked along the pathways back to the town centre, always an eerie and sometimes freaky experience - yesterday's was no exception. As usual the signposting is for the locals only and I kept wandering up blind alleys. A large young man seems to be following me. When I stop, he stops. When I turn, he turns, when I reverse my steps, so does he. Then he gets ahead of me and disappears around a corner. Dare I follow him, is he lying in wait with an axe? No, he's asking a woman for directions. Just another lost soul in a new town looking for the exit.</p> <p>Last week I had time to kill in Bristol - wow, that was nice. I've been to Asda and Ikea in Bristol - I know it's got it's grotty spots but the centre is lovely and very pedestrian friendly. The architecture has the magnificence you'd expect from such a key trading port with the new world. Just don't ask too many questions about where the money was made.</p> <p>I walked so much when I was in London my muscles are all weak and shaky today! Monday night I walked from Paddington to Soho to meet my sister - we had a couple of drinks followed by an Indian that hit the spot and had us in bed and sober at a reasonable hour. After Stevenage I walked from King's Cross to Euston Square, bussed it to Holborn and walked up to Covent Garden where I happened on an amazing restaurant, the Papageno on Wellington Street. Go hungry and prepared for velvet and colour and high drama. The serviette was white velvet, the table cloth was purple velvet and what wasn't velvet shone. A basket of warm pitta and a hot, dippy thing with vegetables in it, olives and crudites arrived before I even ordered a glass of water. In the corner an ancient couple from scotland were sharing a cafetiere of coffee and she also had a glass of red wine, followed by an ouzo. She smiled a lot. Three lunching ladies were working their way through a vast fruit platter at another table, discussing committee matters. Cheese borek was my starter - three little filo cheese parcels, nice. Followed by a salmon salad with a huge piece of fish and nice simple salad. I couldn't finish it and was surprised when they brought a fresh plate - it was for my complimentary fruit platter - equally huge. I managed to squeeze in a few grapes, strawberries and a kiwi. I'll be back. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/29/training_in_england/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/29/training_in_england/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/18/stalemate_for_europe/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-18:/2005/06/18/stalemate_for_europe/Sat, 18 Jun 2005 15:16:35 +0200 <p>Yesterday's blog drew some comments which is great - it's lovely to know that somebody is reading my ramblings and it's great (good) to see that people are interested in discussing Europe. The comments all came from people whose blogs I have been reading regularly - synchronicity, like minds maybe, interesting.</p> <p>Meet Dawn, my new buddy. She runs 3 blogs, including a sad and powerful story blog <a href="http://outdoorquests.blog.co.uk/main/">Their Night of Terror </a>. She's in New Zealand (is it polite to call you Kiwis?) so isn't being bombarded with the details like us poor sods. There's a clear explanation of the EU budget, complete with pretty charts, on the <a href="http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/shared/spl/hi/europe/04/money/html/introduction.stm">BBC website</a>. </p> <p>Margaret Thatcher famously brought her handbag to Brussels in the 80s and cowed Europe into filling it with loadsa money to take back to Britain. She had that sort of effect on people. Her argument (a bit of an understatement when applied to said lady) was that England was paying more in and getting less out because its relatively small farming sector commands less agricultural subsidies than in other countries. Every year, each member state has to contribute a proportion of this rebate, which they're peed off about. But Tones argues that the root of the problem is not fixed and he won't give it back unless they look at the common agricultural policy at the same time.</p> <p>Now it's stalemate and they're all slagging each other off. But the future of Europe is in all our hands. They've put everything on ice until they can figure out a strategy for the future - like ostriches the lot of 'em. They are reeling from the reality check of the referenda. Chirac spoke the truth before the referendum when he warned that there was no plan B. What are we paying these people for - no plan B when you're shaping the geo-political future of a continent. The European project is in deep crisis - I'd like to think somebody somewhere had a notion how to revive it. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/18/stalemate_for_europe/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>politicsfederalismchiracblaireuropethatcherhttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/18/stalemate_for_europe/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/17/strip_europe_back/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-17:/2005/06/17/strip_europe_back/Fri, 17 Jun 2005 12:51:47 +0200 <p>They've put the constitution on ice and have switched attention to the budget battle. 46% of the budget goes to the Common Agricultural Policy and rural development and the poor impoverished French farmer gets the lions share. Next time you eat your croissants remember how much it's really costing you.</p> <p>The enviable quality of life in France comes at our expense. Without farm subsidies, the network of underwear shops and florists in every village would have to shut down and the quality of life would plummet in a world of frumpy french women (you don't get many chances in your life to say that). But seriously though, Chirac is right to be preoccupied and depressed these days. The French have been living beyond their means for years and their social model, enviable as it is, is unsustainable. Propped up by borrowing and EU subsidies, heir economic situation defies conventional logic. </p> <p>Central to the French lifestyle is lunch (and not working on Mondays). Our tiny, sleepy village couldn't sustain a local shop but we had a kicking restaurant which was packed to the rafters every lunch time (12.30pm is the time to invade France - you'd be in the Elysee before desert). The car park was always full of France Telecom vans and on Fridays the Gendarmes from the nearby town used to drop by, uniformed and armed, enjoying a noisy, jovial lunch lubricated by an aperitif, du vin and maybe just a small digestif. Almost everybody paid with lunch vouchers. A few years ago France Telecom announced an annual loss of almost 100 million euros, almost exactly the value paid in employee lunch vouchers for the period.</p> <p>The government bailed France Telecom out that time (again), while Orange, its mobile arm, and Wanadoo, its internet arm, went from strength to strength. Their coffers were not raided to support the parent operation. France has a poor record on propping up state companies in defiance of European policy to open up markets and competition. Until now this approach has worked and they have taken what they want out while blithely ignoring many of its policies and rules. </p> <p>A number of european cheesemakers transformed Irish cheesemaking in the 1980s and 1990s, producing a fabulous array of quality farmhouse cheese. Despite an established market, some of them were driven out of business because of an EU rule that banned production of non-pasteurised cheese. Walk through any market in France and you will observe another rule ignored. And the way they store their oysters in the supermarkets, in wooden boxes, unrefrigerated - can you imagine that in the M&S food hall - there must be a rule against it!</p> <p>The English are guilty of double-thinking on the EU - never quite committing, ever suspicious. The French, on the other hand, talk the talk but pick and choose which bits to implement - until recently when the resounding non to the constitution put screeching breaks on the great project.</p> <p>Great is an example of why non-English speakers don't like us - it's got one of those awkward spellings and has multiple meanings. In this context great means enormous but not necessarily any good. In fact, the the more enormous it gets, the less good. Old Europe imploded in the first half of the twentieth century. Crippled by war and death, new Europe emerged with a great (good) federal dream of reconstruction, based on consensus and broad European participation. </p> <p>We've come a long way since then. Welfare states have been built and torn asunder in the time, Ireland got rich, they covered Spain in plastic and concrete and Europe got bigger and bigger. The territory is enlarging and the agenda has broadened. The faceless European commission has shaped the dream into a great (not) bureaucracy that churns out rules faster than they can be translated - so we have a great big paper mountain to add to our obscenities. And they give key jobs to nasty political has-beens instead of injecting a little bit of dynamism and idealism into the debate with some young blood.</p> <p>They have been holding us to ransom for years. Over the years, they have enlarged their remit and the territory based on the same message to the citizens - support it or the great EU experiment will die - a gun at your throat in the ballot box. Most europeans don't want the death of Europe, but it's time to take stock and revisit the dream.</p> <p>Most computer users use only 10% of the features of a software application and the remaining 90% of functionality is utilised by power-users only. I would like a europe like this - give us the 10% and take the power-user stuff away - I don't need it and I don't want to pay for it. We have the communication tools to open up a real-time open discourse across Europe that engages all the citizens, not just the dinosaurs in Strasbourg. We need to think very carefully about the implications of territorial enlargement on our political and military structures, as we encroach on other spheres of political influence in Russia and in the Middle East. Strength in numbers is all very well, but not to the point where you get up the nose of the neighbours. Europe shines in many areas, culture, human rights, environmental goals, free trade, freedom of movement . . . </p> <p>There are many models of federalism where we can find inspiration - how they manage languages is interesting. Switzerland has four cantons and four official languages and seems impervious to the pull of Europe. Canada has ten states and two official languages. They have had their ups and downs and the french separatist movement never quite goes away. But they have withstood the pull of their mighty southern neighbour and have a well-respected and distinct identity in the world. The USA has one language and has the most centralised legislative powers of these models. </p> <p>There has never been a federal experiment that includes the number of languages Europe now speaks. Language is at the heart of how we think, the key to our cultural psyche. I have no idea how many languages we speak these days, but understanding each other is an enormous complex challenge - of Babel proportions. If you get the communication flow right it will be possible to strip the structures right back, driving decision-making back to national level and minimising central legislation and institutions. We want stability, wealth and opportunity, freedom of trade and of movement. We don't need the rules about what's a sausage. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/17/strip_europe_back/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>europesocietychiracfederalismpoliticshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/17/strip_europe_back/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/15/beeswax_and_dunstans/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-15:/2005/06/15/beeswax_and_dunstans/Wed, 15 Jun 2005 15:37:44 +0200 <p>We're making a drainpipe didgeridoo for the Mitten's school project. Got to be in Friday so we're under pressure cos not only do you have to make it but you also have to learn to play it. They recommend that you line the mouthpiece with melted beeswax - but where to buy it? The chains - B&Q and the like - don't stock beeswax blocks. Nor do our local health food shops - one of them told me that the nearest place to buy it is at Tavistock, middle class hippy heaven. But I rang Reid's Hardware shop on the Eggbuckland Road and he sells it and "wait a minute, yes", he has some in stock. </p> <p>I must admit to being a secret admirer of dusty old hardware shops and hate the modern alternatives. Reids is in an ancient stone house, full of dark and dusty promise. There's never the same person behind the counter (which is positioned at the back of the dark cavern as it should be) - always a man, varying age and everyone of them knowledgeable, friendly and helpful. I assume they all live upstairs and take turns in the shop. Yesterday's man was middle-aged and wore shorts. He laughed when I told him you can't buy beeswax in Plymouth. "They've obviously never been in a proper shop" he remarks of the health food shop people, as he wanders into the murky gloom to find the beeswax. "Explains why we sell so much of it I suppose" he continues as he reappears with beeswax in hand. He has found his niche market and long may he prosper. Eat dirt homebase.</p> <p>When Tones was preaching corporate governance to Bill Gates and mates yesterday I was thinking about Reids. The supermarkets may not be able to get any more planning permissions but there is nothing to stop them buying existing shops - the final coffin nail for the small shops. These corporate giants are being invited to share in our governance, unelected and unaccountable. Thanks guys, I'll look forward to your moral leadership.</p> <p>Between 1848 and 1864, Sir Richard Griffith conducted a survey of property in every parish and townland in Ireland, recording the name of the head of household for every property in the country. Because the census records for the period were destroyed (they were turbulent times), Griffith's Valuation is a first port of call for anybody tracing Irish ancestors. The <a href="http://www.valoff.ie/">Valuation Office </a>was set up to manage the survey and the original valuations are still in their possession. A lot of the data, and a mine of other information, is accessible on the <a href="http://myirishancestry.com/index.php/plain/griffiths">My Irish Ancestry </a>site. I drew a blank on Dunstan but found seven Dunston men - all living in the townland of Moneyvollahane in the parish of Castlehaven, not another Dunston in the county. </p> <p>Between 1892 and 1924 more than 20 million migrants passed through the halls of <a href="http://www.ellisisland.org">Ellis Island</a> - you can search the ships' manifests on their website. I've spent hours compiling lists of potential Dunstans. In 1919 Kate Dunstan travelled on the Campania ship from the port of Cobh (Queenstown).She was a married woman of 35 and probably mother to Mau... Dunstan (the manifest is unclear) aged 6 and Annie Dunstan, aged 10, who were also aboard. Coincidentally, the ship also brought two Carey girls to New York. My Dunstan granny eloped with a Carey at about the same time.</p> <p>According to <a href="http://www.traceit.com">TraceIt.com</a> the Dunstan family traces their ancestral roots back to Anglo Saxon origin, first appearing in ancient medieval records in Cornwall.<br> From very early on they held lands and estates in England and were actively allied with other influential families. And on Infokey I learned that <a href="http://www.infokey.com/hall/baron1.htm">Walter de Dunstanville</a> was present at the signing of the Magna Carta. Henry 1 King of England had a son Robert of Caen born in 1087. His grandaughter, Aline de Gai, married Alan Bassett whose mother was Alice Adeliza de Dunstanville from Tehidy in Cornwall. Does this means that I might be connected by marriage to royalty - the republican in me screams but sure doesn't every Irish woman have a secret fondness for the Queen, or at least the Queen Mum?</p> <p>Assuming that the Dunstans came from England to Ireland, now all I have to do is figure out who, when and how? Was there a Dunston in Cromwell's New Model Army. The New Model Army was funded by a group of wealthy backers - latter day venture capitalists - known as the Adventurers. They funded Cromwell's campaign in Ireland and were repaid in lands confiscated from the Irish. Also paid with land were the soldiers, many of whom where press-ganged into service. One of the adventurers was Bassett. Is this relevant? </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/15/beeswax_and_dunstans/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/15/beeswax_and_dunstans/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/13/weekend_wanders/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-13:/2005/06/13/weekend_wanders/Mon, 13 Jun 2005 15:21:15 +0200 <p>Turned into a Jack Rabbit weekend. Back in March we planted lots of seeds, planning to grow all manner of food this summer. The poor seedlings have been dying in their trays for want of weather so a trip to B&Q for grobags on the first sunny saturday of the summer was called for. One of those occasions that reminds you just how overcrowded this little island is. You couldn't move in the garden centre area for families rowing - strange that something as positive and wholesome as growing plants can become such a bone of contention. Risking the weight of 10 organic grobags in the boot of the car, we headed up the road to the Jack Rabbit for a pint.</p> <p>We watched its construction with fascination. Perched aside one of the busiest roundabouts hereabouts, it seemed an odd spot to build anything. They put old tiles on the roof - a bit short of budget maybe as well. Then they started the finishing touches - distressed paint work, old windows, that kind of thing. Finally, up goes the name Jack Rabbit and we discover it's Plymouth;'s newest, oldest-looking pub. </p> <p>It's not unpleasant - very spacious, full of nooks and crannies and architectural salvage - and lots and lots of waitresses wearing ties. As we walked from the car park to the entrance, approaching us is a man who must have traversed the roundabout to get here, wearing a backpack, hiking boots and a kind of lederhosen affair. He could double as a Morris Dancer if he ever needs to sing for his supper. As he made his way into the pub it was like being time-shifted back to a little village inn hundreds of years ago.</p> <p>The Jack Rabbit is another of those places where you need a table number to order food from the bar - a dreadful idea. However, the pint of Stella is very welcome and we share a generous plate of flat breads with peppers, feta and rocket. Surrounded by family parties it's not quite Wetherspoons but also reflects the English condition. Every group seems to have at least one ancient retainer, up to a half dozen adults and one or two children. These are the children that will be entertaining and supporting these adults when they become ancient retainers. Spot the imbalance? And if the worry of that doesn't kill 'em the obesity probably will.</p> <p>Next day we're out with the Mitten tending the garden while the in-laws are away. Back into Jack Rabbit we go and this time we snack on prawns in a cheesy white wine sauce with ciabatta - and very nice indeed, very moreish but at £4.50 a pop, we decided to give it a bash at home ourselves. Bit of an old disaster really - the frozen prawns chilled the sauce so it took forever in the over, everyone hungry and cranky. Hunger and all though, the kids didn't like it and wouldn't eat it. I hate days like that. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/13/weekend_wanders/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/13/weekend_wanders/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/10/congested_minds/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-10:/2005/06/10/congested_minds/Fri, 10 Jun 2005 13:04:03 +0200 <p>My buddy Ian writes about <a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/main/index.php/greenteeth/2005/06/06/the_road_charge_to_nowhere_1 ">road charging</a> - thinks we should slap asbos and ABH charges on the lot of em. He reckons the suggestion does nothing to address the cause of congestion - namely to sort out the railways and public transport. </p> <p>Yes - this should be done as a matter of urgency. But there's a deeper underlying cause that needs to be looked at - how much we travel. Road charging will encourage people to cut out unnecessary trips and, doubtless, some will try to switch to public transport (more pressure on the existing chaos), but a lot of people will have no choice but to continue the daily commute by car - at peak times of course. Wage inflation must follow as the workforce faces massive increases in the cost of going to work. This is not good for employers, employees or British competitiveness. </p> <p>We are guilty of thinking inside out on this. Give people incentives to work from home. With the reach of broadband extending all the time, so many of us could be telecommuting to our offices, to our clients, to our suppliers. Teleworking has held radical possibilities for a long time but has failed to convince employers in this country. They seem unable to trust employees to work unsupervised - perhaps they fear an organisational shift would diminish morale and the importance of the corporate family. </p> <p>The Scandinavians have done a lot of research in the area. One Swedish study followed a number of companies which gave grants to employees to construct home offices. Employees continued to travel to work 2-3 days per week and worked from home the rest of the time. The results were staggering. The company saved money from the move - even though there was a significant set-up cost for the home offices. The savings occured because teleworkers no longer needed full-time office accommodation and could share "hot-desks" with other teleworkers. This led to significant savings on expensive rents for commercial space. The workers saved on commuting cost and increased the value of their homes to boot. The most interesting find was that productivity was much higher in the home office, away from the distractions of colleagues, phones etc. </p> <p>OK, it's just one study and I can't remember the reference so you'll have to take my word for it. With telecommuting and more flexitime, you could halve peak time congestion in this country in less time than it will take to even plan a road charging system. Instead of landing the costs of years of bad transport policy on the workforce, companies and commuters could save money while productivity (therefore competitiveness) goes up. It's a win win situation if only somebody had the vision to push it forward. </p> <p>And when we are all commuting less, other benefits emerge. A working couple could arrange a telework schedule so that one of them is always at home, saving the cost of childcare and having more time with their children. Our patchy and costly childcare services are a major poverty trap for low income families. They reflect a disgraceful lack of commitment to the equality of women in the workforce by successive governments of all political hues. </p> <p>Like congestion, we are thinking inside out on childcare. In our primary and secondary schools, the infrastructure already exists that could accommodate affordable, accessible and professional childcare services to every parent in the nation. French children start school at the Maternelle at 3 years old (the equivalent to our Infants) and go up to Primaire (Primary) at 6 years old. A Garderie operates in all schools from 8am until classes begin, and from end of classes until 6.30pm. There is a daily fee for the service but it's not much more than the school dinners. And all children have school dinners - full four courses, eat every bite or face the wrath of Madame Choisnet - no Jamie Oliver needed here. </p> <p>My children learned to like lettuce and grated carrot and green beans and offal and how to eat crisps with a fork - non-use of fork was another thing that drove Madame Choisnet wild and she'd land a smack on the back of your head if she saw you. I think this was probably illegal but it seemed unlikely that the Ministry of Education would uphold a claim of cruelty against a 60+ year old woman who was smaller than my 8 year old. </p> <p>Time for a bite and then onto the Dunstan trail. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/10/congested_minds/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>teleworkingpoliticsfrancechildcaretransporthttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/10/congested_minds/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/09/the_divils_in_the_detail/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-09:/2005/06/09/the_divils_in_the_detail/Thu, 09 Jun 2005 11:23:21 +0200 <p>What a day - not a cloud and no meeting to go to. On the phone to Cork last night, my younger brother put me to shame by remembering much more about the Dunstans than me. My granny had a brother, Bunny, who had a son called Morgan - triggering a vague memory of a sandy-haired man in a smoky pub in Skibbereen. </p> <p>Eoin will ask the uncles - my dad is survived by a large band of great brothers. Maybe they'll meet up in Annie Mays in Skibbereen for Sunday lunch - the unofficial family meeting point in the town. After meeting and greeting half the people in the pub, enormous amounts of home-made food will be eaten while the after mass crowd throngs the bar, dressed to a man in a black drinking suit, catching up on a week of weather and marts and the EU and the match. Wives are doing the weekly shopping or chatting over glasses of club orange at a table. Other tables filled with Sunday lunchers, staff racing behind the bar to keep pace with demand for pints and paddy. </p> <p>Early afternoon the crowd dies down, noise abates, another round arrives and the real business of the day begins. The outlaws and children happily remove themselves and leave the family get on with the difficult business of unravelling roots in an area where there are so few surnames and so many complications. The key to passing family history down generations was to make it interesting - weaving the detail into anecdotes. We grew up on a diet of it, my mother and father and all the relations had a store of stories that form a jigsaw of my ancestry. </p> <p>But the divil is in the detail - I remember a lot of the anecdotes but forget the vital details, such as names and the like. There was Willie the Barrel, a poor misfortunate that had the bad luck to marry a widowed ancestor of mine who had a number of children - he wore himself to the bone scratching a living on a miserable clump of rock that was called a farm to feed them. She was a thankless, dry stick of a woman who never had a kind word for him. So he consoled himself with porter, drank it by the barrel, hence the name. He lived to an old age and died peacefully in his sleep.</p> <p>Today Bono is in Brussels, telling it like it is to the President of the European Parliament. Basing his authority on the impression gleaned from fans (hardly representative) he says people don't want to be in Europe, that it has no appeal. I agree. Europe gets less sexy by the minute. For a brief time Europe had an aura of sophistication - we'd all be eating croissants, dressing like Milan, recycling like Germans - multilingual, multicultural, electronically switched on and tres tres chic.</p> <p>And today - we eat croissants - none of the rest has come to pass. Our clothes are made by children abroad, the waste mountain is still growing and it will no longer be compulsory to study a european language for GCSEs in England. The electronic switch on has been one chaotic blunder after another. We can't even manage postal voting in this country while a country the size of India manages to run a nationwide electronic election.</p> <p>Bono looks comfortable in his public speaking role - bound to enjoy the limelight. But he and Bob, 2 of Ireland's panoply of gobby rock and rollers (Shane McGowan, Sinead O'Connor, Brush Shiels . . .) have shot themselves to the centre of world politics, unelected and unhampered by the need to represent any opinion but their own, citing the feeling from fans as justification for their outpourings. </p> <p>Bono isn't doing a Bob on it - he isn't calling for flotillas of french revolutionaries to storm the south coast of England in the next few weeks. Little did any of us imagine, in Ireland in the 70s, that these 2 gobshites would be dictating world policy 30 years later.</p> <p>I wonder what's the story on the pope - is he coming? </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/09/the_divils_in_the_detail/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>genealogybonodunstanpoliticshistorybob-geldhofhttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/09/the_divils_in_the_detail/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/08/groundhog_day_1/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-08:/2005/06/08/groundhog_day_1/Wed, 08 Jun 2005 15:57:57 +0200 <p>It was groundhog day. The Mitten went off to school disgruntled cos the Brain was getting to miss Assembly again. 9.10am on another glorious fine day and we get into the cab to go to our appointment again. Then the groundhog disappeared and the day gets better. We arrive on time. The waiting room is not unpleasant with a creative magazine selection - the usual celebs, gossip and gardens, there's definitely a golfer on the team but we've also got the glossy Devon Today for me and a Microlight magazine for the Brain. The glossy is owned by the Northcliff Group and is light years away from the <a href="http://www.cornwall-today.co.uk/cornwall/index.cfm">Cornish Times</a> whose portal to their local advertiser network where you can catch the story about the stolen quad bikes. Regrettably the mystery of the missing potato lorry remains unresolved. </p> <p>It was a good meeting and the Brain was on best behaviour - all the time watching the clock on the wall behind the others. As we were leaving he said "Assemly's over now Mum" which raised a laugh from everyone - born to schmooze. Himself is very rigid on school attendance so the Brain was amazed when I suggested we get an ice cream and dawdle back to school on foot. He's in chatty mood. "A man in assembly on Monday teaches in a school where the pupils have to travel for 12 days to get there" says he. "Where's that then?" In Tibet he thinks but it gets a bit vague from there on, didn't quite catch the plot but might involve the Dalai Lama. He probably lost focus as the physical impact of sitting cross-legged on a very crowded floor took its daily toll.</p> <p>After depositing the Brain at school I revisited the Candystore to test my theory and check if the groundhog was completely gone - I was wrong and my day took an unexpected turn as I went back to the Caffe Latte (I didn't notice the double F yesterday, feck, I'd never have ordered the panini). I'd just have a coffee and see could I beat Carol Vorderman's Sudoku record - 27 milliseconds or something. </p> <p>About 8 healthy, well-fed girls in unflattering school uniforms crowded around a nearby table. Anticipating the usual cackling, caterwauling sort of noise you'd expect from too many teenage girls together in a confined space I was preparing to bolt the steaming coffee - but the cacophany didn't happen and I Sudoku'd happily against a background hum of polite, relaxed conversation. I haven't seen a bunch of girls like this since I left school. Working on the assumption that they teach this good behaviour at school, on my way out I squint to read the school name on the crest. Bingo - the Mitten has already expressed an interest in going there. </p> <p>All around Devon and Cornwall you come across the name Dunstan. St. Dunstan, son of a west Saxon nobleman, was a benedictine monk then Abbot of Glastonbury, and finally he became Archbishop of Canterbury. This explains the St. Dunstan churches and schools and even the street names. I'm not sure if it explains the surname though, unless he was a very prolific monk indeed. </p> <p>The Cornish phone book is peppered with Dunstans but there's only one to be found in Ireland (Eire) - I didn't check for Northern Ireland. My grandmother was a Dunstan so the virtual non-existence of Irish Dunstans comes as something of a shock. The story went that my grandparents eloped from remote West Cork because he had no land or prospects and her family, comfortable farmers, would never tolerate the match. They made their way (by boat I guess) along the coast from Castlehaven to Kinsale. </p> <p>The couple moved to the city when the 11 children started to come along. Every summer holiday they were despatched back to the family farm to learn hard work, meet real people and get some good food and fresh air. From this I assumed that the rift was settled but I never met her parents, never heard them mentioned. Her sister and husband took over at some point and we visited there often - it's still in the family. But where did the Dunstan's go? Where did they come from? Who are they? Even the <a href="http://www.ireland.com">Irish Times </a>- an excellent source of genealogical and placename information - has nothing on Dunstan. </p> <p>Many Irish surnames were adapted to sound like English names over the centuries but it seems there's no possible match for Dunstan. I am thinking I might have Cornish blood, diluting the nationality of the kids to a less than 50/50 arrangement. I asked the Lad what he thought of the notion of having cousins up the road and being more than a half English. He's still thinking about it but he's not opposed to it in principle.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/08/groundhog_day_1/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>humourgenealogydunstanhttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/08/groundhog_day_1/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/07/a_load_of_potatoes/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-07:/2005/06/07/a_load_of_potatoes/Tue, 07 Jun 2005 16:29:25 +0200 <p>Due to a scheduling cock up on my part, I spent the first couple hours of this glorious fine day stuck in expensive cabs to attend a meeting tomorrow, hmm. I deposited the Brain (or is it Pinkie?) back at school and popped into the Candystore to buy an Indie so I could fritter more of my day away with Sudoku over coffee at the nearby Cafe Latte. The man said they were sold out but I have my suspicions that he'll be sold out tomorrow as well. I settled for last week's Cornish Times, which I knew because the date on the masthead reads </p> <blockquote><p>DY' GWENER (FRIDAY) MYS METHEVEN (JUNE) 3, 2005</p></blockquote> <p>which, in Irish would read:</p> <blockquote><p>DE HAOINE (FRIDAY) MI MEITHEAMH (JUNE) 3, 2005 </p></blockquote> <p>There was another change of plan at the Cafe when I ordered a vegetarian panini with roasted pepper and feta. Other options were wraps or baguettes so the panini won. </p> <p>I read about a traffic incident where a vehicle carrying potatoes spilt its load and abandoned the scene at about 5pm in the evening, leaving potatoes up to a foot deep all over the road. Some motorists made their way through the mound but this turned the potatoes to sludge, causing other motorists to get stuck in it. It was 7.15 before the police, the highways department, a JCB and the fire brigade cleared the mess. </p> <p>The panini arrives and, in addition to the advertised ingredients are pickled mushroom, artichoke and onion that probably came from the same jar as the roasted (maybe I misread the menu) pepper. The salad was generous, simple and fresh and the panini tasted better than it looked. </p> <p>The roads back home in West Cork are similar to the roads around Devon and Cornwall, where locals travel at breakneck speed along narrow winding roads, daring you to get in their way. Or there's the local who never goes far and takes his time to get there, checking every field along the way for progress. Because he's never looking at the road or his rear view mirror, he can be a tricky customer to overtake. </p> <p>In West Cork they call hedges ditches and they are about the height of a garden wall. Except when the fuchsia and the brambles and the honeysuckle get out of hand during the summer, you can usually see over the ditches and so, around corners a bit. It makes night driving much easier because you can normally spot the oncoming drunks well in advance. </p> <p>The roads here, like all English roads, are well surfaced - unlike in West Cork where it is rumoured that the mythical Tuatha De Danaan are alive and thriving in the potholes. When you're a kid, going in the car is like going on a bouncy castle only with harder bumps. When you're eight months pregnant it's like there's a football match going on in your belly. At the end of the ice age, a swathe of rocky deposits built up to the south of West Cork, creating a natural ridge in the landscape. When the melting ice finally tipped its payload into the sea it created northern Europe's deepest natural harbour in Bantry Bay. You have to cross this line (known as a terminal morain) to reach the Mizen and Beara peninsulas from Cork. The match used to go to penalties every time we crossed the line.</p> <p>I left the last of the panini because I was out of coffee and nobody offered a refill. Walking through the park I muse about the headline story in the Cornish Times - it's stupid to walk and read I know. Huge police search after thieves take quad bikes - 6 quad bikes stolen at 6pmish from a store shed at the quad bike centre - the county is on red alert, helicopters sweeping the area. Following morning, returning to the scene to look for clues, the police discover another thief stealing the fuel from the remaining bikes! Seems five helmets were nicked from them last month but it's OK, they're insured and are buying new bikes pronto. Suggest searching for bikes in back of potato lorry.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/07/a_load_of_potatoes/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>devonwest-corkhumourcornwallhttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/07/a_load_of_potatoes/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/05/will_the_pope_come/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-05:/2005/06/05/will_the_pope_come/Sun, 05 Jun 2005 16:31:51 +0200 <p>Bob Geldof has raised a right royal storm, hasn't he? Aside from the remarkable political gaffe of not headlining any african acts for Live 8, the stale, geriatric lineup could do with some african oomph. What were they thinking of and is it too late to fix? Andy Kershaw was foaming at the mouth in yesterday's <a href="http://www.independent.co.uk">Indie</a> - said if they don't know any african acts (how thick is that?) he could lend them his contact book. </p> <p>The entertainment isn't all he got wrong. Calling us all to Edinburgh is an exciting and bold suggestion but could end in chaos. I'd have thought you had to get all manner of permissions and insurances before you could run a march - but none of this seems to have bothered Bob or even occured to him - he just opened the gob and out came the call to arms and off he waltzed abroad leaving poor Midge Ure to discuss it with the Polis (as they say in Scotland). </p> <p>By the following morning, the city council was in urgent session trying to figure out how to deal with a million unexpected guests in the middle of the tourism season, when the city is warming up for the Fringe. Where will they sleep and urinate and eat and drink? There's not a portaloo to be had in the country it seems. French men prefer to pee publicly and tend to make little use of portaloos, so maybe they could lend some to the city for the occasion - a sort of rekindling of the auld alliance through a gift of toilets.</p> <p>My initial reaction was "neat idea but a bit dangerous". Until he went and invited the Pope, the man whose condemnation of contraception directly contributes to third world poverty and the spread of aids. Is he planning to invite other religious leaders also? Does this add or subtract from the appeal of the event? I hope the Pope doesn't come. I hope the entertainment improves. I hope it makes a difference. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/05/will_the_pope_come/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>politicspopebob-geldhofedinburghlive8http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/05/will_the_pope_come/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/02/title_5152/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-02:/2005/06/02/title_5152/Thu, 02 Jun 2005 14:29:24 +0200 <p>After the French, the Dutch kick EU butt and our fat-arsed MEPs are all up in a heap. I love everything about this result except that it pleases Robert Kilroy Silk - he's probably claiming credit for it as I blog. Going to Amsterdam is one of those life experiences I curiously missed out on and I was beginning to think I'd left it too late (given the right wing noises emanating from the Netherlands of late). The Dutch have said no but what does that mean. I was visiting Ireland a couple of years ago when they were voting on the Nice Treaty, so I had a chance to say no. For the first and only time in my life I voted for the winning side so, what do they do? they run another election and I lose again. Following this blatant disregard for democracy, small wonder that the voters of Europe are saying Non.</p> <p>July will be interesting while Tones tries to broker a constitution for europe and entertain the G8 against the backdrop of cursing sir bob and Live 8. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/02/title_5152/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>politicsblaireuropehttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/02/title_5152/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/02/nuns_in_mufti/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-06-02:/2005/06/02/nuns_in_mufti/Thu, 02 Jun 2005 13:18:02 +0200 <p>Reading <em>The Road to McCarthy</em> by <a href="http://www.uktouring.org.uk/petemccarthy/index.htm">Pete McCarthy </a>of <em>McCarthy Bar </em>fame - what a book. There aren't many writers that I'm really sorry I didn't meet - this is one of them. It's like he's taken the words out of my mouth, for example, on nuns:</p> <blockquote><p>"I blame the sixties. One minute everything was in reassuringly incomprehensible Latin and nuns had to trudge round the place frowning and dressed like Albanian widows, then along comes the Vatican Council and Swinging London and the next thing you know the nuns are all in light grey Mary Quant twinsets, grinning like Lulu, driving Minis to folk masses fronted by priests who think they're Crosby, Stills & Nash."</p></blockquote> <p>After the Vatican Council they allowed women into mass without hats. I remember the glorious day when I burnt my mantilla and marched up the aisle, naked head held high and proud, thinking I was a supermodel. At school the nuns grudgingly submitted to the new look but usually managed to make the smartest of twinsets look like hairshirts. The vanishing veils revealed some pretty unpleasant surprises in the hair department as well. To this day I can spot a nun in mufti from 50 paces and the sight can still trigger a fright and flight response causing me to bolt in the opposite direction. One of those little foibles my friends forgive me for lack of choice.</p> <p>Which probably explains my abhorrence of uniforms and especially school uniforms. To date my 3 children (Pete had 3 kids) have attended 6 schools between them in three countries (the eldest is 11) and have had to wear uniforms in 3 of them. The nicest, most well-meaning of people will argue that uniforms, far from being a symbol of conformity and repression, are a means to social equality. But in England social class is measured by the school you go to and your school uniform is a badge of your superiority (or inferiority). In my experience, the more preposterous the uniform, the more superior the attitude of the wearer - often emphasised by strident sergeant-major type diction. As is pathetically obvious from general english dress sense, uniform does not always maketh the well-turned out (or well-rounded) man, now does it!</p> <p>Although it's almost 2 years since we moved to England from Ireland via France, I confess I'm still not quite on top of the uniform business. Not a morning goes by without some panic over PE kit or games kit (there is a difference apparently) and I'm forever in trouble with the lost property police for not labelling things correctly. Why can't they just wear track suits and trainers like they did elsewhere? </p> <p>Italians made Pete feel a bit like a sack of potatoes - he wrote about pensioners in Gucci shoes and yellow mohair suits. I wonder what sort of uniforms they wear in school in Italy? In France they don't (not even headscarves) but there's an underwear shop in every village to make up for it. Now we may not want to dress like French people and eat smelly cheese, but they run a thriving car industry so who has more style?</p> <p>Where we win (the folk on these islands) is with wit - when it comes to words we wallop the pants over all contenders. We have some of the best (and possibly some of the worst) radio and TV broadcasting in the world. Despite corporate media control and a diet of spin and drivel, editors and schedulers still take risks and the gems still appear. Where else in the world would Shameless get made or would Ian Hislop be a star? </p> <p>You can't beat Ireland for radio phone-ins as Pete observed in <em>McCarthys Bar</em>. Irish people treat radio presenters almost as an extension of their social circle and will be on the phone to them at the drop of a hat. About 10 years ago, there was heated discussion on a national phone-in show about the evils of the internet, triggered by news that a father of 4 in the west of Ireland had upped and left his wife and family (and the farm and cows no doubt) to go to America to take up with some hussy he met in a chatroom. Every woman in the country was ripping out the modem I'd say and the internet was being denounced from the pulpit. Then comes a phone call from Katcha, mother of an old school friend, to say that men have been leaving their families in the lurch since time began - it didn't take the internet to make it happen. She went on to describe how her life was transformed from isolated agoraphobic to a world full of friends and shared interests. She was an overnight sensation and that phone call led her to becoming the subject of an Australian TV documentary that flew her to New York and trained her across the US where, enroute she met up with her cyberbuddies that she had met in a book club chatroom and, finally to a family reunion with her son that works for Apple in Cupertino. How's that for an agoraphobic! <a href="http://homepage.eircom.net/~katcha/">Go Katcha.</a> </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/02/nuns_in_mufti/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>school-uniformspete-mccarthykatchahttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/06/02/nuns_in_mufti/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/27/the_english_condition/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-05-27:/2005/05/27/the_english_condition/Fri, 27 May 2005 17:29:29 +0200 <p>Read a very funny account of <a href="http://www.blog.co.uk/main/index.php/mgfgtg/2005/05/20/an_old_mans_wistful_reminiscing_and_psyc?blog=7337&c=1&page=1&more=1&title=an_old_mans_wistful_reminiscing_and_psyc&tb=1&pb=1&disp=single">curry night in Wetherspoons</a> which he describes as a microcosm of the English condition. Which led me to comment, is this condition terminal, or contagious. Is it something you suffer or aspire to? </p> <p>As an Irish person living in England the contagious aspect is a cause for some concern. Am I in danger of complaining about cold food, becoming a property developer and a Daily Mail reader if I stay here?<br> Now if the English condition included knowing how to cook a good curry and to bake a great baclava, that would be a different matter. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/27/the_english_condition/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/27/the_english_condition/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/27/question_time_questions/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-05-26:/2005/05/27/question_time_questions/Fri, 27 May 2005 00:13:11 +0200 <p>Here's a good idea if I can sustain it - can I bring Questions and Answers to life on a blog? </p> <p>I've deleted the rest - the answer is obviously not - and why would you want to. The only meaningful comment I made was about Liam Fox's hair. Much more fun last night was Alan Sugar on Andrew Neill's programme. Ken Clarke sat in for Michael Portillo and Sir Alan took it upon himself to advise Ken not to run for leader. That was worth waiting up for.</p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/27/question_time_questions/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/27/question_time_questions/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/26/title_4213/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-05-26:/2005/05/26/title_4213/Thu, 26 May 2005 14:21:14 +0200 <p>Check this out - <a href="http://www.theyworkforyou.com/">They Work For You</a> - what a find. Designed with me in mind - how to become a pain in the butt of every last lazy lying one of our elected representatives. They have a sister site - <a href="http://www.writetothem.com/">Write To Them</a> - where you can find all your representatives and write to them for free - another find. I'm off to test their wares. </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/26/title_4213/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/26/title_4213/#commentshttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/26/title_4199/tag:dotdot.blog.co.uk,2005-05-26:/2005/05/26/title_4199/Thu, 26 May 2005 12:44:50 +0200 <p>Latest on safety - our terrorist threat level was downscaled because the threat from Ireland is reduced. Is this cos Paisley won't share power or cos the peace process is actually beginning to work? </p> <p> <small> <a href="http://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/26/title_4199/#comments">Comments</a> </small> </p>terrorismpoliticsirelandhttp://dotdot.blog.co.uk/2005/05/26/title_4199/#comments