What is so difficult about politics?

My post today stems from a question posed by Granddaughter #1 asking me what political parties were. It was a tough one to answer in a few words (and without me lapsing into a ranty polemic)and I mumbled something about them being groups of people who share the same ideas about the way the country should be run. This seemed to satisfy her but it got me thinking about how I would explain various political positions to her if ever she asked. Maybe she won't, maybe one of the other grandchildren will but, just in case it comes up, I've got the following on file for them.

Bampi's Cynical Guide to Politics

Despite what you might think, politics is simple. No matter what specific party people belong to, they fall into one of three categories: Left, Right or Middle of the Road (MORs).

Lefties trust the Government and think that it can pass laws to solve all problems and make everything fair.

Righties trust business. They think that business and free markets will best produce what people want. They will make all products safe and treat all people fairly.

MORs trust neither government nor business. They change who they trust based on whoever benefits them the most at any given time. They trust only after they know that a policy is good for them.

Simple isn't it?

Lefties:

*  Hate anything that comes as a result of business. They dislike people who have more than them and insist on regulating everything.
* Don’t have to think or research. They know that Tesco's is bad; anything not natural (organic) is bad; big Pharma exists to rip off the poor and anyone who disagrees is a non-thinking misogynistic, racist Neanderthal idiot.
* Are sarcastic and sure of themselves. They use and or make up facts and statistics to win arguments.
* Will support a strong government.

Simple isn’t it?

Righties:
* Hate regulations. Regulations just get in the way of production.
* Believe that if people do not succeed it is because they are lazy and they need to learn to fend for themselves.
* Believe that Government should provide Armed Forces to protect the country and build roads and stuff to make businesses more productive.  
* Don't have to think or research. If government is involved, and it is not protecting their interests, it is a bad thing. Anyone that disagrees is a bleeding heart Namby Pamby Socialist infiltrating anti-British traitor.
* Rely on loud aggressive name calling to win an argument.
* Will support a weak government.

Simple isn’t it.

MORS:
* Have to think and analyse everything. Is it good for me? There is no need to help the poor, unless the poor are causing problems, then maybe we need to allow them just enough affluence enough not to be frightening. 
* Hate seeing the homeless as they make them uncomfortable.  Something should be done about that. Legalize drugs? Well, the ones they like, yes. Equal rights for women? Sure, if they have a daughter. Racial equality? As long as it doesn’t cost them their job.
* Want safe food and cheap drink and will vote for whoever can best deliver what they want.
* Think almost everyone is wrong. They avoid all meaningful political discussions but have nice teeth.
* Will flip flop their positions as needed.

Simple isn’t it.

Oh, I almost forgot. There is another category that I will call the “what is best for everyone” group. People in this group:
*  Read, research and analyse every issue based on what is right, fair, safe and most productive for the most people regardless of how it will effect them as individuals.
* Seem to be in an almost invisible minority and a political party for them is conspicuous by its absence.

Simple it isn't. Depressing it is.

Yuk! Kids.

I dislike** kids. Don't get me wrong, I don’t dislike children, young people, babies, infants, toddlers, adolescents, teenagers or youth. But I do dislike the universal use of the word 'kid/kids' to describe any and all of the categories of young folk.

'Kid' has its uses, certainly. It can be a friendly word, a loving word, even – in certain contexts. But words have connotations, subtle nuances of meaning that colour their interpretation. When writers begin to use certain words as if one size fits all, meanings get lost and the underlying sense becomes distorted. In addition to conveying youthfulness, the word 'kid' has associations of irresponsibility, poor judgment, triviality and mischievousness. Responsible behaviour is not expected of 'kids'.  “Kids will be kids”.  'Kids' are not to be trusted or taken seriously. In some ways, it's quite a derogatory word and I wince almost every time I hear it.

I realise I am probably flogging a dead horse and I should just accept that people have been using it in the vernacular for years. But I still think that, in most contexts, 'child' or 'children' are much better choices than the rather lazy 'kid' or 'kids'. I'll keep on plugging away but I suspect that the day can't be far off when I'll go to an art gallery and see a portrait of the Blessed Virgin and Baby Jesus labeled “Mother and Kid.” I kid you not.

See if you can spot the difference:



These are three kids.

These are three children.

**I could have chosen to write 'hate' instead of 'dislike' but hate is another word that is being debased by its ubiquitous usage. I try to be very selective when I use it.

Biased? Moi?

Every now and again one of my more political posts elicits an exchange of e-mails with someone who takes exception to what I've written.  One such recently ended with me being accused of being biased.  To which my response was "of course but the difference between us is that I know I am".

Every one of us has our prejudices and our preconceptions. We are socialised from birth in a society that feeds and waters those prejudices and helps them grow up big and strong. Me? I know I have a liberal left wing take on the world. I see the world through this filter and, I'll admit, many others (some of which my acquaintances would find considerably at odds with my assertion of being both liberal and left wing). Let's face it, people, myself as much if not more than most, are a mess of contradictions.

I know full well that when I write, talk and think about politics, I am doing so through the prism these prejudices have given me. I am aware that I am more likely to ascribe nefarious motives to my opponents and benign ones to my allies. Believe it or not, where possible, I do try to remember this and mitigate it, but it doesn't always work out. In the heat of the moment, reason will fly out of the window. Who can blame me? When the Tories are being particularly Tory, it is so hard not to get very angry and ranty.

Everyone is biased in one way or another, even though most of us wouldn't admit it. We all think we know the truth and we all think that we are right. Despite overwhelming evidence to the contrary!

On the slow train from Newport to Brecon

A couple of years ago (was it really that long?) I wrote in praise of  "Slow Train" by Michael Flanders and Donald Swann A little ditty they composed in homage to the cultural loss resulting from the Beeching Railways Axe. They simply strung together a list of the names of just a few of the 3,000 small stations and halts that were closed during this period. The result? Musical poetry at its best, accompanied by some lovely old photographs of steam trains and sooty platforms. I know you want to see the clip again, so here it is..

Enjoyable and evocative though that clip is, it's not half as evocative as the one I came across recently. It's entitled 'Lost Railways - Last Train from Newport to Brecon 1962'. From the archives of BBC Wales, it shows the journey of the last train to travel along the old Brecon and Merthyr Tydfil Junction Railway, starting in Newport and ending in Brecon. Here it is (there is no sound). Watch it carefully as I'll be asking some questions at the end of it.

This line holds so many memories for me, particularly Bedwas Station. The station and the marshalling yard were places we played as children and the railway line was our route around the back of the mountain to one of our 'dens' (the railway line was also the scene of a childhood indiscretion - we were about 8 at the time - that led to some of us appearing before our local JP - but I'll draw a veil over that. OK, if you insist, it involved a guard's van, a guard, air pistols, cowboys and Indians and Acker Brookes, our local bobby - I blame it all on John Wayne. I wonder how many other people remember the incident now? And blush? As I don't!).

 

Down: the line took us to Newport for train spotting and onward journeys to Bristol Zoo and Brighton (to visit my grandmother). It also took us, via a convoluted route involving Machen and Caerphilly, to the semi-tropical paradise of Barry Island. What joy! It was famous even before Gavin and Stacey.

 

Up: we went to the Brecon Beacons for hiking and camping with the cubs and scouts. Happy days and days, I'm positive, that started my love of open spaces and wild scenery.

 

There's so much about the film I enjoy. Not that long in (at 0.40), it reaches Trethomas Station and immediately after (0.50-1.10) the train passes through the Coke Plant (I worked there as a student) and Bedwas Pit (my dad and grandfather worked there and it was another of my playgrounds). At 2.03, there's a glimpse of the village of Pantywaun, demolished quite soon afterwards to make way for the expansion of the nearby open-cast coal mine. I remember getting off there a couple of times as the starting point for a hike. And then up to Merthyr and through the Beacons to Brecon. What a trip and one that would present-day tourists would love.

 

Admittedly not the Orient Express but it was MY line and I can still remember many of the stations along it. Without resorting to the internet, I came up with:

Newport, Bassaleg, Rhiwderin, Church Road Halt, Machen, Trethomas, Bedwas, Maesycwmmer, Fleur de Lis, Cwmsyfiog, Brithdir, Abertysswg, Torpantau, Cyfarthfa Steelworks, Talybont-on-Usk, Talyllyn Junction and Brecon.

I bet Flanders and Swann could write a song about them! In fact, what not listen to the first clip and try substituting some of the above names into the lyrics? It really works and is a very pleasant digression from whatever more pressing matters you might have on.

A walk on the West side of Dartmoor National Park: Walkhampton,Horrabridge and Sampford Spiney

A delightful 7.2 mile walk with our U3A Group. It took us to parts that we had not walked before and, unusually, there was very little moorland involved. Our route took us from Walkhampton down the river Walkham to Horrabridge and then across fields and bridleways to Sampford Spiney. The return from there involved crossing Huckworthy Common and back to our starting point via Huckworthy Bridge. The weather was dry and clear and the walk was made all the more enjoyable by not having to wade through endless mud and puddles! And, for those of us who love old buildings, at the end of the walk we had tea with one of our friends in her wheelwright's workshop. The usual random set of photographs follow.

The route - highly recommended and one to add to our 'must do again' list.

This one caught me out. Lurking on the other side of the hedge was a Friesian cow. Not so, it's a life size statue in the (large) garden of the famous photographer David Bailey.

A granite gate post. I took this because it's rather unusual in that it shows the lumpy bit on the (right) end which is normally buried out of sight. It gives a good idea of how heavy these pieces are.

This occupied a couple of us for a while. What extruded it? Because it was made up mainly of fur, we concluded that it was probably fox droppings.

Strange things seen in hedges Part XX: ear muffs. Discarded by whom? And why?

A set of iron rails over a stream. What are they? For many years they acted as the base of a wooden launder (water chute) that took water from the stream (Blackbrook) running through the centre of Walkhampton village...............

..and used it to drive this overshot water wheel. The launder collapsed quite recently as a result of general decay and lack of maintenance. Although the building is called the Mill, it waa, in fact, a wheelwrights' workshop. In a report written in 1998, Martin Watts, (an acknowledged expert on water-powered mills), stated, ‘The Wheelwright’s Shop at Walkhampton is a remarkable survival of a once widespread local industry and unusual in that it retains several machine tools that were driven by water power…. As a water-powered wheelwright’s shop that still retains its prime mover and machinery in full working order, the site at Walkhampton can be considered unique in England.’

The water wheel was, by a series of cogs and drive belts, used to power a large number of machines in the wheelwrights' workshop. By my reckoning there were at least 12 take-off points; just imagine the noise and the motion when the work was in full swing. The building dates from the 1840's and was in the same family (the Veale's) for most of its working life. Water power was used until the 1980s when a 3-phase electricity supply was installed. The workshops were in operation until circa 1990, after which time the associated ramshackle outbuildings were demolished and the site used for a small development of houses. The workshop building itself has been converted into a couple of dwellings. But the actual workshop, and it's contents, as they have listed status, remain relatively untouched.

Another shot of the workshop with a cartwheel in place. Rather oddly, the carts were repaired on the first floor of the building, being pulled up there via a wooden ramp. I presume this was necessitated by the fact that the machinery was just too heavy to be anywhere other than on the ground floor. Carts are relatively light and so wouldn't pose a weight problem.

A collection of metal pieces, the function of which has been long lost. The friends who own the building would like to do some restoration work but this isn't as easy as it might sound. The triple complications of the building being listed, being in a Village Conservation Area and being within the Dartmoor National Park mean that even making minor changes is fraught with difficulty and bureaucracy. A good example is their wish to restore the launder. As a result of a stand-off between the Village Conservation Area (under Devon County Planning) and the DNP (no, not me), their respective legal teams have been brought in to hammer out a resolution.  Conservation gone mad!

I agree with Martin

If only I had the skills of Martin Rowson. He encapsulates the futility of Prime Mininster's Question Time brilliantly in this cartoon from the Guardian today. Click on the image to see it in all its colourful glory.

Grrr - another British institution bites the dust.

On an already gloomy day, I was distressed when I heard that Kraft (who bought out Cadbury’s under dubious circumstances and who, in turn, have been subsumed into Mondelēz International) have been rather krafty and changed the chocolate on Cadbury's Creme Eggs. No longer does thick Dairy Milk surround the sweet, gooey filling but, by common consent, it's been replaced by a cheap, thin chocolate shell that tastes as sugary as its filling.

I decided that I really had no right to damn these new ova without actually trying them and it took all of 5 microseconds to persuade myself to buy one in the interests of fairness. Ok, a box would be even fairer. And that revealed more treachery: it’s now a box of 5 rather than 6. Robbed of an egg before I’m even off the chomping blocks. But, despite this, I mentally prepared myself to push aside my prejudices and judge the egg for what it is. I closed my eyes, bit off the top and…..…I was NOT happy.

I’m not convinced the inside hasn’t been changed a bit too, but the chocolate is now a darker colour, thin and really sweet. The old chocolate was thick – sometimes it was an almighty effort to bite through it, especially if it was chilled. It was milky and cloying, which balanced the oozing, sugary filling and every mouthful was a mission of pleasure to complete. The new egg lacks texture, taste and I would like to know who thought they could change a Great British Institution and get away with it. Oh, that sounds a bit UKIP-y but you know what I mean. Generations have grown up with the uniqueness of Creme Eggs and their limited annual release simply made them more desirable. Just like the arrival of the first snowdrop in Spring, the first swallow in Summer, it was a talking point: "Creme Eggs are back in the shops!”. They were a guilty secret to be scoffed (sometimes whole; sometimes 6 at a time - simultaneously - whole) and savoured.

Now, I realise that this is very much a ‘first world problem’ and in relation to the horrors of the news headlines, bastardising Creme Eggs is, perhaps, not such a big deal. Except it is. Change it back, please, Kraft. Because there’s a significant part of the nation that won’t be buying them any more until you do. Are we really going to swallow this bad egg, people? For that is what Cadbury has wrought upon us. A bad egg.  And it's not even good in parts, like the curate's egg in the famous Punch cartoon

* For any readers in the USA, the new taste reminds me very much of the 'chocolate' in Hershey Bars. I'm sorry, you make many fine things but chocolate isn't one of them.

 

You always see something new.

The same walk as I reconnoitred on the Monday of this week (see here for post) but this time with the U3A group members. There are advantages and disadvantages of walking with a group but there are absolutely no disadvantages in going over the same ground. There's always something new to see and enjoy. Sometimes it's down to the season (less growth means that you peer into woods): sometimes it's down to the time of day and the angle of the sun; sometimes it's down to the weather and sometimes it's just down to the way you are feeling, On this occasion, it was a mixture of all of them. And this route will bear repeating again, possibly when the bluebells are out in late April.

Sheep, with some fancy ear piercing.

There's still a little snow on the tors.

A frosty scene with a hazy sun.

I'd never noticed this plaque before and find the contrast of its former uses intriguing. School and Chapel of Ease? Children and corpses? All became clearer when I read that a Chapel of Ease was a place of worship where it was difficult to get to a church. That makes more sense and I'd guess that the 'school' element was more likely to have been a Sunday School than anything else.

As I said previously, less growth means better views into woods. Here's another thing I've never noticed before - a water wheel pit next to Hill Bridge. My estimate would put the wheel at around 40 foot in diameter and, having rooted around the area and seen no signs of leats or launders, I'd say it was under-shot (water coming onto the wheel at the bottom) with a feed coming directly from the river. What did it drive? There were no remains of any associated buildings or machinery and nothing coming to light on an internet search. A mystery.

The River Tavy looks pretty calm here but, apparently, it's one of the fastest flowing rivers in the UK. Hardly surprising, I suppose, if the drop off the moors is considered. Oh yes, if you look at the Wild Swimming website, this particular spot is recommended for skinny dipping. Only for brave exhibitionists!

Lunch by the Hill Bridge Weir.

A grave we passed and one which aroused my curiosity. It's in the style of a war grave and commemorates someone in the Merchant Navy. I haven't come across many of those, neither have I come across many men who have been awarded the DSC - Distinguished Service Cross. In a very short space of time when I got back home I discovered that this was the grave of Alfred William Edwards, born in Plymouth and who died locally when on leave. He became Master (Captain) of the Royal Fleet Auxiliary ship, Ennerdale (a tanker and floating gantry) in 1943 and won his award for bravery during the Allied Landings in Sicily. In his will, he left all his estate of £1185 8s 5d (around £100,000 at today's value) to his widow Doris Rose Annie Edwards. So now we know.

The modest grave of William Crossing in the grave yard at St Mary's, Mary Tavy (there is a St Peter's in nearby Peter Tavy). William Crossing was the author of THE definitive book on Dartmoor - Crossing's Guide to Dartmoor. Written around 1906, it chronicles Crossing's rambles across and around the moor over many years and give details of many structures and customs now lost. It was a life time's work for Crossing and he was fairly poor for most of his days. His wife, Emma, actually died in the workhouse in Tavistock. 

Is that all there is?

A wonderfully bright and crisp day, which is more than can be said for current political discourse. Prime Minister's Question Time this lunchtime (and, yes, I did watch most of it) was both puerile and pathetic. And the media is awash with synthetic indignation over Ed Balls forgetting someone's name. Only another 95 days to go to Polling Day and I find myself whistling the Peggy Lee song "Is that all there is?". Is this really the standard of debate we will have to put up with? 

Turning now to Miss Lee's performance: isn't it great? She really owns the song. It sounds Kurt Weil but isn't. Forget any existentialist analysis of the lyrics, she's simply singing about how we all focus on nonsense and make mountains out of molehills. And that's exactly where I started. 

A circular walk in the snow from Mary Tavy

We are leading a U3A walk on Thursday and, given the atrocious weather recently, it made sense to walk the route and check that it was still accessible. We've done this one before and it bears repeating. It starts and ends outside the church at Mary Tavy and takes in moorland and a very pleasant walk along a leat. Just over 6 miles and today it had the added thrill of hail and snow!

The route for those who profess an interest in seeing it.

I think they were looking at the view

Not too many panoramic views today.

Gorse and snow - yellow and white.

And in the distance, the tors of North Dartmoor. Although you can't see them, there were a few soldiers running around the army firing range.

A flurry of snow on the lane to Creason Farm.

The River Tavy at Hill Bridge, deceptively calm as these are the head-waters above the fish weir. Further downstream, the torrent is reinstated.

Also at the weir is a take-off for this attractive leat. It dates from the 1830s and runs for about a mile into a reservoir which served a number of the mines in the Mary Tavy area. Nowadays the reservoir is used for a local hydroelectricity scheme. The leat bank affords a very pleasant (and level) walk and a close up view of where the leat was chiselled out of pure granite. Quite an engineering feat.

I've been up and down this lane to and from the leat several times and today I learnt it's called Horndon Clam Lane. Why? Because it leads down to the River Tavy where once there was a wooden bridge or, in the vernacular, clam.

The tower of Mary Tavy church in the haze.

When political dinosaurs ruled the earth.

As the General Election draws ever nearer, a number of Labour Party luminaries (specifically Tony Blair, Alan Milburn, Peter Mandelson and Ed Balls) have talked about the need for Labour to chase the 'centre ground'. All of them, in my opinion, wilfully ignoring the fact that, since the days of Thatcher, the Tories and their cronies have been working hard to change where the centre ground lies. Labour, following the lead of their natural opponents like a puppy, has allowed the project to succeed. The centre no longer lies mid-way between the old-fashioned binary choice of Left and Right: it is well to the right of where it once was. And is that where the Labour party should be? Is that really the pinnacle of its aspirations? Once upon a time the party had ideas that transformed society for the better but all that now remains of Clement Attlee's post-war revolution is the NHS and even that is under serious threat (No, Posh Dave, I don't believe the NHS is save in your hands).

I think Ed Miliband understands the need to make public ownership, redistributive taxation, greater social equality, employees' rights and fair welfare provision subjects for serious discussion once more. Unfortunately I don't see any signs that he can turn these issues into a coherent and convincing set of policies to present to the electorate. I know what the Tories are about as they've been at it for years. I want a real Labour party of the conventional left to oppose them. But where is it, Ed?

I've mentioned Clement Attlee once already and some say that Miliband is a sort of latter-day Attlee. A man who is deceptively modest and unassuming; who will amaze us once he gets into Number 10 and his many strengths emerge from behind the scenes. Possibly but this scenario forgets that Attlee had a formidable team to help him get his policies through. Who will give Ed the passion of Aneurin Bevan? The skills of Herbert Morrison and Ernest Bevin? The intellectual support of Harold Laski? These are the people Ed needs, not the likes of Blair and Balls babbling about the centre ground. A truly vacuous concept if ever there was one. 

Me? I'm a political dinosaur: unashamedly Old Labour with a fantasy that one day Real Labour will come back and represent the social values and heart that have long been stolen from mainstream politics by the Tories, Lib Dems and New Labour. I am a product of Attlee's reforms and, to a very large extent, I owe my present lifestyle and health to them. I wish that my children and grandchildren could have the same privileges but the chances of this are fast receding. Perhaps we need a Syriza or a Podemos to stir things up?