On being lazy.

Every now and again, I dip into my draft folder of things I've written and forgotten about or things that I never got around to finishing or things that are too intemperate even by my standards to post or things for which the moment is past (who remembers Nick Clegg? No point ranting about him any more, is there?). I've just come across this incomplete piece from six years ago and thought I'd indulge in a little whimsy (and a touch of hyperbole, so don't take it too literally) to finish it off.

A fellow blogger, whose name is lost in the mists of time (sorry, but you'll recognise the connection, if you read this), admitted in a post to being lazy.  She (I remember that much) was unapologetic about being lazy; in fact, she felt the world needs more lazy people. I've never really considered myself to be a lazy person and, in the past (at my present age, let's be honest, I really don't care what people think), I probably would have been ashamed of being thought so. That's the Protestant work ethic for you! The Unknown Blogger, however, has made me reevaluate my attitude. Perhaps she has a point.

Think about this exemplar, if you will. Lazy people do not start wars. If more world leaders were lazy, we would not have wars. Throughout history, it's those damn energetic people who want to do 'stuff' and control things who have started wars and created havoc on many fronts. A few more examples for you by way of illustration.

A lazy Adolph Hitler, for instance, would still have had abhorrent and virulent anti-Semitic views, but he would have been too lazy to act on his hate. Osama Bin Laden would have still hated the West but he would have been too happy staring at the mountains and clouds from his cave to do anything about it. And if Christians of mediaeval times had been lazier, there would have never have been The Crusades. They would have just left a few flyers on Muslim doors with the message, “Hey, give Christianity a try…or not. Whatever”. A lazy David Cameron would have stayed in his shepherd's hut and not called a referendum. A lazy Nigel Farage would not have strayed far from his bar stool and we would never have had UKIP or the Brexit Party. A lazy Bozza would have been content with a career as an adulterous lecher.

Energetic people don’t invent things, lazy people do. Energetic people move heavy stuff by pushing and shoving like hell. It took a lazy person to invent the wheel and the lever: he (or she - no gender bias in this blog) was just too lazy to push and looked for the easier option. Energetic people were perfectly happy to travel many miles to deliver a message by hand. But Alexander Bell, by all accounts a naturally indolent person, invented the telephone to save himself time and energy.

I'm easy to please. I don’t need much, just food, sleep and the occasional cwtch (not a euphemism. Look it up). I don’t cause trouble, I don’t speed on the roads, I don’t make a lot of noise, I don’t complain. All that stuff requires energy. I try not to put too much effort into anything over and above what is absolutely necessary to get the job done. I guess that means that I’m lazy. If everyone was lazy, we would all do only what was required to survive. Plant some food, build a hut, eat, sleep, and procreate.  There would be no reason to accumulate stuff, no need to keep up with the Joneses as the Joneses would be lazy too.

Lazy, for lack of a better word, is good. The way I see it, laziness is, in fact, a Godly virtue - the unwritten 11th Commandment - Thou shalt be lazy. Here’s a few more reasons why:
 
1) Lazy People Are Good For the Environment
Think about it. They consume less. It makes sense: if you are too lazy to earn big money and too lazy to enjoy the dreadful chore that is shopping, then you just get by without a lot of things and this makes you an eco-warrior.

2) Lazy People Are Safer
Driving fast takes a lot of effort. It’s far easier to relax and cruise just below the speed limit. 
 
3) Lazy People Cause Less Noise Pollution
If you’re lazy like me, you get all self-righteous and grumpy at weekends when all those damn un-lazy nutters are out with their garden machinery making a bloody great racket. Why can’t they just do what me and all the other Lazy Bs are doing – nothing much. Admittedly, the lawn might get out of control but A) who cares? and B) at least you can snuggle into bed at night knowing you weren’t responsible for any shift-workers going to work all sleep deprived due to edge trimmers and lawn mowers and then losing an arm in an industrial accident.

4) Lazy People Promote World Peace:
You ever hear of a perennially Lazy B joining the Army? Of course, you haven't.
Here's a case in point: John and Yoko doing their whole bed-in routine. If everyone was as lazy as those hipsters were, there would never be another war ever because running around doing press-ups and making your bed at 5am is too much hard work - man!
 
5) Lazy People Make the Best Music:
Fact: I have never known a decent musician who was NOT completely lazy and self-centered. By the way, all those uber-motivated types you see bouncing up and down in video clips are not decent musicians. They are weird little ego-maniacs who need to be noticed - or ignored.
 
  6) Lazy People Are Naturally Enlightened Masters:
Nowadays many people pay good money to learn how to meditate or 'do' mindfulness. We Lazy Bs don't need to do this as we spend so much time just happily staring into space, our minds a complete void of any content whatsoever, that we generally cross the enlightenment threshold very early on in our lives.

7) Lazy People Don’t Expect Anything Much Of Others:
This is the greatest thing about the Lazy Bs. Unlike all the other demanding so-and-so’s who just never seem to get out of your face with their “urgent” this and their “important” that, Lazy Bs want but one thing from you: for you to call and order the take-away and turn the TV on.
 
So the next time you feel like denigrating someone for being lazy, think long and hard about whether it’s worth your effort. The Lazy B couldn't care a toss what you think so why waste your breath and energy?

And how's this for a Lazy Bs theme tune?

Keep your hands off our BBC

There have been reports that the government intends to abolish the TV licence fee and turn the BBC into a commercial organisation. Boris Johnson’s Igor, Dominic Cummings, alledgedly has an ideological conviction that the public service broadcaster ought to fund itself through a subscription service, similar to that used by Netflix or Amazon. The revamped BBC would then only be available to those who had paid the fee. The reaction from most people seems to be “meh”. To be honest, there may be little affection for the BBC in some quarters but what we can be quite sure of is that, if the Conservatives replace the BBC, they’ll give us something that’s even worse.

There’s little love lost between the BBC and Boris Johnson. The Prime Minister believes that the role of the BBC ought to be as a cheerleader for him and his government, and it should devote itself to holding nasty socialists and Scottish separatists to account. That’s the job of the BBC, not pointing out that yet again the Prime Minister has failed to be arsed enough to visit areas of England and Wales devastated by flooding. Remember that it took a campaign of shaming him on social media last year to get him to visit the flooded areas in South Yorkshire. Although to be fair, the BBC hasn’t pointed it out, everyone else has.

Alexander Boris de Pfeffel Johnson doesn’t do flood victims, he only does voters. He’ll be back up to northern England in four years time, blaming the EU for something or other that hasn't happened. He didn’t show up for anything when he was running for PM, so he’s certainly not about to start showing up for stuff now. He might have sired a litter of children that he refuses to acknowledge, but his refusal to put in an appearance when he’s expected to does at least prove that he knows how to practice the withdrawal method (boom boom!).

The BBC has resolutely and bravely not mentioned his absence from the scene of the flooding. There’s that holding power to account that we all pay our licence fee for. Someone should tell Johnson that what the flooded areas really need is a huge bridge and then he’d be there within minutes. It’s far more important for the welfare of the UK that the Prime Minister spends some quality time in a luxury mansion with 115 bedrooms, set on a 3500 acre estate. He’s staying this week at Chevening in Kent. He does not intend to hold a COBRA emergency committee meeting or pay a trip to areas affected by the weather. Chevening doesn’t just have luxury accommodation, it also possesses a very nice selection of fridges. Perhaps he is hiding in one of those, like he did on the election trail before Xmas. The BBC is showing us all that it is worth the licence fee by its calling out the Prime Minister for not doing one of the basics of his job, to reassure the public during a time of stress and emergency. Oh wait. Of course it’s not.

We’ve only had this majority Tory government for a couple of months and already we’ve got a Prime Minister who makes a habit of being absent during a national emergency, and using distraction techniques in the form of discussions of a bridge between Northern Ireland and Scotland.  A bridge that will never get built. We’ve had eugenics, racist lies about IQs, discussion about enforced contraception of the poor, rampant xenophobia, a Home Office that insisted a 101 year old Italian man who has lived in the UK longer than Boris Johnson has been alive bring his parents to an interview in order to verify his identity before he can be given permission to remain in the UK. We’ve had attempts to prevent judges from holding the government to account, forced deportations of Jamaican born people who have done the exact same kinds of things as the US born Johnson (yet strangely he’s not up for deportation. Who knew?). We’ve got the perma-angry Dominic Raab as Foreign Secretary and not even in an ironic way, a Home Secretary who possesses a Daily Mail wet dream combination of stupidity and vindictiveness, the suppression of the report into Russian meddling in UK politics, the loss of freedom of movement, the denial of Scottish democracy, incipient fascism and now there’s attempts to prevent the BBC from challenging the Conservatives.

It’s a catalogue of crap, a litany of loathsomeness, an enumeration of excrement. We’ve had all this, and the Tories have only just started. There’s going to be another five years of this, and most likely another ten since there’s little prospect of the Labour party getting its act together any time soon. Where is the security and stability, the protection from extremism, the love and respect, we were promised during the recent Hustings? I know it's early days yet and that I shouldn't jump to conclusions but, to me, the British state is failing. It’s a moral, intellectual and political failure. And it’s only going to get worse. A pox on all who voted for them.

Along the coast from Wembury

The difference a couple of weeks' make. Here's a post I've been working on of a walk we did just before the weather broke and we had Storms Ciara and Dennis. Remember a time when the skies were blue and rain didn't come sheeting down?

The weather was set fair and where better to walk than along the coast? This time we ventured over the border into Devon for a stroll from Wembury Bay back to Heybrook Bay. Not that far from Plymouth but a million miles away from the hustle and bustle of the city. As it turned out, a walk with some fascinating history as well as the views.

The route was easy to follow: along the coast for a mile, then inland with a sort of 'up and over' hump back to the coastal footpath at Heybrook Bay and hence back along the coast to our starting point. We'll give ourselves barely 5 miles for this one.

The beach at Wembury with the Great MewStone in the distance. Way back people lived there and it was even used as a place for the banishment of felons, a sort of Devonshire Devil's Island. Then it was bought by the War Office because it was in the line of fire from the gunnery school, HMS Cambridge, formerly based at Wembury Point. I think 'in the line of fire' was a euphemism for them using it for target practice. The MOD restricted public access to the island, a move that, despite a constant rain of ordnance, greatly benefitted the wildlife living there. Following HMS Cambridge's decommission, the National Trust ran a successful fundraising campaign that resulted in the acquisition of both Wembury Point and the Great Mewstone. The old gunnery school was demolished, with a lot of work put into reclaiming and encouraging a natural coastal landscape, and preserving the island to protect the birds and wildlife that have flourished there. The Mewstone is not open to the public and is a very important site for a variety of seabirds like shags and cormorants.

 

Looking eastwards from Wembury along the coast to Start Point.

Halfway on the walk, just before we turned off for the 'hump', looking back towards Wembury, with the tower of St Werburgh clearly visible. Not a particularly choppy sea but with enough waves to make it interesting.

Where we've been and where we are going, but not necessarily in that order.

The 'top' part of our route took us along a 1/2 mile of muddy track. Lots of ivy and mud but very few leaves on the trees.

It was a very clear day and the Eddystone Lighthouse was easy to spot on the horizon. It was probably 6 miles out from where we were. The inset shows it as it is closer up, with the modern lighthouse to the left and the stump of Smeeton's version to the right. The top parts of Smeeton's structure are what you can see on the Hoe in Plymouth.

I've already mentioned the old gunnery school, HMS Cambridge, that once graced, and dominated this area. Its outer boundary was marked by a series of boundary stones, each marked with a rope and anchor and a unique number. We came across several of them on our way around. This is the one with the clearest markings.

One of the (many) peculiarities of the Royal Navy is that all bases, including those on shore, are deemed to be ships and are called HMS something or other. Such is the case of HMS Cambridge, land-based for many, many decades. But the name originated with a real floating HMS Cambridge when a gunnery training school was first mooted for Devonport, around 1855. The photograph shows THE HMS Cambridge to the right, with the hulk of HMS Caledonia to the left linked to it as a tender. Eventually, the training school was land based at Devonport, before eventually moving out to Wembury Point just after the end of WW2.

There is a family connection with HMS Cambridge in that Mrs P's x2 great grandfather, George Henry Laws, was based on the original ship in the 1860s, as the above extract of his service record shows. At one time the hulk of HMS Foudroyant acted as a tender for HMS Cambridge and it was on Foudroyant that Mrs P's x3 great grandfather, Thomas Western, once sailed, not at the same time as his son-in-law, George Henry. Sadly, George Henry and his wife, Charlotte Western, both died young and in the same year, 1877, leaving four orphaned young children. But that's a story for another day.

It is said that are few, if any, parish churches in Devon sited in a more beautiful and picturesque location than St Werburgh’s. Standing as it does above Wembury beach and opposite the Mewstone, it is easy to see why the church has become a favourite to couples planning a wedding. In fact, a member of the church told me that it was only the regular weddings that kept the place open, as the regular congregation is very small. Its exposed position explains the rather unsightly concrete rendering on the seaward walls.The main part of the present church was built by the Normans in 1088, replacing an earlier Saxon wooden oratory. In the 1880s there were substantial restorations made which, to my untutored eye, seem to have been done with some sensitivity. Certainly there was nothing there that screamed 'Victorian Gothic' at me. But what do I know? Not a lot about the interior of churches, perhaps, but I do know that the church tower has long been used as a navigational aid for ships heading into Plymouth/Devonport.

St Werburgh, the saint to whom the church is dedicated, was noted for her beauty and qualities of character that brought her a number of offers of marriage. But she refused them all, saying Jesus was her spouse, and is honoured in the Church as a virgin as well as a saint. She was the daughter of Wulfhere, King of Mercia, and St Ermenilda, which also made her a grand-daughter of St Sexburga and great-niece of St Etheldreda.One legend tells of her struggle against the attempts of Werbod, a nobleman of her father’s court, to gain her hand in marriage. The king liked Werbod and would have allowed him to wed his daughter if she had consented freely. St Werburgh’s mother, as well as her two brothers, Wulfhad and Ruffin, were not quite so keen on the match and the two princes sought out St Chad, the Bishop of Lichfield, in his woodland hermitage to ask his advice. Werbod, knowing their opposition to his designs, showed the pagan king the two princes returning from their visit to St Chad and incited him through slanders to put them to death. Werbod died himself soon afterwards and the king, stung by remorse over the murders of his sons, repented and submitted himself to the guidance of his queen and St Chad.St Werburgh was no longer afraid to tell her father of her vocation to be a nun and he not only granted her request but also conducted her in state to Ely, where she was met at the gate of the abbey by St Etheldreda and her community. When the king died in 675 he was succeeded by his brother, Ethelred, who persuaded his niece to return to the Midlands to supervise the female religious houses of his kingdom. She founded several monasteries in Mercia.St Werburgh died in Kesteven, Lincolnshire, between 700 and 707 and was buried at Hanbury, Staffordshire, but by the 10^th century her relics had been moved to Chester to keep them safe from Viking incursions and they were venerated there throughout the Middle Ages, with her shrine in the cathedral a place of pilgrimage until the Reformation.All of which is very interesting but sheds no light whatsoever on the association of the saint with Wembury church. No one seems to know why. And if you are thinking that Wembury is derived from Werburgh, you'll be wrong. It isn't.

 

The church contains many memorials, a veritable treasure trove for those of us who like them. The most splendid of these commemorates the Hele Family. It stands to the memory of Sir John Hele who died in 1608 and his family. The memorial holds small figures of the Hele children whilst Sir John is semi-reclining, propped up on one elbow. Below him is his wife, recumbent, with a little girl seated on a chair by her feet. Sir John and his wife appear to have been a particularly fecund couple as I counted 13 statues of children. I think the little girl in a chair is symbolic of an early death.

A very nicely carved font but not as old as it might appear, or so I've read. I'd put it down as Victorian but I stand to be corrected on this.

This was a little gem to come upon. A war grave with a story to tell. Who was Jeremiah Siyabi? And what was the South African Labour Corps? And how come Jeremiah was buried in Wembury? Hooray for Mr Google who quickly came up with answers for these questions and who also revealed a rather touching story which is worth telling.

Very little is known about Private Jeremiah Siyabi of the South African Native Labour Contingent SANLC). Records give no mention of his family and merely say that he died in an accident (falling off a cliff and dying of his injuries), aged 45. SANLC was a regiment set up in 1916 at the request, and cost, of the British Government. It was disbanded in 1918. The men of the regiment were employed as labourers and paid just £3 a month. They were kept in conditions worse than those of prisoners of war and were separated from Europeans by high fences, topped with barbed wire. At all costs, they were to be kept away from white women, they were not allowed out of the camps without an escort, were not allowed in shops or bars and were not to be entertained in the homes of Europeans. No medals were awarded to the men of the force, even though the British Government had provided one for all who had served with SANLC. There are very few war graves in Britain of soldiers from the SANLC, just three in Devon. It is amazing and wonderful that Private Jeremiah Siyabi is buried in a white British Churchyard in a beautiful position overlooking the sea, and has been given a memorial stone as good as any given to any soldier who died serving Britain in World War 1.

After the War, none of the black members of the South African Native Labour Corps, received a British War Medal or a ribbon. Their white officers did. This was a African decision. Black members of the South African Labour Corps from the neighbouring British Protectorates of Basutoland (modern Lesotho), Bechuanaland (Botswana) and Swaziland did receive medals.
Members of the Wembury community were touched enough to erect a separate headstone to Jeremiah (seen to the left of that of the CWGC) and unveiled it in a dedication ceremony on 11th November 2018. Well done them. Take a look at the rather moving You-Tube clip of the ceremony below and spare a thought for Jeremiah and the many citizens of the Empire who fought in far-off Europe and are largely forgotten.

Keep on blogging

I’ve just realised that I've been doing this blogging lark for just over 10 years now, since January 2010, to be exact. Gosh - how time flies. One of the fun things about it is rereading old posts. I see posts from years gone by and I don’t remember what I said or why I said it (Iris Robinson's knickers back in January 2010 - who remembers that now? I certainly didn't.)  But I do enjoy going back and reading what I've written.  Some of it still makes me laugh. Some of it makes me think.  Some of it makes me think…what on earth was I thinking?

I often say to myself “I said what?”. I have admittedly said things that would really p**s off a lot of people today. But my thoughts have not changed that much over the years, although I have developed a little bit of a filter. Commenters kicking your arse for things you say helps you develop one.

I have learned to filter out “bad words.”  I don’t really think there are bad words as such, only bad intentions, but since many people react negatively to some words, regardless of the context, I have learned to just stay away from their usage.…..most of the time.

I try, despite ample evidence to the contrary, to stay away from politics. This has been hard as I have always enjoyed the cut and thrust of political discussions. I'm so old that I can even remember a time when people could share different political positions and still remain good friends. Sadly, that is no longer the case.

There are many subjects I've learnt to avoid. Don’t make fun of someone’s religion. Don’t joke about sexual orientation. Be careful when discussing someone’s intelligence and do not post anything about anything to do with race.

There are so many topics that are just best avoided. I get that but what does continually surprise me is the seemingly innocuous topics that will manage to be provocative to someone. I can make a comment about biscuits, wasting water, using a sponge, almost any subject will make someone angry. And this is amongst the rather limited audience of my blog.  If I make a satirical or obviously tongue-in-cheek comment about any of life’s problems, someone will offer me a solution. I've often wondered why there are many would-be problem solvers reading my posts. What does that say about me?

Ten years! That is a long time, for someone with my limited aspirations. Lately  though I've noticed that my readership is decreasing. I don’t know if it is because my posts are rubbish or that this blog thing is losing steam. I’ll go with the latter, because, well because, I know I am fabulous so it can’t be the former.

I often think about quitting. Then some reader drops me an email telling me that they enjoy my posts or I get a really nice comment from someone I really respect. Or I get a really vitriolic response from someone who has taken exception to one of my more political efforts. That’s all it takes for me to continue. I don’t think I can quit, but I just may not post as often. 

Many great painters, writers, musicians and other artists were abject failures until they kicked the bucket. Then others discovered their genius. Who knows, maybe I am an undiscovered genius.  So, I will continue to post occasionally, because someday these posts will be recognized for their brilliance and importance.

Nah, probably not…who cares,  even if only a few people read these posts, I do enjoy the process. It's a bit like singing in the shower, really. Essentially a solitary task, with spin-off benefits for others within range - or not!