Three things that are irritating me today

A few things that are irritating me at the moment. Maybe they resonate with you? Or not? Perhaps your mind is on higher things.

No one really knows what is going to happen next April when we leave the EU. I don't. You don't. They don't. But if we had a government that knew the first thing about governing, we would already know the terms of our leaving. Instead we have a set of genuinely incompetent and ignorant fools “inebriated with the exuberance of their own verbosity” as Disraeli once said (of Gladstone, I think). So we know sod all and we know that they know sod all as well…about anything.

Of course, there's politics, gamesmanship and brinkmanship at work. Everyone will try to come to some sort of agreement on the most important aspects of trade and the mutual recognition of basics like driving licence and insurances, so that goods can move from Europe to this benighted island. But, let’s be fair here, the last minute cobbling together of something is hardly the basis of a robust policy. Rearrange the following into a well known phrase or saying: brewery in organise piss couldn't a up a.

Much has been made in some quarters of the fact that in October one of Andrew Saxe-Coburg Gotha’s daughters is getting married. She is styled and titled Her Royal Highness, Princess Eugenie of York. She is, or so I'm told, 9th in line to the throne and has absolutely not the remotest chance of getting it. She does no public duties at all. She does, however, go on a lot of holidays. It seems to be her main claim to fame. However, she has decided that she wants an open carriage procession through Windsor, just like her cousin Harry (5th in line) got. As far as I’m concerned she can have open carriage processions through Bratislava, Blaenau Ffestiniog and Redruth if she wants. Just the same as anyone else can if they have the money. The trouble is that this princess and her pushy father, Airmiles Andy, the ever-expanding Old Duke of York, wants us to pay for all the security that will involve, at a cost of around £2 million.

I have no idea how much the royal family is worth but I bet that they can afford to pay for this nonsense themselves, and when people are dying of poverty on the streets of London, I find it offensive that the government is prepared to spend that much money on some spoiled posh girl whose claim to fame is going on holiday. The usual, “oh, but think of the money that it will bring in in tourism in London” won’t wash with this one. I doubt if many people have even heard of her and I shouldn’t think that most people are in the least interested in her nuptials. I'm certainly not. 

I doubt many people would argue that Theresa May is the worst Prime Minister in living memory… and probably a good deal before. She’s a dithering, wobbly, weak, croaky, cartoon character, who has no control of her party or of her MPs or of her orange-coloured bedfellows in the DUP. She’s at odds with everyone, here, in Europe and in the USA. I think she is utterly useless at being PM. My nan’s cat could do a better job and he’s dead. And yet, despite all that, Corbyn comes in a poor second to her in a recent YouGov poll for the best person to be Prime Minister. It’s interesting that the most popular vote was neither of them. And just when we needed leadership more than we have needed it for 70 years.

Two days, two walks, moorland and sea

We've just come through a burst of walking. On the Thursday we walked near Bagga Tor (here's the post). The next day we had an evening walk followed by a meal at Horndon and, on the Saturday, we filled in a stretch of the Cornish Coastal footpath. It's great to be out and about, even with the variable weather.

Once a year, Mrs P organises a 'walk and dine' event for one of our walking groups. A favourite place to eat is the Elephant's Nest pub out at Horndon, on the west side of Dartmoor and just across the valley from our walk the previous day (see here). And what a difference a day makes: yesterday it was dry and relatively clear, today it poured down most of the way around. So much so, that I didn't risk taking my camera out with me. Approximately 4.5 wet miles but very enjoyable, as was the meal afterwards. Where else can you get an Arbroath Smokie in these parts? The route? It took in some open moorland and a stretch along the Creason Leat through a mature deciduous woodland.

The following day, we took advantage of the forecasted dry day and plugged a gap on our Cornish Coastal Footpath trek. We left our car in Charlestown, took a bus to Par/Polmear and walked back to our starting point. It was just over 5 miles and, it has to be admitted, was not the most picturesque walk we've ever done. partly this was down to the fact that we had to make a large detour around the English China Clay works in Par and partly due to the walk being on the wrong side of hedges which obscured our view of the coastline.

It was a day of cloud scapes rather than sea scapes. You can just make out the complex of ECC buildings on the bottom right.

More sky and more clouds. It was actually a lot brighter than these shots might suggest - I was getting the exposure of the clouds right and left the foreground to fend for itself.

Unusually there were not many Coastal Footpath signs in evidence and the few that we did see were not particularly prominent.

The last cloud scape for you to enjoy. It was quite warm when the sun was not obscured by the clouds but the temperature dropped quite considerably when the clouds moved across. Pity the poor holiday makers on the beaches.

Two birds on a rock - a Little Egret and a Cormorant. Neither of which obliged me by giving me a decent profile.

Dropping down into Charlestown harbour which, I believe, doubles as Truro Harbour in the Poldark series. The actual harbour in Truro has been long filled in and built over. This view is looking west with Dodman Head in the distance. We've walked all the coastline in view.

One for the Poldark fans: the harbour that features so often. Originally built to ship china clay but now mainly used as a backdrop for TV series and films. It has recently been bought by Sir Tim Smit of Eden Project and Lost Gardens of Heligan fame, so we can expect some changes soon. Let's hope that whatever his plans are, they don't involved making the place into a theme park.

A walk around Bagga Tor.

It seems ages since we've been out for a walk on Dartmoor so it was not before time that we headed to Bagga Tor on the west side of the moor. A five mile circular walk in an area that, rather uncharacteristically for Dartmoor, is relatively devoid of any historical artifacts. The only evidence of human intervention is the consequence of generations of farming - dry stone walls, boundaries, fields and farms. And the cattle, of course, lots of black cattle. It was a day for just being on the moor and enjoying it for itself and the panoramic views, without the distraction of poking around mine sites and hut circles, interesting though they are.

We started and ended in the small car park at Bagga Tor, headed down the lane to Wapsworthy and then up onto the moor to climb White Tor. After that we dropped down to Langstone Moor, along the Lytch Way and back to the car park. Five miles on a relatively clear day. Very nice.

Pointing the way, there and back.

Looking to the east with Yes Tor and Ger Tor on the horizon. Tavy Cleave can just about be made out in the middle ground.

To the south was Bagga Tor, but we didn't climb this one.

Eastwards again with a nice stretch of dry stone wall in the foreground.

At the top of White Tor is evidence of modern military use - a flagpole which flies a red warning flag when the firing range is in operation. Luckily the ranges are pretty quiet during August but it's always good to check before heading off to a restricted area. It was a bit of a puff getting up here. Better get walking more often. As an aside, I wonder why it is called White Tor? It always looks rather dismal and dark. Perhaps someone was being sarcastic when it was named?

Encircling the flagpole are the remains of a double-walled Neolithic enclosure/fort. Which makes about 3000-4000 years of military use.

The Langstone on Langstone Moor. It's one of the largest standing stones (or menhirs) on the moor. It dates from the Bronze Age and is associated with a, nowadays diminutive, stone row. During WW2, those lovers of antiquity, the USA army, were stationed nearby and used the stone as a target for gunnery practice. Look closely and you can see bullet marks on the sides.

Not quite certain what these are but there were lots of them about in the short grass. I'll have to dig out my fungi identification books and see what I can find.

One last panoramic view as we head back to the car park.

 

I supported Jeremy Corbyn but it's time for him to go.

I supported Jeremy Corbyn when he was elected but now I think it's time for him to go. There, I've said it. It's not easy to do but it's something that's been niggling me for a while and it had to come out.

I liked Jeremy Corbyn. Everyone liked him. I don't dislike him personally now. When he was elected three years ago, he came into our lives like a bearded socialist whirlwind who turned the Labour Party on its head. He got many people who couldn’t normally give a damn about politics to care and brought even more into the Labour Party fold. We have only to look locally for proof of that - Labour has never been so strong and active as they now are in Cornwall. The Corbyn factor is plain to see. But, a cautionary note from those of us with long political memories: remember the heady days of Liberal activism? Lots of support at the local level but almost ziltch nationally.
 
When Jezza came in, he was like everyone’s new hot date, with his older, well worn, rebellious look. After all, there’s no rebel like a Labour Party rebel, is there? His policies were exciting, interesting and appealed to young people and many others around the country. Renationalising the railways makes sense, everyone hates austerity (including the economists) and forgiving student debts was never going to go down badly. What's not to like? We all knew that he was going to get slaughtered in the press and we shouldn't have expected anything else from them. That’s what the Daily Mail and Daily Telegraph and the rest of them do – they exist as Tory attack dogs. For a lot of people, myself included, the thinking was: we'll ride it out and build a popular movement, a left-wing open house that appealed to people up and down the country. And then we'll move from strength to strength. Except that this hasn't happened. Instead of going from the hot date to the long-term boyfriend, Jezza has instead become the creepy guy who just won’t leave you alone in the pub or wherever.

I live in Cornwall and have lived in Kent and I know the challenges the Labour Party faces to get elected: sadly Corbyn is not the man to meet them. There’s lots of different incidents I could pick up on. His failure to effectively deal with the anti-semitism row, the intimidation at local Labour levels, his ineffectual  EU referendum campaign, his failure to get his MPs to support him, his failure to support Kez Dugdale in Scotland, his failure to expand the party’s electoral appeal, his failure to see Mrs May off at PMQs – the list goes on and most of them are self-inflicted. The Press can't be blamed for everything.

I’ve voted in every election I've been eligible for. In all bar a few, when I've voted tactically, I have always voted Labour. I'm a tribal, visceral Labourite and I’m not going to stop voting Labour. But for a party to be able to hold the Tories to account, let alone govern, it has to be able to organise its MPs into a credible opposition. Which takes us to one of the questions Corbyn had to answer when he came in: how was he, as a man who voted against his colleagues over 500 times, going to marshal them, and put together a team? He didn’t and he hasn't. He's failed. He’s the leader of the Labour party, yet he failed to gain even his closest colleagues’ confidence. I'm afraid I trust the vast majority of Labour MPs far more than I trust Jezza's judgement, especially after his abject EU referendum campaign. Each of them knows the process of politics and government far better than most of us ever will. They know how hard it is. I believe the Labour party belongs in power, like every other Labour party member. But in order to get into power, we have to have a Labour leader who is actually electable – Jeremy Corbyn isn’t. It’s beyond naive to pretend that Jeremy Corbyn is the next Prime Minister in-waiting. He seems to be devoid of authority or discipline and he’s utterly unelectable. He was supposed to reinvent the Labour party as something exciting and modern post-Blair, instead of which he’s shown himself to be a dinosaur from the 1980s and has failed to organise an effective opposition

Leadership matters. Leadership is essential. The Labour Party needs a leader with energy, authority and imagination. Jezza isn't the one. But if not Jezza, who? And that's where it becomes very difficult: who indeed?

The silly season is upon us.

July and August are very much the silly season politically and it seems that this is a term which the politerati are taking more literally than they usually do. There are boxes of frogs which seem calm, rational and sensible by comparison.

Labour and the Tories (who got us into this mess) are not bothering overly much about the looming Brexit deadline and the increasing possibility of crashing out without a deal, or a so-called “blind Brexit” in which the UK leaves without the terms of its exit being finalised. This last option is rather like jumping off a cliff in the hope that there’s a nice big inflatable airbag waiting for you at the bottom, and not some jagged rocks. But this isn’t the big political topic right now. Instead Labour and the Tories are competing with one another about which of them is more bigoted.

Labour can’t be arsed opposing Brexit. It can’t be bothered presenting a cohesive and coherent policy to counter the most dysfunctional, inept, and vindictively selfish Conservative government in living memory. Thatcher’s government was every bit as vindictively selfish, but at least it was efficient about it. You’d think that Labour would have an easy time against Theresa May’s bunch of talentless clowns, but no, Labour would far rather tear itself apart over accusations of anti-semitism. However the tragedy for the rest of us is that even if Labour wasn’t falling over itself to shoot itself in the foot, it would still not be capable of mounting an effective defence against the Tories’ reckless Brexit because Jeremy Corbyn is as keen on leaving the EU as Liam Fox is.

Meanwhile the Tories aren’t even pretending any more that they’re no longer the nasty party. No amount of cheesy photo ops can disguise the fact that the Tories fundamentally exist in order to enable nasty bigots to extract as much cash as possible from any given situation. It’s only now that they are facing the music in the media for at least some of their many faceted bigotry, because in his column for the Telegraph, the most embarrassing Foreign Secretary in the history of a country which once went to war over its right to export opium to China, used patronising and insulting language to denounce the face veils worn by a minority of Muslim women. Johnson said that the veils look ridiculous, and to be fair he is something of an expert in looking ridiculous.

The party is now desperately trying to close down the accusations that it’s Islamophobic with an investigation into Johnson’s comments which is only being carried out so that Tory politicians can claim that they can’t comment on the matter because it’s the subject of an internal party investigation. They’re hoping that everyone will forget about the matter over the summer, then in a few months time they’ll produce a report saying that the remarks were rude and unnecessary, but which falls a long way short of forcing Boris Johnson to resign from the party. He's a joke but, let's no forget, he's just one in a whole pack of jokers.

Bowing low: From Mrs May to Max Wall.

An interesting article in the Guardian the other day (https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2018/aug/09/theresa-may-curtsey-royals-prince-william) by Gaby Hinsliff dealt with the rather dated custom of curtseying. She points out that there is probably no relaxed and normal way of doing it and observes that Theresa May manages to make unusually hard work of it. Her style seems to be a grovellingly low dip that makes you think she is either about to fall over or might have caught a heel in a grating. There have been some very unkind comparisons with Gollum from Lord of the Rings in the press but I won't dwell on those. Instead I'll just mention Max Wall: those who remember him will know what I mean instantly. Anyway, just in case you are curious, here is the pose that prompted Ms Hinsliff's piece and it happened during the recent WW1 commemorations in Amiens.

But, perhaps, the oddest thing isn’t that Mrs May perseveres with this most old-fashioned of traditions. It’s that the younger royals in particular (you know, the famously modern and inclusive younger royals, who are forever suggesting that they’re just like the rest of us, really, underneath) don’t politely put a stop to this form of forelock-tugging that has so obviously had its day. There really is something uncomfortably archaic about the sight of a woman in her 60s ritually abasing herself before a man half her age, who has done nothing to warrant such reverence besides being born into his current family; who may or may not prove to be a good king in the distant future, but whose achievements are so far mainly limited to having been a helicopter pilot and then having some children.Why on earth should elected power defer to inherited privilege in this way? Does William not find it as awkward and embarrassing as everyone else does? And if he does, why doesn’t he let it be known that his future subjects should cut it out?

Show common politeness and courtesy, of course, but is it really necessary to bow and scrape? It's not as if it is compulsory, as the palace’s own protocol guide for makes clear. It may be the traditional courtly greeting, but even the Queen will happily accept a handshake if that’s what people find comfortable. So why does Mrs May do it? Maybe it's because she feels the sort of reverence for the monarchy that is common among Tories of a certain generation. Or because she remembers the fuss about Cherie Blair refusing to do it? Or because she doesn't have the confidence not to?

There are lots of images of Mrs May bending the knee and it would be unkind to dwell on them. Oh, alright, a couple more for you.

And if you want an example of how a modern Head of Government meets the Head of State or her family, we need look no further than north of the border.



And for any youngsters who might be wondering, Max Wall was an extremely funny, in my opinion, music hall and early TV comedian. His alter ego was Professor Max Wallofsky.

REMEMBER, THE TORIES GOT US INTO THIS MESS.

REMEMBER, THE TORIES GOT US INTO THIS MESS.

All the way through the Referendum campaign, we were assured that leaving the EU didn’t necessarily mean leaving the customs union or the single market. As the Brexit vote was won for leave on the very narrowest of margins, you’d think that would mean that the government would attempt to reconcile those who voted to remain, and would seek a form of Brexit which was least likely to exacerbate a deep and bitter division. And pigs might fly. This is the UK, and in the UK the winner takes all and the loser can get stuffed. The UK still hasn’t grasped the distinction between democracy and majoritarianism. As soon as the Brexit vote was in, the Conservatives decided that what it really meant was that the country wanted the most extreme, the most self-harming, the most destructive Brexit possible.

REMEMBER, THE TORIES GOT US INTO THIS MESS.

The Secretary of State for International Trade, Dr Liam Fox, once boasted that a trade deal with the EU would be the “easiest in human history” to negotiate because the French need us to buy their wine and the Germans need us to buy their cars. This sort of wisdom and insight explains why the government, which the disgraced former defence secretary inexplicably remains a part of, wasn’t making contingency plans for the UK falling out of the EU without a deal.
Now Liam has changed his tune, and is saying that it looks increasingly likely that the UK’s Brexit bus will crash out without a deal, and admits that it’s a strong possibility. This is, of course, according to Liam, entirely the fault of the EU for wilfully refusing to grant the UK all the benefits of EU membership without any of the annoying obligations that come with it.

REMEMBER, THE TORIES GOT US INTO THIS MESS.

Of course what this is really about is Liam and his fellow Brexists getting their excuses in early. If, as anyone who isn’t wearing a Union Jack blindfold can see coming, Brexit ends up as an unmitigated disaster, Liam is determined to make sure that it’s those Germans with their towels on the sunloungers who take the blame for it. In Liam’s universe it’s certainly not Liam’s fault. It’s certainly not the fault of all those Brexit fanatics who swore blind that the UK could leave the EU and still enjoy unfettered access to the EU’s single market without having to sign up to freedom of movement and those other EU freedoms that they didn’t like. It’s certainly not the fault of a British Conservative party which has spent the past two years arguing with itself about a series of positions that the EU had already stated were unacceptable, instead of spending their time working on a Brexit which might actually work in the real world. It’s certainly not their fault because they’re British, and that means they’re plucky, and everyone in Europe looks up to them, because of Dunkirk and Vera Lynn. So it’s not Liam’s fault then. Clear on that?

REMEMBER, THE TORIES GOT US INTO THIS MESS.

Meanwhile the official Opposition in the House of Commons ought to be scoring massive political points against a government which is presenting them with a target the size of a minor planet from a distance of about six inches, But no, that would be far too easy. When it’s not abstaining, Labour prefers to tear itself apart over internal disputes, because there’s only one thing your average Labour MP hates even more than the Tories and that's another of your average Labour MPs. However even in the highly unlikely event that the Labour party was able to get its collective act together, it still wouldn’t be resisting the Tories and their insane Brexit. Because, for reasons which have never been satisfactorily explained, Jeremy Corbyn is every bit as committed to an insane Brexit as Liam Fox is.

REMEMBER, THE TORIES GOT US INTO THIS MESS.

Right now, the only thing keeping Theresa May in power is that her MPs are even more terrified that Jeremy Corbyn might win a snap General Election than they’re afraid of the damage that a chaotic Brexit might wreak. But , in an interesting twist, there are those in the Tory party who are tempted to allow that to happen. A weak and chaotic Corbyn government can take the public flak for a catastrophic Brexit while the Tories and UKIP who inflicted it upon us can blame Labour and blame the EU for the mess that they’ve been instrumental in creating. Then a hard right Tory government could sweep into power a couple of years later and destroy the tattered remnants of the UK’s public services and complete the transformation of the UK into a unitary state with a low wage economy that acts as a tax shelter for the wealthy. There’s your Tory British values for you.

REMEMBER, THE TORIES GOT US INTO THIS MESS.

Now it is possible that none of this will happen. It is possible that everything might turn out just fine. All things are possible. It is theoretically possible that Liam Fox is going to wake up one morning, look himself in the mirror, and suddenly realise that his politics have been based on a selfish mendacity, then he’ll make a public apology and devote the rest of his life to unpaid medical work for a charity. But that’s not likely to happen either.

REMEMBER, THE TORIES GOT US INTO THIS MESS.

On this day in 1918, Gunner Richard Stidwell died.

 Richard Stidwell's name does not appear on the Stoke Climsland War Memorial but he is buried in the church graveyard with a military headstone. His story is unusual in several respects and one with a presently unsolved mystery. 

Richard was born in Boyton in 1895, one of the sons of John and Betsy Ann (nee Lawrence). The family were farming in Laneast at the time of the 1901 census and had moved to Winsor in Kelly Bray by the 1911 census. Richard’s father, John, had died in 1907 and, in the 1911 census, his mother is listed as the head of household: Richard’s occupation is given as a farm labourer.

Luckily, Richard’s full Service Record exists and from this we can see that he enlisted ‘for the duration of the war’ in Callington on 23rd October 1915. He joined the 1/5th Cornwall Company of the Royal Garrison Artillery as a Teamster, although there is mention of the 2/5th in his record. He served for only 182 days before he was discharged as medically unfit, because of tubercle of the lung, on 21st April 1916. It seems that he was discharged to live with his mother at Kitty Bren, Bowling Green and he subsequently died of pulmonary tuberculosis on 3rd August 1918 at Zaggy Lane, Callington. He was buried in Stoke Climsland graveyard on 8th August of the same year.



Richard Stidwell's headstone in Stoke Climsland graveyard.

An extract from Richard Stidwell's death certificate.

Between the date of his discharge and his death, Richard appears to have travelled to Coventry to work in a munitions factory as an engineer's labourer. It was probably there that he met his future wife, Mary Tideswell, who was also employed there as a forge worker. They married in Coventry Register Office on 9th October 1917 and must have moved to Cornwall soon after as a son, George, was born locally on 14th April 1918. A grand daughter of Richard has indicated that Mary, and their son, returned to Staffordshire, and her family, after his death.

The marriage certificate of Richard and Mary Stidwell.

Every year, near Armistice Sunday, a poppy wreath is placed on Richard's headstone in Stoke Climsland graveyard. It is accompanied by a note that reads ‘from his Comrades in Arms in the 1st, The Queen’s Dragoon Guards’. This regiment is based in Cardiff and, as far as can be ascertained, Richard never had any connection with it during his service years, neither is there any connection with the Cornwall Company of the Royal Garrison Artillery. Who is responsible for the appearance of the wreath? Wide ranging enquiries have been made but all have been blank so far. Perhaps this mystery will remain unsolved?

Richard Stidwell's headstone with its annual poppy wreath.

Inscription that accompanies the poppy wreath.

Although he is not commemorated in Stoke Climsland, Richard Stidwell is remembered on the Callington War Memorial.