Americans on Holiday

Toward the end of July we took a two-day journey from Vancouver to Jasper on the Rocky Mountaineer. For the uninitiated, this is a gin palace on rails that travels that offers great scenery and wildlife viewing. So far so scenic. However, when boarding the train at Vancouver and again at Kamloops, the first overnight stop, we encountered pickets. Seemingly, Rocky Mountaineer's management (very slick and scaringly smiley...) had sacked 108 employees and employed cheap replacements. The discarded workers had had the temerity to seek their first pay rise in four years and overtime, many working 16 hour days on the trains.
Having talked to the pickets - who assured us they didn't want to stop people travelling, but rather wanted to put their case to us - I referred to the dispute, and an incident of harrassment I witnessed by RM's security goons, on Tripadvisor.
Now returned from Canada, I check Tripadvisor only to find the following from two hard-of-thinking and resolutely selfish American tourists, who, while saying they found my review "helpful", then go on to urge others to ignore the dispute and party on down like nothing untoward is happening.
First up we have Junetalks from Westlake Village, California, who writes:

Don't let the labor situation deter you from taking this trip. I was worried about this before we left. It is more or less a non event that will not impact your vacation.

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To which I can only say, it certainly should "impact" your conscience: holidays don't come hermetically sealed in value free containers - our enjoyment comes at a price, and for certain members of Teamsters Local 31 that price has proved very high indeed: the least Junetalks could do is to acknowledge the depth of feeling shown on the pickets' placards.
Next up from the Land of the Free industrial relations ignorance cadre, we have Bebecox from Nashville, Georgia (thought it was in Tennessee, but guess they might have two - after all, it's an easy name to spell), BebeCox has an even more right-wing take on this, writing:

Do not let the labor issues with past employess keep you from experiencing this great trip. The replacement workers were a pleasure to travel with and were very qualified to provide excellent service.

Now, the "past employees" thing is particularly offensive: the sacked workers aren't on strike, they were "locked-out" by Rocky Mountaineer, who then recruited replacements to work for even less than the 108 had been paid: this is expressly forbidden under the law of British Columbia, but RM chose to rely on a loophole provided by Canadian federal law - which allows rail companies to lock-out transport workers. Given the essential part rail transport plays to the Canadian economy, you can understand the desire to keep the railways working at all costs. But the point of the exemption is that it's intended to keep the mainly freight-based system running, not to allow holiday tour operators to get rid of expensive (and highly experienced) tour guides, who, let's face it, aren't essential to the running of the Canadian Pacific or Canadian National freight transit networks.
So, Junetalks and BebeCox, while I'm pleased you enjoyed your Rocky Mountaineer journeys, I'm rather hacked-off that you didn't read, or if you did, couldn't work out how much the dispute affected my enjoyment. But, perhaps more importantly, I'm disgusted that you can tell others to disregard a blatant injustice because it might just "impact" on their right to have a good time.

Mordecai Richler? Never heard of him...

Visited the Viewpoint Bookshop in Lake Louise, Alberta and noticed a copy of Barney's Version on the shelf. This was a new edition, carrying a banner that announced "Now a Major Motion Picture". Inside the back cover, the blurb mentioned that a biography of Richler was published on October 2010, so I asked the man behind the counter if they had it in stock. I explained that I was a fan of Richler's and that it was hard to get hold of books by or about him in UK bookshops, I actually referred to him as one of Canada's greatest literary exports. The man replied: "Oh, I didn't know he was Canadian. I only stocked that one 'cos I saw they'd made a movie of it. Does he still live over here and is he still writing?"
I replied, somewhat taken aback, "unfortunately, he died in 2001". The man apologised, and I went on: "You're going to have to catch up on his other stuff as a penance, aren't you?"

Mordecai Richler wrote 10 novels and hundreds of press articles, he won two Governor General's Literary Awards and was made Companion of the Order of Canada. Hard to see how he hadn't crossed the bookshop owner's radar before last night.

A hard lesson for the Institute for Learning?

While Michael Gove gains an unenviable reputation as a meddler in the world of compulsory education, his attitude to the further education sector seems to be http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifambivalent, to say the least. How else to explain both his failure to visit an FE college since taking office and also his willingness to allow a closed-shop to flourish in the form of the Institute for Learning (IfL)?
Having managed to avoid the ‘bonfire of the quangos’ – a fate that befell its sister organisation the General Teaching Council (GTC) - the IfL has now announced that its - generally reluctant – associates, members and fellows, who rejoice in the acronyms AIFL, MIFL and FIFL, will have to stump up £38.00 for the dubious privilege of belonging to an organisation that is, for many, a prerequisite to continued employment in the sector.
The imposition of this levy comes at a very bad time in FE, with colleges and other providers fearing deep cuts to funding with the inevitable loss of courses and jobs. Yet the IfL, which is highly adept at portraying itself as being essential for the career and professional development of teachers and trainers, feels it is justifhttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gified in becoming self-funding on the less than auspicious date of April 1 this year. In reality, the move was forced on it as the government has announced it is no longer going to pick up the tab of paying the full cost of all subscriptions, as has been the case since the IfL was formed in 2006.
Needless to say, the lecturers and their union, the UCU, are far from pleased. The UCU is balloting members for a boycott of the IfL, with the result that AIFLs, MIFLs and FIFLs now questioning whether they need the IfL could refuse to stump up £38.00 to belong to an organisation whose much vaunted, and largely self-publicised, benefits and services mainly consist of a pointless online database on which they have to record the endless round of meetings and training events that represent the necessary number of continuous professional development (CPD) hours they have to undertake each year as a pre-condition of retaining their professional status.

Driving licence blues

The request from the Bureau de Change clerk was simple enough: "have you got any photo ID on you?".
"Sure, I've got my driving licence". After moving house last October, I finally swapped my paper licence for the photo-card type and it always stays in my wallet. But not last Friday. A furious pat-down self-search followed, accompanied by "helpful" prompts from spouse and clerk. "I'll have to come back later", I muttered, leaving the Bureau with wife reluctantly in tow behind.
The most obvious question, after turning drawers upside down, was "where did you last have it". "Can't remember" was the equally obvious, but totally useless answer.
The previous evening we'd done last minute shopping for the Canada trip (which includes car hire - hence the need for a driving licence...) and bought clothes and luggage from several shops at Junction 32, a retail outlet near Castleford, West Yorkshire.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif
So I got out all the credit card slips and shop receipts and we called round thttp://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifhe shops and cafe we'd visited, plus the centre's security department. All drew a blank. Even called the baker's shop where I'd bought a lunchtime sandwich. Nothing. Next point of call? Driver Vehicle Licensing Agency, Swansea. They were surprising helpful - a new licence could be ordered over the 'phone for a £20 fee. But there was a cost-saving catch: while they could dispatch it the next working day (Monday, as it turned out), DVLA only uses second-class post. No express service or guaranteed next day. Just real snail-mail.
And there you have it. Three days to go and waiting for the Royal Mail to deliver the replacement licence. My wife isn't looking forward to being the only other driver in the group - and I'm not looking forward to accompanying her in that capacity as a licence-less non-driver, when we wend our way through the Rockies from Jasper to Calgary.

Sunday in the Wharfe

Spent yesterday afternoon pratting around with an inflatable boat on the River Wharfe at Burnsall, North http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gifYorks.
All the warnings about inflatables can make you feel wary of them. All I got was wet, much to chagrin of wife and sons, who seemed to be expecting the old git to get washed downriver half a mile or so, at the least. Sorry to disappoint, didn't crawl out of the river like a drowned-rat before a barbequing crowd at Appletreewick but bailed out when I realised the strength of the current meant I was going round in circles that were leading me on a spiral course downriver. I got out, in rather ungainly fashion, have to admit, while I still knew how deep the river was.

Xxxx-Box

Another victory for pester-power. I was prevailed upon by my sons to purchase an X-Box last Christmas. While we've had PlayStations and WIIs and Gameboys and PSPs have come and gone, the X-Box has given us a new - and terrifying - dimension that I was unaware of when I parted with my hard-earned.
The first signs were there on Christmas Day, when I was asked for the Router access details. On asking why, when I thought they were busy zapping virtual reality life forms, was so that they could go online. Didn't I realise, they asked, that the X-Box allows you to play with anyone who's online and playing the same game you are!
Now, several things tend to happen when you allow any geek or game-obsessed cyber warrior into your home. Your children turn into angry call-centre clone operatives, with the stupid head set and mouthpiece while they discuss the merits of graphics and tactics with heaven-knows who. They also run the risk of turning into the "last to be picked" for a team, or the first to be picked on if their playing skills are not as developed as the unseen group they've joined.
We've also had to endure the threat of being hacked and the heart-rending reality of being removed from a supposed-friend's playlist for committing some unspoken adolescent cyber-howler.
I suppose I'm open to criticism for not researching the full potential of the thing before buying it. But the danger far-outweighs the benefits. Not so long ago, the school bully stayed at school or followed you down the road home, but would soon give up if the walk was too long; now you can be turned into a slobbering wreck in the discomfort of your own room and in front of your own TV. It's reality gaming but far too real for me.

York amid the tourists

To York for a course from work. Walking from train station to the venue, part of the Theatre Royal that dates from the 13th century and used to form part of the cellar of St Leonard's Hospital, the way kept being blocked by group of Japanese tourists. They were intent of capturing all the city with a digital camera - on a tripod, which they placed on the pavement at regular intervals, slowing everything to a crawl. I was too polite to get in the way of the shot - even though for many of them I couldn't actually see any merit in the view - so that the five minute stroll turned into a fraught stop-start meander.

On the way back to the station I was approached by a middle-aged woman with an eastern European accent wanting directions to the National Railway Museum. I offered to show her, as it was on my route before realising that - at 5.05 pm it would be on the point of closing. The look on her face when I told her, allowing for the time lag in translation, was one of utmost disappointment. Turned out she was doing York in a day. Hard work sightseeing, apparently.

Bargewreck

Overhead this conversation while walking along the Huddersfield Narrow Canal in Slaithwaite, West Yorkshire. I was in a hurry to get back to my car and overtook a family group, at the head of which was a grandfather with his 4-5 year-old grandson.
Grandson: "what happened to your boat?"
Granddad: "a silly person pushed a car into the canal and grandma and granddad sailed over it because we couldn't see it in the water in front of us. Our boat went over onto its side and we had to scramble out back to the bank".

All human life laid bare on the towpath.

A hard lesson for the Institute for Learning?

While Michael Gove gains an unenviable reputation as a meddler in the world of compulsory education, his attitude to the further education sector seems to be ambivalent, to say the least. How else to explain both his failure to visit an FE college since taking office and also his willingness to allow a closed-shop to flourish in the form of the Institute for Learning (IfL)?
Having managed to avoid the ‘bonfire of the quangos’ – a fate that befell its sister organisation the General Teaching Council (GTC) - the IfL has now announced that its - generally reluctant – associates, members and fellows, who rejoice in the acronyms AIFL, MIFL and FIFL, will have to stump up £68.00 for the dubious privilege of belonging to an organisation that is, for many, a prerequisite to continued employment in the sector.
The imposition of this levy comes at a very bad time in FE, with colleges and other providers fearing deep cuts to funding with the inevitable loss of courses and jobs. Yet the IfL, which is highly adept at portraying itself as being essential for the career and professional development of teachers and trainers, feels it is justified in becoming self-funding on the less than auspicious date of April 1 this year. In reality, the move was forced on it as the government has announced it is no longer going to pick up the tab of paying the full cost of all subscriptions, as has been the case since the IfL was formed in 2006.
Needless to say, the lecturers and their union, the UCU, are far from pleased. The UCU is canvassing support for a boycott of the IfL, with the result that AIFLs, MIFLs and FIFLs now questioning whether they need the IfL could refuse to stump up £68.00 to belong to an organisation whose much vaunted, and largely self-publicised, benefits and services mainly consist of a pointless online database on which they have to record the endless round of meetings and training events that represent the necessary number of continuous professional development (CPD) hours they have to undertake each year as a pre-condition of retaining their professional status.

Oxford University Press oppresses freelances

The Oxford University Press (OUP), one of the world's leading academic and professional publishing houses, is imposing a draconian and far-reaching "agreement" on freelances. These are frequently sole traders, with little in the way of financial resources. OUP is insisting that freelances sign the "agreement" by the beginning of Feb as a precondition for continuing to receive work, such as editing, indexing or proofreading.
The reason given for the "agreement" is to prove a freelance's status as an independent contractor for UK tax purposes - something that has traditionally been done by applying the UK tax authorities' "badges of trade". However, the agreement goes much further, in that it contains an indemnity clause, under which freelances have to indemnify OUP against any errors or mistakes that are accidentally introduced into the text of the material they've been working on.
This is both unfair and oppressive, but OUP - stating that it is relying on legal advice - refuses to enter into negotiations about the indemnity clause, or even provide an adequate explanation as to the perceived need for it.
Both the NUJ and the Society for Editors and Proofreaders (SfEP), which represent the interests of freelances in the publishing industry, have approached OUP requesting clarification of the terms of the indemnity clause, but have been rebuffed by OUP.
Let's hope OUP's authors wise-up to what's happening and apply some pressure on OUP, otherwise their work will suffer as experienced freelances refuse to handle their titles because of OUP's unconsionable attitude to the freelances that form the backbone of the publishing industry.

Happy New Year?

How are people who have got used to 'having' things (even if funded by debt) going to react when they find themselves excluded from the consumer society? We've seen the first stirrings of social unrest with the student fee protests but will 2011 see many more taking to the streets in protest?
All very well for Cameron to say the cuts are necessary, and, in time-honoured Tory style that "there is no other way" - but will those about to lose their jobs, their status - possibly even their homes - see it that way. Exclusion is going to hurt and many of us have got used to 'having' all that we want: not 'having' or being excluded from the means of 'having' is going to test many in 2011.

Dave wants you to be happy!

We've been here before, Jeremy Bentham came up with his "felicific calculus" over 300 years ago. Only problem is, how can you make the majority of people feel "happy"?

What it "happiness" - social interaction? educational success? Thriving arts scene? Universal health? All things, in short, that now seem to be under threat from the government's austerity measures.

You can, of course, make people feel "happier" by making them focus on their basic needs: warmth, shelter, reading Mr Murdoch's newspapers, signing Bobby McFerrin's greatest (and thankfully only) hit. In short, you create a nation of happy morons, whose pleasure is assured by anything the ruling class seem fit to throw their way - as long as its dressed up on language that will make them feel good for the short-term.

Put it another way: how can you feel "happy" when you learn more about Andrew Lansley's plans for backdoor NHS privatisation or IDS's ideas for a benefits system that stigmatises the poorest and most disadvantaged in our society.

Degrees are good for society, it's not just self-interest

Heard Janet Daley on Radio 4 this morning, waxing lyrical (and rather misty-eyed, no doubt) about the wonders of the US higher education system, and how she worked 6 nights a week in a cinema to fund her studies. Then she came to the good old Tory question: "Why should those who don't go on to uni pay for those that do?"

Well, this takes us back to Thatcher and "no such thing as society", doesn't it. If you've been to the doctors lately or had a tooth filled, you'd be rather glad that the person you saw went to uni: in effect, you benefited from the knowledge and skills they got from higher education. Similarly, if you've dealt with someone who has a degree - and used the knowledge and abilities they gained from it, whether they were in a "graduate" job or not - then you've also benefited, albeit indirectly, from higher education.

As for Ms Daley's US experience, that struck me as the transatlantic equivalent of Monty Python's 4 Yorkshiremen. We don't have to follow the US in everything, and higher education is one area where we have more than enough experience on this side of the water to formulate our own policies.

NHS Direct

Coincidentally, given yesterday's announcement that the Coalition Government is to close NHS Direct, I had to call on its services yesterday morning when my son complained of stomach cramp.

Although the initial call was taken by a call-handler (what they?), I was soon called back by a paediatric nurse who reviewed his symptoms and then made an appointment for us to be seen at an emergency clinic at 9.00am.

Following NHS Direct's replacement by the cheaper 1-1-1 helpline, call-handlers, with around 60 hours training, will take the majority of the calls. As I found yesterday, when calling about a sick child, there's no alternative to fast, effective diagnosis and referral - remember this is a holiday weekend in the UK, and my own GPs' surgery is closed until Tuesday morning: what would 1-1-1 provide in this instance?

Andrew Lansley's announcement of NHS Direct's demise - during Parliament's Summer recess, makes Cameron's promise on NHS funding seem like cheap political opportunism, intended to dupe the gullible into voting for the Tories "the new party of the NHS".

Remember the 80s - the NHS most certainly isn't safe in their grubby little hands.

The Great Bear (Grylls) Hunt

Sunday, May 30 at 5.45 I roused my eleven-year old son and keen Sea Scout for an important rendezvous. His unit, 12th Halifax, had been invited to put on a kayaking and canoing display for the Chief Scout, Bear Grylls (actually, he’s called Michael) at Reva Reservoir, near Bingley, West Yorkshire.

As the scouts had to be on the water by 8.00, and we also had to pick another scout up en route – also my son is not a morning person, I prepared him the night before by telling him how his grandfather had paraded in front of Robert Baden-Powell at Pontefract Racecourse when he was 12 in 1933. Granddad died last year and he was very close to my sons, so I thought this would head-off any early morning protests.

In the event, he got up without a protest, dressed quickly and we left the house with sailing gear, vacuum flasks and jam sandwiches by 6.10. Collecting his friend on the way, I dropped them at Reva at 7.15. Parents couldn’t stay on site and a rather officious scout leader told me to return at 9.30. Strange, as the reason for Bear’s visit was to drum up adult volunteers. That aside, I went to Bingley where I attended the 8.00 Communion service and wandered empty streets before setting off back to Reva.

Bear, who was on a tour of Northern England, arrived by helicopter and spoke to scouts and leaders, including my son who was kayaking. Bear reached down to shake his hand, whereupon my son told him: “my granddad marched in front of Lord Baden-Powell at Pontefract Racecourse”. “That’s great” Bear replied.

It certainly was – my son isn’t lost for words and speaks easily with adults; I know dad would’ve been so proud of him. After all, he would’ve just been a face in the crowd on that parade, but his grandson spoke to the Chief Scout in person.

Scouting was vitally important for my dad and scouts of his generation. He grew up during the Great Depression. Money was tight in many families and scouting allowed them to get out of the city and explore the countryside. If Bear's tour drums up more volunteers, at a time when we're seeing public sector funding cuts, then the early morning will have been worth it.

Malaprop Corner

Overheard in Brighouse fish and chip shop queue:
“We had a power cut for a couple of hours the other night.”
“Really, what did you do?”
“Nothing. We just sat around like lemmings.”

Someone forced to undergo a period of enforced idleness usually likens their situation to a piece of citrus fruit, not a suicidally-inclined rodent.

Couldn't help wondering what they'd put in a meringue pie or squeeze over their pancakes.

Pay rates can go down...

I was offered some teaching work at a further education college yesterday. This was a "repeat" booking as I was going to be teaching a course I first delivered 2 years ago. However, Personnel decided to cap the hourly rate at £5.90 per hour LESS than I earned in 2008. Guess my response.

An Aire of Nostalgia

A walk by the river Aire in Leeds.
Spent part of the day on a Ramblers' walk led by my former science teacher along the river Aire from Leeds City centre to Woodlesford.

The route was strewn with memories for me. Starting with the Calls , where I learned to row and sail with the Sea Cadets, we walked past Crown Point Bridge
and the Royal Armouries. Sad to see the former location of the Sea Cadet unit at Leeds Lock Island now abandoned, with weeds poking through the parade ground and the buildings falling into dereliction.

The walk took us on out of the city's waterfront area, under South Accommmodation Road, running parallel to Hunslet Road to Thwaite Mills - and the site of the present location of the Sea Cadets (I carry a permanent reminder of the Bofors gun in the form of a lump above my left ear, where the barrel caught me a blow that needed stitching one summer Sunday afternoon in July 1976).

Lunch at Thwaite Mills allowed me to catch up with John Clark, walk leader and former Science Lecturer at the then Kitson College of Technology. John succeeded in teaching me the rudiments of physics as part of my City and Guilds course in Lithographic Printing in the early 80s. He told me he'd retired in 1992 after 24 years at the College. His quiet manner and assured delivery were still in evidence during the walk as he described the route and places of interest, such as Atkinson's Mill in Hunslet.
Afterwards, I remembered an occasion when John, a strict Methodist and teetotaler, deviated from his planned lesson (how Ofsted would've had disapproved!) to give his class of printing apprentices, who were anything but teetotal, an impromptu lecture on the action of yeast and sugar in producing alcohol and carbon dioxide: proof positive that good teachers are born, not made.

Great day, walking along the river bank and back through time - sweet memories of a landscape that was far removed from the gentrified waterfront, with its mill conversions and purpose built apartments. If any of my former TS Ark Royal shipmates read this, Old Myron's Navy's still pulling, just not by Crown Point anymore.

What a set of bankers

Needing 20 £1 coins for a kids party, I wandered into the Halifax branch of Lloyds TSB. The lunchtime queue was long, due to the lack of cashiers, but I decided to wait. When a cashier eventually became free, I went to the desk and requested the coins in exchange for a £20 note, which I placed on the counter. “Could I have your account number?” asked the cashier, to which I replied that I didn't have an account with the bank; “sorry” she said: “we can only give change to account holders”. “You've got to be kidding” was the best I could come up with as I retrieved my £20 note and headed for the door. Only when I got outside did I think of the ideal repost - “but I am a bloody shareholder 'cos I'm a UK taxpayer”.

I suppose Angela Knight will have a good reason for Lloyd's behaviour, but to the rest of us they still come across as bloody ungrateful bastards...

Knife arches in West Yorkshire

Although West Yorks police said the arches would be used in Wakefield, I was asked to walk through one at Bradford Interchange at lunchtime on Saturday, 14 November. The arch was being operated by a female PCSO and a man in civvies with an ear-piece. He didn't identify himself as a police officer and I'm kicking myself now because I meekly walked through when asked and didn't question his authority...
Bear in mind, the Interchange was quiet and I had my two young sons with me. I hardly fit the profile of a knife-wielding threat to public order or security. Were they just making up their numbers in an attempt to justify their mobile surveillance operation?

Wish now I'd asked some questions, not just meekly obeyed - rights need vigilance: on this occasion I fell for the authority figure. Sorry.