Things Australian. Things here. Moving into 2023.

It’s already 2023 in Sidney, Australia. So it goes. Everything is relative. It all depends where you are.

Also in Australia, there’s this. I came across a story of a woman whose dog had a Tasmanian devil toy. She saw the ‘toy’ under a chair and went to grab it to pass it to her hound and the ‘toy’ got to its legs and scuttled away. It was a real marsupial! Apparently they are quite shy animals and don’t often venture into people’s houses. That probably is a case of ‘only in Australia’! 

Then a friend of mine posted something on Facebook about a British woman going to Australia and encountering a habit that she thinks is really ‘wholesome’ but also ‘emotionally draining’. She was talking about people on the streets of Perth, where everyone she passes says hello to her and wishes her a good morning. She must come from London if she’ s never come across that before. Around here it’s perfectly normal. Not so much in central Manchester but elsewhere it’s certainly the case. 

It had me thinking back to my cousin who greatly impressed me when I was a kid and she was a grown-up music teacher. She used to greet policemen in particular with a friendly good morning, which back in the early 1960s was a bit unusual. She also used to confuse people by muttering ‘Hairs on men’s legs” as she crossed paths with strangers. This habit had the 12 year old me falling about laughing at the bemused faces of passers-by. 

And there’s also Granddaughter Number Two who is constantly amazed that I seem to know everyone in Delph, where, yes, most people say hello as they pass you on the street. Even before the pandemic I had a nodding acquaintance with a large number of people, whose names I never learnt, but during lockdown the number of such people went up exponentially. Maybe it was the feeling of us all being in the same boat. Also some people started walking around who had never been out for walks before! 

This morning, running round the village I saw only one such person. I still don’t know her name but I know she works in television in some capacity, making documentaries I think, I know where she goes on holiday and her dog is quite devoted to me. She has 15 people staying overnight tonight to see in the New Year. We have no plans and might go to bed early in order to start the New Year feeling fresh and energetic. 

So here we are at the end of 2022. The news programmes are full of pundits giving their ideas about what have been the most significant events of this year and what to look out for the the year about to start in a fe hours’ time. 

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone! 

Not having our cake and eating it … but finding a substitute. And problem cats and dogs.

 There’s a nice cafe across the road from the Greenfield Tesco. They do an excellent chocolate Guinness cake, something Granddaughter Number Two has been missing, indeed for which she has been pining, while away at the University of York. We went there after she and I did the Christmas food shop last Friday but they sold the last slice of her favourite cake just before we placed our order. Yesterday while out and about we hatched a plot to meet there for a late breakfast this morning. She even checked on line to be sure of opening time.

So this morning I got up, had a bit of fruit and my vitamins and set off walking. I was half way to Uppermill when a bus came along and I hopped on it, getting off in Uppermill village to walk the rest of the way in order not to arrive too early. And then, when I arrived at the cafe I found a notice on the door saying they are closed until next Tuesday, January 3rd.  Botheration! Of course they are entitled to time off but really, how hard would it have been to put a notice on their website about closing between Christmas and New Year?

I contacted the family, who were already en route, and we arranged for them to meet me at Tesco and rethink our plan. Fortunately I was able to wait in Tesco’s entrance and shelter from the cold wind for my daughter’s idea of “I’ll be there in five minutes” is always a little optimistic. 

When she arrived we decided she would park next to the playing field in Greenfield and we would all walk, with her dog, back towards Uppermill and along the canal to the Limekiln cafe in what used to be the Brownhill Visitor Centre. So rather later than planned we sat down to what had by now turned into brunch. The food is more than acceptable there. They also had a chocolate Guiness cake - we wondered if they misspelt Guinness because they had not used proper Guinness - who knows? Granddaughter Number Two sampled it and declared it inferior to the one served at her favourite chocolate Guinness cake venue!

I was offered a lift home but as this would have involved walking back to Greenfield once more, I thanked them kindly and set off up the hill to Dobcross and down the other side. By the time they would have reached the car I was already happily at home having another cup of coffee. 

 

And now it’s raining again. Our timing has been immaculate. 

 

But I fear we don’t need more rain. 

 

The rivers are bouncing along. 

 

 

 

 

But the small boy has enjoyed the puddles.

A prodigious number of people were out and about exercising their dogs on the playing field in Greenfield. These dogs were clearly not suffering from the crisis but I read that huge numbers of dogs are being abandoned, the luckiest of them being handed in directly to rescue centres but others just left on the streets to be rescued and handed in by passers-by. Two factors affect this: some people bought dogs during the pandemic and cannot cope with them but others are abandoned simply because their owners cannot afford to feed them.

This article shows that it is not just dogs. Cats are also being abandoned, in some cases because their owners have not been able to  afford the vet’s fees to have their pets neutered and suddenly find they have a bunch of kittens on the way! Rescue centres are overrun with kittens. Poor little moggies! 

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Revisiting a local landmark and maintaining a family tradition.

Some time before Christmas Phil and  went out for a walk, as we often do. It must have been just before Christmas because the weather since then has been too dire for us to consider going out for a casual walk. Indeed, it rained so hard yesterday and most of last night that the river was positively bouncing through the village this morning. But, significantly, it was no longer raining! 

Anyway, we went out for a walk on that occasion and, looking up to Heights Church on the hilltop overlooking the village, we commented that we hadn’t walked up there for a while. During lockdown, once we were permitted to meet and walk with slightly larger groups of people, we got into the habit of doing family hikes up to the old church and back again. On the first occasion, a lovely sunny day, our then three year old granddaughter was totally enchanted and walked around the graveyard solemnly declaring, “I could live here!” Somehow we never got round to going up there in the summer of this year, although I know our daughter has walked up there with an old friend. 

It’s really called St Thomas Church, Friarmere, also known as Heights Chapel. According to the great wikipedia it is a “redundant Anglican church” although it is occasionally opened to visitors. It is a Grade II listed building, under the care of the Churches Conservation Trust.

Built in 1765 to serve a growing local population, it was declared redundant on 16th April 1970 and many of its interior fittings were transferred to the new parish church in Delph village. The churchyard is impressively gloomy and apparently contains the war graves of a Royal Scots Fusiliers a soldier of World War I and a Royal Navy officer of World war II. More impressive to me are the graves of members of families well know around the village and especially a few graves of small babies, dead and buried at 15 weeks old or even 9 weeks old. 

Like other places in and around Saddleworth, it has figured in films and TV series, including the churchyard being used in a BBC adaption of Daphne du Maurier’s gothic novel, Jamaica Inn. There you go! 

So, anyway, late this morning came a message from my daughter: “we are plotting an expedition to Heights Church. Anyone interested?” She took coffee for the grown-ups and hot chocolate for the small people. I took mince pies and biscuits and fruit. We met in Delph School carpark and off we went, accompanied by her dog and meeting her longest-standing friend, someone I have known since she was two days old, when my daughter was still a bump. 

Here are some pictures of today’s rather chilly and windy, but not rainy, expedition. 

 

 Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Taking our weather in our stride - it could be worse! Aspects, sometimes harsh, of the digital age we live in.

 It’s a thoroughly wet and miserable day. I have been out and about, buying a couple of essentials for today’s menu. There were few people about, mostly like me hurrying to do essential stuff and get back home again. I did, however, see one group of very determined walkers: half a dozen of them with their ski-pole style walking canes, their waterproof trousers and jackets, their little backpacks, perhaps with a packed lunch in, and an obvious leader making sure they all went in the right direction. 

They probably planned today’s hike weeks ago, too far ahead for really accurate weather prediction. And really, if you have the right gear and you’re not trying anything too adventurous, a good walk in bad weather is not such a bad adventure. I would, however, prefer to stop at some mind of hostelry for warm food rather than sitting outside eating a packed lunch. 

In more challenging places than our immediate surroundings it seems that more and more people have been venturing out and getting themselves into difficulties. One reason for this is their relying solely on smartphones to navigate. The Lake District Search and Mountain Rescue Association said one in four callouts were “avoidable rescues” due to people getting lost or delayed through not having the necessary navigational skills. Up until Boxing Day morning, rescue teams there had attended 606 callouts in 2022, a figure they expected to rise to 620 by the end of the year. Numbers have risen significantly in the last 10 years, up from 432 incidents in 2012. Last year was their busiest, with 681 callouts. That’s more than 10 call-outs per week - astounding! And most of the rescuers are unpaid volunteers!m

This is one of the consequences of our digital age. 

Another is the perceived license to be mean and cruel. I read today about 92 year old Liliana Segre, an Italian holocaust survivor. Expelled from school at age 8 because of Mussolini’s anti-Jewish racial laws and sent off to Auschwitz at age 13, she was the only one of her immediate family to survive the holocaust and eventually return to Italy. In the 1990s she began to visit schools and other institutions to talk about her experiences, as did others of her generation in various countries. I remember colleges where I worked having visiting speakers of that kind. 

In 2018, on the 80th anniversary of the enactment of Mussolini’s racial laws, she was made a life senator by the Italian president, Sergio Mattarella. And suddenly she came to the notice of some right wing nutcases and became a target of death threats. Since 2019 has been obliged to have a police escort. In one incident, a teacher from the Veneto region wrote on Facebook that Segre “would do well in a nice little incinerator”. 

Wow! And they let such people teach children and influence young minds?

Why does the ability to post material on social media and digital platforms make some people think they can be so harsh! I should not be so surprised at this as it happens all the time but ai remain shocked and saddened by it. We live in a cruel age! 

Well, I have digressed somewhat from the subject of weather. Judging by what is happening weather-wise in the USA, where even more snow is predicted for New York at least and probably elsewhere, we should be thankful to have only rain. And then there is this report of fog in China, leading to a 200 vehicle pile-up. It’s worth looking at the article just for the picture of the crash. So many vehicle! And  amazingly only pne person is reported to have been killed. I suppose that’s an odd kind of tribute to the safety features of modern cars. 

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone! 

Today is a bank holiday. That’s because Christmas Day fell on a Sunday this year. The shops will mostly be open though. Long gone are the days when a bank holiday meant that almost all the shops closed. I wonder if shop assistants and hospitality staff receive extra pay for working on a bank holiday. 

I walked out in the drizzle this morning to pick up extra milk from the co-op store, which was open, as expected. 

Back when I worked in a shoe shop as a teenager, Saturdays during term time and full time in the summer holidays, we used to receive 50% extra for working on bank holidays. This was at a time when shops also had half day closing, one day a week when the shop closed at 1.00pm and the town centre went quiet. As I grew up in the seaside town of Southport, in the summer time the half day closing disappeared - after all holidaymakers might want to buy new shoes or sandals - and we shop assistants had a half day off on lieu at some other time of the week. Those were the days, when shops closed at 5.30 or 6.00 at the latest and shopping streets became dead areas! 

I was having that kind of nostalgic talk with an old friend this morning as I walked back from the village. He remembered buying his first car (second time but new to him) for £800 back in the 1960s. Life’s a bit different, and more expensive, now. £800 was still a hefty chunk out of his annual salary but it was manageable..

At the other end of the scale is the prospect of spending a minimum of £7,585 for a three-night New Year’s Eve break to “ring in the bells and celebrate Hogmanay in style” in Scotland’s five-star Gleneagles hotel. Or maybe a “house party” at Whatley Manor, a luxury hotel and spa in the Cotswolds that is hosting a black tie gala dinner on Saturday as part of three-night breaks costing as much as £5,200 – plus an extra £300 if you want to bring your dog. More on such nonsense here. 

It’s a whole different way of celebrating, a whole different way of living in a time of economic crisis. 

I think we’ll just stay at home for New Year’s Eve. There’s still a bottle of Prosecco in the fridge.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone! 

The consequences of weather. Boxing day activities. Cinderella propaganda.

I went out running this morning, hoping to dodge predicted rain showers. And then I got caught in a hailstorm! Later the sun tried to come out for a while but since then the weather has been changeable in the extreme. However, it could be worse. The USA seems to have extreme cold all over the place, with ridiculously deep snow in many places. How can somewhere as extensive as the USA have more or less the same weather all over, from the Canadian border to the Mexican border? Crazy weather!

On the other side of the world Japan is also having snow problems, with people dying because they fell from the roof trying to clear snow. Good grief! And clearing snow off roofs as people have died from being buried under snow falling from the roof. It’s serious stuff but I could not help being amused by the closing paragraph:-

“In Niigata, known for rice growing, some makers of mochi – sticky rice cakes that are staple for new year celebration meals – said there were delivery delays and their mochi may not reach customers in time.”

As consequences of extreme weather go, I think a lack of sticky rice cakes might be rather minor.

Thinking of the consequences of weather, how about the theory that almost 8,000 shootings in US cities in recent years were attributable to unseasonably warm temperatures. People get cross when it’s hot and become more aggressive and more likely to shoot people, at least if you live in a country where guns are in regular, common use.

So experts are now recommending making more green and shady spaces in urban areas to keep things cooler. Maybe changing the gun rules might be a good idea too - just an odd idea of mine.

It’s Boxing Day. So I’ve spent some time dealing with leftover chicken from yesterday (we tend to have chicken rather than turkey after some disappointing turkeys over the years) despite having told myself I’ve cooked enough stuff over the last week to merit a day off. But when you have leftover cooked poultry you need to deal with it as soon as possible. So chicken and vegetable soup is bubbling away and a chicken and sausage hotpot is in the oven. More stuff to put away in the freezer later today! 

As we approach the end of the Christmas period here’s an article about Cinderella.

https://www.theguardian.com/books/2022/dec/18/cinderella-fairytale-glass-slipper-joke-royalty-louis-xiv

It seems that Charles Perrault who wrote the fairytale was the secretary tasked with outfitting Louis XIV’s palaces. “He was the brains behind the operation of putting up the Hall of Mirrors,” said Warwick. The 73-metre-long hall was lavishly furnished by Perrault with 357 mirrors opposite 17 huge arched windows at a time when glass was a highly fashionable, ultra-expensive modern luxury. “He was also the administrator in charge of setting up a royal glassworks for France.”

And patriotism was the order of the day:  “Economic patriotism was so extreme at the time that French nobility could be fined at court if they wore fashionable textiles which had not been made in France.” They wanted to make French glass rather than import Venetian glass and even fairy tales reflected this patriotic endeavour. Everyone would know that the glass slipper was a nod to the Versailles glass obsession. Even the name Cinderella (Cendrillon in French) refers to the use of ash in glass production. Goodness! Who knew?

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!

Some thoughts on Christmas Day.

A crazy parade of tinsel and fairy-light decorated tractors went past our house early yesterday evening, indeed they seemed to go round and round the village, judging by the sound of their music and hooting. Christmas eve festivities, probably coordinated by the Wake Up Delph committee. 

I was reminded of the advertisement for Coca-Cola which has been on television this month. To the singing of “Holidays are coming! Holidays are coming!“ we see a young boy excitedly joining crowds lining the streets to watch a fleet of brightly-lit Coca-Cola lorries go past. I find myself thinking of the recipe for diabetes and tooth decay represented by these lorries! It doesn’t appeal to my Christmas spirit at all. The tractors, however, were a different matter altogether.

According to the One o’ Clock news on the radio some people camped out over night in order to be able to watch the royal family got to church on Christmas Morning. “It’s something I always wanted to do and this year I decided to do it. They give up so much for us and so I feel I can give up something for them!” Hmmm! Each to their own, I suppose!

Here’s a selection of letters from yesterday’s newspaper: 

Are carol singers now extinct? Some years ago, early evenings in December were regularly punctuated with a knocked door or rung bell.

Immediately after, the melodic, or more often cacophonous, rendition of Oh Come, All Ye Faithful could be heard. When the exuberant caterwauling could no longer be tolerated, the door was opened.

The little cherubs would then immediately refrain from murdering another carol and hit you with We Wish You a Merry Christmas. This was always (thankfully) the finale, with the expectation of a cash prize.

Depending on the decade, the 3d, 6d, 10p or, more recently, 50p (for each vocalist), was either greeted with a cheery smile or the sombre look of disappointment – depending on whether your reward fell below the evening’s market average.

Maybe children no longer know any carols, or they’re at home still eating the sweets you gave them at Halloween.
Gary Freestone
Leicester

Talking to my neighbours, I found that many of them have been too afraid to adorn the outsides of their flats or houses with Christmas lights this year as they have done in previous years, because they have soaring electricity bills. So the Tories have even dampened that Christmas spirit.
Alan Lafferty
London

Meanwhile, police are looking for a gunman who went and shot people in a pub in Wallasey last night. And a  man has been charged over comments made during a proclamation ceremony for the king. Thames Valley police said on Friday that Symon Hill, 45, of Oxford, had been charged with using threatening or abusive words, or disorderly behaviour. I seem to remember he shouted something about Charles not being his king! Hill is due to appear at Oxford magistrates court on 31 January. So much for freedom of speech! 

Hey! ho! It’s Christmas Day! None of this is going to spoil the fun. I’m planning on having a good time with my family. Santa has left parcels under the tree. 

Merry Christmas to one and all.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone! 

The best laid plans!

Yesterday I had a plan:-  get up at a reasonable hour; shower; breakfast; walk to Uppermill; buy stuff from the deli; catch the next bus to Tesco in Greenfield; meet Granddaughter Number Two there; shop for Christmas dinner ingredients; be joined by daughter and small people (who had been to a children’s music session - Boomting - party); go to Granddaughter Number Two’s favourite cafe for coffee and, in her case, chocolate Guinness cake; have a lift home with my shopping; spend the afternoon sorting out the shopping, wrapping presents, doing odds and ends in preparation for Christmas Day; relax. 

It was a good plan. It worked well as far as going to the cafe. My timing was perfect for leaving the deli and hopping on a bus to Greenfield. I could have walked if I had missed the bus, but it was there, waiting for me while the driver had a cigarette. The supermarket was not too crowded, I found everything I needed and we did not have to queue for more than a few minutes at the checkout. As we left it was clear that the carpark was crowded and the store was filling up but, hey! what did we care. We had shopped at the right time. 

My daughter messaged to say she was on her way and why did Granddaughter Number Two walk across to the cafe and bag us a table. So far so good. The cafe had one slice of chocolate Guinness cake left, a waitress promised to reserve it for Granddaughter Number Two. However, by the time we placed our order that slice had gone. We shall have to return another day, obviously. Fortunately, she had already bought some strange red marble cake in the supermarket.,

As we finished off at the cafe, my daughter asked if Granddaughter Number Two would entertain her small sister at their house and if the small boy could come to my house while she and her partner did some last minute shopping - she has a tradition of new Christmas pyjamas for all her children, including the grown-up or almost grown-up one and she needed to find some for the “big kids”, among other odds and ends. Granddaughter Number Two amended this to all three grandchildren coming to my house. Fine! No problem! 

We had more coffee at my house and the small people “helped” me make jelly before Mummy set off to do her shopping. Then Granddaughter Number Two installed herself in the lounge while the small people and I did clever craft stuff downstairs. This was interrupted every five minutes or so with requests to check if the jelly was set yet. Very slowly, I put the shopping away, interspersed with helping create wonderful things with paper straws and cardboard and, of course, regular checks on the jelly in the fridge. This morning I had to try to remember where everything was put!

At some point in the late afternoon we discovered that one lot of jelly was just about set. It was intended for tomorrow but it was attacked yesterday. The small boy was very sticky by the time Mummy returned!

Eventually they were persuaded to have something other than jelly to eat and were manhandled into pyjamas before heading for home. 

Phil and I finally ate in the middle evening - a glass of wine was definitely called for. And suddenly most of the evening was gone and we felt it was time to sit down and watch another instalment of the excellent Italian detective series we have been following - a nice mix of serious investigation,  bit of irony, some sadness, some gentle humour and the chance to hone our listening skills in Italian.

So that was yesterday. Today I have run round the village, emptied the washing basket, made and apple pie and a cheesecake. Time to fetch the washing and probably peel some sprouts. Oh! and finish wrapping those presents. It is Christmas Eve, after all.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone.

The joy of pre-Christmas get-togethers.

All is quiet at our house now. The southern branch of the family packed up their stuff and set off in their car for the journey back to Buckinghamshire. It truly was a flying visit, arriving early Tuesday evening and leaving fairly early this morning. Apart from my having miscounted how many people were going to sit around the table on Tuesday - and even that was okay because our son-in-law decided he was feeling a little queasy, possible from eating of date crab pâté our daughter suggested, and so was not eating - all went well. 

The small people decorated the Christmas tree yesterday morning. It’s been looking coolly elegant with nothing more than fairy lights since we installed it in the living room, waiting for the “elves” to be altogether to decorate it further. The smaller cousins, especially the little girls, 8 and 6, are always pleased to get together. I was expecting some tree chaos as this year the three year old was “helping” his sister and cousin, but it all went smoothly. After the tree decorating session we took my daughter’s family dog -yes, he had to come to the family get-together, of course! - for a walk past the duckpond. There we discovered that ducks scorn prawn crackers - left over from the previous evening’s chippy supper. They approached them and turned away, back to the bread which we are not supposed to feed them apparently. So it goes. 

And after a light lunch - quiche, a selection of cheeses, good bread - we had an early exchange of presents for the small people. This is something of a tradition we started last year. The general feeling is that if time and effort has been put into selecting Sylvanian Family goods for small girls and Hot Wheels build-your-own racetrack stuff for the small boy, then the givers should benefit from the joy as much as the recipients. 

That selection of gifts may seem rather gender-stereotyped but that’s just the way it fell out. We have an ancient farm set which all the grandchildren have played with. The now six year old girl used to sort out all the animals, put them in family groups and invent heartrending stories around them. The three year old boy totally ignores the animals and examines all the machinery and tractors with care. This is despite exactly the same nurturing. However, he does join in the creative and artistic activities - with enthusiasm! This led to just about the only tears of yesterday when all three small people were busily decorating fancy tea light holders with glitter glue and sparkles. He commandeered the pink glitter glue and used most of it, largely putting it on the wipe clean table cover, much to the frustration of his eight year old cousin who had clear plans as to what she wanted to do with said pink glitter glue. 

Peace restored, games played, adults bossed around by the three year old to hold his Hot Wheels racetrack in precisely the correct position, eventually we sat down around the table for a family dinner. That was when my daughter decide that the family dog is a bit of a liability with so many people around. Enticed by the smell of food, the normally placid pup became very demanding of attention and even stole food from the small boy’s hand at one point. It has been decided that his cage, where he sleeps and where he spends mealtimes at their house, will be brought along on Christmas Day. It is quite likely that Granddaughter Number One will want to bring her dog as well because if she is left alone in her house he will howl and disrupt Christmas Day for all her neighbours. Maybe this dog also needs a cage. When I signed up to host Christmas I had not taken doggy Christmas into account! 

But all will be worked out. It usually is. Here’s Eva Wiseman writing about hosting her first big family Christmas and wondering of that makes her officially an adult. When our children were small we all used to get in the car and head over to my parents’ for Christmas dinner, ideally arriving on Christmas Eve so that we could make some contribution to the preparation and not be accused of doing no more than turn up and eat. Family occasions are famous cor such accusations being bandied around. 

And now it’s time I set about making yet another shopping list to ensure that we have all the necessary ingredients for a successfully Christmas dinner on Sunday.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone! 

Oprimistic washing-drying. Dutbins. Who can say what and about what?

It's a fine sunny day here.

The weather must be getting milder because I have just hung washing out in the garden for the first time in weeks. Of course, this could just be the height of optimism on my part, however, as it will only have a few hours before I bring it in again. 

 

However, the sun is actually shining, not that it will reach my garden very much as the sun is so low in the sky, and there is a bit of wind blowing. 

 

It is still rather cold though. The ducks are still perching on ice floes on the pond and my water barrel has a very thick circle of ice floating about on the top of it.

 

There was rather an icy wind blowing as I went out to collect my dustbins (brown for glass and plastic recycling and green for compostable stuff this week) from somewhere up the street where the dustbin-men deposited them. As I came back from my run earlier I noticed that the dustbin-men appear to have been equipped with bright yellow thermal-looking uniforms, including a roll-neck top - visibly keeping warm! I dodged round the dustbin lorry in one of the side streets and saw a gentleman come out of his house, look rather despairingly at his still very full brown bin, which was still in his garden up a set of steps, and obviously decide he had no chance of getting the bin down the steps and catching the bin-men before they disappeared into the wide blue yonder. A picture of resignation! It is to be hoped he does not empty too many bottles and cans over Christmas and the New Year as we now have a three week wait for the next brown bin collection.

On to more serious matters:- Rishi Sunak has said that Gary Neville should stick to football and not make comments on political matters.

This is what Gary Neville said: “We should detest low pay, we should detest poor accommodation and poor working conditions. That is something we can never, ever accept that in this region or in any region – and it is just worth mentioning we’ve got a current government in our country who are demonising rail workers, ambulance workers and – terrifyingly – nurses.

“We can’t have people being paid an absolute pittance to work, we can’t have people in accommodation which is unsavoury and disgusting.

“That shouldn’t happen here [in Qatar] with the wealth that exists. But it shouldn’t happen in our country, that our nurses are having to fight for an extra pound or an extra two pounds either.”

He said it in his football commentary on the World Cup. The prime minister said: “I think when most people are tuning in to watch Gary Neville they want to hear about the football and watch the football. They don’t want to discuss politics.”

Oh dear! Everything should be nicely compartmentalised and we should only think what we are supposed (told) to think and vote the way we are told to vote. 

It’s odd that football commentators should not talk about politics, presumably because football is their speciality, and yet politicians can become ministers for education without ever having been a teacher, or for health without ever having been a medical practitioner of any kind! 

So football pundits should stick to their area of punditry but game show hosts who specialise in motorised vehicles feel free to say what they like about anyone and everyone. Jeremy Clarkson expressed his views on Harry and Meghan in a newspaper column, well, mostly his feelings about Meghan. His expression of hatred and desire to see her suffer horribly led to a media outcry and he has had to apologise. In an apology tweet, he wrote: “I’ve rather put my foot in it … I’m horrified to have caused so much hurt and I shall be more careful in future.” Of course, his apology seems aimed at those who protested rather than to Meghan herself.,

Why does he “hate” her? What did she ever do to him? And why is his reaction so visceral? Why does he so much want to see her enduring horrible fates?

 

“Hate” is a very emotive word which we all tend to use without thinking. Quite often we “hate” some politicians and their actions. Teenagers “hate” their parents for forbidding certain activities, children “hate” their friends when they fall out, we “hate” certain foods. But this casual use is as nothing compared with actually writing it in a newspaper column. And whatever was the newspaper doing printing such nasty stuff? The mind truly boggles.

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone! 

Changing temperatures? Out and about. Stephen Pinker on good and bad news. Bad news about Rwanda.

Yesterday I was tempted to say I wasn’t impressed by the much vaunted warm front that was supposed to be moving in. The millpond was still deep frozen. Even the corner the ducks where still managed to swim was frozen over. And although pavements were mostly safe to walk on, footpaths through wooded areas were even worse than in previous days, if that was even possible. The slight thaw followed by rain and then refreezing had left the paths positively glassy. You had to walk on the remaining bit of frosty grass at the edge of the path. 

But this morning it’s quite balmy out there. Well, the temperature is up to 11° or even 12°, which is hardly warm but everything is relative. There is also, however, wind and showers of rain to contend with. I had a little chat about the weather with a gentleman in the bus station in central Oldham this morning. This is what happens around here - conversations with complete strangers. The bus station is a notoriously cold and windy place even in the summer time. 

The centre of Oldham seems to be in turmoil as they pedestrianise and gentrify the shopping areas. They seem to be knocking things down and re-paving areas in what looks like a haphazard fashion but I suppose someone has planned it. There seem to be lots of places which now have sets of steps and all sorts of different levels, which surely will not be very user-friendly to the disabled or just the old and doddery. So it goes.

Stephen Pinker, “cognitive psychologist, psycholinguist, popular science author and public intellectual”, has been writing about how we are attracted to bad news. This is why we like murder mystery series and stories. Personally I like such stories in fiction but I have no interest in learning the gruesome details of real cases. It is also why bad news features more than good news in regular bulletins. Bad news has more dramatic impact. 

And on the subject of bad news the High Court has decided that it’s perfectly legal and reasonable to send asylum seekers to Rwanda. Quite how anyone justifies sending people half way round the world to have their application for asylum here

Jonathan Gullis, MP for Stoke-on-Trent North says that there is no reason for anyone to risk their lives by getting into small boats to cross the Channel, enriching people traffickers. He said: "The people of Stoke-on-Trent North and I find the number of migrants coming across the English Channel from perfectly safe neighbouring European countries like France totally unacceptable and deeply concerning.

"We need to bring this national and European emergency to an end, as well as fulfill our promise to the British people by taking back control of our laws and borders. When we as a country voted to leave the EU in 2016 we did so in order to restore our ability to control our laws, money and borders. The people of this great country felt that too much power wrongly lay in Europe, and their voices were ignored."

I wonder if all the people of Stoke-on-Trent North still really all that stuff?

That’s enough miserable news!

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone! 

Spielberg on the radio. Some stuff about Christmas food.

On Sunday mornings we tend to extend our mid-morning breakfast into late morning so that we can listen to Desert Island Discs. This morning the guest was Steven Spielberg, an interesting man with a good choice of records to take to the desert island with him. He sort of apologised to sharks for giving them a bad name in his film Jaws, which apparently led to a lot of overfishing.

“But now, nearly half a century on, director Steven Spielberg has conceded that perhaps the Oscar-winning 1975 thriller was too effective at conjuring fear of the defamed creatures, admitting he is “truly regretful” for any influence he has had on the world’s rapidly shrinking shark population.

Since the early 70s, the world’s population of oceanic sharks and rays has fallen by 71% as a result of overfishing, a global study published in Nature found last year.

“I truly and to this day regret the decimation of the shark population because of the book and the film. I really, truly regret that,” the American director tells Desert Island Discs, to be broadcast on BBC Radio 4 on Sunday.”

A little later this morning I listened to bits and pieces of The Food Programme on BBC Radio 4. They were singing the praises of Christmas food, with no mention of turkey, apart from saying how well sprouts and chestnuts go with it, but more the diversity of food that in some cases have gone out of fashion. We’ve become limited in what we will eat on Christmas day apparently. So we heard about things that can be done with Italian chestnuts (the best in the world, the Italian chestnut growers claim - rather like the Galicians and their potatoes) and the wonders of Wensleydale cheese, among other things. 

Christmas food would probably not be the same without pigs in blankets. I’ve got a couple of packs in my freezer. Apparently they come at the top of polls of favourite festive foods. (By the way, who knew they did polls,on favourite festive foods? However, I suppose it’s understandable. They want to know what to market.) Statistics show we spend over £30 million on them. But now it’s reached a point where there are crazy spin-offs such as pigs in blankets gravy, pigs in blankets pizzas (surely an aberration!), pigs in blankets dog treats (because crazy dog lovers think their dogs are people and have to share their food types if not their actual food) and, worst of all, in my opinion, pigs in blankets milkshakes. 

I’m not a fan of milkshakes at the best of times but surely they should not be any kind of meat flavour!

You can get pigs in blankets in Yorkshire puddings, which one of my granddaughters would love, and there are meat-free pigs in blankets, made from pea protein for vegans. Although quite why vegans, who supposedly eschew meat and animal products, would want them I find hard to comprehend. When I was a vegetarian I was a whole-hearted and whole food veggie eater - no meat products anywhere near me and indeed to this day I find beef hard to deal with and avoid it. 

Where did they come from? Some say it was Delia Smith who first put pigs in blankets on the festive menu in the 1990s when they appeared in her Christmas recipe book. And now chef Yotam Ottolenghi is suggesting home cooks try his sticky pomegranate and pistachio version. There’s a bit of me that says that’s fairly typical Yotam Ottolenghi, full of ingredients you can’t get at our local coop store. Yes, I just looked it up; here’s the list of ingredients: 

24 pork chipolatas, each twisted in the middle, then cut in half, to make 2 smaller sausages
24 rashers smoked streaky bacon, cut in half widthways
20g pistachios
1 tbsp parsley leaves, finely chopped
1 tbsp dill leaves, finely chopped
80ml maple syrup
70ml pomegranate molasses
¼ tsp ground cinnamon 
½ tsp urfa chilli flakes, or ¼ tsp regular chilli flakes

That’s enough about sausages for the time being. 

Life goes on. Stay safe and well, everyone!