Free speech

http://www.liveleak.com/view?i=7d9_1206624103

I have just been watching Geert Wilders film about Islam. There is nothing there that is new or even shocking, thought the whole thing does pack a very powerful message. Holland clearly has a big problem, with the Muslim population growing exponentially, and of course with numbers come powers and that it seems is the way in which the world is being taken over. Islam is a culture as much as a religion and as in all cultures, those with the loudest voices are the ones that make things happen.

It is all very well for moderate Muslims to claim that Islam is about love and forgiveness and tolerance, but this is indeed not the case and unless the Islamic community is prepared to become more tolerant of non Muslims, then i fear that we are entering a new and dangerous age where the rest of society will no longer tolerate Islam. Such things have happened in the past and will no doubt happen again and again.

Mr Wilder has stuck out his neck again and for that I admire him. Someone has to make a stand and say things that need to be said. Islam may not like free speech, and that is understandable when you have such shaky ground to stand on, but civilizations where people are free to speak their minds are more preferable to those where one is totally controlled by the interpretation of a book.

Opining

I have never felt that my opinions count for much and maybe that is why I have no problem with expressing them. At the end of the day it really doesn't matter what I think about anything, except of course to me. My opinions matter to me a great deal, otherwise there would be little point in having them. I know that I have a contrary nature and am not easily swayed by the opinions of others, in fact if someone has a strong opinion on an issue, I am likely to take an opposing standpoint just for the hell of it.

Some of my opinions I always keep to myself, on the grounds that some things are best left unsaid and I do try hard not to let things slip out. The only time that I am likely to let loose of my feelings is when I drink too much. As they say - In Vino Veritas.

Today nothing has really pulled my chain and I feel rather flat and uninspired. I could choose a subject at random I guess but honestly i can't be bothered. I have days like this when my mind is occupied by a large black mist that seem to permeate through my entire consciousness. It won't last, they seldom do these days, but while it lies there I have little creativity. To do anything really requires an effort and I am not prepared to do that.

I wonder what is the trigger? Today is like any other really and it is raining yet again. I am not unhappy, that is a thing of the past. I long ago ceased to have expectations of other people and as a result I am never disappointed by them. Hence my life coninues on a level plain by and large.

I think that as I get older, it becomes harder to find stimulation of any sort. New experiences are few and far between and new people are not likely to come into my life. I look around at people not too much older than myself and they seem to have given up on life and i am not ready for that yet. I can see how it happens though and that can be a scary thought.

I was hoping to come up with something really controversial today but I can't seem to raise the energy somehow. maybe tomorrow i will be more successful.

Oh while I am here, allow me to give Holly a Plug. If you haven't heard her sing then please do - She is a wonderful girl with a huge future in front of her. I am honoured to know her and to have watched her career germinate.

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=b29l6W0YsO4#GU5U2spHI_4

Terry Pratchett

I never used to like Terry Pratchett. I had seen his books advertised and heard people raving about how brilliant he was, but as soon as i saw Wizard or Witch in the title pages, i was immediately turned off and didn't bother to look any further. I know that this is a narrow minded approach to things, but I thought I knew what I liked and what i wouldn't like.

Such attitudes are quite common in people. How often do you hear people say - "I don't like that." and when asked if they have tried it, they say "No". I have always told kids to try most things and then make up their minds as to whether they like it or not. I think it might have been Oscar Wilde who said - "I'll try anything once, except for country dancing and incest."

To make decisions about likes and dislikes without experience is natural but so silly. How many people miss out on wonderful things in their lives without ever knowing what the experience is like?

Anyway, I did read a Pratchett novel at the recommendation of a good friend. And once I managed to suspend my disbelief for a second, i became absorbed and embroiled into the Discworld and his amazing relationship with reality or should i say Surreality.

His books are a delight, and the more you read, the more you get inside the creative genius that he is. Terry Pratchett could be described as one of the best living British writers, in that he probably reaches more people than anyone else writing today.

I find it so sad that he has been diagnosed with Alzheimers disease, and he must know that soon his prodigious output of novels will begin to diminish, and as his brain is eaten away, he will have no choice other than to slip away into his own inner world, and I hope that it proves as wonderful as his books.

Mr Pratchett, I have never met you and never will, but my heart goes out to you and I hope that you can stay with us for many years to come.

another rant

For goodness sake, what is the NUT playing at? They are mooting the idea that the Koran should be taught in schools. Inviting the Mullahs into state schools in order to enhance understanding? I think not - Schools should be no place for religious teaching of any sort. Kids are obliged to attend school, and i don't think that having another work of fiction rammed down their throats is going to do any good whatever. I wonder if the Mullahs would allow the teaching of anything BUT the Koran in Islamic schools?

Would I be welcomed in to deliver my beliefs as a devout Atheist? Maybe not.

The daily act of worship that is proscribed by the national curriculum was always a nonsense, and few schools ever payed it more than lip service and that is hardly surprising. So few teachers have any sort of religious faith anyway, so why foist the propagation of mythology upon them?

I'd sooner see Harry Potter being made obligatory. At least it doesn't pretend to be anything other than a story.

When in Rome

A rant is long overdue, and today I guess I am going to upset somebody.

Cardinal Keith O'Brien, is set to unleash an attack on the new embryology bill, describing aspects of embryological research as "Monstrous", and this is to be the keynote of his Easter Sunday Sermon. That scientific research should form the focus of Rome's concerns at the most important time in the religious calendar, is a reminder of the blind bigotry of the established religions, and is almost on a parallel with the imprisonment of Galileo by the inquisition for his assertion that the Earth went around the sun.

All research has its risks and of course have ethical considerations. There may be things that we are uncomfortable with, but without risk and without taking unpopular steps, we would still be living in the dark ages when the churches had absolute power.

We are fortunate that we live in times when, at least in countries where thinking is allowed, the power of the church is minimal. Separation of church from state is a vital step forward in the development of a modern and civilised society, and the thought of any religious group, attempting to dictate policy of governments is grotesque in its own way.

Yes research should be regulated, and it is, but not on the basis of medieval doctrines that were designed to keep the poor in their place. The church should keep its head in the clouds and if it must focus on earthly issues, then maybe should take a look at the treatment of young children by so many of its ministers - That really is Monstrous!

Making the world go round?

There are many things about which I know almost nothing. I am prepared to admit that the minds of women are closed books, American politics baffles me, but the peak of my ignorance has to lie in the world of finance.

There was a time when I knew exactly what my income was, and how much there was in the bank. It was easy to keep tabs on as there was so little money involved. Personal finance has never really been of much interest to me. Why worry about things that you cannot change? I have always had enough to eat and to pay the bills and since childhood have learned to live within my means. I hate being in debt and will avoid that whenever possible. At the moment I owe nothing to anyone and that gives me a feeling of independence and in some ways one of isolation.

I have been trying to get my head around the financial crisis that seems to have begun in the USA and as all things tend to, it is spreading like a dreadful virus throughout the world. I just do not understand what happens to all the money that people keep losing. Money cannot just disappear, so therefore, wherever there are losers there must be winners. The money of millions of people is seemingly being syphoned into the accounts of wealthy speculators who are manipulating the markets in order to feather their own nests. I guess that this is true of the capitalistic system that demands everything from those that have very little and rewards those who have most.

Most of us just have to watch while, the clever bastards in the stock exchanges wave their hands about and destroy peoples lives.
I am sure that things are much more complicated than they appear, but I do feel that the system is fundamentally corrupt and is simply the playground of the super rich who are interested merely in their own personal wellbeing.

There, i have demonstrated my ignorance and will compound it by confessing that I don't know the difference between stocks, shares, PEPs Bonds, annuities, and endowments. I do however know what a mortgage is and am so glad that I don't have one.

Continued

I feel that I need to say a little about SOME of the people that live in North Wales. I can undertsand why people hate the English, let's face it, we have a pretty poor history when it comes to international relations. What we couldn't occupy, we have pillaged, and have left resentful peoples the world over. The British Museum in London is an illustration. Walk around there sometime and hazard a guess as to what proportion of the exhibits are actually British. My guess is that at least 75% of the items in there were stolen by Brits doing their world tours or taking their "gap years".

Well it it true that many homes in North Wales were bought up by affluent English, and that of course led to housing shortages in that part of the world, leaving many young people with little choice other than to move away. This has a knock on effect and, produces demographic changes that have not been popular with the Welsh.

There is a significant element in North Wales that treat English tourists very badly. I have been sworn at and abused for simply walking past someone's house and many times have walked into pubs, where suddenly the language changes from English to Welsh as soon as they recognise the presence of the English.

They may not be the most sociable of people, but they do live in a spectacular part of the world and I still love Snowdonia in particular.

We always went in the spring, when the Rhododendrons were in full bloom, and stayed in a number of hostels that cluster around the base of the mountain. There are so many tales to tell of the North Wales trips but cannot possibly write about all of them. For one thing, I cannot recall the details and there is always the possibility of several trips blending into one within my imagination.

However there was one memorable trip, when we were staying in Llanberis, a grey and depressing little town with little going for it other than scenery. The hostel is a modern one and well provided with facilities and a good heating system; something pretty essential in Wales. We had walked there from a place the other side of the mountain and this was the last venue of our tour. Parties from our school had a pretty good reputation, as we tended to keep a pretty firm grip on the groups and also staff slept in the same dormitories as the kids.

As was almost traditional, on the last night, the lads decided to saboutage my bed. Nothing malicious, just making it hard for me to get into it and they had also gathered together the walking sticks from the group and arranged them neatly in between my bedding.

We were sharing the hostel that night with some not very well behaved and very excited young boys from a private school, whose Masters seemingly had little control over their charges.

Philip, was one of our most mature and sensible boys, but the did have a shaved head, wore big boots and denim jacket and jeans. He was the mind behind the practical jokes and he managed to convince the private school lads that our party was from a young offenders institution, and that the sticks were a weapon stache all ready for a breakout that night. The plan was to kill the staff and make a break for it.

The first I heard of this was early evening, when the Warden of the hostel, a dour and humourless man at the best of times, approached me along with one of the Masters from the other school. Apparently, the young boys were terrified, and afraid to go backto their dormitories in case they too were murdered. It was the only time i ever saw the Warden smile. He was able to see the joke and I think that Philip went up in his estimation too.

Enough of this - Suffice it to say that, the trips were wonderful, and i still meet grown ups who were kids that came with me on those trips, and they still talk about them with fondness and enthusiasm. I just hope that one of them will take it upon themselves to "pass it on."

Long and winding roads

One thing that I was determined to pass on during my teaching life, was a love of walking, and in particular, Youth Hostelling. When I joined the school, there was no current member of staff prepared to take students on walking holidays, and i guess there were good reasons for that even then. However I was young and probably foolish and had a strong urge to pay back some of the good that MIke Woods had done for me. And so with an older female colleague, I began to organise and conduct walking holidays for the full range of students.

Now for those who have never heard of the Youth Hostels Association, there were/are an international network of hostels, owned by the association, that provided, bed and basic meals for very reasonable prices, for anyone prepared to pay the small membership fee. In those days, cars and motorised transport of any kind was not allowed, and so hostellers would have to arrive on foot or by bicycle. Everyone slept in dormitories, ate together in primitive dining rooms, and as part of the deal, hostellers were required to participate in basic chores, including cleaning dormitories and washrooms, washing up after meals, making the horrible packed lunches and whatever took the wardens fancy. I remember one morning before a particularly gruelling walk, being asked to shift a couple of tons of shingle onto the car park. Not what we really needed but it had to be done.

The bulk of the trips i took over the many years were to Snowdonia in North Wales. The reason for that choice was that it was as far from the Island as we could get in one day, and that it is an environment that is so very different from what the students had experienced before.

North Wales has a bleak beauty in its landscape and even on a sunny day, grey seems to dominate. When it rains, which is most of the time, everything is grey, and the people reflect that greyness, especially in their attitude to the English. TBC

Buses

In the brief period of real childhood that came between hospital and puberty, family holidays were as rare as proverbial hen's teeth. My parents had little money to spend and so when we did get away for a day, it was a treat that was almost beyond imagination.

Our holiday would be a day trip to the seaside. We always went to the same place, a typical seaside resort at Barry Island in south Wales. Here we could swim in the sea and play in the sand to our heart's content for those magical few hours. The sea and sand were wonderful but not far from the beach was the funfair, and that was of course what caught our imaginations. I can still hear the sounds and smells, and the heady mix of excitement and fear as the lucky ones got to ride on the big dipper or the sky rockets. For us, it was a case of watching the others on the rides as we had no money for such frivolity. I remember the envy and the feeling of deprivation but in reality we still enjoyed being there. It was a temporary escape from reality and a glimpse into a different world. We even took sandwiches for lunch, and picnicked on the beach while others went off for fish and chips or restaurant meals.

I remember the woollen swimming trunks and the difficulty of getting sand out of everywhere. I remember adults sitting on the beach in suits and hats and ties, and i remember that the journey home was always quicker than the journey there.

I remember the bus stopping on the way home so that the adults could call in at a pub for a few drinks while us kids stayed on the coach and if we were lucky, with a packet of crisps. I remember how tired we were by the time we got home and how good it felt to tumble into bed along with the sand that clung to our bodies.

One summer, we had such a trip promised, and as a family we set off for the main road where the coach was to pick us up. It was an early start, and at six am we stood at the top of the hill waiting with eager anticipation for the coach to arrive. It was a lovely morning and should have been a good day for the beach.

The coach appeared and to everyone's horror, it drove straight past us, and as we saw it vanish ing into the distance, we realised that our holiday had gone with it.

We had no phone then, so could not contact the company and simply had to go home. It was a feeling of devastation. Something special had been taken away from us and for no reason that we could understand. It was a feeling of utter powerlessness, and like nothing I had felt before or since.

It turned out eventually that someone had forgotten to put us on the passenger list so the driver did not know that he was supposed to pick us up. There was some form of compensation but how can you compensate a child for such a disappointment?

I am not sure why I am writing about this, as my life has been punctuated by many such disappointments. Over the years I have become aware that to place total trust in people or events is unwise. The one thing that you can rely on other people doing is that sooner or later they will let you down; that is the nature of humans. They may not mean to, but it happens. Life is about buses that pass you by and basically you have no choice but to accept that.

Desperate Dan

When i was a child, I loved to read comic books. I have fond memories of visits to my grandmother, who kept huge piles of them in her house, just for when her tribes of grandchildren would visit. She also made wonderful bread and ginger and walnut cake, and at her house we always felt welcome and at peace. We'd normally chat for a while and then we'd grab some cake and a pile of comics and go outside to lie in the grass under the blue skies and read for hours.

I mention this because, I want to talk about Curry.

It is odd how images that puzzle, often stick in the mind, and for years, the image of Desperate Dan, the hardest of men, struggling to eat curry and needing to drink barrels of water to cool off haunted my imagination. What could this CURRY thing be if it gave Dan such a hard time. I mean, this guy would eat Cow Pies, and each one contained a whole cow!

It wasn't until i was 18 yrs old that I tried my first curry, and I have to admit that it was with some trepidation that I took the plunge. How pleasant was the surprise, and how proud i must have been to manage, and relish what Desperate dan had struggled with. Since then of course, I have eaten Curry at least once a week and there have been weeks when it has been more frequent. I love the taste of food from the subcontinent and love to experiment with new spice combinations.

Anyhow, my local restaurant is run by a Bangladeshi, who is a devout Muslim as are all of his staff. They have no alcohol license and so they allow customers to bring their own drinks. This is great as it keeps the price of the meal down. The menu is extensive and reasonably priced, though they do charge more in Cowes Week (regular customers excepted).

The Waiter in charge is called Mir, I think that is how it is spelled, and he is a charmer. Mir is about four feet 6 inches high, stocky and about 60 yrs old. He has a habit of calling everyone, well men anyway, Young Man, and is utterly charming to all of the women. He is proud of his eleven children and one gets the impression that he is still trying for more. I don't know where his family live but I suspect that it is not locally. Mir has energy and enthusiasm for his job and for his customers and I often wonder how he supports his family on a waiter's income. I also wonder how at his age he can still keep having children.

Well I went through the macho bit of eating the hottest curry on the menu in my early twenties. I experienced the pain of the consumption and the follow up the following day, and realised that I was much tougher than Desperate Dan. Now i settle for flavour rather than explosive value, and my digestive system is probably grateful.

I wonder where i can find a recipe for Cow Pie?

Blogdom

Well what an odd week it has been. All the big teams have been knocked out of the FA Cup, we have had the worst storm of the year, so far, and I managed to tidy a part of my workspace. The latter was probably out of sheer boredom and i realise that my mind has not really been here over the last few days. I think sometimes it goes on holiday all by itself and I don't even notice that it has gone. Then all of a sudden it comes back and I am pleasantly surprised.

I was talking to a friend the other day about blogging, and how blogging serves a multitude of purposes. For a start, it gives a voice to people who do not normally have one, or do not choose to use the one they have in other theatres. It can be a catharsis, and that is probably because as we write, we know that there may just be someone interested enough to listen. It can also be a way of recording memories, dreams and aspirations, and as we dredge up those things in order to commit them to public inspection, we recall the mistakes as well as the triumphs of the past and by processing them, perhaps we give assistance to the healing process.

Dorothy Lessing has denigrated blogs rather unfairly in my opinion. She, i know is very ill, and she has left a huge legacy of written words that will outlive us all. To be able to leave behind masterpieces of any description, must be a dream shared by many, but achieved by so few. She has been lucky to have had the ability to reach millions of people through her writing. Most of us are grateful to reach just one. I have to disagree with her and wholeheartedly support those who wish to write, whatever they like, even if they are simple diary events. Everyone has a right to be heard and those who think that blogs are a waste of time do not have to read them.

I have found it hard to write anything at all over the last few days. Partly due to a shortage of time, but also due to a lack of things that I wanted to say. I hope that the blockage was a temporary one and that i can get back into some sort of rhythm again soon, especially as i made quite a hard decision about restarting.

blood

It's thursday and it feels like the end of a busy week. It has been a pretty good one as weeks go, with number one son being in residence and having him to play with. It's a golden opportunity to get out on the golf course and to play silly computer games. I always get beaten to the point of humiliation but it doesn't matter at all.

This morning we completed the removal of a large MImosa tree from the front garden and my fingers are scarred and bleeding. I was never very adept with a bowsaw, but the job is done and the poor diseased tree has been reduced to mulch by the mother of garden shredders.

So, what is in the news today? Bill gates has been relegated to being the second richest man. I wonder if that bothers him as much as it bothers me? Poor Bill only managed to gather 2 billion last year and is now only worth 58 billion. I do feel for him, I mean, what does he ever worry about?

Well clearly I have very little worth saying today - life is like that, sometimes we set out to be profound and interesting, and then fail at the first hurdle. I'll try again later maybe, when my mind has shifted from my bleeding fingers and the pain subsides, maybe I will be better able to focus.

So nice to see a new reader has appeared - i hope that I don't disappoint you. I will try harder honestly.

ps. I hope my Hungarian reader feels better.

Balls

I just got back from the golf course. Nothing much worth writing about as far as the game is concerned, however, while walking down the first fairway i was verbally abused and stoned by some of the lowlife that infests the high school that borders the course. Now i don't know who these spotty little oiks are and what is more i don't really want to know, but they also do not know me, so what i was wondering, possessed them to yell "Oy Wanker". I mean it is rather a strange thing to call a complete stranger, especially if you know nothing of their personal habits. As for the stones that followed, I can only assume that was my reward for ignoring their endearing calls.

I was tempted to remonstrate with them, but it seemed rather a waste of time. To reason with kids like that is like trying to discuss Plato with Earthworms, and to threaten them is usually a way of making more trouble for yourself, so like most people these days, I let them get away with it and now i feel that maybe it was the wrong thing to do.

We adults, and I count myself as an honorary member on the grounds of age, do have a responsibility to the younger generation and it has become the norm to imagine that it is someone else's job and not ours. I know it is risky and there is always the chance of getting beaten up, but if these morons are allowed free reign and can recognise no boundaries, where are they heading? I don't want to see a world where anarchy is the norm, after all, who would look after the golf courses?

day one

It would be hard to write about the early years of my teaching career in any sort of chronological order. My memory is pretty terrible and I am hopeless when it comes to dates and times and I will freely admit that most of the images come to me in a higgledy piggledy fashion, and so please bear with me.

My second year of teaching I do remember quite well, it was a great contrast to the first, and I was allowed contact with the mainstream for the first time. I was officially a member of the Science department and a fine group of people they were. OK I was outcast to the old Nissen Hut but I did have to venture into the main building from time to time. Some lessons I got to teach in real labs with gas and electrical supplies and proper equipment that didn’t have to be carted all the way from the main school.

In those days, the school was 11-18ys and we had the benefits that went with a complete age range. It was a wonderful year for me, I got to teach a whole year group biology. All of the first years came to me once a week and I got to know them all. We taught the Nuffield sciences and in my humble opinion, things were never better in terms if science education. It was accessible to all students if taught properly, and the success rate was very good. I don’t really want to go into the science thing though, partly because it has gone for good and also because it wouldn’t be at all interesting for anyone else.

That year I started a drama group. I still have a photo of some of the founder members and still recall their names, most of the founder members were 11 yrs old though as the group grew, we eventually encompassed the whole school and staff too. We began as a lunchtime group. In those days lunchtime was an hour and a quarter so there was ample time to do things. Staff would even go to the pub for lunch, some would play sports with the kids and some would just sit in the staffroom and talk to each other. I think that the staffroom is a place for a separate entry in it’s own right!

My little drama group began to organise plays and shows and before I knew it, I was running the school production, something that I never thought would happen. It was Mike Woods’ influence bearing fruit and there was more of that to come.

I watched “The History Boys” the other night and there was a line there that seems to fit… “Pass it on! Just Pass it on!” and in teaching that is precisely what I tried to do. Knowledge is just on loan, and we are obliged to share it.

There were many productions over the years, some better than others, but in all cases, they were collaborations between students of all ages and a broad range of staff too, all of whom were willing participants and gave freely of their own time to rehearse or build sets, make costumes or even just lend support. I would estimate that the team that put on
Toad of Toad Hall one year must have been 60 strong, and that was a big commitment for us all. It was a great success and people still talk about it after all these years.

June was a close friend and fellow drama fan, and we would take on the main burden of production and direction. We were so very different when it came to performances. Both very nervous of course, because once the last rehearsal has gone, the producers no longer have any control. It is like building a model aircraft and once it is launched, you just hope that it flies true. June coped by hiding in the changing rooms, keeping discipline and never venturing out front. I coped by standing, nervously twitching at the back of the audience where no-one could see me. Such a lonely place but it was always my choice.

Comments from anon

Thankyou for your kind remarks. I have had others say the same thing and i am flattered that people do take time to read. I did try another blogsite but failed miserably to put in more than one entry.

I think I may reconsider my decision as i actually do miss writing. After all, ending a blog is a little like leaving an old friend behind and i don't much care for that.

So I will continue and maybe get the life story completed before it actually is.