Pictures on banknotes! Patriotic indignation! How long can banknotes survive anyway?

How often do you look at the money in your purse or wallet? Does the face on the coin or the figure on the banknote matter to you? There are changes afoot or so it seems. Native British wildlife will feature on the next set of £5, £10, £20 and £50 notes, but it has yet to be decided which creatures will feature on our currency. Various creatures have been nominated:

Chris Packham, who relates very well to wild life, has nominated the red fox. “Foxes are bold, successful and one of the most frequently encountered wild animals in cities, towns and countryside. They are our most successful predator. For centuries they’ve withstood all the utter nonsense we chuck at them, and keep chucking at them.”

He protests that foxhunting still goes on, despite legislation.

“Putting animals on banknotes needs to promote conversations and get us thinking about the way we value and treat wildlife. It is an opportunity to throw some light on the species that are struggling rather than celebrating our favourite hedgehogs, barn owls and red squirrels. The red fox is the perfect candidate.”

Naturalist Lucy Lapwing nominates the less photogenic toad. “There is something very relatable about the not-giving-a-fuck attitude of a toad. They have one of the worst flight responses in nature because they are so confident of their bufotoxin, a poisonous defence mechanism which is in their skin and unique to a toad.”

I think my favourite is the beaver, nominated by rewilder Isabella Tree. “Other than humans and elephants, beavers are the most significant keystone species on the planet. They change landscapes and provide the most extraordinary public benefits: preventing flooding, cleaning rivers, helping store water in drought and also bringing back wildlife. Five hundred years ago, beavers created watery kingdoms heaving with life, and now they’ve been reintroduced to England they are restoring that magical biodiversity.”

With a name like Tree I suppose it’s understandable that she should run a rewilding project. She tells us, “Beavers are also adorable. The beavers at rewilded Knepp have created an amazing hub of life. It’s so endearing when we see them on trail-cams grooming each other and being so busy and conscientious, building incredible dams and lodges. One chewed down a webcam post and put it in their beaver dam.”

That sounds like an enterprising beaver!

The wannabe patriots in the media (or perhaps I should say the “wannabe-seen as patriots) are kicking up a bit of stink because famous people like Winston Churchill and Jane Austin are going to be replaced with wildlife. But in the end money is just money. Surely the illustration is only of interest if you are a collector. I was trying, without success, to remember which South American country found that people were hanging on to a certain banknote, instead of spending it, just because they found it so pleasing to look at. Apparently varying the image on bank notes makes it harder for counterfeiters to forge them. Yes, I can see that. 

But as I see more and more people paying for stuff, even small items costing less than a pound, with a card or increasingly via an app on their phone, the matter of whose image is on our banknotes will surely become academic as only cranks like me will continue to use them. And as for me, I really don’t care which person or animal is featured on my folding money! 

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

The interconnecteness of everything. Small world syndrome. Some animals. Religion and politics.

 I used to work with someone who talked a lot about the interconnectedness of things. This morning I came across another example of that interconnectedness. Here it is. Towards the end of last year a good old friend of mine suddenly died. Today, as Ramadan comes to an end, her Muslim daughter-in-law posted something on Facebook about how much in her life has changed since last Eid al Ftr, including a moving tribute to my friend. In the comments on her post I saw one from a former colleague of mine, expressing how much she misses that same old friend. Small world syndrome strikes again. How did these two people know each other?

It turns out that they knew each other through the organisation Growing Old Disgracefully. I had guessed correctly. Two bits of my life coincided - the interconnectedness of everything!

Recently I think I commented on a possum who made his home in the soft toys on sale in an airport in Tasmania. Well, here’s another animal out of place: a wild boar who found his way into a supermarket in Berlin.

.”After the boar slipped in through the sliding glass doors, shop staff made a quick exit – but not before calling the zoo and the police, who arrived armed with tranquilliser guns and riot shields. Thankfully, the boar stayed in a subdued state, overwhelmed by consumer choice, and the team were able to persuade it out by “constructing a path using wooden pallets”. A police spokesperson added that “the wild boar then returned to the forest, which we assume it came from””

Ever since I first read Astérix I have had a sort of fondness for wild boar. The wild boarlets (piglets?) are especially appealing.

I know from Spanish friends what a nuisance the can be in real,life and consequently I am quite happy just to see them in pictures. They can be quite large and aggressive so I am pleased they don’t live near me.

Here are some raccoons living at the Artisanal Fisherman’s Wharf eating pet food left by tourists in Acajutla, El Salvador.

And just because I think they are amazing, here are some storks building one of their untidy nests.

I’m a great believer in recycling. Here’s a link to an article about a carpet fitter in Los Angeles who found the Oscars’ red carpet in a skip and decided to recycle it into her own living room. Fair enough!

On a more serious note, here is a link to an article about Kemi Badenoch supporting Nick Timothy’s objection to a public Ramadan prayer ceremony in Trafalgar Square. The Attorney General asks if she would object to a public prayer by a Jewish community. I wonder how she feels about the Whit Walks that take place here and in other parts of the country. 

Meanwhile in Jerusalem Muslims have been prevented from marking the end of Ramadan with prayers in the Al Aqsa mosque, closed by Israel. 

Religion and politics - always troubled bedfellows! But part of the interconnectedness of everything.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Signs of spring. Former King Jaun Carlos of Spain. And chess. And a possibly confused possum.

 It’s another fine day. Not quite as summerlike as yesterday as there is a bit more of a fresh wind but still, there is light at the end of the tunnel …

… or at any rate at the end of the old coach entrance dating back to when the pub next door was an actual coaching house and there were stables in the yard behind.

And there are signs of spring everywhere. Mind you, one of my nodding acquaintances commented this morning that it might be snowing by the weekend. Such a pessimist!

I read that Juan Carlos de Borbón y Borbón, abdicated king of Spain, disgraced former king of Spain, is tired of living in exile in Abu Dhabi and wants to return to Spain. Maybe Abu Dhabi is a bit too close to the conflict zone for comfort. Maybe he’s just feeling 88 and wants to go home. Will Spain welcome him with open arms? According to this article it’s debatable. 

I’ve always quite liked Juan Carlos, despite all the scandal about extramarital affairs and difficult family members. He was brought up in difficult times. When Franco died he chose not to follow the Franco route and changed Spain’s government completely, despite being groomed as Franco’s successor. When 23F, came along, the attempted coup in 1982, he was instrumental in calming it all down and preventing total chaos in the country. 

Now some people suggest he might have been involved in instigating the coup in the first place but Javier Cercas, a writer I appreciate, declares him to have been a defender of democracy. That’s what I always taught my A Level Spanish students anyway. 

What happens next remains to be seen. 

Still in Spain, here are some rather fine pictures from book about chess, a book made for King Alfonso X back in the thirteenth century. 

According to this article, study of ancient chess boards and pictures, mediaeval and pre-mediaeval times were much more tolerant of difference in race and colour than was thought to be the case. However, it seems that the establishment of black and white pieces as the game developed may have contributed to awareness of differences in race and skin colour. Who would have thought it. My question: is it significant that the player with the white pieces has the first move? 

I’ve never quite understood why people buy soft toys in airports but here’s a link to an article about a real live possum setting up shop,in the soft toys display in an airport in Tasmania! Enterprising little creature. Or maybe he thought the soft toys were his friends and relations.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone.

Saint Patrick. Sponsorship of artists. A good washing day. And help for happy bees.

 Well, Saint Patrick”s Day passed us by unnoticed in this house yesterday. Not that we had any intention of dressing up in green and celebrating, having no connection with Ireland whatsoever.

That doesn’t prevent quite a lot of people using the saint’s day as an excuse to go out and party. 

This morning I was reminded that the day had been and gone. And I remembered that I had a suitable cartoon about good old Saint Pat and the snakes. 

And someone passed on this joke to me:

“An Englishman, an Irishman, a Scotsman and a Welshman were riding in a hot-air balloon.

The balloon was about to crash into a mountain, so the pilot says, "We need to lose more weight to get clear. One of you has to jump."

The Scotsman says, "I do this for the glory of Scotland!" and he jumps out of the basket.

But the balloon still wasn’t high enough. "We need to lose more weight!" the pilot says.

The Welshman says, "I do this for the glory of Wales!" and he jumps out.

"We need to lose just one more person, and we’ll make it!" the pilot says.

The Irishman says, "I do this for the glory of Ireland!" — and he picks up the Englishman and throws him over the side.”

There you go!

On the subject of Ireland, here’s a link to an article about Ireland awarding a basic income to artists so that they could develop their talents. Not all striving artists received it; there was a kind of lottery to see who would get it. But it sounds like an excellent idea. 

Summer seems to have arrived here, skipping over False Spring and Actual Spring a d pushing aside Second Winter. Not only has it been a fine day to hang the washing out to dry in the garden, but said washing has dried nicely. Well, the stuff that went out first thing has dried nicely. I cannot guarantee that the last lot to go out will do as well. We shall see.

I spotted the first dandelion of 2026 in the garden this afternoon. 

Pretty soon the grass will be sprinkled with yellow stars. The bees will be happy. We must not use weedkiller or cut them down.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Productive running. Some odd facts about butter. Babies. Exploitation.

We’ve got sunshine and blue sky again today. People I have met while out and about assure me that we should have some nice spring weather for the next few days. We’ll see how that goes.

I read that there is a new fad amongst runners, serious runners who run farther and faster than I can manage. It seems that they put cream and a little salt into sealed containers, put the containers inside their running backpacks (running backpacks are slim affairs that hug close to your upper back so that they don’t flap about while you run - I’m pretty sure most runners don’t need a backpack but that’s a different matter!) and off they go. As they run energetically the cream is churned and turns into butter. Okay! I certainly don’t run fast enough to churn cream into butter. Besides, some days it takes quite enough effort to organise myself into my running gear without the extra hassle of sorting out a container of cream. It seems like a lot of effort for probably very little reward. But then, it is very satisfying to be able say “I made this” or “here’s some butter I made earlier”. 

Another interesting (and rather greasy) fact about butter is that some influencers are recommending snacking on sticks of butter, unwrapping it and biting chunks of it as you might  bite into an energy bar or a kitkat. No good for vegans, of course! Now, I like butter on toast, on crumpets, on hot cross buns. Our smallest grandson likes a nice slice of buttered bread, just bread and butter, no jam, so long as it is butter and not margarine. But somehow biting into a pat of butter seems a bit over the top. And might it not be a bit messy to transport on an everyday basis. I imagine reaching into my handbag and pulling out a soggy butter packet. And that’s without the possibility of its leaking all over the contents of the aforementioned handbag.

And here’s another interesting fact: some yummy mummies are being persuaded (by mumfluencers?) that feeding your baby a spoonful of butter will help him sleep through the night. Paediatricians say that there is no evidence that this works and in fact they advise that ideally babies should be purely breastfed until they are 6 months old. But I suppose that if you have been sleep deprived for months on end you will try anything - even nonsense  broadcast on social media. Maybe I was fortunate but my babies, once the first few chaotic weeks of their existence was over, would wake for a feed towards midnight and then again at about 4.00am. And then sleep til proper morning. Not quite an undisturbed night’s sleep but giving us enough peaceful sleep to survive. We were also fortunate that as toddlers they didn’t get into the habit of regularly climbing into our bed in the small hours!

I also came across an interesting statistic about babies: 75% of nine-month-olds in England have daily screen time. Some spend more than 3 hours a day looking at a screen. Here’s a link to article about it. 

I remember a time when there was an outcry about babies and toddlers being strapped into their buggies and ‘parked’ in front of the television. Now it’s a more portable kind of screen. Some say that screen time can actually be beneficial, provided it is used with care. I assume that means parents actually interacting with their babies while looking at something onscreen, rather like actually watching a Tv programme with your child and talking about what goes on. And the ability to navigate a screen of whatever kind is becoming an essential skill. So maybe children should start young but I still find it rather disturbing when a child who can’t yet speak knows how to use touch control to select what they want to see! 

Now, here’s a link to an article about the Quapaw Nation in the United States and their environmental work, bringing back to life land contaminated by toxic waste from mining.

It is reported that the Quapaw Nation is the only US Native community to carry out a cleanup of one of the country’s worst sites of environmental contamination. They’re supposedly going back to their roots. When the first Europeans encountered the Quapaw, back in the 1600s, they grew all kinds of crops, tended by the women while the men did the hunting. The women also had their say in tribal politics. But the white man didn’t approve. After all,  farming and leadership were men’s business.

“To be truly civilized,” they declared, “Quapaw men would have to become farmers.”

Of course, they also had their land stolen and attempts were made to “civilise” all the indigenous people. I hope they can make the reclaiming work, probably needing to combine modern technology with old ways of doing things

Incidentally, we have been watching a TV series called “Territory”, a sort of cowboy story set in Australia with huge cattle “stations”. As well as the control politics of the white Australians, the series also reveals the exploitation of the aborigine people -  a kind of Australian version of Bury my Heart at Wounded Knee. Greed is a formidable motivator of exploitative behaviour!

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Mother’s Day reflections continued. Skills. Animal lovers’ weakness. Wider world madness.

Well, we eventually managed to help the smallest grandson deliver his surprise to his mother in the late afternoon / early evening yesterday. She was duly impressed. And the small boy was pleased to find that his plan for the roots of the plants in his carefully constructed pot were visible through the open mouth of his creature had worked. Success on all fronts, I think. 

Part of the media frenzy run up to Mother’s Day was a series about the best advice readers’ and columnists’ mothers had given them. Columnist Tim Dowling’s mother apparently impressed on him the advantages of being able to raise one eyebrow at a time, as a means of expressing doubt, scepticism, satire, humour and so on. He practised hard and mastered the art. Somebody has to be able to do these things.

My father could famously waggle his rather large ears. This was well before any of us had heard of Roald Dahl’s Big Friendly Giant. Over one Christmas dinner, when we all maybe drank a few too many Christmas toasts, my Spanish brother-in-law and I discovered that we could both flare our nostrils at will. Not as useful as skill as raising one eyebrow at a time but still something that rather a lot of people are unable to do. 

In the letters section of the newspaper, Caroline Alexander had this to say: 

“Regarding words of wisdom from mothers, a friend’s mum taught her to recite the mantra “Bus pass, dinner money, homework, handkerchief” whenever she left the house to go to school. It still applies in principle. The first two have been replaced by a phone and credit card, the third by reading specs. But the necessity of a simple handkerchief has stood the test of time. Thank you, Mrs Moss.”

My mother also used to insist on our having a clean handkerchief. We all had name labels on ours! It’s a long time since I had an actual handkerchief but I usually ensure ai have a supply of tissues. And as regards the checklist before leaving the house, mine would include mobile phone and keys to the house - an almost paranoid fear of being locked out!

Getting back to Tim Dowling, I think it was in yesterday’s )column that he complained about his dog waking him in the small hours. He went on to say this:

“Every night I go to bed to find the dog already there, in my place, head on my pillow. Every night I shoo the dog off, and the dog obediently retreats to its own bed, and falls asleep. That used to be the routine, until I started waking up in the dark with the dog staring at me.

The dog manages to take up a huge amount of bed without disturbing my wife in any way, because that would be a disaster for both of us

The dog wants to be allowed to climb back up on to the bed. I will relent – if not yet, then eventually – but if my wife wakes up at any point during the dog’s campaign, all bets are off.’

I have made clear in numerous previous posts my feelings about dogs, and other animals, in bedrooms. Our eldest granddaughter has her cat sleeping in hers as he can’t be trusted not to cause havoc if left to his own devices. No doubt Mr Dowling’s dog warms the bed nicely for him but personally I find the prospect of putting my head down on a pillow where a dog has been resting, possible slobbering, I find quite repulsive. 

Each to his own I suppose! 

Finally, here’s a comment on the madness of the wider world: 

You’re just trying to enjoy the view with the squad… when the humans decide to turn the whole planet into a fireworks show 

Even the aliens are done: ‘Humans are really stupid”. 

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!