Wednesday 28 June 2017

Diary: June 2017

June in Simplified Chinese


 
30.6.17
‘The UK is a parliamentary democracy, so the amplification of MP power is welcome – especially after a period of executive arrogance arising from the aggressive over-interpretation of a referendum result.’
Guardian editorial
 
24.6.17


22.6.17
It has been a soup of happy and sad these past days. Last night we got an email from Eric in Tenerife giving more details about Glen’s death. We never really wanted much information, but the big thing for me was that Eric valued our friendship enough that he felt he COULD tell us. I think they were more a couple (not sure I will ever be able to de-couple them) of the Fifties than the Sixties, but I have nevertheless/nonetheless put Sixties music on while writing this. If nothing else, they kept that spirit alive. But of course they kept a lot more alive.


I noticed a Stephen Staunton painting in the studio during the Headway Members Forum yesterday and set my heart on buying it. It is a self portrait in which Stephen has two mouths. I will leave you to look at his work, know that his brain injury left him profoundly deaf,  that he is an arsey bugger, and decide for yourself.


The price negotiation was delicate, but Michelle took control, and we sealed the deal at  £70. Stephen, shook my hand, blew me a kiss and promptly went around the entire building showing members the money he had earned. He was a star. I was saddened by this for selfish reasons. My ego seemed to be a part of the transaction and that was not comfortable. But if anyone who wants to argue, I will tell them it is a fucking great picture, tell them why, and then tell them to go fuck themselves, because it is on my wall.


19.6.17
A young mother moves to get off the 390 bus on York Way, London. She starts to reverse the buggy out of the central door but the final step down is difficult and another passenger helps to lift the front of the buggy to assist. But the young mother is a dwarf and her kind helper nearly topples her over by lifting the buggy too high. The look on her face suggests this might have happened before. The helper cringes and apologises.


19.6.17
I understand from an internal email at the Guardian that the cricket match between India and Pakistan will always being in colossal ratings from Google. This pleases me because one of the post-internet-revolution ways the Guardian has been very successful is in live blogging, a new way of reporting and a charming way to be told a story.


15.6.17
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12.6.17
I was just about to pen a diary about how the centrists could make Labour a properly progressive government in waiting. They hold the chance of Britain finally becoming a modern social democracy.
A message to the rebels: work with Jeremy Corbyn and Labour can win. Then this appeared in the Guardian:
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2017/jun/11/message-to-rebels-work-with-corbyn-labour-can-win


See 3 June entry


Portugal tour


11.6.17
Trying to imagine what the future would have held if the Theresa May Conservative Party had been elected with a stonking majority. Slavery is the thing that springs to mind, a uniquely neo-capitalist type of slavery where pittance wages are the norm and zero-hours contracts standard. Would any of these new slaves revolt and slit the throats of their 'masters’?


10.6.17
I am just remembering a young man named Derek, who used to install himself on any available sitting surface in Moss Menswear on Breck Road, a clothes shop run by Joe Hollywood (Evertonian from Bootle) and assisted by me, on occasions. Derek would spout the dogma of 80s Liverpool Militant and Derek 'Degsy' Hatton, but once you dragged him into a serious analysis of his politics, it emerged that this was young Derek’s chosen method of meeting good-looking girls.


8.6.17
Is Portugal the place that has most successfully fine-tuned mass enterprise to its own national advantage? Probably not, but they turned ordinary wine into a flourishing port industry. And they profit from the shoe business by aiming for quality rather than quantity - at least that is what I am told - knowing that in terms of low-cost production they cannot match Asia. In future I shall be watching for other ways Portugal is managing to niche the mass market. Add to this cork, sardines, fado, soap.


8.6.17
Here I am, awake and typing at 6.30am, excited not by today’s General Election in Britain. We are in Porto, Portugal and I have just finished listening to two radio pieces that make me proud of my country’s national broadcaster, the BBC.


The first was The Queen’s Speech, by John Finnemore, a play in which the inventor (a woman) of an early sound recording device, cons Queen Victoria (Stephanie Cole) into ‘buying in’ to her voice-recording contraption that uses cylinders and wax. The second was a 1966 version of Romeo and Juliet by Ewan McColl in which ‘Ron’ cops off with ‘that little dark piece’ Julie and they board a ‘jazz boat’ to begin their fateful life of love together. McColl sings narrative interludes into the play about the star-crossed lovers from the ‘Montagu’ and the ‘Capli’ families.


Both plays had class as a running theme. The inventor from the Finnemore play was an Eliza Doolittle type who was not afraid to speak to the Queen bluntly and argue with her in her own voice. In the McColl play, the class motif runs deeper. Not only is one family posh and the other common, but in the sung interludes, McColl adapted flavours of jazz, gospel and country to spice the narrative.


The plays ran in succession on BBC Radio4 Extra, the digital station of ‘comedy, drama and entertainment’.


5.6.27
Area around Casa do Alentejo is mobbed by heavy metal zombies. J said it was like walking through Kerrang, and she should know.


5.6.17
London Mayor Sadiq Khan has asked citizens not to be alarmed about the increased police presence on the streets.


4.6.17
Out walking in the streets off Avenida Liberdade, Lisbon, J spotted a nice place for a glass of wine. We sat outside. J started reading the DK Top Ten Lisbon guide book, and where we were sitting, the small street-front bar of Casa do Alentejo, was a guide-book recommendation. We went inside up pink marble steps to explore an ultra-decorative Moorish palace type space and had a lovely tapas meal in the buzzing Taverna. J said, “this is us”. There is a swisher Restaurant too, so we must go back and try that.


4.6.17
The Lisbon taxi colours are light green/turquoise with black. Nice combo.


4.6.17
Spotted a man on the plane using his phone to take a picture of the back of his head. I presumed it was to check encroaching hair loss.


4.6.17
‘Natural’ death, almost by definition, means something slow, smelly and painful.
George Orwell
J’s Mum once told the story of a local woman who died during a bus journey, adding, “At least she wasn't alone.”


4.6.27
Heathrow airport
Reading news of the “terrorist” attack on London Bridge and Borough Market last night. Six civilians killed, reported on BBC. Three perps shot dead. Arrive at Heathrow around 8.15am. Armed police at drop-off point. Facebook is loaded with people offering to donate blood. If there actions result in more and more armed police deployed in the streets, the very foundations of 'policing by consent’ have been destroyed. So the big question is, Who Care's? And among those who do, Who Care's enough?


I don’t think I will ever slip naturally into speaking Portuguese. The temptation to adopt the Sean Connery James Bond sound is never far away, and just mouthing the words “dosh shervayshas” (two beers) brings on a fit of the giggles.


4.6.17
Heathrow is for the few, not the many. No Accessorise here. Many of the staff are Southall people of Asian origin.


4.6.17
Travelling to Heathrow, we passed the Shepherds Bush Empire and Jane recalled that Neville Brothers concert some time in the noughties when concert-goers turned up with their shopping bags.


3.6.17
Have just read an LSE blog posting to the gender gap in voting intentions. Plan by the current government on social care provision made older and middle aged women fearful. Older women because they don’t know what care they will get, and middle aged women because they are most likely to be burdened with caring for the elderly members of their families. These two groups were considered safe votes for the Conservative Party, while younger women preferred Labour. Now a rump of core Conservatives are having second thoughts.


3.6.17
Some weeks ago I shared a long article on Facebook about Jeremy Corbyn. It more or less fingered him as the head of a crypto-Stalinist axis of evil. One person replied to the posting, the son of a friend I secretly refer to as Herr Miles (the son, not the friend, and he is not German, he just seems to spend most of his working life on an aeroplane). Miles replied to the posting saying (I paraphrase) that when the Blair/Brown project got elected as New Labour, lots of leftwing ultras “bit their lip”, so now the boot is on the other foot, the Blairite wing of the party should do likewise.


In the past weeks, I have come to agree. But what swayed it for me was the notion being aired that a Corbyn Labour government would be shambolic and inept. Prime Minister May is using the term “coalition of chaos” repeatedly.


But imagine this: Corbyn’s Labour does win. The question is, can they govern? There is the question of their numeracy skills. It is not an unfair one. Experience of running countries is not at the top of their CV. This is where Corbyn’s centrist doubters can make a difference. Ed Miliband, John Prescott, Gordon Brown, Alan Johnson, Yvette Cooper, Ed Balls, plus many more: they all have vast experience of running this country, so now is their chance to make a difference, get behind their leader and devise a new programme that works for the many, not the few.