All posts by Keith

I’m a controversialist and catalyst, quietly enabling others to develop by providing different ideas and views of the world. Born in London in the early 1950s and initially trained as a research chemist I retired as a senior project manager after 35 years in the IT industry. Retirement is about community give-back and finding some equilibrium. Founder and Honorary Secretary of the Anthony Powell Society. Chairman of my GP's patient group.

[23/52] Logs

[23/52] Logs by kcm76
[23/52] Logs, a photo by kcm76 on Flickr.

Week 23 entry for 52 weeks challenge.

At the King’s Head pub, Bawburgh, near Norwich.

The King’s Head has been known for many years for it’s good food. It’s well worth a visit for good gastro-pub food. Chips to die for! And for a good selection of local real ales – the Adnams is especially good.

Bawburgh is a pretty, small village just a handful of miles to the west of Norwich, just off A47 outer ring road.

Fur Side

And now for something a little different …

Parody of Longfellow’s Hiawatha
George A Strong

He killed the noble Mudjokivis.
Of the skin he made him mittens,
Made them with the fur side inside,
Made them with the skin side outside.
He, to get the warm side inside,
Put the cold side skin side outside.
He, to get the cold side outside,
Put the warm side fur side inside.
That’s why he put the fur side inside,
Why he put the skin side outside,
Why he turned them inside outside.

Listography – Decisions

Kate’s Listography this week is really HARD! She has asked us about the top five decisions we’re glad we made.

Why do I find this hard? Well not because there are so many to choose from. The opposite. I’m not one for making big decisions. That’s partly I think because I’ve been lucky and not been forced to make many big decisions, but more because I’m not one for planning my life and career. I’ve drifted; gone with the flow. OK, maybe I could have got a higher-powered job, a better salary & pension, a bigger house, whatever. But drifting has been a lot less stressful and kept that work-life balance, well … balanced. And drifting wasn’t a conscious decision, so I can’ even count that! It’s just the way I am – lazy, avoiding and procrastinating.

OK, so here are five good decisions I’m glad I made, in no particular order.

Staying at University. For me it wasn’t the going to university that was the decision. That was more or less a foregone conclusion. The decision I’m glad I made was to stay on and do several years of post-graduate work. They were the formative years. And the most fun years. So much fun I nearly didn’t get my PhD and then left my post-doc job because I was doing too much of everything else and not enough proper work. I’d love to have those years all over again and do it all properly this time, knowing everything I do now. Maybe it’s a good thing one can never go back.

Marrying Noreen. I guess the decision was in asking her to marry me. Neither of us can remember how it came about, or exactly where/when we were when she (finally) said “yes” – having said “no” initially. We know roughly when it was – the week or so leading up to Christmas 1978 – but not the exact day or place. Unusually, Noreen says even her diary doesn’t divulge. That’s maybe a reflection of the fact that we’ve always talked and communicated, so decisions often just evolve rather than being momentous occasions. And yes, you did read it right; I did say Christmas 1978. We were married just 9 months later (no, not for that reason!) in September 1979. And we’re still together! Scary or what?!

Taking Early Retirement. I took early retirement at the beginning of 2010, just days before my 59th birthday, after 33 years working for the same multinational IT company. I was given the opportunity to go before they totally screwed up the final salary pension plan. Despite not getting a golden goodbye, (indeed scarcely a goodbye at all; more likely “thank God we got rid of him”) it actually worked out well for me. I had originally planned on retiring at around 55, but this got delayed as Equitable Life and then the financial markets hit the buffers. But sometime this year (2011) I would have hit the maximum I could get out of the pension scheme, so I hardly lost out. And am I glad I went: I think another year of the huge IT restructuring project I was running would have killed me; it was too big and with too much management interference. It’s taken me a good year to surface again.

Buying Our House. 30-odd years married. 30-odd years working for the same company. And at the time of writing just weeks away from 30 years in the same house. We moved here in July 1981 from a scruffy rented flat. This is only a small 1930s terraced cottage in an unfashionable area of suburban London, but it is a welcoming house; it just felt right to us from the moment we first saw it. We bought just before the height of the high interest rates (6 months after we bought we were paying 17.5% on our mortgage; and that was normal!). Luckily we slightly under-mortgaged ourselves and were able to ride out the storm, eventually managing to pay off the mortgage some 7 years early! And we’re still here. There has been no imperative to move, except maybe to find more room for our ever-expanding mountain of books. There are only the two of us and two cats; we’ve never had kids (by choice); so why have a bigger house? And, now were both retired, we’ve decided that we’re staying here if we can rather than move. Yes there are other places we’d love to live, but none is as convenient for everything we want to do.

Don’t be like Father. I’m not sure whether this counts as a decision or not, but I’m glad I realised that I didn’t have to be a miserable old git of a Victor Meldrew character like my father. I know my father had many good qualities, not least giving me an intelligent and bohemian upbringing. But he was always negative and one of those people who fights life, rather than embracing it. Totally risk averse (there I do take after him and it has largely paid off for us) he was someone “they” were always out to get, especially financially. He was a Luddite and totally anti almost all technological developments – to him they were all an unnecessary con. I’m not sure quite when I realised I didn’t have to be like him and worry about everything; it probably wasn’t until I was the wrong side of 40. But somehow, once this dawned on me, I learnt, unconsciously, to let things wash over me. I still don’t know how I did it. But it doesn’t half make life easier. I still don’t exactly hedonistically embrace life (I’m not extrovert enough) but at least I’m not now worrying myself into an early grave.

So there it is. How I got to where I am by not making decisions!

Hamlet had a Cat …

For the cat lovers amongst you …

Hamlet’s Cat’s Soliloquy

To go outside, and there perchance to stay
Or to remain within: that is the question:
Whether ’tis better for a cat to suffer
The cuffs and buffets of inclement weather
That Nature rains on those who roam abroad,
Or take a nap upon a scrap of carpet,
And so by dozing melt the solid hours
That clog the clock’s bright gears with sullen time
And stall the dinner bell. To sit, to stare
Outdoors, and by a stare to seem to state
A wish to venture forth without delay,
Then when the portal’s opened up, to stand
As if transfixed by doubt. To prowl; to sleep;
To choose not knowing when we may once more
Our readmittance gain: aye, there’s the hairball;
For if a paw were shaped to turn a knob.
Or work a lock or slip a window-catch,
And going out and coming in were made
As simple as the breaking of a bowl,
What cat would bear the household’s petty plagues,
The cook’s well-practiced kicks, the butler’s broom,
The infant’s careless pokes, the tickled ears,
The trampled tail, and all the daily shocks
That fur is heir to, when, of his own free will,
He might his exodus or entrance make
With a mere mitten? Who would spaniels fear,
Or strays trespassing from a neighbor’s yard,
But that the dread of our unheeded cries
And scratches at a barricaded door
No claw can open up, dispels our nerve
And makes us rather bear our humans’ faults
Than run away to unguessed miseries?
Thus caution doth make house cats of us all;
And thus the bristling hair of resolution
Is softened up with the pale brush of thought,
And since our choices hinge on weighty things,
We pause upon the threshold of decision.

Why is Nudity Shocking?

What follows is the text of another article I discovered while clearing out the study, first published in BN (the magazine of British Naturism), issue 107, Spring 1991. I trust I will be forgiven for reproducing here the whole of the short article for posterity as otherwise it has doubtless long since sunk from sight. The author posits an interesting evolutionary perspective on nudity and society’s reactions to it. I make no comment on whether the author’s ideas are correct or not; simply that they are interesting.

Why Do They Find Nudity Shocking?

Browsing one day in a second-hand bookshop, I found a copy of Kinsey’s Sexual Behaviour in the Human Female. In a section on sex and nudity, Kinsey remarked The fear of observing the nude human body constitutes one of the most curious phenomena in human history.’ He cited the example that, in strict Judaism, man and wife are forbidden to copulate in the nude. Religious objections have often been raised against nudity in art. And almost all naturists will have encountered the ‘textile’ reaction ‘Oh, I couldn’t possibly do that!’


Fear or horror of nudity is obviously an extraordinary perversion. How could an animal have been brought to the point of responding with revulsion towards the bodies of members of its own species? In animal evolution, what could be more unnatural? Social behaviour — responses to other members of the same species — has evolved by sexual and natural selection. To mate or to attempt to mate with another species is obviously a response with very low fitness: few or no offspring are produced for the next generation. To be fit in this Darwinian sense, any animal must, at the very least, have evolved favourable responses to the bodies of the opposite sex. A social animal also lives in a group with others and must be able to cooperate with them to survive. So how could animals develop fear or horror of other bodies — the exact opposite of which must have evolved by sexual and natural selection? Nobody would suppose that a peahen or female pheasant might respond with fear or revulsion towards the brilliant plumage of the males: the tail of the peacock, the collar and crest of the golden pheasant exist — they evolved by sexual selection — precisely in order to attract the females. Humans must have evolved as naked animals, just as chimps and gorillas, are naked now.

From an evolutionist’s point of view, therefore, fear or horror of observing nude bodies is indeed most curious. Yet when, for example, a naturist beach is proposed, it is normal for local councillors to react with a ‘shock horror’ response. Of course this may be merely conventional — what is thought to be socially acceptable — for political or religious reasons. Even so, we should still have to explain why it should be thought to be socially acceptable to express horror at nudism. Most people may not really object to nudity, but a vociferous minority does appear to respond with genuine outrage. So we must ask how the normal evolutionary response should have become perverted to fear or even revulsion. I believe the general behavioural phenomenon of imprinting may be the answer.

Many people who follow natural history programmes on the television will have seen film of young goslings swimming behind the ethologist Konrad Lorenz just as if he were their mother. They had been reared by him from hatching; he had been imprinted on them as their parent. Many hand-reared animals show this behaviour. A hand-reared ram will attack humans as sexual rivals. Exposure to other species early in development can override the normal sexual preference for one’s own.

Cross-fostering experiments provide a scientific basis for this explanation. Birds will readily incubate the eggs of other species. Putting the eggs of one species in another’s nest produces chicks reared from hatching by the other species. Herring gulls and lesser black-backed gulls have been cross-fostered in this way. The cross-fostering males were as ready to mate with the fostering species as with their own. Females mated almost exclusively with the fostering species. This is consistent with observations that females are more discriminating in choice of mate and usually initiate pair formation. The females, and to a lesser extent the males, had been imprinted by the fostering species.

Imprinting of different forms of the same species can also occur. The lesser snow goose exists in one of two forms – a white form or a blue-grey form. The white snow goose is pure white except for grey wing tips. The blue snow goose is mostly grey tinged with blue and marked with black. Only the head, foreneck and rear underparts are white. Both forms are found together in the same population and freely interbreed. Snow geese show mating preferences imprinted by their parents’ colour. A snow goose reared by blue parents tends to choose a blue mate; reared by white parents, it would choose a white mate. Offspring of white and blue parents choose white or blue equally.

Imprinting can thus strongly influence sexual preference in animals. It can produce a preference for particular forms and colours, and even preference for completely different species. Mating with the wrong species is unlikely to happen in nature, of course, though it can be produced by experimental manipulation.

Humans are great manipulators of their own appearance, particularly in their variety of dress. Even naked, they manipulate their appearance to some extent – by shaving or dieting or exercise for example. Fashionable dress or body form might easily become imprinted on babies as the standard human type. This might explain periods of conservatism in dress, especially men’s dress if females are responsible for the final choice of mating. Great variety in dress would presumably break down the previous effects on imprinting, just as snow geese show no preference if one parent is white and the other is blue.

If a baby only ever sees its parents clothed, it will have the clothed human form imprinted upon it. To such a child, when it grows up, being clothed is how humans ‘should’ look. An aversion to nudity will have thus been imprinted. This could be further reinforced if the parents themselves had also been imprinted. Some parents react with shock and horror if they are encountered naked by their children. A parent’s reactions affect children strongly, and presumably will imprint a horror of being observed nude as well as a horror of observing nudity.

If fear or horror of nudity is indeed a product of imprinting, this would explain its persistent as ‘one of the most curious phenomena in human history’. Parents who may have avoided nudity on account of some religious prohibition, for example, will pass on an imprinted fear or horror of nudity to their children. This now more deep-seated fear will be passed on in turn and thus perpetuated over many generations. It is like the passing on of a gene from parents to offspring; yet it is non-genetic — an example of the cultural transmission of an highly aberrant behaviour; and it affects all the offspring, not just those who happen to receive a gene.

Does this theory have practical applications? The first is obvious: get ’em young — from birth. Babies who have always seen their parents naked may be expected to become imprinted with nudity as a normal human form. Perhaps they will then be less likely to become the ‘disappearing teenagers’ we hear about in BN. The second is, don’t bother to argue with those who have a deep-seated emotional bias against naturism. But local councillors, whose opposition is merely conventional and whose main concern is re-election, may be more amenable, particularly to arguments based on surveys of constituents; what their c
onstituents want, they can usually be persuaded to want too!

Peter O’Donald
Fellow and Director of Studies in Biology
Emmanuel College
Cambridge