Somehow, I really can’t understand how, this sort of resonates with life around here …
Life around here …
Monthly Archives: July 2012
Milking the Farmers
Does anyone else find this charade about the price dairies pay farmers for milk somewhat curious?
According to today’s Telegraph the four largest dairies — Robert Wiseman, Arla, First Milk and Dairy Crest — have all now cancelled a 2p/litre cut in what they pay farmers for milk.
Isn’t it curious that they all planned essentially the same cut, at the same time? And have now all rescinded it?
(OK, the latter is supposedly in response to the farmers’ protests.)
They’re still paying the farmers below production cost. So GOK how the farmers make ends meet. Presumably they have to find a way to cross-subsidise their milk production. But it beats me why anyone would want to produce a product on which they can’t make a profit. By rights the UK farmers should not be producing milk at all. But then I’m not a farmer.
Does this whole thing have the smell of a cartel amongst the dairies, because it certainly looks that way? And that makes one wonder what role the farmers (despite all their quite justified protest) and the supermarkets have in this.
Hmmm … Dirty tricks in agri-business again? It certainly wouldn’t be the first time.
Reasons to be Grateful: 37
Experiment, week 37. We’ve completed another week done in my continuing experiment in documenting five things which have made me happy or for which I’m grateful this week.
This week’s selection is for Sue, who challenged me to write one of these posts without mentioning food!
- Wood Smoke. I love the smell of wood smoke and bonfires. It always takes me back to my childhood and especially to scout camp. Those were good days! What is it that makes smells so evocative?
- Family Reconnections. What a brilliant week! I seem to have managed to put another bit of the family back together! My paternal grandfather skipped bail during the war and ended up having another three children by his mistress. (They never married as my grandmother wouldn’t give him a divorce.) I knew of my half-aunts’ existence when I was young and even met the eldest (who is about 7 years older than me; the other two are with a year of my age). But as with my father’s family contact was lost. I finally managed to trace the middle of the three sisters (family history forensics again!) and wrote to her in the hope that I could fill in some of the gaps on the family tree. She rang me last Sunday and I’ve now spoken with all three sisters; they’re all delighted to be back in touch after 40-odd years and longing to know more about their father. They’re spread around England so we’re planning to meet in October when they can all come to London. An interesting day beckons!
- New Glasses. I got my new glasses on Monday. Although my prescription hasn’t changed a lot, it was time for a new pair. They’re rimless and crystal clear. My optician was slightly concerned that they’ve had to change the make of lenses (what I have had for the last few pairs are no longer made) and that I might find these difficult to adjust to. But I’ve never had problems with varifocals and I adjusted to these instantly; not even any of this looking slightly fuzzy for a few hours. And they are such light titanium; they feel so fragile even compared with my old pair of gold frames, which weren’t exactly substantial. Mind you my wallet hurt a bit at £560! The frames weren’t expensive either, even with the surcharge for extra precision engineering for rimless. It’s the high spec, hard plastic, photo-chromic lenses that do the damage! But I’m blind without my glasses, and they’re so comfortable I don’t know I’m wearing them, so it is a good investment every few years.
- Sitting in the Garden. Isn’t it wonderful to have had some decent summer weather and been able to sit in the garden! Even more wondrous was the fact that the other evening it was so quiet: no noisy neighbours’ children, no planes escaping from Heathrow, no lawnmowers, and even very little traffic on the nearest main road. It was really quiet. Almost eerily so. Would it were like this more often.
- Wood Pigeons. Yes, wood pigeons! Columba palumbus. Not those scruffy feral pigeons (although I don’t dislike them). We’ve had wood pigeons round for years and their rather sleepy, slightly husky sounding call — coo-cooo-coo, coo-coo — is something else that takes me back to my childhood and camping with my parents at Rye when I would have been about four or five.
There you are, Sue, no mention of food at all! 🙂
Antidotes to Anti-Fat
Overweight? Under tall? P’ed off with being abused for it? Then read on.
Oh and if you’re someone who abuses the overweight (or indeed any other minority), you’d better read on too!
A few days ago I came across a blog post from last September at Crazy Beautiful by Dianne Sylvan, titled Ten Rules for Fat Girls. In it she admits to being obese, but she is not ashamed of it and is seriously annoyed by all those who give her abuse because of it. And she goes on to give other overweight girls some thoughts and ideas on how to be more comfortable with the way they are. Between these thoughts Dianne Sylvan is typically hard hitting:
I’m fat … There’s no concealing this fact. My fat is out there. It speaks. And it says “I am lovable and worthy just like I am, and fuck you if you disagree.” I’ve … gotten comfortable with the idea that people can look like anything and it’s all good.
…
You have sovereignty over your body and that means it is no one’s responsibility but your own.
…
How is discrimination and making people loathe themselves going to make them healthier? Obviously this doesn’t work or the number of overweight people would be rapidly declining, wouldn’t it … Has hate ever made anyone a better person?
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That claptrap about obese people being a strain on the economy is nonsense; cancer costs millions of dollars to research and treat but nobody’s suggesting we let cancer patients die to save money. (Well actually in the UK we do — Ed)
…
Statistics show that weight loss fails over the long-term 95% of the time. How many conditions can doctors get away with prescribing something with only a 5% success rate? Yet dieting is considered a panacea. You know what else has a 5% success rate in treating disease? Bleeding someone to let the evil humours out.
…
It’s also assumed … that everyone knows what’s best for you but you.
…
I’ve heard quite a few thin women say things like … “getting fat would be the worst thing.” … Oh? Worse than child abuse, genocide, homophobia, or being allergic to chocolate? Worse than being an asshole? Worse than treating people like crap because of how they look? Is being fat worse than being an ignorant bigot? Worse than being a murderer? Worse than drowning kittens? Amebic dysentery? Losing a loved one? Losing a limb?
Well that’s enough. I’m sure you get the picture.
But do you know what’s interesting about this? It is just as relevant to men as to women. Men get abuse too, although maybe not as much as women. Men get bullied by doctors. I’ve even been bullied by a consultant neurologist FFS, who is an acquaintance — and I’m not even a patient of his! To this day I don’t know how I remained polite to him.
Yes, I’m obese. I know I am obese and I admit it. It doesn’t make me any less me. Or any less intelligent. Or any less able to know what works/is good for me. Or any less able to punch you in the throat.
OK, I don’t like being overweight or as horribly unfit as I am; I’m all too well aware of the consequences of my diabetes to be happy about it. And being “too big” can be horribly inconvenient. But it is also horrendously difficult to do much about it. In my case it is all tied up with my depression. It appears the whole caboodle goes back into my childhood, and despite hypnotherapy I’ve not yet been able to unbundle everything.
Yes, I have lost some weight but very slowly. At my heaviest I was 155kg and, after some ups and downs, I’m now down to about 138Kg. That’s still too much for my liking. But even if I lose a lot more I will never be a small bloke. I’m big boned and well built, naturally. It runs in my father’s family. We aren’t small people. And despite all the sport I played when younger, I’m not naturally athletic. So even if I’m not obese I’ll always be heavy and I’ll never be more than just about averagely fit.
But do you know what? The more people go on about my weight, the more resistant I become to doing anything about it. Having my weight thrust forever into the front of my brain is just so destructive. You end up thinking about nothing else. You cease to be you. It puts you under some huge stresses. If you allow it to, it takes over your life. And that makes the depression worse. And so we start the cycle all over again.
So I try not to dwell on it. I try not to let it take over. I try, in my quiet way (quiet? me?) to be sensible about food. But it seems to me the whole cycle isn’t well enough under control for anything to be quickly and easily alleviated. Which is why I’m trying hypnotherapy. But it is all slow going.
Meanwhile anyone who wants to abuse me about my weight had just better not. They don’t know — they cannot know — what is happening within me (FFS even I don’t know a lot of the time), nor how actually destructive their comments are. Besides it is really none of their business. It’s my concern, and mine alone.
At the end of the day, I’m me. All the way through. For better, for worse; until death do us part. And do you know something else? Nature probably made me that way for a reason. Whether you like it or not, do me the respect of not trying to change me.
A Beer for the Day
Noreen made a nice discovery the other day. Marks & Spencer are currently selling what they brand as “Southwold Blonde” beer in 500 ml bottles. As beer aficionados will realise this is brewed by Adnams — my all time favourite brewers. As it is also labelled “Seasonal Guest” I assume it is a limited edition/short run product for the summer.
Anyway madame bought me a couple of bottles, which I generally ruined this evening by drinking them with a steamingly hot Lamb Sag Aloo Madras — steaming hot because I put in a whole large Scotch Bonnet chilli. However the beer was not totally ruined and I managed a good tasting before attacking the curry.
Verdict? Very, very nice.
As the bottle says it is made using a blend of East Anglian malted barley and wheat. Boadicea and First Gold hops from England and Nelson Sauvin from New Zealand combine to create the subtle citrus notes and refreshing flavour.
And citrus notes it certainly has in abundance. It is really rather like a clear, slightly darker, English Hoegaarden. A most excellent drink, very refreshing and totally recommended.
Oh and it stands up well to being abused by a hot curry.
Five Questions #4
OK, so here is my answer to the fourth of the five questions I promised I would answer.
This one is tricky. Not because I find it hard to answer but because it produces an inner conflict in all of us.
Question 4. When is it time to stop calculating risk and rewards and just do what you know is right?
Answer: Now.
Why?
Well to start with see the answer to question two above.
Secondly because in my view it is more ethical. Risk and reward imply a conscious choice to do something which is not optimal and not what your inner morality says should be. And shouldn’t we all be following our inner ethics?
My belief is that we all have that inner morality, even underlying all our religious, political and sociological superstructure of beliefs; and underlying our selfish desires. It is nothing to do with man-made constructs of belief; it’s to do with an inner respect of life.
That doesn’t mean it’s easy. And it certainly doesn’t mean I always get it right — much as I would like to. We all end up making greater or lesser compromises for a whole variety of reasons. But if we’re true to our underlying ethics we likely shouldn’t except perhaps in the pursuance of purely staying alive (and maybe sometimes not even then).
Do murderers (think, say, the Krays) really deep, deep down not know what they’re doing is wrong? Do bankers who make vast profits on the back of screwing peoples’ mortgage rates and businesses not understand, deep down, the lack of ethics in what they’re doing? I feel sure they do know these things. They may be brainwashed so they can’t allow that knowledge out, but I think it is there somewhere. Had they listened to that inner ethics early on maybe they wouldn’t have ended up where they did. And maybe the world would be a better place. Who knows.
Ultimately I think there is good, ethical, behaviour in all of us if we can but recognise it. But yes, that can be hard because in other ways we are wired to be selfish — because being selfish is a good personal survival strategy and at the first level evolution and “survival of the fittest” mean that we have to strive to survive and produce offspring. And remembering Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs that is deeper rooted than our sense of ethics.
So yes, it’s hard and can be uncomfortable, but in a society where we don’t have to literally fight for food and shelter surely we should strive to rise above our “animal instincts” and listen to our inner morality and ethics.
Perhaps it is best summed up in the words of my late friend Jim Duggan: Let your conscience be your guide. Not your ego or your bank balance.
And I fail just as much as the next person!
Friends without Benefits
Up-Front Disclaimers:
(1) I am male and 110% heterosexual so this post is written from that standpoint. If your sexuality is other than male and straight hetero adjust what follows to suit your predilections.
(2) No-one will be identified herein. One or two persons may think they can identify themselves, and maybe they can, but they may be mistaken.
(3) I have been happily married for over 30 years and nothing that follows has, as far as I am aware, any disruptive effect on that; if anything, because I think, and am open, about such things the opposite is true. And of course my wife is entirety excluded from what follows.
I’ve been thinking recently about my reactions towards female friends and sex. First of all let me say that I am not talking about “friends with benefits”, because I don’t have any of them.
The first thing I have come to realise is that my female friends (friends, rather than casual acquaintances) past and present, fall rather neatly into two groups according to what are, I hope my underlying, impressions of the sexual content of that relationship. Sex with any of these friends has never been “on the table”.
There is a group of ladies (young and not so young) who I find to a greater or lesser extent sexually attractive — although I would never attempt to “cash in” on this. But however close our friendship, and however attractive I find them, almost to a woman I can look at them and say to myself “I could never live with her; she’d drive me up the wall!” because of whatever foible. I expect the feeling to be mutual. But nevertheless there is always this nagging feeling of “But I’d love to have sex with her, just because I’m curious to know what it’s like”. And I mean that just as written: I have a curiosity as to what sex with the lady is like — no more, no less. But, my friends, you’re safe; I would never insult you by overtly exposing my curiosity, let alone instigating anything sexual.
The other group of friends are almost the opposite. However close I am to them, and however delightful I find them, I have no curiosity at all about having sex with them. The thought just never occurs; it is not part of my (inner) equation of the relationship.
And I emphasise that sex is not on the table in any of these friendships and never has been. All of which I find curious, especially given the overlying sexual nature of the human male. After all it is often said (and I don’t know how much this is borne our by research) that men lose interest in women, even ones they’re friends with, when sex is definitively taken off the table — something I’ve always felt is a very male chauvinist attitude. But then men in western society generally are chauvinists, and I would admit that, much as I try not to be, I’m no exception.
The other thing I’ve come to realise is to do with my former girlfriends; those with whom I’ve had a sexual or proto-sexual relationship. Looking back at those relationships from a distance I realise that however much I still cherish and value them (and I do) they are done and gone. There was great and fun sex in some of them, and in others what sex there was was pretty rubbish. But, in retrospect, I learnt something from them all.
However with one exception none has left what I would term “a hole in my heart”. The one exception was my first real girlfriend; even after almost 40 years there is still a hole in my heart and a special place for that young lady. Whether that is because she did the breaking up, or because I found that break-up so hard (I’m still annoyed with myself for not coping better with it), or because I have never really reached full closure, I don’t know. We never had (penetrative) sex and despite our collective inexperience I still wonder what sex with her would have been like. I would love to know what happened to her; how she got on in life; and whether after all these years there would still be any friendship there. But I am sanguine enough to know that I never will know, and that she probably doesn’t care.
Am I alone in these feelings? Do others find their friendships divide into two groups: those where there is an inner sexual curiosity and those where there isn’t? And do others have long-gone relationships which have left a gaping hole in their heart even after half a lifetime? I’d love to know whether this is a common experience or whether I’m just deranged. (No, maybe don’t’ answer that!)
Gallery : Street Photography
The subject for Tara’s Gallery this week is Street Photography.
Yay! Because this is something I do all the time — not only are people fascinating, and weird, to watch but I also like spotting the incongruous, amusing and interesting everyday things about me. No stories this week, just a selection of pictures I’ve gathered over the last few years. You’ll find many more on my Flickr photostream.
First of all a few people photographed on London railway stations:
Click any of the images for larger views on Flickr
Morning Rush Hour at Waterloo Station
Waiting for her date at Waterloo
GOK what these two, spotted at London Paddington, were up to!
Tara’s original announcement of the theme suggests that street photography is all about people watching. But it is a lot more than that. It is buildings, street furniture, notices and objets trouvés; it’s the things most people would walk past and not even see. For instance:
Seen in an office window in Golden Square, London
I spotted these two deckchairs holding hands on Lyme Regis seafront
This was in Faversham, Kent although I have seen similar signs elsewhere
Moral: Always carry a camera and keep your eyes alert. There’s lots of fun out there!
Buggered Britain 12
Another instalment in my occasional series documenting some of the underbelly of Britain. Britain which we wouldn’t like visitors to see and which we wish wasn’t there. The trash, abused, decaying, destitute and otherwise buggered parts of our environment. Those parts which symbolise the current economic malaise; parts which, were the country flourishing, wouldn’t be there, would be better cared for, or made less inconvenient.
I took this quite some time back, but I think it is still there. It is opposite Rayners Lane station in west London. A classic in how to make one’s restaurant attractive: everything wonky, badly constructed, off-set, badly decorated and surrounded by bins and other such detritus. But then the rest of the area isn’t so much better.
Quotes Round-up
The usual but occasional round-up of amusing and interesting bons mots.
The Hokey Pokey (Shakespearean Style)
O proud left foot, that ventures quick within
Then soon upon a backward journey lithe
Anon, once more the gesture, then begin:
Command sinistral pedestal to writhe.
Commence thou then the fervid Hokey-Poke.
A mad gyration, hips in wanton swirl.
To spin! A wilde release from heaven’s yoke.
Blessed dervish! Surely canst go, girl.
The Hoke, the poke – banish now thy doubt
Verily, I say, ’tis what it’s all about.
[Unknown source]
I got what was rightfully mine.
We deserve a handout.
He committed fraud.
They are thieving bastards.
[Terry Cox on Facebook]
This is a banal accident in which [there was] a breakdown in the interaction between human beings.
[Captain Francesco Schettino commenting on the Costa Concordia shipwreck, quoted in Daily Telegraph]
When you are doing nothing, that is when the work is happening. It does not happen in the front section of the brain. It happens in the back section.
[Kevin Barry; Dark Lies the Island]
The trouble with fighting for human freedom is that one spends most of one’s time defending scoundrels. For it is against scoundrels that oppressive laws are first aimed, and oppression must be stopped at the beginning if it is to be stopped at all.
[HL Mencken]
Despite the almost stifling heat and a mixed odour of humanity and ham, which a sensitive person might have shrunk from, the rough, merry Lancashire folk were happy as may be.
[Guy Thorne, When it was Dark]