The end of the Co-operative Bank?

Well, so much for the much vaunted spread of competition in the retail banking sector. The beleagured Co-op, of which I'm a business and personal customer, seems rather shaky this weekend. I like mutuality in banking - sod the shareholders and their clamour for dividends - mutuals inject some sanity into the financial world; and in the case of the Co-operative, this was topped with their ethical stance. But not all mutuals were so nice and cuddly. The Britannia Building Society, for example, might have been owned by its members, but it was driven by a very pushy sales culture that I came to dislike intensely when managing accounts their on behalf of my parents. Every visit turned into a sales opportunity. Once, at the end of a month, I was coerced by the manager of the Huddersfield branch into converting two low interest accounts into 5 year bonds:I had an eye on the parking meter; she on her sales targets while the spiel wore relentlessly on. So important was the transaction to her that she insisted on dropping the forms round to my house in person, it was, she said, a short detour for her on the way home. In consequence of this treatment, I closed all the Britannia accounts as they matured and voted against the 2009 acquisition of the Society by the Co-operative. With pay reportedly being clawed-back from former Co-operative and Britannia employees involved in the debacle, I think there are many in the Bank and amongst its customers who must now wish they'd done the same. Unfortunately, the Co-op isn't too big to fail, and its founding principles are probably way too far to the left for Osborne to feel much in the way of sympathy, so I don't think there will be much appetite for a Treasury-mounted rescue; the only hope from that quarter might be the desire to give some traction to the oft-repeated calls for greater competition in the retail banking sector. Co-operative savers and investors, however, need to keep their options open, and hope that another mutual offers something approaching the same level of service that saw the Co-operative consistently outperform larger high-street operations in the customer satisfaction stakes.

A bit of a Kerfuffle

Which is the most serious: a kerfuffle or a palaver? Judging by usage in Yorkshire and Lancashire it would seem the former is the more trivial. After all, you can have a 'bit of a kerfuffle, but there's a tendency to say it's a 'right palaver'.

The Guru of Ampersands and Asses

I recently attended a business promotion event held in a football stadium in a near-by town. In addition to 40-odd businesses showing their wares, there were a range of seminars, led by expert facilitators. One, aged in his early 20s, was – according to his blurb – a Facebook guru. Already a seasoned promotional and marketing campaign leader, he was going to show us all how to ‘create a real kick ass page & what sort of content you need to think of to get “viral”. Being a native UK English user, my first thought was whether I needed to learn how to kick a donkey. This was followed by the cringe-making realisation that the young guru seemed to have a predilection for unwarranted ampersands. Facebook, as with other social networking media, may indeed be international, but the dangers of adopting it as the benchmark for all forms of written communication are becoming increasingly apparent. The guru, again according to his blurb, is adept at ‘finding ways that make him stand out’. You could say that again.

Cameron’s Fusiliers - Now Recruiting

The National Governors’ Association, the umbrella body representing the UK’s school governors, is now acting as the recruiting sergeant for David Cameron’s national service scheme for school and college students, the National Citizen Service. NCS participants are expected to take part in community and team building projects before joining a week-long residential outdoor pursuit course that takes place in school holidays. The scheme is heavily subsidised; the cost to parents is £50.00 with a bursary scheme for those who can’t afford it. Each session culminates with a ‘graduation ball’ at which students are presented with a certificate personally signed by David Cameron. Organisers gush that this ‘will look amazing on a CV or UCAS application’ – but given the PMs current low standing in the education sector, students would be well advised to keep the signature covered if showing the certificate to admissions tutors. Aside from the ball and Cameron’s moniker, the scheme replicates much of the outward bound work that local education authorities used to provide at their own centres, many of which have now been sold off to fund budget cuts, and the NGA’s involvement smacks rather of desperation by Downing Street and the DfE in drumming up support. Imagine the hue and cry that would issue from those same portals if Labour-run local authorities offered their own subsidised schemes for youth in their areas. In any event, school governors are kept rather too busy by the outpourings of Mr Gove’s over-active imagination to be sounding the praises of the Big Society by recruiting their young charges to take part in taxpayer subsidised prime ministerial feel-good photo opportunities.

Feeding back on feedback

Just in, from head of an examination board - who obviously has too much time on his hands... "You have provided us with a rich and detailed source of feedback and we have a lot of work to do to further analyse and consider how we move forward on the issues you’ve raised. I remain committed to providing you with feedback about this over the coming months, through the newsletter as well as through other means as appropriate." A never ending loop of feedback, going forward. Arghhhhhh. My idea of a living hell.

Tories: so many scapegoats, so little time - but IDS really doesn't want to frighten you

Interesting piece in this week's Private Eye. Apparently, IDS is concerned that people are being unnecessarily frightened by changes to housing benefit for social housing tenants. Bit of a mouthful that, isn't it. Could shorten it to Bedroom Tax, After all, that's what some journalists and a lot of the Twitterati seem to do. And that's the problem: you see, IDS has taken the BBC to task - and they've agreed not to call it the Bedroom Tax anymore. So simple really. Except it isn't. As you see from the article, IDS really only wants to frighten 'social housing tenants', not people in private rented accommodation who claim housing benefit (presumably he'll be coming after them later). But this is a perennial problem for the Tories. They have a political ideology that is built on fear: fear of the 'others'; fear of the immigrant; fear of the poor; anyone that might possibly be useful when it comes to keeping the marginal Tory voter on side. Right now, of course, with UKIP on the rise, the fear and scapegoating is taking on a new urgency. This can be seen in the reply from my MP - Tory in key marginal by the way - to an email I sent him. In this, I voiced my concern about politicians and the media victimising the poorest in society. But as you see from his response, he artfully only picks on the journalists (but doesn't name any Tory scribblers, presumably for fear of losing support; but we know who they are, don't we?). He only bothers to take up the first paragraph half-answering my point before turning the reply into a veritable hymn of praise to IDS's Universal Credit. . How reassuring it all is. And how reassured I'm meant to be; as long, that is, as I'm not a benefit claimant, or even, presumably, someone who doesn't have a job of work. I'm not, and I do: but I have claimed benefits and been unemployed in the past and recognise that I could be either of those again in the future. I also recognise the fear and loathing that scapegoating like this causes those who are claimants now. Which is why I spend so much of my time reading and writing about the subject - because we are responsible for those the Tories and their fellow travellers in the media tell us to distrust or castigate. Which is also why I'm so impressed by the Truth and Lies about Poverty Report from the Methodist, Baptist and United Reformed Church Joint Public Issues Team. The Report dispel myths, in particular those of the 'everyone knows' sort that IDS and his happy band of SPADs like to feed to the Daily Wail, the Sun, Express et al. The truth is that benefit claimants did not cause the deficit. They do, however, come in useful as a government tool to deflect concern away from the real culprits: the message that we should take from these deflection strategies is that we shouldn't even think of attacking the bankers and financial institutions that are really to blame - because IDS doesn't want us being beastly to his friends.

Blandings - too bland for Wodehouse

Blandings - a good job the Beeb said the series is 'based on' P G Wodehouse's stories. The originals are much better and far, far funnier. As a Sunday evening sub-Downton offering Timothy Spall and Jennifer Saunders have been mildly amusing, but after I got a couple of 'Plumb' Wodehouse's books from the library (we still have them in Calderdale - and damn good they are too), I realised the written version is much better than the screen performance. For a start, Wodehouse carefully crafts his humour and lets the reader in - slowly - to the unfolding action. What is a short piece of virtual slapstick to Spall's Lord Emsworth is a verbal delight on the page - and laugh out loud funny when he reaches the squishy punchline. The hero - in Blandings it would be Lord Emsworth - is just a liable as the villain to end up looking ridiculous, and even the most inconsequential of plotlines is made to feel like the stuff of major importance as Wodehouse's elegant prose leads you into the action. Turn off the TV - read the books. Aside from the Jeeves and Wooster series, I particularly recommend Blandings Castle and A Few Quick Ones (ten short and very funny stories).

Take your partners for the great energy switcheroo...

Hacked off by Eon's latest price hike, a price comparison check showed that Co-operative Energy was cheaper. Being an existing Co-op member, and feeling that it would be good to cut the shareholder dividend out the price equation, I opted to change supplier to the Co-op.
Now received three emails from the Co-op requesting final meter readings. I've responded to these but the site linked to the request can't accept a gas reading because they haven't yet received a final reading from Eon. Which the won't - because Eon are waiting for the final gas reading from the sodding Co-op!
Human contact is out, of course. An insipid recorded voice tells me they're experiencing "high call volumes" (no big surprise there, probably legions of us frustrated would-be switchers caught in limbo betwixt suppliers).
So much for government and Ofgem assurances that switching is now much easier and that customers should shop around.
From what I've seen so far, with sob story calls from Eon and Co-operative Energy's inability to read emails switching suppliers is as frustrating as ever.

A Rather Poetic Pennine Wander

Spent the afternoon of New Year's Day walking from Lumbutts to Langfield Common in Calderdale, West Yorkshire. Following Paul Hannon's Hebden Bridge and the Calder Valley guide, we set off from Lumbutts, a hamlet in just off the Pennine Way long-distance footpath near Todmorden in the Calder Valley.
A strong wind at our back, we walked from the Shepherd's Rest public house away from the hamlet to join the Pennine Way before turning back at the Long Stoop to return to Lumbutts down an ancient packhorse path.
The walk was certainly invigorating, though we found some of the rather poetic instructions hard to follow in places, in particular the sections describing the path leading from Lumbutts to the Long Stoop. All in all, though, an great walk - certainly blew away the post-Christmas cobwebs.

The Long Stoop

Adwords add confusion

Google Adwords gophers have been in touch to say that my advert has been 'disapproved' because it links to a URL that contravenes their Landing Policy. What this techi bollocks means is that they think the site - which has featured in the same form on the advert for over five years - is infected with Malware. However, having run Google's own diagnostic tool over it, my site is clean (http://google.com/safebrowsing/diagnostic?hl=en-GB&site=http://www.westfieldeditorial.co.uk); moreover, Google hasn't visited that particular URL at all in the last 90 days. Sounds like the new year's getting off to a good start in Google Ad land, doesn't it? Meanwhile, my site is freely available, boring, yet available to visit in complete safety - you are all welcome to point your browsers to it.

C of E - licensed to discriminate

Maria Miller's cringe-making defence of the Government's religious same-sex marriage 'opt-in' compromise overlooks one important fact with regard to the Church of England. This is the 'established' Church, which means - in addition to having the monarch as its 'Supreme Governor' that forms part and parcel of the Constitutional relationship between Church and State (and 20-odd of its most senior Bishops sit in the House of Lords and have a role in making our secular laws). This means that the permanent 'opt-out' imposed on the Church of England and the Church in Wales from - supposedly - ever being able to marry a same-sex couple, in effect, sees the UK government enshrining in law the right to discriminate on one of the organs of state. Nice work Cameron, but I don't think it's enough to eep your grubby little compromise out of the European Court of Human Rights...

Leaving the Church

I have to admit that I'm not a natural decision-maker. I find there are always so many issues to consider and I fear being seen to rush in. Then again, there are times when you come to see that thing you previously accepted have changed, there comes a tipping-point and the end result becomes obvious. So it has become with my response to the decision of the Bishops' Advisory Panel I attended in April. The word Advisory is really a misnomer – a BAP's findings are invariably followed to the letter, and there is no right of challenge or appeal. It is not the fact of the refusal that has caused me such difficulty, rather the way in which the decision was reached; the report, in particular the part written by the pastoral adviser, contains a series of errors, but I was told, straightaway, that I just had to accept it and that coming to terms with rejection would, somehow, prove to be 'cathartic'. Well, taking my Vicar’s good advice, I took time off from Reader duties, even Church itself, and I talked and prayed about my position, but in the end I have come to the decision that I simply cannot return to St Matthew's. The crux here is the issue of obedience. My Reader's licence states that I am required to be obedient to the diocesan bishop in all things lawful. However, that far-reaching demand is now beyond me because it comes constrained by my realisation that expediency has come before justice; procedure before fairness, and I have been denied any opportunity even to set the record straight, let alone to challenge what I feel to be a patent injustice. It is now six months since I last felt able even to cross the threshold of an Anglican Church. That is a sentence I never thought I'd write, but it is true – and it is also true that my personal faith has probably never been stronger. However, in that six month period, I have also taken time to consider a range of other issues that have caused me difficulties over the years – mainly because they keep recurring in the news and in my thoughts and prayers. I have said many times that I believe divorcees are treated as second-class Christians by the Anglican Church, and this is especially true of the invidious, highly intrusive, but ultimately unnecessary Faculty process that remarried ordination candidates have to endure. In our case, my wife and I both divorced our first spouses a full eight years before we even met, yet the Faculty application was rejected three times, with no reason or explanation given by the Archbishop of York, who has sole jurisdiction to decide – again without any right of challenge or appeal. But this is not the only issue on which I feel that I have to part company with the Church leadership. The failure to accept the fullness of women's ministry, amply demonstrated by the amendment put forward as a failed compromise in the women bishops debate, and the failure to offer any real pastoral lead on issues of human sexuality, in particular the discriminatory treatment of homosexuals, are evidence of failures to accept the diversity of human life or to engage with the human condition, which I feel lies at the heart of the Gospel. So why not work for change from within the Church? Well, I have considered that, but feel it simply is not an option. This is because, as I see it, the Church leadership is adopting an increasingly beleagured stance in the face of its perceived loss of influence in contemporary society. The drift towards extreme, even reactionary, positions when faced with opposition, as evidenced by Lord Carey's recent intemperate remarks at a Conservative conference fringe meeting, taken together with the acceptance of rules and procedures that already routinely deny a right of challenge to internal dissent do not, I most sincerely believe, bode well for the future. Taken collectively, the overall effect is that I see a church that now finds itself a long way behind mainstream society, key elements of which seem to be far more accepting, forgiving and nurturing than the established church: what, as the Occupy protesters asked, would Jesus do? Not, I suspect, selectively quote scripture or mouth empty platitudes before lapsing into often confusing silence. I have been active in the Anglican Church for forty-odd years, the last 23 as a Reader, and I embarked on the selection procedure reliant on three very positive internal diocesan interviews that were fully supported by personal, pastoral and academic references, but these meant nothing in the final analysis, as only the BAP recommendation was taken into consideration. The end result is that I now find myself unable to continue within its structures or accept its authority. I do, however, feel called to a more listening or reflective type of witness, one that is not reliant on hierarchies but a more direct, personal relationship with God.

Eon-ough is enough

Few, if any, of us would buy from an organisation that allowed its telesales staff to harangue us during a 'cold call', yet energy supplier Eon seems to be going out of its way to alienate customers by doing just that, if our recent experience is anything to go by. Last week, my wife was called on her mobile by an Eon representative who asked to speak to me. Having explained that the call had come through to her and that I wasn't available, the caller abruptly hung-up. Yesterday, however, she received another call, again intended for me, but this time the caller insisted, or perhaps persisted, in trying to get the message across. The call came while my wife was at work and she explained that we didn't need boiler cover and that she was busy and couldn't talk. Instead of accepting this, the caller proceeded to speak with increasing volume and speed, doubtless to ensure they reached the end of their script faster than my wife could hit the red button. Caller failed - and now Eon have received a non-too polite email to Customer Services pointing out that another call will result in us changing energy suppliers. Calling the mobile is interesting as our landline is registered with the Telephone Preference Scheme (TPS) and we've told Eon only to contact us via email. It's also interesting that they seem so keen to sell central heating insurance now - is this a response the the government's tariff reduction plans?

Being Watched - then and now

From the tower of St Nicholas's Church in Prague's Lesser Town Square (Mala Strana Nemesti) the secret police used to watch comings and goings from their baroque watchtower. There are few CCTV cameras in evidence in Prague today. But in the UK, on average, you appear on approx 200 CCTV cameras each day you spend in a city or large town. The 1989 Velvet Revolution showed how far people will go to claim their freedom. We, on the other hand, have given ours away without a murmur – no consent was sought, and much of the watching is done for profit, not state snooping, though the authorities have made sure they can get their hands on the results, so that's alright then... And, as the right-wing press are always eager to say, if you haven't done anything wrong, you've nothing to fear.

Tramadol – did the doctor really know best?

I was given Tramadol in hospital to relive pain after a left knee arthroscopy. About an hour later, the physiotherapist had to help me back into bed. My temperature had rocketed and I felt about to keel over during her demonstration of how to ascend and descend stairs with a walking stick. She was assisted in her efforts by the ward sister, who left me with the words “if they ever ask if you’re allergic to any painkillers – say Tramadol, it doesn’t agree with you”. Well, my knees are both the same age, and this August it was the turn of my right knee to have its cartlidge tidied-up, as the doctor put it – making it sound more like something you’d do in a garden, rather than in an operating theatre under general anaesthetic. There then followed the painkiller allergy/intolerance question, to which I mentioned the Tramadol incident. “Oh, I don’t think it could have been Tramadol. After all, you’d also been on morphine. And it was an hour after you’d been given it before you had the problem” was his response – to which I replied that I didn’t want to risk a repeat performance; I was also mindful that I was being sent home as soon as I came round from the anaesthetic, and didn’t want to have an adverse reaction when I got home, leaving my wife and sons to have to deal with the immediate consequences of what the medics quaintly call a ‘contraindication’. Funnily enough, the question reared its head when I was in the hands of the anaesthetist and his two theatre nursing assistants as they prepared me for surgery. One nurse backed me to the hilt – she’d also had an adverse reaction to Tramadol and told me to stick to Co-codamol. That was just before the general anaesthetic took effect.

Tesco's wuff attitude towards dogs

Just returned from a short visit to our local Tesco. An over-zealous Advance security box-wallah was po-facedly telling a young woman that she couldn't leave her Jack Russell puppy tied to a rail outside the store. When asked why, he fell into 'more than my job's worth' mode: only following instructions, nothing against dogs, etc. Paid not much more than minimum wage, he probably gets his fair share of crap - and to be fair to the woman, her response was bemused acquiesence, rather than outright hostility or abuse. But since when did it become a no-no to tie a dog up outside a shop? Not very considerate, Tesco. After all, you allow us to insure dogs and probably make a tidy profit selling everything necessary for canine health and welfare, from dog biccies to scented poop bags, so why not let a dog wait outside while its owner is adding to your profits?

King's Lynn, the town that hates to see you leave

Nearly 28 years since my last visit, which I remember being marred somewhat by a one-way system rather lacking adequate turn-off signs, we returned yesterday, having failed to follow the ring-road cum bypass route the A149 takes round the town centre. Taking previous experience into account, I opted for front-seat observer role and Jane drove - both keeping weather eye on the signs. We ended up following the yellow-square with black dot 'all other routes' sign, which duly led us right Morrison's car park. Doubtless it's a really nice spot; my dad's cousin was once lady mayoress, so there is even a tenuous family connection, but it has to be said, signage is not a strong point or a reason to hurry back.

Ever been caught by the Short and Curlies?

http://www.amazon.co.uk/Short-and-Curlies-ebook/dp/B008IDL70I/ref=sr_1_13?ie=UTF8&qid=1342822286&sr=8-13

Mind the Garage

So, you know how it is. You've got the car into a tight spot, but a little manouvering should see you right. That's when I hit the wheelie bin (garbage bin - US English) - twice. Then I went forward - that's when I hit the pebbledashed wall of the garage, and the scraping noise was loud enough to bring out the neighbours. Shit, bugger, arseholes: it's going to cost a fortune to put right. And it's my birthday tomorrow. Told the scratch removal company to make the invoice out for something less embarrassing, such as Ladyboy Massage Service...

The Bishops' Advisor and the Enneagram

The Enneagram is a device used to identify the psychological and spiritual growth potential of nine different personality types. The system is supposedly based on wisdom teachings from a variety of spiritual sources, including Buddhism, Christianity, Judaism and Sufi Islam. From my perspective, however, I rather fear that its principles were used recently to determine that I was an unsuitable candidate for ordination training in the Anglican Church. You see, I was sent to a Bishops’ Advisory Panel (BAP) by my diocese. It had already been decided that I had a vocation by three internal diocesan advisors, but the final decision in these cases is reserved to three advisors who spend two and a half days observing and interviewing candidates. The Enneagram was highlighted as an area of interest by the advisor who had to discern whether I fulfilled the three criteria of “personality and character”, “relationships” and “leadership and collaboration” and there is a degree of overlap here with the character traits that form part of the nine personality types found in the Enneagram. The advisor interviewed me for 35 minutes (the programme allows up to 50 minutes, and this was the shortest of the three) but was highly selective in the use of my comments and responses when compiling the report. Reading it, I get a distinct feeling that my replies were made to fit – even to the extent of being taken out of context in two areas. Given that BAP advisors are entrusted with a decision-making role that cannot be challenged, reviewed or appealed against, I am worried that Enneagram-influenced thought, which has been criticized for its “new age” or Gnostic-based reliance on “whole universe” connectivity to individual birth-originated personality elements, is being given credence by some in the Anglican Church, when Enneagram use has been questioned by the Roman Catholic Church.

Sorry, Derrick

Visited Cheddar Gorge at half-term. This place has always been a tourist magnet but now has upped the ante in marketing terms quite considerably. A £50.00 family ticket (almost as steep as the Gorge...) bought us a short trip on an open-top bus, entry to two show caves and a museum with some graphic depictions of defleshing (an essential precursor to the act of cannibalism, apparently). In an apparent attempt to sweeten the pill, the chap who sold us the ticket was keen to point out that we could return to use up any unused part of of our ticket at any time in the next 10 years! The open-topped tour took us from the village car park up to the top of the Gorge before depositing us at Gough's Cave 0 larger of the two show caves. The visit to Gough's Cave is interesting, though the cod-Somerset Burr of the commentary, delivered via a hand-held audio guide becomes irritating after a while. Cave over, we wandered upstairs where the visitor complex is topped with a large Costa, of which the attraction is inordinately fond. We'd found Costa to be a ubiquitous addition throughout the Bath and Somerset area - from full-blown cafes to filling stations offering mini-Costa self-serve stand, the brand is busily penetrating the West with gay abandon. At Cheddar the large outlet dominates the top end of the most commercialised part of the Gorge. Sitting atop the entrance to Gough's Cave, the cafe boasts an outdoor decked area and the usual corporate-themed mismatch of contrasting furniture overlaid with the maroon and cream colour scheme and a smattering of local sepia prints. The drinks followed the usual Costa format, but the taste was enhanced by the contraband pork pies, sandwiches and fruit we smuggled past the barristas. Leaving Costa, we walked downhill and crossing the road, I saw Derrick's – a much longer-established, family-established coffee house. As we continued downhill, I saw a couple of other cafes, all with the owner-managed feel about them that Costa so obviously lacks. Next time, Derrick, we'll call in – and no contraband, promise. The smaller of the two show caves, Cox's Cave, only opens every 30 minutes, so we queued for 10 minutes before the gate opened. No hand-held device here, rather a full-blown sound system. In the first half, you follow a path that leads between pools filled with stalagmites and corresponding stalagtites hang, dripping from the ceiling. The second part, however, adds a way over the top kitsch, cod-Middle Earth gloss to the cave scenery. Best part of the day? The three mile Gorge-top walk (access only as part of the family ticket): best of the best? The Primitive English Billy Goat charging from the undergrowth to our right. They don't sell tickets for that, and Costa can't guarantee it as part of their refreshment 'experience'.

A Centimetre of Porridge - Putting the 'Little' into Little Chef

We stayed at a Travelodge near Bath for a few days this week. Before setting out for home, my wife and I and two boys went for breakfast to the Little Chef next door.http://www.blogger.com/img/blank.gif

Passing up on the offer of a fry-up, my 13 year-old opted for porridge with maple syrup. When it arrived, we were not amused to see that there was only just over a centimetre covering the bottom of the bowl. When the waiter, a friendly young man wearing the regulation red top and apron, came with the rest of the order, we pointed out the paucity of porridge in my son's bowl. Looking a bit sheepish, he said this was the usual amount. My wife, acknowledging that is might indeed be the case, persisted with the complaint that - Oliver Twist-like - it just wasn't enough for £3.99.

Moving things up a notch, the waiter reported to the manager and returned to tell us that they would give us another helping 'on the house'. We accepted, and another - slightly more generous portion arrived.

LC's menu describes the portion, over-optimistically as 'a bowl of Scottish oats with hot milk'. It isn't, but what arrived at our table represents a hell of a mark-up in terms of raw ingredient cost and the no doubt minimum wage of our waiter. The moral of the story: complain if it's not enough - better yet, don't go to 'Little' Chef.

The Distressed Shepherdess of Raydale

So, there we were, enjoying a peaceful walk around Semerwater, when we were passed by a quad bike driven at high speed just outside the hamlet of Marsett. The rider seemed in a hurry but we thought no more of it and carried on walking. The second pass was faster but this time we merited a glance, on the third pass, she stopped and asked if we'd seen her dog! The rider was a middle-aged woman and her quad was equipped with a home-made scabbard, in which rested a very well-work metal shepherd's crook. The Shepherdess explained that her dog had taken herself off for a walk, not an unusual occurrence, but had failed to return, prompting her high-speed search. She then said that the dog answered to the name of Nell, but then said it was best not to call her if we did see her, as "she's not very nice". Her concern was that the dog had been stolen, as there had been a few cases of this reported in the Dales recently. A young dog, she explained could be worth £5,000. Nell, however, was 8 and "getting a bit old", nonetheless, she might still be worth £1,200 to £1,500 to someone who needed a dog and wasn't too discerning as to where it came from. We took the Shepherdess's phone number and agreed to get in touch if we saw any sign of Nell on our walk. Couldn't help but wonder as to the nature of their relationship; obviously they worked together, but the Shepherdess had little in the way of affection for her co-worker. Had Nell been stolen, or merely taken herself off in search of a more companionable accommodation for her later years?

Send the kids to grammar school - scare the parents

Why do the middle class like to be frightened? Fear drives them, but also saps them of reason. Spent much of this week listening to parents of kids in Years 5 and 6 getting into a state of arse-dripping panic over their choice of high school. In Calderdale (Halifax and its environs), we have two selective grammars. So parents get suckered into private tuition - sometimes for kids as young as 7 - so they can cram their offsprings' little heads with just enough to give them one of the 310 places on offer each year.
To up the ante still further, the grammars offer a pre-test, which, for a fee, they set and mark themselves (nice little earner...) And today 1,500 kids sat it. Now, if they just scrape through, the private tutors will trouser even more cash to make sure they do better come the real thing. The problem is though, there'll still be too many kids passing for the places available. Last year, over 800 "passed": what to do? Raise the nominal pass rate, until just 310 lucky ones hit the magic score. Simple.
I don't like selective education. My year was the first one to go through the comprehensive system back in the late 60s in Leeds. So I didn't have to endure the mystic mog tendency among my primary school teachers, who consoled parents with the age old saw that their 11 year-old wasn't "university material" - as if they could possibly tell at that tender age! The aim was to manage failure - after all nearly two thirds of their pupils were doomed to fail, the age of deference was still with us, so parents could be placated with the brutal truth: "your kid just isn't bright enough".
Yet, every year, we have to endure the same thing here in the less enlightened reaches of the old West Riding, where 11-plus angst stalks the homes of the middle class and their less affluent fellow travellers.
Why don't we just admit the charade doesn't work; why not let the more able go to the same schools as the rest; why not let them be role models for their contemporaries; why not take the fear out of education and let our children learn at their own pace and in keeping with their abilities?
I've seen just too many 10 and 11 year-olds reduced to tears because a classmate has parroted some piece of parental garbage about who will pass the accursed 11-plus to believe for one instant that competition has any place in selecting a high school place. Hubris stalks the homes of the failure: parents of the unsuccessful can be seen haunting the playground when the results are announced, telling no-one in particular that grammar school wouldn't have been right for their child, or that now they'll be with their friends at comprehensive. But it's empty rhetoric for those who heard them trumpeting future academic success earlier in the year. They don't really mean any of it. Their child has failed to deliver in this most important race. Even if they one day manage to win a Nobel prize, the invisible stain of 11-plus failure will still mark them out - all because they had a bad day one Saturday back in the dog days of their last year in primary school.

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.

Shortsighted CBI

Urging the Government to make students pay more for higher education is a short-sighted move by the CBI. Even in the current cost cutting orgy, you'd have thought the Bosses could've worked out that charging more will reduce the pool of talent they can draw on when the economy recovers.

Yorkshire and its "icons"

The Yorkshire Dales National Park Authority, which is based in Bainbridge, a village in Wensleydale, North Yorkshire is asking people to vote for Yorkshire "cultural icons". For this they helpfully provide a list of eligible persons - you have to choose from both the living and dead. From the deceased, the exhaustive list is Adam Sedgwick, geologist, departed 1873; Alf Wight, deceased 1995, better known as author James Herriot; Arthur Raistrick, a Yorkshire writer and lecturer, who departed this life in 1991; and Marie Hartley, a historian who specialised in recording lost Dales life, who died in 2006.

For an exhaustive list, one omission is glaring - Kit Calvert MBE (1903 - 1984), the farmer, Methodist local preacher, founder of Associated Dairies - as a farmers' co-operative, saviour of Hawes Creamery (that's right; he saved Wensleydale cheese - where would Wallace and Grommit have been without him!) and famed Dalesman - indeed nicknamed the "Complete Dalesman - is missing from the list. The omission is all the more startling because Bainbridge is only four miles from Hawes, where Calvert spent his entire life.

Whoever did the research for the iconic list certainly didn't know the area, or its heroes too well, did they?

The list of the living is equally interesting. You can choose from writer Bill Mitchell, artist David Hockney and broadcaster and writer Mike Harding (a Lancastrian!!), struck from the list, however, is Alan Bennett, writer and national treasure: although originally listed, votes are no longer being taken for this truly illustrious son of the broad acres - why?

Vesta and Woolas

So, would demonstrating to save the planet at Vesta on the IoW count against an immigrant applying for British citizenship?

Would like to see Ed Miliband defending his refusal to nationalise Vesta. He seems intent on using December's Copenhagen summit as an excuse for doing nothing. What is it with this government? Why is it OK to nationalise banks and even loss-making rail franchises but not green power generators? Just goes to show, "new" Labour never met a businessman(woman) it didn't like...

Cloud cuckoo land, Darling

Light touch regulation rides again. Alistair Darling believes that regulation wasn't to blame for the credit crunch. Proof, once again, that New Labour will do anything to keep the banks and business on side. Even if it means denying the overwhelming evidence of the last two years.

He should be sending in the regulators to sort out the boardrooms, not sucking up to the architects of this mess.

All you need is love, apparently

I know what they meant, but West Vale Baptist Church's float could have easily attracted the wrong sort of attention at the Halifax Charity Gala parade

Multimedia message

Is there a proofreader in the house?


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A History Lesson

Strange thing I've come to feel about history but there's a disconnect between the received version 'given' to us at school and the 'actual' or 'live' version that we stumble across by accident, usually, in my case, while traveling.

Great Yarmouth makes much of its Nelsonian connections: it has a column that predates both the one in London and that which used to grace Dublin's skyline, until, that is, another version of history meant that a British naval hero, even one whose fleet comprised many Irish sailors, was no longer acceptable, with explosive results. Either way, to reinforce its respect for this famous son of Norfolk, Great Yarmouth also boasts an annual Trafalgar Day parade on October 21st.

Remembering Trafalgar is all very well, but just a little way up the coast at Happisburgh, 'real' history intrudes uncomfortably into the well known Nelsonian legend. Just off the coast near Happisburgh in March 16, 1801 HMS Invincible was lost, along with the lives of 119 of its 600 man crew. The ship, which was en passage to join Nelson at Copenhagen, does not feature any further in the great man's history, and those 190 sailors lay in an unmarked mass grave in Happisburgh's churchyard until 1998, when the crew of the present ship to carry the name Invincible along with Happisburgh's PCC, placed a marker stone on the site of the mass grave, thereby honouring their predecessors and adding a fitting tribute – albeit 197 years after the event.

Live history and the received version separated by just 20 miles and 197 years.

When I was at junior school my 2nd year teacher, Miss Tipping, was a very traditionally minded 'old school' educationalist. Never one to spare the ruler, or pretty much anything else that came to hand, she was a stickler for received history. Her charges were well versed in the daring do exploits of Nelson, Clive of India, Florence Nightingale et al. Strange to say, but the loss of the Invincible didn't feature in the great exploits of Britain's imperial past that Miss Tipping liked to relate: her lessons were of victories, not losses; her heroes and heroines had dates and events for us to memorise, there was no mention of the site of mass graves to the victims of that same imperial past where the heroes didn't happen win or the 'good' didn't come through with shining colours.

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Matilda

Matilda


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James

James


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Banana drama

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Save the Library

Calderdale Council, which includes Halifax in West Yorkshire, have decided it's time to bulldoze the Central Library building (which also houses the Council Archive) and split the facilities around two out of town sites, one of which is yet to be built and is at present a pile of rubble, waiting to be turned into a thrilling mix of retail and office accommodation (in this recession????).

Please sign the petition so we can, hopefully, restore some sanity.

Work ever longer hours - even though the dole queues lengthen

So we're keeping the 48 hour week opt-out. Good news for UKIP but pretty crap for anyone looking for work. Absolute madness.

And let's all live in cloud cuckoo land

Interesting to see the Department of Children, Schools and Families (DCSF- or Dept for Cushions and Soft Furnishings) to the Children's Society survey into young people's experience and understanding of the recession - according to their spokesperson, we it's "disappointing" that children should be worried, going on to say, rather obviously that

"Parents are clearly best placed to talk to their children about their worries, but schools also play an important role in teaching young people the skills they need to become healthy, happy and confident individuals."

How can they be "confident" if we keep them in the dark: confidence comes from having the ability and the knowledge to make informed decisions and have an awareness of the world around them; not by being cosseted and deluded - that way we create a generation of happy morons.

Follow the banker

According to David Buik in the Guardian (of all places) bankers deserve their bonuses and to refuse them

"will discourage quality people from contributing to the wealth of the country and to our emergence from this terrible recession"

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But surely it was the self-same "quality people" that got us into this mess by following the orders of their leaders - the former "masters of the universe" who didn't understand what they were driving their underlings to sell and acquire on markets bloated by securitised debt.

As for the argument that runs: "we have to pay them because it's in their contract" - has Parliament forgotten that it's supreme: contract law is common law, statute law changes it at a stroke and can be retrospective. Have a look at the Law Reform (Frustrated Contracts) Act 1943 to see how far Parliament has intervened in the past. Those two were desperate times - we were at war then, and the Act prevented claims being lost for goods that were supplied to countries subsequently conquered by the Nazis.

Special relationship - good job the judges are realists

As expected, Miliband bottled it at the dispatch box. Let's hope the comments by Lord Justice Thomas and Mr Justice Lloyd Jones in the Binyamin Mohamed case don't get swept away in a tide of Foreign Office mush. And why does the US allow openness at home but prevent it here - Clive Stafford-Smith, once again, has a very pertinent take on the nature of the relationship - and the supine behaviour of our politicos, to whom it seems to matter more than that most cherished of democratic freedoms: parliamentary supremacy.

A fight they can't win?

"British jobs for British workers" - a laudable refrain, but one that looks like a fight that can't be won.The anger of those picketing the Lindsey Refinery - and their supporters at sites elsewhere in the UK - are a symptom of the fear and unease felt by many workers, but EU law won't allow the government to ban foreign workers coming here to work.

Strange also that Gordon Brown, having given the hostage to fortune phrase in the first place back in September 2007, today tried to straddle two horses heading for a painful divergence: speaking from Davos, he empathised with the protesters BUT pleaded for a rejection of protectionism - as the late, great Eric Morecambe would've said "get out of that".

This is just the first protest we'll see in the course of the recession: just hope that the others have a better chance of success.

Independent Financial Adviser Question

The most pressing question you're likely to hear from your IFA right now? "Do you want fries with that?"

Stimulate your pet - it's official

That nice Mr Benn, the Environment Secretary, is issuing pet owners with Codes of Practice, which include such gems as pets need beds, a toilet and mental stimulation.

His dad must be so pleased to see he's following in his footsteps as a fearless Socialist thinker...

The Quiet American

That, apparently, is the city nickname for Lloyds TSB Chief Exec. Eric Daniels. But yesterday, during a broadcast conference call, he sounded like the king of jargon. He talked about using the "synergy" that will arise between HBOS and Lloyds TSB to create £1.5 billion in savings for the merged banking entity.

I think that means here in Halifax that jobs will go - especially as the news reports seem to favour the BOS side of things, as opposed to the mortgage specialist H part of the company.

Let's hope the quiet American is prepared to listen to the town's MPs and Rosie Winterton, MP, Minister for Yorkshire & the Humber, because "synergy" could mean the end for this town.

Banking 2008

I went with a relative to close his Bradford & Bingley savings account last Wednesday. He was concerned about the bank's future stability and wanted to make sure his hard-earned was safe. The junior employee behind the counter tried to dissuade him, promising us that the bank was safe. So safe, in fact, that they were now recruiting and "look, we've all being given new uniforms!".

Not convinced, he went ahead with the closure. Fast forward to Friday and the "safety" of new uniforms and recruitment was exposed as a pretty hollow sham - the share price is now less than the rights offer to existing shareholders - and the hoped for American private equity investor has high tailed it back to the land of the free.

Shame that a once solid building society got suckered into the self-certification and get-rich-quick buy-to-let. Shame also that the chief donkey wallahs give the poor footsoldiers a dodgy script to play out to worried investors.

Northern Wreck and now Bradford & Bungley: northern-based demutualised former buildings societies on the get rich quick trai - one was unfortunate, but two looks like the start of a trend!

Naked children? Not on the Cake!

Not often I agree with Esther Rantzen but her comments about over the top child protection decisions are amply illustrated by Asda's refusal to allow the photo of a baby's bottom on a birthday cake intended for the now grown-up owner of the derriere.

Rantzen's comments were made in response to a Civitas report, entitled Licensed to Hug, which highlights the fears felt by many who would have previously volunteered to work with children, but now feel put off by the attitude of some organisations and even wider society itself.

Of course, CRB checks are necessary, but, as Asda have shown, disproportionate responses have far-reaching consequences and run the risk of preventing children from forming the relationships with adult members of the wider community that are necessary for them to develop into responsible and mature people in their own right.

Don't worry - Gordon only wants to protect you

I've read this speech three times now and I still don't understand how giving the state carte blanch to hold detailed personal information should make me feel any safer from terror.

Apart from the difficulty of knowing exactly who will be able to access my DNA, biometrics, bank account, Tufty club membership, grandfathers' inside leg measurements etc, etc., there's still the problem of misuse.

After all, we're only just learning how many councils have misused the powers granted to them under the Regulation of Investigatory Procedures Act, which has seen local authorities "spying" on people applying for school places and filling their wheelie bins - all in total disregard of of Jack Straw's solemn assurance that there would be tight controls on those using it.

Now, some will say if you've nothing to fear... But that's not the point - neither is the threat we face: we were not consulted about this massive intrusion into our personal lives. It feels like were just sleepwalking into a total surveillance society.

Benjamin Franklin had it absolutely right, when he said:

"Those who would give up Essential Liberty to purchase a little Temporary Safety, deserve neither Liberty nor Safety"

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Lesson in decorum and taste from the freesheets

Metro, Associated Newspaper's daily giveaway, offered its readers a new take on the Burma cyclone on Wednesday, May 7. Above the headline "Burma cyclone death toll could top 50,000", was a panel urging readers to log on so they could see a video of the destruction wrought by cyclone Nargis.

I know participation is all in news media, but on this occasion the best participation would be via donation - not morbid cyber-gawping.

Disasters' Emergency Committee Nargis appeal.

Serving Suggestion

I was a bit put out when we bought this pack of cakes. Seems modern etiquette requires you to take a bite out of a bun before offering it to your guests. Not wanting to make a social faux pas, I asked Marks and Sparks if this was the case. Apparently my comments have been sent to the sharp thinkers in marketing responsible for dreaming up such tosh; thought they'd have offered a year's free supply for providing a useful service: still, it's not too late if they want to recognise my diligence...

Gordon - the taxing Atlanticist

Can his aides please tell Gordon to give the Americanisation of Britain a rest? After it turned Blair into a poodle, you'd have thought his astute successor would have steered clear of being seen as a slavish adherent of things coming from the Land of the Free. Not so, he's proposing our very own British Purple Heart for those members of our armed forces unfortunate enough to be wounded in Labour's wars.

Like all the other things Gordon would like us to do, this will probably come to nothing - shame the same can't be said for his plans to tax low earners: the public's verdict on that will be all to painfully given on May 1.

Honouring the Military

Strange how, for such a reserved character, Gordon Brown wants us to 'celebrate' so much. If its not 'Britishness' - whatever that is, it's the armed forces, who he now wants to appear at sporting events. Shame, though, that celebration doesn't seem to extend to giving those who sign on the dotted line recognition for their human rights when they end up in harm's way, as under New Labour they seem to do on an increasing basis.

Surely the best way to 'honour' armed forces personnel is to ensure they are properly housed, paid and equipped, rather than going in for hollow cheer fests before the footie kicks off - or is this really about presenting a glamorous image to the bored youth on the terraces, in the hope they might be similarly inspired to join up?

'Celebration' and 'honour' are all very well, but they are meaningless gestures if we can't debate - much less dare to criticise - the conditions the government expects the forces to serve under.

Jam, Style and thanks on Oxford Street

I saw Paul Weller walking down Oxford Street last week. I'd like to apologise to him for causing a bit of a scene, but it's not everyday you see a true rock god in the flesh.

'He's not the god of creation, but he is the Lord of the Morning Light' Pan - As Is Now.

Couldn't put it better myself. Thanks for the music, long may it continue to inspire and enlighten.

Health and Safety on the Eye

Went on the London Eye with my nine year old son on Tuesday. Having paid for the tickets, we passed through security - which in our case consisted of a heavily-accented eastern european woman with a hand-held metal detector. On checking my rucksack she found a small football, at which point she asked me - in all seriousness - whether we were going to play with it on the trip! Aside from the fact that I was intent on getting my money's worth in sightseeing, didn't she think our fellow travellers might not look too favourably on a penalty shoot-out as they went round in the glass bubble with us.

A mistress of the bleeding obvious, if ever I came across one...

Horny-handed son of toil (or maybe not...)

Could Labour's new general secretary, city fund manager David Pitt-Watson be conclusive proof of the Party's break with its working class roots?

For the Party faithful there can be no doubt that money talks louder than tradition: Pitt-Watson was Brown's chosen candidate, in advance of a trade union official.

Keep the Red Flag flying - but not over New Labour.

Tesco just ruined Valentine's Day

The flowers I ordered to be delivered to my wife and one true love (it's OK, they're the same person) weren't delivered due to a communication problem in the warehouse. That's what they told me at the Call Centre. Thanks folks; as your slogan goes "every little helps".

Hope Cupid shoots straighter than this...