Belief - a postscript

A few days ago I wrote about my goldfish, postulating hypotheses as to their disappearance. Abduction by aliens seemed a remote possibility and so I had decide to settle on the probability of the more mundane notion that they had been eaten by the local heron.

Now I find myself having to re-examine my ideas in the light of new evidence.  This is a scientific approach, whereby evidence cannot be ignored and all ideas are subject to re-evaluation in the light of new findings. There are some who still believe that the Earth is flat, ignoring all evidence that contradicts this old idea. I suspect that these people are few and far between and probably concentrated in secure accommodation, but they do exist.  Any idea that is not subject to modification in the presence of new information is bogus, and this is why religious faith, however hard followers try to build bridges, can never be held alongside science as a beacon of truth.

Anyhow I digress; my problem is this.  The fish have reappeared, well at least four of them have, I saw them through the murk this morning.  Now I have to re-evaluate my ideas.  Clearly my original bird based notion has been shot out of the water, as it were.  Could the alien abduction be the correct idea?  If so then they have learned all they can about my fish and kindly returned them to their home. This makes very little sense, though if I were lazy enough not to think, then I could accept this and set up some sort of alien appreciation society. We could collect money from those least able to afford it, and build monumental edifices where we could meet and sing songs together in appreciation, or fear of the great fishermen in the sky.  However that sort of thing has already been done and  has a tendency to halt the thinking process permanently.

Putting all the recent findings together, I have had to discount the original two hypotheses, and set up a new one. The water is pretty murky so I have to concede that the fish were actually hiding from me. Hiding from me - the big face in the sky, who brought them to their world and provides them with food? How dare they?   I have a good mind to smite them!

Adrenaline

Adrenaline, or epinephrine, was discovered in 1900 and can be considered to be one of the greatest discoveries in the history of medicine.  It is naturally produced by the adrenal glands and is the chief chemical messenger of the sympathetic nervous system, preparing the body for any sort of crisis. In response to fear, it dilates the iris, increases heart rate and breathing capacity and dilates some blood vessels allowing the vital parts to receive a better supply of blood.  It is also released into the bloodstream when we are angry or when we are sexually aroused, it's effects can be summarised by the three Fs - fight, fright and shall we say frolic.

For some, the effects of adrenaline surges are addictive, especially among the young and foolhardy, though there are many older and equally foolhardy junkies out there.  Most of us enjoy a certain amount of fear as long as the conditions are controlled and that there is an escape route. Children love scary stories up to a point as long as they know that they are just stories, and for adults there is a massive market out there for horror stories and movies.  Theme parks and fun fairs provide rides that give some experiences that are so far beyond their normality, but people rarely think f these rides as unsafe. If that seed of doubt were there, most would not put themselves at any real risk.

For me, travelling on the M25 and the spectre of senility are probably as scary as things tend to be. My days of thrill seeking have long gone but I do take long and wistful looks at memories of times when I thought of myself as immortal. Times when I would do things without too much consideration of consequences.

Bringing up children in 21st century England is a difficult job.  When we were young, there were lots of things to fear. Bad behaviour was often met with some form of physical punishment. A slap maybe, but in my experience nothing worse. In school, sanctions included detention after school, the cane for serious misbehaviour, or worse, a letter home to parents who would blame YOU and not the school.  Out in the real world, bad behaviour was often dealt with then and there with a slap around the ear of a boot in the backside should you be daft enough to get caught. We knew that for every action, there was the possibility of a reaction and that all behaviour had consequences.  Things have changed, children no longer have a healthy fear of behaving badly, a loss of privileges can be tiresome but it is nothing to be afraid of and besides there is always something there to take its place. Lack of fear can lead to a reckless disregard for any form of authority and this begins at home.

Fear is essential and without it grows confidence without competence. Sooner or later there will be a clash of expectations and then there will be tears.

Belief

"Belief is a state of the mind, treated in various academic disciplines, especially philosophy and psychology, as well as traditional culture, in which a subject roughly regards a thing to be true."

My six goldfish vanished from my garden pond the other night. They hadn't been there very long and it is possible that they were abducted by aliens.

As children, we go through a slow process of coming to terms with the world that surrounds us. We are helped along the way, by others whip have already been through that process, and are fed with lies that enable us to accept what experiences come our way.  Mostly parents do not see them as lies, and are happy to promote  the stories that they grew up will as part of growing up.  Most children believe that a large fat man in a red suit climbs down the chimney of every boy or girl that has been good for a year, and leaves them gifts on the 25th of December. The impossibility of it, does not cross their minds; they accept it because their parents and their teachers tell them that is what happens and so for them it does.  It is an induction into the world of mythology and legend which for some is going to shape their minds for the rest of their lives. 

Children love stories, they love the ideas of fairies and dragons, of magic and wonder, and through these tales they learn much about good and bad, and also about living with other people. Most fairy tales have a message and are a way of addressing morality. Good always triumphs over bad and for most this i s a great comfort.

Later they learn about monsters and ghosts and other manufactured phenomena designed to scare, and through these they learn fear. Without interaction with caring adults, these fears can become nightmares and who knows what psychological damage can come from them.

Children believe what they are told, especially in the first five years or so of their lives, and what you tell them is going to stay with them until they reach the age of reason. Indoctrinate your children well enough and that age of reason is never achieved, as demonstrated by the Jesuits claims that if they have the child for the first seven years, they will give you the man.

We all grow up believing things, even things that have no foundation in fact whatsoever, and gradually, those beliefs  are demolished in the light of experience and through analysis observation and application of reason. Yet some beliefs remain. There may be race memories, genetically embedded that provide a need to believe in something, whether it be Nessie,  alien visitors or supernatural phenomena. There are plenty who believe in things that most others will consider silly, and yet the belief is there, it is embedded and impossible to shift. For some, ghosts are real, despite the fact that their existence cannot be proved. It is not possible to prove that something does not exist and because of this, there will always be those who have faith.

Having faith in an idea must be quite a comfort. You KNOW that you are right and that no-one can convince you otherwise. You do not need to prove anything, it is up to the rest of the world to do the impossible and to prove you wrong.  

The ability to convince others that you are right has enabled so many to control and manipulate populations and to divert the course of history. Faith and belief are incredibly powerful, they bind people and divide people at the same time. Blind faith is seen as something to be proud of, something to celebrate, and yet it is not. It is an escape from reality.

My fish I suspect were taken by a heron. I have seen on in the locality and although I did not witness what happened, I believe that this is the most likely cause of their disappearance.

Threats

Mankind is almost certainly a doomed species.  Each year we witness more and more extinctions as we struggle to exist. We invest time and energy into weapons designed to kill competitors and of course each other, and however hideous and catastrophic a weapon might be, sooner or later it will be used. There are too many people in the world and the numbers are expanding almost exponentially, whilst resources are dwindling. Ingenious scientists and technologists are no longer keeping up with the increasing demands and this cannot go on indefinitely.

Yesterday, a large, and visible asteroid came within the Earth's gravitational influence but thankfully passed us by. There are plenty more where that came from, some of them very small but others significantly large and sooner or later there will be a direct strike. They have happened many times before despite the ability of Jupiter to protect us from most of them, and we will always be vulnerable. Despite Hollywood's optimistic view of our ability to deal with them, visitors for outer space pose a continued threat.

There is much talk about the planet being under threat from our activities. Global warming, deforestation, pollution, you name it are seen as a threat to the planet, and yet it is us that is threatened not the planet. Our presence on the earth will be transitory and largely unnoticeable, apart from a thin layer of non biodegradable plastics. The Earth will change because that is what it does. We are only here because it  evolved conditions that favoured life on earth, and eventually what we imagine is the pinnacle of evolution.

Ebola, a particularly nasty disease, has broken out of Africa and cases are now being seen all over the world. Complacency tells us that we are safe in the west because our sanitation and health services are so much better. AS more and more people become infected, there is a greater chance that the virus will evolve and possibly become more infectious. Ebola is just one disease that is threatening us and with approaching winter, Influenza will be striking again and there is always the possibility of a new mutant strain that is far more lethal than usual.

If that were not enough, we are in danger of exterminating each other by warfare.  In this centenary year of remembrance of the first world war, we are again approaching a major conflict that looks as if it may run out of control.  How absurd it is that in an age of reason, that religion should be at the heart of it.  The Islamic world, by definition, has not reached a state of reason, and still lives by rules set down in mediaeval times. That culture clashes totally with that of the west, and also with variants of their own religion.  The middle east, was of course the source of most modern religions, all of which have common ground but also huge differences. One thing that they all had in common was a message of peace and yet the cesspit of the middle east has been a source of conflict, bloodshed and inhumanity throughout recorded history.  While western cultures, by and large, have grown up, the world of Islam remains trapped in a system that wants the west to change by stepping backwards, and is unwilling to move forwards.

We have cities and urban areas in this country that are  predominantly populated by Asian communities, most of which are followers of Islam.  Overall it seems that their religion comes first, then their culture and then the culture and laws of their adopted country. Mosques are seen as centres for radicalisation, and British Muslims are daily travelling to the middle east to fight for whatever cause they see as important.  The EDL, BNP and UKIP,  are growing rapidly, the Tory party not seen as right wing enough for some. and their attitude towards all foreigners cannot be described as friendly. As Muslim profiles get enhanced by the actions of their own extremists, more and more people, particularly in areas being taken over by Islamic culture,  will join these groups, creating the tinder, that one day will be ignited. The rising tide of Islam in the west is the biggest threat that we face, and yet it is viewed with complacency by governments and people alike. 

Breasts

There was a time when a breast of lamb was a bit of a treat. My mother would buy one now and then to make what she referred to as Irish stew.  There isn't a lot of meat on a lamb breast, most of it seems to be fat and bone, but it does make a nutritious and tasty meal.  It remains a relatively cheap cut of meat, paling into insignificance alongside the very trendy and popular pork ribs, and yet I still have the occasional yen to buy one and recreate a taste of the past.  I will not go so far as to cook pigs feet or tails, and definitely will not cook a pigs head as my mother was often asked to do.

In my childhood, it has been said that diets were much healthier, and maybe they were.  Fat people were few and far between and most of us were skinny.  It must be hard today to maintain healthy diets for children with so many tasty temptations around, and for most people there is no shortage of food.  Some people seem to make food the centre of their lives, living to eat rather than the other way around.  Every weekend newspaper has pages and pages dedicated to food and eating, and restaurants seem to thrive everywhere, people prepared to pay the ludicrous prices that they charge for their ambience and minimal cuisine.

I can still recall the smell of one of those stews, greeting us as we got home from school. I still remember the taste and the deep satisfaction gained as we mopped up the last bits of gravy with lumps of white bread.  I still love a good stew and for me, dishes like this are one of the few highlights of winter.

Noise

I went to London yesterday and am still in recovery.  I could be described as hearing impaired; in the old days it would be half deaf as I only have one ear that actually functions.  In most circumstances I cope with it, though stereo sound is wasted on me and I have no idea where sounds are coming from. I prefer one to one contacts and avoid crowded rooms as all sounds come in through the left channel and are mixed hopelessly.
The problems started on the train; shifted from my safety zone into public transport is not my idea of a good time and although we got seats, the noise was almost overwhelming.  The sound of the train itself was bearable, but there was a high pitched whine at around the 15khz frequency, that penetrated where few sounds can. It remained for the entire journey, a harbinger of what was yet to come.
We disgorged at London Bridge and joined the seething mass of humanity.  It was reminiscent of an anthill that has had the top kicked off, with people rushing around in all directions in a recreation of some version of hell.  The whole thing accompanied by a barrage of noise from traffic, overhead aircraft, road works and every other possible means of creating sounds. For me, any sort of meaning is very hard to distil from this and so I wandered around, admiring architecture and being moved by the ceramic poppies.  We did find a reasonably tranquil spot by the river and conversation was temporarily possible.
Next came the restaurant - a trendy place on the south bank more or less underneath the Shard. Putting aside London prices, the place was lovely and the atmosphere was, well, loud. As soon as we sat down, I realised that wherever I sat was not going to make the slightest difference. As with all restaurants, there is background noise which escalates exponentially as it fills up. The lack of soft furnishing, and the nearby espresso machine complimented the bashing of crockery and cutlery and immersed me in isolation.  The food was good and everyone seemed to enjoy themselves, but by the end of the meal and the second bottle of house red, my head was throbbing, and we still had the train journey to come. We declined going on for a drink and headed for home.  There was no whine on the train home and within the hour I was back into my safe zone and the peace and silence that is my normality.
It is hard to explain to others how monaural hearing can be so handicapping, as one functions well in normal circumstances; hearing difficulties are hard to empathise with as there is no visual clue, thus people have little patience when they are not heard.

Slavery

One of the most compelling chapters of American history, was the fight against slavery that divided the  north and south, creating a gaping wound, whose scars are still there.  Slavery has been a part of human history and probably prehistory, with weaker people being subjugated by their stronger neighbours. Empires were built on the backs of unwilling labour, Egypt, Rome and of course the British empire all embraced the culture of servitude and ownership of other human beings. Organised religions were established to reinforce the notion of  bowing and grovelling before a higher power and thus maintaining the status quo. There have always been slaves and masters.
There are even people who derive sexual pleasure from domination and submission, some actually live their lives in such fantasy, though for many the reality of their slavery is far from an erotic experience.
here in the UK, slavery has been illegal for more than a hundred years and yet it still exists. We all know of gangs of immigrants working on the land or in sweat shops for very little money, scared of being deported, they give their lives to unscrupulous employers.
Then there is the minimum wage, set at a dismally low level to encourage employers to take on workers who care little that the minimum wage does not constitute a living wage.  Hundreds of thousands of people in Britain are living in squalid conditions and children are going without the basics so that the wealthy can get wealthier. Their lives, meaningless to their masters.
Our government is driven by those that have; their mentality rather akin to the slave owners of the past. They have managed to alienate a sector of society that is unable to fight back, and by vilification of those people they have successfully divided the population once again.
Work is fine, and it benefits both the worker and society at large, but it is not all that life is about. There are not enough jobs for everyone, there never have been even in the best of times. The scarcity of jobs should not be used as a stick to beat people, or to drive down incomes to the point where people dare not or cannot walk away.

Babysitting

A baby that is tired but resists sleep can be a nightmare. When they scream and scream in sheer temper, there is little that you can do except keep your own in check, and sometimes that can be very difficult.  Matilda's mother was hard work as a child and undiagnosed asthma probably had a lot to do with it, but getting her to sleep was so difficult and the experience very stressful.
Matilda woke up last night whilst we were babysitting and as usual I bow down to experience and let the expert deal with the situation. It began with a whimper, but soon the looming tempest was unleashed and she let rip with everything she had. I turned off the monitor and found Fawlty Towers on Netflix. I Watched Waldorf Salad, and she was still at it, then the Gourmet Night and there were still no signs of her giving up.  Whilst pondering the next choice, probably Basil the Rat,  she was brought downstairs by a grandma at the end of her rope, and so I stepped in and sat her on my lap. Gourmet night was coming to a close and she watched it intently, snuggling in to granddad and chuckling along with the canned laughter. At least the crying had stopped and she seemed happy enough.  There was no sign of her sleeping and so I took her back upstairs, imagining that keeping her snuggled in a dark room would do the trick.  I sat in the easy chair and lay her on my chest and she happily lay on me breathing gently. We stayed like that for what seemed a long time, and I foolishly imagine that she was drifting off. It struck me at that point they I could probably not get up from the chair. It is hard enough without a human being on your chest, and was resigning myself to remaining trapped until her mother came home, when her head popped up and she decided that she wanted to play.  She explored my face, tried to remove my glasses and chattered away while I resisted the temptation to laugh.  She pointed to the bottle of milk, drank a good helping of that, burped, farted loudly and then pointed to her cot.  So I obliged and gently placed her into her bed. Of course she has her cuddly toys there and she could grab them and throw them around whilst exploring every syllable of her embryonic vocabulary.  So I knelt by the side of her cot and stroked her, hoping that my touch was still there. She quietened and lay still, but then the front door opened and she heard her mothers voice. She climbed to her feet, held onto the cot rail and was jumping up and down shouting YES!
At least our stint was over. I wonder how long it took her to sleep?

Sacred Cows

Anyone who visits a hospital these days, whether as a patient or otherwise, will probably hold the place and its workers in some sort of awe.  For many, visiting or staying in hospital is a frightening and stressful event. The NHS is a monster, and yet most of us to some extent owe it our very existence. I certainly do, but I am becoming more and more aware that the monster is becoming dysfunctional.  The whole system is burdened by democracy, with letters frequently duplicated, appointments cancelled over and over again, consultations usually late, and regular reports of patients being poorly treated.
While sitting waiting this morning, there were any number of employees, standing around doing what seemed to be very little. The main reception desk was unattended, the person on duty, restocking shelves of booklets while a queue of irate patients waited.  Everyone accepts the state of things and few make complaints because there is a built in reluctance to shake the boat, in the fear that you may be branded a troublemaker and so receive worse treatment.
To criticise is like farting in church.  You want to do it so very much but you are meant to show deference and respect, and so most people keep their views to themselves.
Few things these days are above criticism, even the BBC has its share of dissenters and critics, but the NHS, the Church and the world of Islam are treated with kid gloves.  Surely it is time that these institutions received radical overhauls.

Decision day

Well it is here, a day when Scotland is more or less ignored for 24 hours, while the people go to the polls. I know very little about the pros and cons of dividing the United Kingdom, but I suspect that whatever  the outcome of today things will never be the same again.  The Nationalists, in their fervent hatred of Westminster, and the Tory party in particular, have aroused many Scottish people to a height not achieved since Bannockburn, and many will be voting YES, with little consideration of the consequences. No-one can be certain of the outcome, and no one can predict the far reaching and potentially catastrophic results of a yes vote.  Maybe Scotland can make it alone, but it is a small country with a small population and I suspect that they are heading towards being the poor man of Europe. Oil revenues will not last forever.
The ballot results will be known soon enough, and ironically on the same day, the possibility of women members being allowed in the oldest golf club in the world, St Andrews, will also be known. The membership have been balloted by post and should their vote favour women, one of the last bastions of male supremacy will fall.  Some may think that is a bad thing, while many will welcome that decision, seeing it as a move away from divisiveness.
Division in my opinion is a backward step. The world is divided enough and where there is division there will always be problems. The world should be working towards common goals, but the prevalence of right wing parties such as Cameron's conservatives, will always encourage the division between this that have and those that don't.  With a general election looming, and the probably outcome not favouring the current government, you can imagine that the fat cats are already filling their pockets and insulating themselves from the likely chaos that they will have created. None of the major parties seem electable any more and so we are likely to have government made up of a divided bunch of unelectables, with the nasty right wing springing from the ashes of the coalition.
Maybe Scotland should go their own way, but I hope that they do not have to come begging to the rest of us when it all falls apart.

Google

This entry has nothing whatsoever to do with its title. Call it an experiment in the effectiveness of search engines in producing random hits.
The media are reporting the imminent arrival of yet another royal; this normally happens at a time when the Tories are in deep trouble, so I take some pleasure in the announcement, though I will not be keeping up with the developments.  Such news is ambrosia to much of the population; they revel in the growth of a family that has no connection with them at any level whatsoever.  The worship of the royal family is a weird phenomenon and must to some extent be an example of epigenetics. It runs in families I am sure and probably harks back to the days when the servant classes were totally dependent upon their masters for every aspect of their existences.  Many people still think that the ruling classes are a good thing, and so of course they listen to whatever they have to say, convinced that the house of Windsor is a found of wisdom and truth.
I have heard it argued that they are essential for the tourist industry, though I cannot see much logic in that argument. Some will argue that they are a part of our tradition; perhaps they are but then female circumcision is a part of the culture of some countries, and that does not make it either defensible nor worthy of preservation.
It is said that they have no power, but of course they do, they control immense wealth and they have the support of the entire Daily Mail readership which makes them as powerful as the Tory Party and far more powerful than the other political parties. Their tendrils reach far and wide, insinuating into the fabric of our society, parasitically thriving as much of the population struggles to exist. The gap between them and those unfortunates is beyond imagination and it continues to grow.
I  wish the child well and it would be nice to imagine that their life will be a normal one, but I suspect that he/she will want for nothing and will probably never face the prospect of having to find a proper job.

On writing

Now and then I ask myself why I write this blog, and I never really come up with a satisfactory answer. So few people read it that it cannot be for an audience, and even I don't often look back at older entries. When I was a kid, I hated writing. I remember being made to write letters to people to thank them for whatever, and then there was writing at school with terrible scratchy ink pens that we dipped into the ink wells on our desks, filled every week by the ink monitor.  We'd have to copy great chances of stuff from the blackboard and the mess was examined and criticised on a regular basis.
Then we moved on to grammar school and graduated to fountain pens. Biros were not allowed, and cheap fountain pens were pretty messy, at least in my hands. My handwriting was poor and this had a knock on effect in the quality and quantity of what I wrote.  Each day seemed an endless round of filling exercise books with my spidery scrawl. My handwriting remained pretty dreadful until I went to college, and I suppose, like the rest of me it began the painful process of growing up. We were expected to write of course and essays were frequent, if not brilliantly conceived they were done, and of course there were letters home to be dutifully constructed and sent. I even managed to write a little for the college magazine and found that I liked to produce short fictional tales.
As a schoolteacher I found myself having to write all sorts of things and my handwriting gradually improved through necessity, and then later I found out necessary to join the Open University, which involved a large number of essays and assignments.
Gradually I have learned to enjoy writing, and now in my self imposed quasi solitude, writing gives me an outlet for my feelings. I have written a number of short stories and like so many people, would love too write a novel, but I don't think that I have one in me.
Perhaps I have a vain hope that someone is listening, but in the end it really doesn't matter. I rarely plan what I am going to say, and so each entry is rather like an entry into a journal and if anyone has got this far then welcome.

Protest everything.

Watching a report about radical Muslims on a protest march in Luton was disturbing.  This was an organised rally opposed to the arrests of a local woman on terrorist charges, but of course there was more to it than that.  This was an opportunity to condemn the country that they have adopted as their own and the legal system that  serves us. It would seem that we are all going to hell, led by our police force and our government. Now while that may be true, it seems a little rich coming from ill educated and totally indoctrinated lunatics that are probably abusing the welfare system and love nothing more than to bite the hand that feeds them.
I support the right to protest and the right to free speech; these things are unlikely to be found in an Islamic state that these people wish to create in this country.
People love to protest and march. Virtually any change to the status quo is likely to be met with opposition, and also people like to demonstrate their support or otherwise for more or less anything.  People protest about new housing developments, they protest about housing shortages too. They protest against nuclear power, coal power, wind power, wave power, solar power, power shortages, the price of power, the abuse of power, immigration, bankers bonuses, MPs pay rises, train fares, bus fares,  anything.   The same people probably protest everything simply for the sake of it.
Mostly protests go unnoticed  if they pass peacefully,  after all a peaceful protest has little news value, so if you want to be reported then it is important to do something to get noticed.  Knock a policeman's helmet off if you wish to get arrested or start a brawl if you wish to get on local front pages, or as in these modern times, load your slogans with bigotry and hatred of your fellow citizens.
"Moderate" Muslims would do well to condemn the actions of their growing band of radicals, but they don't. The stay quiet, like most people, afraid to confront the toxic snake for fear of reprisals. Unchallenged by their own, these groups will grow and become nastier and noisier and the public at large will stop believing the lie that Islam is about tolerance and peace.  It has been said by some Muslims that Islam cannot co-exist with other belief systems, and that the role of Muslims is to convert everyone else to their way of thinking and what cannot be achieved by argument will be achieved by violence. I fear for the future of this country.

Charity shops

I used to have library tickets and would use them frequently. I loved the library, the relative peace and quiet and the sheer abundance of books. This was in the olden days of course before libraries became multimedia playgrounds,  and if you wanted to find something out you looked in a book. I would borrow half a dozen books at a time and probably read half of them before returning them.  I was taught from an early age to have respect for books, though I know that they are mass produced ephemera for most, I still find it difficult to mistreat one, even one by Jeffrey Archer.  I those days books came and went tidally and my own collection remained fairly static.
Times change, libraries are evolving and though books are there in abundance, so are computers offering google, Wikipedia and so much more. Many people read on tablets of Kindles and some predict the demise of the printed page altogether. I have read books on my iPad but find the experience unsatisfactory and still by far prefer to hold a book in my hand.
I no longer hold library membership but I do love to browse charity shops bookshelves and though I try to be disciplined, I still manage to buy books faster than I can read them. That coupled with a failing memory means that I am now forgetting what books I already have on my shelves as well as those that I have read.
Charity shops all smell much the same. I guess it is the combined  smell of elderly people and death. The smell is a reminder that inevitably, one day in the not too distant future, my life too will be measured out in black plastic bags and the things that surround me will be scattered to the wind and hopefully recycled.

There are two types of people

I read somewhere that there are 10 types of people, those that understand binary and those that do not. I remember meeting binary for the first time in a college lecture; it was probably in year one as attendance at such lectured did tend to wane as the terms went by. The tutor was actually very entertaining and I believe that we had an interactive binary system with the two states being standing and sitting. It was quite an ask for a  monday morning but it seemed to work and as a mathematical concept it was embedded easily.  This was 1967 and home computers and even personal calculators were some way into the future. Mobile phones, iPods, iPads were almost unimaginable and so application of the binary system was non existent to us mere mortals, though exponents of the world of electronics were already into their ANDS,  NANDS, NOTs, NORs and whatever. The age of computing was germinating and those with the brains and foresight could see it coming. Most of us could not and have spent a lot of time playing catch up.
The population at large never keeps up, it is impossible. Technology evolves faster than our ability to cope and so most people throw up their hands and give in to the tsunamis of change.
Computer coding now forms part of the primary curriculum and there must be long serving teachers who will find themselves in a strange world of languages that they have not heard of and having to enthuse young minds, far more plastic than their own. Many children will revel in the challenge, while others, already struggling with many other things will not cope and neither should they. Writing programs is a good exercise in logic and it does encourage thinking processes but like anything else it is not for everyone.
There are two types of people, those that adapt to the changing world around them, and those that expect the world to adapt to them. The latter is ok in the short term and as long as one has the tools needed to effect the changes, otherwise the world has a tendency not to co-operate.  

Back to school

Yes it is that crazy week when so many emotions will be in overdrive. Maintenance staff will have been busy for weeks, polishing, cleaning and fixing damaged furniture and fittings, floors will sparkle and even windows will be clean. Admin staff will have been doing all the mysterious things that they always seem to be doing and senior management will have been trying to work out the implications of whatever poorly thought through new initiatives have been thrust in their direction.
At home, teenagers will be contemplating the idea of getting out of bed before noon and having to wear uncool uniforms again, but secretly looking forward to being able to sulk in company, to bathe in pheromones and to begin new liaisons and relationships.
Timid toddlers will be dreading their first day of school having been terrified and intimidated by older siblings. They will don their loose fitting uniforms that they are told that they will grow into and pack their pristine pencil cases into equally pristine school bags; they will leave their beloved toys behind and begin the arduous process of social integration with children that most of their parents would want them to have nothing to do with. Lifelong friendships will be forged and enemies made.
Parents who have been on duty all day and every day for the last six weeks or more will be anticipating their freedoms or abilities to go back to work and hoping that their offspring will not embarrass them too much and keep out of trouble, and long suffering teachers will be dreading that return to the mayhem of modern education.  New rules, new curricula, new legislation and a whole new bunch of material entering the machine.
Teachers are trapped between rocks and very hard places. On one hand a lot of children that really do not want to be in school, being served a poorly devised national curriculum, that each successive government fiddles with, and a pernicious Ofsted organisation that can descend without notice, catch someone on a bad day and ruin careers and lives.  It is little wonder that many are giving up and that continuity is becoming a thing of the past.  Many teachers will be starting their careers this week and will be full of enthusiasm and "fresh" ideas.  Many others will have seen reality and will be back with a more cynical approach but will still do their jobs as well as they are allowed to, despite the fact that goalposts are both both moving and invisible.
I wish everyone luck and a successful year.

Bank Holiday

Here we go again, another wet and miserable August Bank Holiday Monday. It is almost a tradition that the weather will ruin the day for so many, who were probably looking forward to their day by the seaside or maybe just a day out from the daily drudgery of work.
Public holidays are seen by some as a burden on their businesses and I am sure that there are many who would like to see them abolished altogether, especially as the number of days off that everyone is entitled to, seems to increase, and if the ethnic minority groups get their way, then pretty soon there will be more.
Maybe each ethic or religious group should nominate their own public holiday choices; I am sure that if they did, then there would be at least 365 public holidays a year and surely it cannot rain on every one of them.

"If you could reason with religious people, there would be no religious people."

I had a visit from the Jehova's witnesses yesterday, I do wish that they would give advance notice so that I could be better prepared.  They were two nice old ladies and utterly indoctrinated into their faith. We had a pleasant discussion, though a pretty pointless one, ands we parted company each wishing the other a nice day.
The recent atrocities in the middle east came to mind, where religious zealotry is the driving force and leads to various religious groups seem linked only by their hatred for each other and by a mutual hatred of the west.  How can discussion and debate bring about change? Total intransigence and reliance on the writings of one self proclaimed prophet are a recipe for disaster and we are witnessing disasters day after day. We have in our own country, radical clerics preaching their hatred from mosques and young impressionable youths dragged into this culture and fighting against the country that they may well have been born into.
Our government signally fails to address the problems at ground level, afraid of offending the Muslim community, which seems to take offence as a matter of course. Any criticism of their behaviour is seen as racist or anti Islamic, and so few people are willing to speak out.
I do not live in a predominantly Islamic community and have no wish to do so, but it is easy to understand the discomfort of minority non Muslim groups in places like Walthamstow, who seem subjected to the ludicrous posturing of radical groups pushing for Sharia law in their area.
I am sure that there are plenty of Muslims out there doing their best to integrate and become part of the communities in which they have chosen to live, but as Richards Dawkins says, there are no moderate Muslims; but its very nature, Islam is an extreme form of religion that fundamentally needs to spread, which it is doing very successfully, and just like any pernicious virus, take over its host and destroy it from within.

Fussy eaters

One of my overwhelming memories of childhood was that of always being hungry. Food was very much a necessity and was often in short supply. Fruit and vegetables were always seasonal and choice very limited. The garden was a producer of vegetables all the year round and the garden shed used for storing sacks of potatoes and bags of onions as well as boxes of apples individually wrapped in newspaper.  Groceries came from the village shop, and were limited to the bare essentials.  Milk was delivered daily and I remember that frequently the foil tops would be broken open by birds hungry for the cream. In winter the cream would often freeze solid and rise from the bottles pushing the tops off. Skimmed milk was unheard of and it always tasted rich and creamy.
Each week, probably on a monday but I do not remember, there was a mobile fish and chip van that came to the village. It was a huge brown and cream van that moved very slowly. It would stop in strategic spots in the village and the owner would ring a handbell to attract attention. He probably had no need as the smell was wonderful and could be detected miles away. We coveted those fish and chips but never tasted them as they were too expensive. I envied those who queued for them each week while we went home for whatever food there was.
Breakfast was usually corn flakes or toast, rarely both, and we drank water or tea, unless a backlog of milk had developed.  Lunch was generally a sandwich, especially on school days as we could not afford to pay for school meals, and evening meal was a family event, usually some sort of meat and potatoes with whatever vegetables were available.  There were no snacks, though sometimes a packet of biscuits would appear and just as suddenly vanish again.
We were very active by and large and spent most of the time outside, often miles away from home, but we instinctively knew when it was time to go home.  There were rules at meal times. Good manners were expected and enforced, clean hands and faces were essential, and if you didn't eat what was presented then you went hungry. There was little quarter given to finicky eating and you stayed at the table until everyone had finished, even then you asked permission to leave.
There were of course foods that I did not particularly enjoy, but then I didn't enjoy being hungry either and so I ate whatever I was given, as it seems did most people. There is truth in the saying that if you are hungry enough, that you will eat anything.
Whilst out and about we were always on the lookout for food, whether it was fruit from orchards or vegetables from the fields. We'd make fires and cook potatoes in the embers and anything else that came to hand.
Whilst not starving we were very skinny and would be seen these days as anorexic. Our physical activities probably maintained a balance in our metabolisms and there was no such thing as junk food then. McDonalds was still a farm and kebabs were unheard of.
Even today I find it odd that people can be so fussy about their food. No doubt this is the product of a wasteful world where there is too much choice. I don't recall anyone being lactose intolerant or unable to handle gluten. If there were allergies, we were unaware of them or maybe I am just forgetful.
I am sure that in modern Britain, thanks to the careless nature of the government, that some people do not have enough to eat, and yet there will be others who spend whatever money they have on things other than food and rely on others to look after them. I do find it strange that there are people out  there who claim poverty and yet can still own and use a smart phone.

A week like any other

What troubled times we live in.  The world is awash with hatred and violence, Ebola is spreading at an unprecedented rate, and Robin Williams has left.

It struck me this week, what real heroes are.  For me, the people we train to kill and send to foreign lands, do not compare with those who risk their lives every day treating people with deadly diseases, in the knowledge that they face an invisible enemy that can kill at any time. Health workers who face such situations in all corners of the earth, do so willingly and with little in the way of remuneration or even thanks.  Doctors and nurses will die from ebola and I am sure that the streets will not be lined with flag waving jingoists, if and when their bodies are ever returned.

Ebola is a terrifying disease and at present it is contagious, but we are led to believe that it can be eliminated with soap and water. Most viruses are not so easily dealt with and we can be grateful that it is not infectious as so many diseases are.  Contact with an ebola carrier though can easily result in the disease being passed on, and in the African countries where it seems to be spreading, personal hygiene is limited by water supply as much as by custom or tradition. It will, if it has not already done so, spread wider than the African continent, and the more people that become infected, the greater is the risk that the virus will mutate into a form that is infectious. Should that happen, the world faces a threat probably worse than the bubonic plague of the seventeenth century.

Ebola is just one of a number of haemorrhagic diseased that have so far been confined to equatorial regions and are though to have originated in other primate species.  The prognosis for an ebola sufferer is pretty bleak, though some people seem to have immunity, while others recover. There is no vaccine as yet, probably because of the rarity of the disease and the huge cost of  producing a vaccine.

While this is going on, the Jews are pounding the Palestinians and the Palestinians are killing a few Jews, Muslims are murdering their own people in Iraq and in Syria, and Russia is fuelling a deep conflict that borders on civil war in Croatia, and the Pope continues to pray for world peace.

Such prayers have probably been offered  throughout the history of organised religion by people who believe in a higher power. The fact that prayer does not work seems to elude them, and their beliefs are still used as an excuse for the mindless killing of their fellow human beings, all of whom, if a god existed, would be seen as equals. Clearly some are more equal than others.