Bliss

Cooking.
Listening to a superb Billy Bragg interview on 6music.
Drinking beer.
FRD tolerating my tuneless renditions.

TV

It's OK to piss about on the computer while Frau Random Doubt watches Glee.
It's OK to blog, Facebook, wikileak, ConservativeHome and all the rest.

That's because it's just two forms of cultural oblivion colliding with each other and both coming off best.

Or maybe that's a draw.

Either way it's all good.

America!

My new topic at school is 'America'

I've twisted the curriculum around a bit to focus on the earliest Americans and then the Civil War. After half term the kids will be able to choose any American theme to study as a mini topic.

I began the topic by asking the class to note down what they knew about America.

Canadians do not like being confused with Americans.
9/11
President Obama.
They don't have a Queen.
Statue of Liberty.
Civil rights movement.
Grand Canyon.
Big portions.
Las vegas.
They were the only country to drop an atomic bomb.
Baseball and other strange sports.
War of Independence.
The stars and stripes.
There is a town called Springfield.
Vietnam beat them in a war.
A big army but not that good at winning against small countries.
They were involved in D Day.
Cowboys.

6music

I've loved 6music since first I heard it back in 2007.

I even wrote to my MP when the station was threatened with closure in 2009 (he wrote back in a favourable but non committal sort of way, unsurprising for a politician, surprising for a tory)

Over the weekend I thought to myself "this station needs to play some Juliana Hatfield, that's what I need right now" .

Tonight, loading the dishwasher.

The Juliana Hatfield Three!

Wymondham Abbey

I've always been fortunate to live in places that inspire.
Wherever I have lived there has been somewhere that I can go to to lift the soul.
Wymondham is full of such nooks and crannies, although I would hardly classify the 900 year old abbey as either a 'nook' or a 'crannie'.
For your pleasure, a December Saturday afternoon running around the grounds.

Looking south over the sheep meadow. The remains of the Abbey prior to the dissolution in 1538 are visible as lumps in the meadow.
Hen sitting on top of some of Henry VIII's rubble.
The ruined East tower.
ASBO behaviour, 1754 style.
The East tower from within.
Doorway, East tower.
East Tower.
Hen inside East Tower.
The Arch, looking over towards the sheep meadow.

Uncle Bill

Billy Bragg and I have previous. Lots of previous.

I'll go into that later because tonight, tonight in the ice and the snow and sudden mid gig queasiness about the difficult journey home I fell in love with Billy Bragg. Fell in love all over again.
I stood in the middle, twenty feet from the front, surrounded by other greying, bellied fans. Intermingled were the newer cohorts of fans but for the most part the audience reflected the main attraction, middle aged, self depreciatory and curious.
I wasn't beering it up and there was no smoke, it was my first HD gig.

Twenty years ago I had been at the same gig in another part of town and had listened to Billy rail against nostalgia. He had no time for it, the struggle had to move onwards, not back. Therefore he was not going to play any of the old stuff. That , along with every album after 'Workers Playtime' and up to 'Mermaid Avenue' put Billy on the back burner. I was 18 and he was singing about the difficulties involved with getting a decent babysitter.

Times change. Tonight I got a decent babysitter and drove the car to the University and watched Billy rail through his classic back catalogue. I don't think it's nostalgia, I think he has understood that he's an entertainer and that we want to be entertained, entertained by some of the most wonderful, lyrical, rock and roll of the past 30 years. We were also entertained and provoked by his observations, the banter and the two drunken extremists who started a fight in the corner and got thrown out. This would not have been relevant had it not been right at the front and the security men taken a long and somewhat heavy handed approach to the whole proceedings. It was almost like a piece of tourism form the 1980s.

A wonderful night, just what the soul had been asking for. Just what the ears needed.

Notes from the bunker

I'm still dusting off the debris of the last few months.

It is late and wine has been consumed, not always a recipe for good blogging, however I am in love with the genre again, especially as it has now been overtaken by about twelve other developments in the great race to remain up to date.

Here are a few of the things that have been rolling about in my mind.

What is the Pope up to?

How long will the coalition government last?

Will the Liberal Democrats take the kicking they deserve at the next election?

Have I returned all those library books?

Should I feel guilty about secretly feeling good about demonstrators smashing up Tory party HQ? (OF COURSE, I'm not condoning dropping fire extinguishers from tall buildings)

What's more important? Washing or sleep?

Why am I not missing TV?

The cloth of kings

I'm slowly emerging from the bunker.
The bunker that was suddenly becoming the father of three.
The bunker that was moving house and saying goodbye to the neighbour from hell.
The bunker that is work.
The bunker that is life at the start of the twenty first century.

2011 will be a big year for corduroy. At a rough guess there will be at least four official days of cord.

1/1/11
11/1/11
1/11/11
11/11/11

That last one will be the biggie. It only comes along once in 100 years. Trouble is, one always has to be a bit respectful of Armistice day, that's why I'm excited about the other three.

No 10

We've finally moved!
It has taken us over a year.
A year of the slowest housing market in a generation, a market that is continuing to decline.
But we did it!

No 10!

And we didn't even need to win an election!

Ed

For a moment I thought that he had been born in the 1970s.
For a moment I thought that the political world had found it's first major player born in the 1970s.
For a moment I thought that the moment in my own life had come, That moment when the political world catches up with you, when you are no longer young. The sporting world passed me by when Michael Owen debuted for England, I knew I would never play for my country.

Then I looked more closely and learned that he was born in the 1960s (just!)
He is younger than my brother (he's younger than his own brother)
My generation?

Keep buggering on...

There is a lot going on.
I have read some books and will write about them soon.
There will be huge announcements within the week.
It is my sincere hope that things will soon be changing for the better, the very much better.
Things will be happening on all three blogs.

Bear with me, watch this space.

Memories

It's 70 years since the Battle of Britain, our finest hour.

With this in mind I decided to grab my nearest old fella and place him in front of my class to tell tales and answer questions.
His lovely wife came along because, in her words "I was there too".

My new class sat for over an hour and listened to their memories, tales of air raids and blackouts. Mr and Mrs 'B' seemed to enjoy it and the kids were hooked.

Some highlights...

Where you scared?

"Absolutely!"

How did you feel when war was declared?

"Awful, just awful. Depressed, angry but resigned to get the job done"

Was everyone as cheerful as we are told?

"No, but everyone worked together and got on with things, we talked alot and helped each other because otherwise people would fall apart, and some people did fall apart and some people were unkind about them"

Did you like Winston Churchill?

"My family were NOT Conservatives, we did NOT like Churchill"

"Yes dear but he did do an awful lot to help us win the war"

"That's true, I suppose"

Was it easy to beat the Germans?

"We only just beat them, we survived the summer of 1940 because the Germans made bad mistakes and we were lucky"

Would you like a cup of tea?

"One thing everyone who lived through those years will tell you, you never turn down a cup of tea!"

Time?

Time consuming.

Michael
Hen
Daniel
FRD
work
heat
house
living every thrilling minute.

repeat to fade.

I'll recapture the blog soon, I still believe.

BRING IT!

Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!
Sunday. The Germans!

I am very, very, very excited!

It's here.

Phew,
Blogging has been slow of late and I'm sorry.
OFSTED came and went (and went away happy!)
Both twins visited the hospital and both came home ok.

And of course, Fabio's boys take on the USA on Saturday!
One golden month of footy!

I can't bear the suspense!

Electoral strategy

OK, looking like a hung parliament.
High turnout turning the count into a slow one.
Twin babies asleep upstairs.

I'm going to turn in, if the exit polls are to be believed, it's not the next couple of hours that will prove interesting but the next couple of days. By the time I wake at 5.30am the results will still be coming in and deals being struck.

Sshhhh...

I wasn't here in 2005.
I'd forgotten about the beautiful silence that engulfs a British General election day.

All campaigning must halt as polls open at 7am.

All media outlets turn to alternative topics (a lengthy interview with Sir Paul MacCartney about vegetarianism was my favourite)as they are barred from mentioning the obvious.

It's a magisterial calm.

At 10pm the polls will close and then.


BANG!

Hours of results and punditry, interviews, arguments, analysis and post mortem.

I love it!

Decision time

Ok, tomorrow is the General Election.

What to do?

I'm a bit confused.

For several reasons.

Actually I'm a bit confused for one main reason and it's nothing to do with a posh bloke called Dave.
For the past 37 years I have either lived in, or been emotionally connected to, a delightful area called 'South Norfolk'. It's been tory since 1950 so it's not even a political attachment. I've always enjoyed throwing my Labour or Lib Dem vote into the opposing wind of toriness. But more than that, I just love being from, and right now living in, SOUTH Norfolk.
I know who my MP is, I know he's going to be my MP until he dies. He even knows who I am, in a very small, met him twice, wrote to him once, sort of a way.

South Norfolk is my kind of place.

Well all that has changed since some gerrymandering civil servants decided that I wasn't 'south' enough and that my entire town should be moved into a new constituency called 'Mid Norfolk'. A bunch of candidates I don't know, a playing field I'm unfamiliar with, lumped in with other, lesser market towns such as Watton and Dereham?
I looked online to find out about tactical voting. MId Norfolk did not even register on the site. I thought South Norfolk was a tory stronghold, Mid Norfolk is bluer than the disinfectant in Sam-Cam's downstairs loo!

Another reason to be mildly perplexed (and this carries on from the new constituency rant) is that I'm not sure how best to use my vote.

Should I vote Labour?

Surely their time is up?
Surely Brown has blown it?
Surely time to get over my emotional attachment to Clement Atlee And Nye Bevan?

but... What about the economy? I actually think things might have been alot worse with somebody else in charge and have half a mind to think that they might be the best to keep things slowly improving.


Should I vote LIb Dem?

Done this before, it seems like their time, would be great to boost their national percentage and give them more credibility with the other two parties, or even put them into second place. Electoral reform is needed. Clegg's wife is yummilicious.

but... the euro?


Should I vote Green?

I cant help wonder if Green is the new Labour? A fledgling movement tackling the crucial issues of the day. Difficult decisions will require a radical, progressive approach.

but... can't help feeling that the LIb Dems need my vote more, perhaps I'll vote Green next time.

Interesting times

These aren't such bad days for your everyday political junkie/footy fan.

It's looking like being a rather sharp election with Brown using all his dark powers to grimly cling to power whilst young Harry Potter tries all manner of spells and tricks to convince us he's for real. It's only 36 hours old but I'm already enjoying this election, especially the way they all talk about stuff that we've known about for months and try to make it fun.

My prediction? Slight tory majority. 6-20 seats.
Out of this world insanity would be for Brown to cling on with a similar size rump, could happen, perhaps.
It looks like being a poisoned chalice with all the cuts looming.




A few weeks after the 6th of May we move south to South Africa!
Need I say more?

My prediction?
England reach the semis (AT LEAST)

24th of March 1985