DIARY OF A SEPTUAGENARIAN
- John Copeland -
Friday 27th April - Thursday 10th May, 2012
Robert Herrick (1591-1674), who advised virgins "to make much of time."
"Gather ye rose-buds while ye may,
Old Time is still a flying:
And this same flower that smiles today,
Tomorrow will be dying."
FRIDAY 4 MAY
As the inflammation and redness in my eyes, although somewhat better today, had not fully cleared up after taking the medication, I kept the appointment that I had made with the doctor yesterday, going to the surgery at 10.10 a.m, just managing to get there on the scooter by weaving in and out of dense traffic At the surgery I saw a young female Indian doctor , a most pleasant lady whom I had not met before, who told me that the conjunctivitis that I had was now showing signs of clearing up, a repeat prescription for Chloramphenical being provided.
It was therefore a relief to know that the eyes were on the mend. I can just about bear the painful arthritis that seems to be getting worse in my knees, making it increasingly difficult for me to walk very far (not that I want to walk very far, regarding walking as being tantamount to an Asbo), but I would dread something going seriously wrong with my eyes.
It would be utterly awful, no longer being able to read books by the fireside of an evening, or even seeing the masses of documents that I receive most months from the Senior Democratic Officer of our little District Council relating to the Inquisition - not that I now read them, merely putting the latest missives away in the ever growing file, having become tired of the seemingly endless pantomime in which the authority is determined to find me guilty of criticising its councillors.
Fortunately, there was some really splendid news today. One of my friends sent me an e-mail referring to a news item in today's "Daily Telegraph" in which a High Court judge had ruled that "It's a human right to lampoon politicians online". I duly bought a copy of the newspaper, seeing that the judge had concluded "that politicians should have 'thicker skins than others' while ruling on a case in which a councillor was accused of making inappropriate remarks about his colleagues, upholding his appeal against the punishment of his authority's Standards Committee.
Although the words used about fellow councillors were "sarcastic and mocking", it was ruled that the defendant was entitled to complain about the way council meetings were run, the judge saying that "it was important to remember the traditions of robust debate, which may include some degree of lampooning of those who place themselves in public office". Article 10 of the European Convention of Human Rights ("the Convention") provides:
"(1) Everyone has the right to freedom of expression. This right shall include freedom to hold opinions and to receive and impart information and ideas without interference by public authority and regardless of frontiers…."
The full transcript of the judgement can be seen at www.bailii.org/ew/cases/EWHC/Admin/2012/1172.html
Effectively, this judgement rules out the provisions of the Local Government Act of 2000, which sought in a Code of Practice under paragraphs 3(1) - 3 (2)c to protect elected members from any criticism, stipulating that they must always be respected, must never be bullied or intimidated - in other words, they had immunity from any form of criticism.
This is the section that has led to my Inquisition, the claim being made that I did not respect our district councillors during an episode when they made a hash of a 'bus stop, apparently not recognising in the confusion of local government functions that it was a county council matter, not a district council one. Presumably the Inquisition will now have to take an account of this ruling, assuming that a decision has not already been made by the Hearing Panel to find me guilty.
I greatly admire the fellow who took his case to the High Court and won, overturning the ruling of the Standards Committee of his authority. That takes real courage, and probably money, and all credit to him for venturing along that difficult path. We need brave people like that to point out the tyranny of the Local Government Act of 2000 Alas, I had become far too timid as a result of the threats I was receiving about the entries in my diary to make any real protests, not wanting at my great age to end up in prison.
Perhaps I ought to have taken the wise advice of a correspondent who said in an e-mail: "You recently wrote that you would soon stop writing your online diary because of the fear of prosecution. At your age you can afford to stick up two fingers at authority - I do though I am "only" 75. Carry on annoying people - it is one of the few pleasures of old age."
That, though, is easier said than done, especially when I was reminded amidst the tyranny that any disclosure of the Inquisition documents during the seemingly endless proceedings could result in a six month prison sentence, everything being marked "Strictly Private and Confidential", presumably by way of giving the impression of importance.
I had thought of taking up the offer of a press agency to present my case in the national press and various journals, but now that the Inquisition has become meaningless, there seems to be little point in doing this. Indeed, Mrs. Copeland has advised me to forget about the whole silly business, and I am sure she is right. I will therefore have to ponder on this, still feeling resentful about the grossly unfair proceedings in which a district council can set up its own court and serve as jury to defend its criticised elected members.
In today's "i" there was a report that the banks were not fully responsible for the financial crisis, blame also needing to be directed at heavily indebted consumers who, in their reckless greed, spent on their credit cards as if there were to be no tomorrow. No doubt the banks and building societies can be extensively blamed for granting mortgages at five and even six times annual salary, placing the mortgagee in hopeless debt, the borrowers believing that house prices would go on rising for ever, enabling them to borrow more and more on their rising equity., but customers went along with this nonsense.
As it is, a report in "The Daily Telegraph" has shown that house prices fell 0.2% in April following a 1% fall in March. The National Institute of Economic and Social Research has warned that house prices will fall by an average of 1.55 every year for the next five years.
To make matters even worse, many economists went along with this credit bonanza, some of them even believing that this represented economic growth, when it was nothing of the sort. Now it is payback time, and oh the tears and oh the recriminations, and oh the excuses to justify appalling soothsaying that makes astrology seem respectable.
I saw that Weetabix, my breakfast cereal, has now been taken over by the Chinese, presumably now called Leetabix. It seems that the entire country is up for sale, everything having to go, no offer refused, providing that the executives can make a killing on the sale.
Mrs. Copeland is having some window blinds put in the house, making for some more home beautification. It would not surprise me if we are featured in a forthcoming issue of "Home & Gardens", illustrating the comforts in a stone hose dating from 1801, surrounded by trees, even if the cows are no longer in the meadows, most of them having departed as dairy farming is no longer profitable, largely as the ruthlessness of the supermarkets forcing prices down.
Such a feature is rather like the dreadful business of a village winning "The Best Kept Village" , a terrible indignity. When I was chairman of the Parish Council we left some litter along the highways to ensure that we did not win the dreadful award,. having motorists from town staring at our beautiful environment.
Later in the morning, after having ridden in to town to purchase an I" and the aforesaid "Daily Telegraph", I called in at the home of some friends, having wine with them, hearing about a holiday they had had to the Niagara Falls, and then home by ship - surely the most pleasant and civilised form of travel yet devised. They greatly enjoyed the aestivation, and are about to make arrangements to go on another cruise in the near future.
Part of the lawn under water last week as a result of the heavy and extensive rain during the current drought.
I begin to think that I ought to have a CORRECTIONS item at the end of this diary, correcting the mistakes that are made in my old age. Today a reader wrote to me saying: "This week you wrote 'I forgot to tell him that I was machine-gunned by a Messserchmidt 209 during the war, one of my many remembrances of the Second World War.' It would have been a Messerschmitt 109." I stand corrected - a 109 it was.
The same correspondent also mentions my comments on the Catholic Church abiding by Biblical teaching, saying: "I was interested to read of your admiration for the Catholic Church. Could this be the same church whose Pope sent a telegram of congratulation to Hitler when he survived an assassination attempt during the Second World War? Is this the same church whose current Pope was a member of the Hitler Youth? I think we should be told!" Point taken.
It made me laugh when I heard on the morning's news that counting in the London Mayoral election had been delayed by a power cut. How you have to laugh, and what fun Gilbert & Sullivan would make of this falling apart country were they alive today, We may be a broken down and nearly bankrupt land, paying a £1 billion a week in interest on the National Debt, but there is always something to keep us amused.
At 4 o'clock I joined a neighbour in having wine together with one of the residents in our little community, and at 8 p.m. I joined Mrs. Copeland in having yet more wine with another neighbours, whose wife is going off with another female neighbour to Malta tomorrow, setting off at 3.15 a.m. How can anybody endure such misery amazes me, making me so thankful that I will never have to go abroad ever again. I would never want to go on a flight that left before the civilised hour of 11 a.m.
Before going to bed about midnight, I saw on the BBC news website that Boris Johnson had won in the London Mayoral election, the figures being Johnson CON 913,154 Livingstone LAB 822,835. It is a comfortable enough majority, meaning the end of Mr. Livingstone's political career. It is an almighty blow to Labour, and there are some Cameroons who are saying it is also a mighty blow for the Government, knowing that our Boris has his eyes on becoming Prime Minister.
I think he would make a good P.M. for he is highly intelligent, an excellent Latin scholar, and bearing in mind that there is nothing any government can do to put this country to rights, the nation being largely ungovernable, he would at least keep us entertained with his merry pranks. Labour has done well in these local elections, though whether this is any guide to voting at a general election remains uncertain. Maybe the electors are disappointed with all the politicians, the turnout at these local elections having been very small indeed, hardly amounting to 30%.
SATURDAY 5 MAY
It seems that my eyes are becoming slowly better, which is a great relief, especially as they have been so painful, preventing me from reading for any length of time, as well as making it difficult for me to type the entries in this diary.
In today's "i" I saw that in the local elections Labour had gained 823 seats; the Cameroons losing 405; while the hopeless Lib-Dims, now virtually off the political radar, lost an incredible 336, representing a party dead in the water, not that it has ever shown much sign of life. . The Labour wins are obviously a vote against the Government's unpopular austerity measures, yet I cannot see Labour returning at the 2015 general election, the voters being too worried about the profligacy of Labour spending, having got us in this financial mess during their last administration.
Now that the Inquisition is coming to an end, having had the kibosh put on it by the latest High Court judgement, I sent a letter by recorded delivery to the deputy Monitoring Officer of the District Council,. asking for the estimated total cost of the proceedings, including officer time; postage and photocopying; committee expenses, and the remuneration of the Investigating Officer.
As I have been subjected to these proceedings over nearly seven months, and am a council taxpayer within the district, I take the view that I am perfectly entitled to ask for details of such wasteful expenditure. It would not surprise me, though, if the authority in its reluctance to present the extensive cost will make some excuse that the figures are not yet available or cannot be revealed, in which case I will have to appeal to the Commissioners, as I had to do in another matter involving the District Council several years ago.
One of the good things about retirement is that I have all the time in the world to pursue something, never giving up, however many obstructions are put in my path. As an estimate, based on comments made by friends and readers of this diary, I reckon the cost will be in the region of £2,000, possibly a lot more, but we will see - eventually.
Mrs. Copeland is arranging a luncheon at a pub called "Farmers" at Welton Cliff, some nine or so miles north of Lincoln, for the Village Ladles' Luncheon Group, it being her turn to arrange the visit this month. We went to have a look at the pub this morning, having a pint of beer, and we were both impressed, so a booking was made. Afterwards we went to a garden centre at the village of Scothern, purchasing some compost.
In former years we have planted several rows of runner beans - not exactly the number mentioned by Mr. Yeates, but nevertheless providing us with a good crop each year. However, we have decided not to have the bean rows this year on account of the appalling weather, it being so miserably cold and with the prospect of a rotten summer ahead.
Nevertheless, we have continued the established practice of having runner beans around the front door, which seems far less suburban than roses. Last year several plants went right up to the gutters of the house, any minute suggesting a visit from Jack.
As my arthritis was so painful, hurting me more and more these days, I had a siesta after lunch. Somebody has suggested that I should try using Stopain, which can be bought online (it comes from America) at about £15 per bottle and which apparently gives great relief for several hours. I will certainly give this a try - anything to relieve the agonising pain. What always surprises me is that the pain seems to be worse in bed at night, but I gather that this is quite common.
Another hotel going up on a carpark in Lincoln. During the past year, three new hotels have been bult in the City.
After a horribly cold day with a bitter north-easterly wind and a relentless cloudy and dreary grey sky, I spent the evening by the fireside, warm at last, reading some more of the misnamed "The Origins of Sex." The author in this splendid book presents the premise that from 1750 onwards there was the beginning of a more enlightened attitude towards sex, largely as a result of the diminishing power of the repressive Churches as the population grew and business developed.
The author mentions the issues that were to dominate the thinking of philosophers such as Locke and J.S.Mill who asked: "What exactly was the relationship between private morals and the public good? How far should a government intervene in the lives of its citizens? How free was anyone to hold or reject particular beliefs? To champion them? To act upon them?"
Although the 18th century was to see a more enlightened view of sex, believing it should be a private matter, not to be regulated by an interfering Government, the Victorians with their prudery and hypocrisy pushed the clock back again in terms of sex, even if in terms of business interests the economists believed that that government governs best that governs least, sex being an essentially private matter, especially for the well-to-do.
Then, following our swinging 60s, the pendulum swung the other way, again seeing the joy rather than the misery of sex, but now the pendulum, ever moving, is swinging back to repression as every aspect of our lives is dominated by political meddling and extensive monitoring.
The author makes the point at the beginning of Chapter 3: "Ever since the dawn of civilisation it had always been presented that women were the more lustful sex, all due to the weakness of Eve in the beginning," the point being made that "Because women's easy arousal was taken for granted, it was also genuinely believed until the 18th century that female orgasm was essential to pregnancy....That is why Samuel Pepys, after climaxing during sex with one of his illicit lovers, was immediately terrified that he might have made her come too - until the tone of her voice reassured him that she had not".
Also quoted is John Wilkes's "Essay on Woman" , which came up with the rather disturbing assessment: "Life can little more supply/than just a few good f***s, and then we die." Alas, I suppose a lot of men don't even have some good ones during their lifetime. The book, difficult though it is in some parts, certainly makes a pleasant change from reading about Hitler and the Second World War - my default reading.
SUNDAY 6 MAY
Up at 7.15 a.m. to ride in to Lincoln to purchase "The Sunday Times" and a "Sunday Telegraph" for friends in the village, there no longer being a paper delivery in the village during the week or on Sundays. Nobody, it seems, wants to work these days, certainly not for a pittance.
It made me laugh to read the column in "The Times" by Inda Knight who spends all the paragraphs grumbling about people who grumble, the delightful irony apprarently never occurring to the lady. We horrible old-timers are said to be the biggest offenders, representing the biggest grumblers who are "unable to say or think anything nice at all". Accordingly, in our nastiness we are said to have had a miserable lifestyle, "the cumulative effect of decades of joyless, mirthless and sour-faced cynicism."
Oh how I laughed at reading this twaddle. Are today's younger generation any happier with their divorces and separations; spending their days at work in front of a computer, seldom having any real contact with anybody; their children largely illiterate; and the family pitifully in debt, having lived on the Never-Never in the dinner-party belief that their houses would put on thousands of pounds every month? "Jeremy was saying that our house put on £2,500 last month, would you believe it!".
I can obviously accept that we are a generation of geriatric grumblers, as this diary shows in overflowing measure, few of us saying anything good about modern manners and mores. Yet I think back to the year 1934 when I was born, a time when we had an empire on which the sun never set; when we sent our finely manufactured goods (not like the Chinese rubbish today) all around the world; and when we were a real power in the world, sending out a gunboat when there was any trouble in the colonies - though admittedly we are now sending a gunboat to the Falklands by way of stopping the Argentineans grabbing the recently discovered oil - or what is thought to be oil.
Those were the days when there was a good grammar school education; when, as an independent student, I went to university on a full grant for a proper degree, never owing a penny on leaving; when we had relatively secure jobs and a good index-linked pension at the end; when our children were taught to read and write; and when we lived within our means, not having a new kitchen when the fashions changed every few years. In those days we were mercifully free from mobile telephones and iPads.
Can anybody say this country is a better place today, ill-mannered, crime-ridden, broken down and nearly bankrupt, the poor relation of Europe, and having hardly any water? Obviously technology rather than any political initiatives has brought immense benefits, along with a rise in the standard of living, as well as improvements in medicine, but when I see the modern generation I am inclined to agree with John Wilkes's assessment of life, everybody being so miserable, customer service being almost unknown.
At least we have a Government that makes us laugh, doing more u-turns than a London taxi. The latest change of mind is that Cameron is having second thoughts about allowing gay marriages. Although this change of mind is to be applauded, it hardly represents consistent government, obviously explaining why the editorial in the right-wing "Sunday Times" says in the editorial lament that the Cameroons are "incoherent, incompetent and have run out of ideas". Oh dear: you can't get much worse than that.
On the news-stand when gathering up the Sunday papers, I saw that the "Sun" had a headline saying: "Olympic Bomb Shock." According to the report, a fake bomb was smuggled into the stadium during "Operation Olympic Guardian", in which the security forces were testing out their measures to prevent any interruption of the Games.
Half of the Royal Navvy is to be on the Thames, including an aircraft carrier that just managed to squeeze by the Tower of London. Then, as mentioned earlier, several Londoners living near the Games are to have guided missiles put on their roof. I cannot say that I would be very keen on that, having the British Army scaling up the roof and tying a missile to my hi-fi aerial, probably knocking the cockerel weathervane for six. No doubt there would be some compensation if all the tiles fell off, but I cannot say I would welcome the incursion.
According to today's "Sunday Times", a fellow who had these ,guided missiles - pronounced missles by the Americans" - on the roof of his rented house got into trouble for giving details on Twitter of the installation Apparently the photograph he presented of the missiles also showed his cat, which somehow alerted his landlord who has now threatened to boot him out as he is not allowed to keep animals on the premises. How careful you have to be these days!
As I have mentioned before, I have absolutely no interest in the Games, especially as we are only likely to get a Gold in Tiddlywinks, but it will be interesting to see our Armed Forces at work, verily another D-Day by all accounts.
The local church bell was ringing at 9.30 a.m., summoning the dozen or so faithful to mattins. I dearly wish that I had a strong faith and could take comfort and succour in the services, but alas, try as I may, I cannot help thinking of my father's comment that religion was largely a matter of "mumbo-jumbo", not to be taken seriously. Perhaps not surprisingly, I have not followed old people in becoming religious as a belated form of eternal insurance, so maybe there is no hope for me. A pity.
I had thought of resuming the painting of our bedroom, but then it is wrong to be working on the Sabbath Day, so this exercise was put off for tomorrow or the day afterwards, manana ruling. Because of my hatred of this painting, loathing it more than a meeting of our Parish Council, I begin to think that we will have to ask the professional painter who recently painted the rest of the house internally to return, for I am never likely to get the work completed. Our bedroom was not painted with the rest of the house as we were making extensive structural alterations, and I unwisely said that I would do the painting on completion of these alterations.
Fireside days in this miserably cold and rain-soaked Spring we are now enduring.
Mrs. Copeland and I went for the traditional Sabbath Day drink at our local Club at 3.30 p.m. I was rather disappointed to hear a female member saying that we should get rid of the Club's piano, arguing that it was no longer played and was judged to be out of tune. I therefore went to the piano and played "What a friend we have in Jesus"; "Oh, I do like to be beside the seaside"; and "Danny Boy" to show that there was nothing wrong with the piano.
Mercifully. nobody left during the rendition, though it has to be said that there were only nine members present at today's session, which is very disappointing bearing in mind all the work that committee members have made to improve the interior.. In recent months the Sunday attendance has continuously gone down, though Thursday evenings have shown an improvement. The sadness is that few of the newcomers to the village take any part in the community spirit. Why they come to live in a village is something that I can never understand. Some of the newcomers are too snobby to mix with us riffraff at the Club.
I heard today that two of the members I was speaking to have recently bought themselves a new laptop. Bearing in mind that the one I am now using is five years old, there is every evidence to suggest that I am falling behind, not even having an iPad. However, I suppose in my advanced old age that this does not matter now that I only have a few years left before meeting my maker. It is hardly worth forking out £500 at my time of life.
We invited the husband of our neighbour, who has been left on his own as his wife is going off on holiday in Malta, to supper when we returned from the Club. A most pleasant occasion, putting the world to rights.
MONDAY 7 MAY
I was not surprised to hear on this morning's news that Hollande had become the new French President, gaining just under 52% of the votes. It is now the end of the line for Sarkozy. In some ways I cannot help feeling sorry for fallen political leaders. One moment they are romping around the world's stage, the spotlights on them, enjoying the power and the supposed glory; the next minute they are out on their ears, becoming a nobody, of no consequence any more. They have their entrances and their exits, indeed. My guess is that Carla will be extremely displeased, no longer being the subject of the media's attention.
In many ways, especially for men who have held senior posts, retirement is a similar abandonment of status, even having to make their own telephone calls when at home all day, a sad and often very swift downgrading, nobody looking up to them any more, always supposing they ever did.
The wild flowers, mainly dandelions, that are growing in profusion along the roadsides in our village. Soon they will all be cut down in an unnecessary cuttung by the Highways Departmenrt - something that could be abloished in the economies that need to be made.
Another bank holiday today, and more are to come in June, not that they make any difference to me, except there is no mail, nothing further from the District Council in connection with the Inquisition, which I suppose can be regarded as a blessing, especially as I have one A4 file quite full, needing another one if any more papers arrive.
Apart from a brief visit to Lincoln on the scooter to purchase an "i", it was a day spent at home. Bank holidays are not a time to be out and about for geriatrics, especially as the days are nearly always wet and cold, as was today. Mrs. Copeland had hoped to work in the garden, but soon after staring work it rained yet again in this monsoon, so she had to come indoors, complaining that everything was so overgrown in this endless rain.
I was saddened to read in the newspaper that the National Association of Head Teachers' Union has voted at its conference in Harrogate to boycott new primary school tests for 11-year-olds relating to spelling, grammar and punctuation. If teachers are to disobey authority in this shameful manner, what kind of a lesson is it to the children they supposedly teach? As Chaucer said: "If gold rusts, what will iron do?"
Although I have a large measure of sympathy for teachers having to deal with disruptive pupils and unsupportive parents, not to mention the Government devising new schemes every third Tuesday, bringing in another one before the earlier one has settled down, my guess is that the real reason for the boycott is that many of today's teachers at the primary school level are not sufficiently acquainted with English grammar to teach clause analysis and précis writing.
Increasingly it seems that this country is becoming ungovernable in its relentless decline. Nevertheless, I hope that this Government, which changes its mind with the wind, will at least have the courage to sack head teachers who boycott the tests. It will cause immense short-term disruption, but most people who can do joined-up writing will support Mr. Gove in his determination to do something about the appalling standards in our schools.
There was also a report in the newspaper that "Chaos forecast as queues spread to Stansted" - "Travellers flying in today after a long weekend away face the prospect of more long delays at passport control, as the border skirmishes over passport queues intensify". At a time when the country really does seem to be falling apart, this Broken Britain, it really makes me thankful that I nowadays stay in the civilisation of home, an oasis in a land in terminal decline.
Granddaughter Chloe wanted to borrow our gazebo for a party she will be attending later this week, so I checked it over to see whether it was still usable, having been badly damaged in the heavy rains and gales of last year - that other summer that was a write-off.. I also did some housework during the morning. The temperature reached 11 C, and there was hazy sunshine for a few minutes, so maybe the weather is hotting up.
My brother-in-law telephoned during the morning to speak to Mrs. Copeland. Before transferring him, we chatted for a few minutes about the French Presidential election, and he commented that the markets would be very upset when they open tomorrow, knowing that Hollande's refusal to accept the austerity will make relations very difficult with Germany's Mrs. Merkel. He was also saying that our own politicians were in complete disarray, and the economy was continuing to go downhill. Interesting times, he suggested, and I readily agreed.
After planting out some sunflower seeds in trays, I had a long siesta during the afternoon. All this terrible weather, never seeing any warm sunshine in this ghastly climate of ours, is beginning to give me stress, and it seems the final indignity that, amidst all the torrential quotidian downpours, we have a hosepipe ban, our own hosepipe being under water. Perhaps I begin to understand why so many people in this country go abroad to experience some sunshine, wanting to get away, if only for a fortnight, from the cold and endless rain.
The evening was spent reading some more of "The Origins of Sex", reading about the changing attitudes over the centuries to the allure and seduction of the fair sex. It made me think of the young girls we saw last summer when we came out late in the evening from the cinema, seeing them trotting along the street, their skirts barely covering their bottom, and their breasts half exposed. Far from looking attractive, they seemed to me to embrace Dr. Johnson's comment on "wretched unidea'd girls", many with not a brain in their head.
During the day I sent an e-mail to the councillor whose appeal was upheld in the High Court regarding the nonsense of respecting local councillors, congratulating him on the success. He duly acknowledged the e-mail, saying that he would be interested to have details of my case, which I will send on, together with a photograph of the A4 file that is now full of all the letters, reports and documents that I have received from the Senior Democratic Officer.
It seems incredible that Members of Parliament can freely abuse one another, but the moment a district councillor is criticised a letter arrives from the Senior Democratic Officer, alleging a breach of the Code of Practice, while a Monitoring Officer and an Investigating Officer and several members of committees and hearing panels wait in the wings to make a punishment. Mercifully, all this nonsense has now been stopped.
TUESDAY 8 MAY
I liked the quotation from C.S.Lewis, which might well apply to the loathsome Standards Committees up and down the country:
"Of all tyrannies, a tyranny sincerely exercised for the good of its victims may be the most oppressive. It would be better to live under robber barons than under omnipotent moral busybodies. The robber baron's cruelty may sometimes sleep, his cupidity may at some point be satiated; but those who torment us for our own good will torment us without end for they do so with the approval of their own conscience.
"They may be more likely to go to Heaven yet at the same time likelier to make a Hell of earth. This very kindness stings with intolerable insult. To be 'cured' against one's will and cured of states which we may not regard as disease is to be put on a level of those who have not yet reached the age of reason or those who never will; to be classed with infants, imbeciles, and domestic animals."
There was also an item in the current edition of "Private Eye" saying: "The Standards Board has been gone only a few weeks and councillors are already gleefully insulting each other, knowing that its sanctions for 'failing to treat others with respect' no longer applies." Apparently Essex county councillors have been having a real go at one another, one woman issuing a statement after she had been criticised for making a balls-up of a road junction scheme, saying of a colleague: "I have never discussed why I am retiring with Mr. Partridge..shame the poor old fool didn't keep his ignorance to himself instead of sharing it with the rest of us".
A reader who has helped me enormously with the Inquisition sent me an e-mail today saying: "Do not give up at any stage." I certainly won't, especially now the tide has changed so dramatically in my favour. Even if the District Council at its Hearing Panel has managed to find me guilty of failing to respect its councillors, I can always appeal in terms of the latest judgement. What I regret, though, is that this silly nonsense has probably cost the council taxpayers some £2,000, and at a time when we should be cutting back on the profligacy of local authorities.
Last year, with the changeover to digital on the idiot's lantern, I bought a 14" television set to have on my desk to look at the news, particularly the business section with details of the FTSE index. But Ceefax has now become so awful with the television picture occupying the left-hand side of the page, that it is a complete muddle, and I therefore no longer look at it, much preferring to look at the BBC website.
Today, in connection with the television purchase, I received an extended guarantee form now that the set is out of its first year guarantee, seeing that the cost was £90.88 a year. There have been Government warnings about these extended guarantees not being worth the money, so I threw away the form. As I no longer use the set I plan to give it away.
New houses being built in the centre of Lincoln. I find them quite attractive.
At 11.15 a.m I met an old friend for coffee at a hotel in Lincoln - well, I had wine, not much caring for coffee. This is my only surviving friend of many years; indeed, we have known one another for over 30 years, all the other long-timers having departed this life, much to my immense sadness. Inevitably we had an organ recital, talking about our respective maladies, but at least we are still here. I was also telling the friend about the Inquisition, which brought forth much laughter, as with all people to whom I mention the pantomime.
We also discussed what it meant at our old age to "make the most of life", taking the view that there was a need for good health; a reasonable income - say at least £30,000 a year in today's terms; being happily married and having lots of friends, above all lots of laughter, which I have in teasing district councillors, now being able to mock them with impunity and without restraint.
It was the green bin collection day today - the wheeled bins for garden refuse. It is an excellent service, the collectors being delightful characters, helpful and cheerful, which are characteristics almost unknown in this ailing island. There is no doubt that our District council provides an excellent household waste management service.
Regrettably, it is in the realm of planning that there is such a disappointment at the district council level, some of the members of a Planning Committee not knowing which way up a plan is to be looked at, but then the councils would argue that they have to follow Government planning rules that now say development can take place anywhere, even in the areas designated as green belts.
Last month we had a professional painter to decorate our house internally throughout, except for our bedroom which, as mentioned earlier, was to undergo structural alterations. Much to my annoyance, the painter has painted the widows so that we can no longer open them as they are covered in paint. Little by little I have been freeing them, today unsticking the bathroom window, which took me nearly an hour.
What I cannot understand is how these painters don't realise that painting windows at their seams will mean they get stuck. All they need is a strip of wire to put around the opening, removing this when the paint has dried. It is such a simple matter, yet is seldom done. When the painter next comes, I will have to give him a quick demonstration.
Afterwards, I cleared up the garden shed that had become a real tip, so one way and another it was quite a productive day. Mrs. Copeland visited the elderly today, two widows who have been left on their own, one in a retirement home, and the other in a poor way living on her own after her husband died recently with unsuspected and undiagnosed prostate cancer.
The evening was spent reading some more of "The Origins of Sex". I am enjoying the book, though it is rather repetitive, the author saying time after time that pre 1750 there was a terrible attitude towards sexual offenders, the Church burning or whipping offenders while tied to the back of a cart, whereas post 1750, with the rise of population and commerce, a more enlightened attitude developed. The text could have done with some sorting out.
It seems that we have never really had a healthy attitude towards sex in this country, unlike France or America, for we have the greatest censorship on sexual matters in Europe. Perhaps significantly, the author in the closing chapter comments: "It is now legal in the UK for a man to brand his wife on the buttocks with a red hot iron during sex, but not for men, privately and willingly, to engage in equivalent kinds of sadomasochist ritual - a judgement upheld both by the House of Lords and the European Court of Human Rights."
I have now started reading "Target Tirpitz" by Patrick Bishop, published this year at £20 by Harper Press. Back to the default reading about the Second World War.
My relative was right in predicting sharp falls in the FTSE as a result of the French Presidential election that brought in a Socialist determined to resist austerity, the index falling -100 after an earlier fall of -111. In Today's "i" I saw that the Centre for Economics and Business Research had forecast that "unemployment in most parts of the UK is likely to continue to rise over the next five years", possibly hitting 10.7%.
This is a worrying statistic, meaning misery for millions of people as our economy continues relentlessly to go downhill, there being nothing, certainly no Government measures, to prevent the decline. It makes me so thankful that I am no longer in the workplace.
I felt somewhat depressed later in the day, one of those "dog-day" sessions that seem to come for no reason at all. I suppose I was thinking of all the friends I have lost in recent years, as well as my elder sister. I suppose it is the reminiscences of times past that cause the problem: times that have gone and will never return, and always the reminder at my age that there are not many years left.
WEDNESDAY 9 MAY
It was the Queen's Speech today, outlying the measures the Government proposes to bring in during the Parliamentary session. How wonderful it would be if there was an announcement that there is nothing this time, the Government having decided not to bugger anything up. If only the politicians could leave us alone, instead of interfering in matters they do not understand, how better our lives would be.
This morning I belatedly got round to renewing the painting of our bedroom, loathing every minute of the work, but I cannot keep putting it off. Mrs. Copeland was worried that the paint would go all over the bed and the carpet, but I dispelled her fears, hardly a drop going onto any wrong surface. The only problem remaining is the painting of the ceiling, which is difficult to do at my age, being very backbreaking for the uninitiated. I have therefore put off this painting until tomorrow and tomorrow.
I thought that I might have received a letter from the Senior Democratic Officer of our little District Council in the post this morning, for I believe there was a Hearing Panel last week to review my heresy. I was invited to attend, bringing a barrister with me if I so chose, but I ignored the letter. The problem is that the local authority is determined to find me guilty, which is why the proceedings are now in their seventh month, but they have nothing to go on, especially in view of the judgement last week. Presumably additional charges will have to be made.
Rape field in the village
During the afternoon I looked up the website of our local District Council to see what previous Inquisitions had amounted to, there being a section where the minutes of each case were reported in extensive detail, presumably by way of making the proceedings important. Nearly all of them involved instances in which a councillor had not treated an elected member with respect.
In one Inquisition a councillor was really, really rude to a colleague, showing absolutely no respect, and was sentenced to a suspension from council duties for several months, which must have come as a merciful relief, especially if he was on the "Prosperous Committee", there not being much prosperity around these days, certainly not in this area
As a result of the High Court decision last week, all this respect nonsense has been swept away, effectively eliminating the work of the Standards Committees. Indeed, now that the Standards Boards have been swept away, we can hope that these local pantomimes will also come to an end.
Presumably it will mean having to make staff changes. One of the officers in our District Council also does planning and rejuvenation, so he will be all right, but I expect that the Democratic Officers will have to be moved to another department, possibly to Household Waste Management, which is an excellently run department, and should provide some career development.
Neighbours had asked Mrs. Copeland and the neighbour left on his own as a result of his wife going off abroad to supper, which proved to be a very pleasant occasion, making up for the misery of the earlier painting. At least we have saved about £300, which is the charge a professional painter would have made for the large bedroom, so that is a good thing. Nevertheless, it is positively the last painting that I am ever going to do.
One of our neighbours was saying that he had a dream last night in which soldiers armed with machine guns came t his house and started firing, forcing him to take cover under the bed. There is no doubt that all these security arrangements for those Games are beginning to frighten old people.
Yet more heavy rain in the evening, already taking the level up to 20 mm so far this month.. It is my reckoning that, as the rain steadily falls, the public is not all that impressed with the excuses for a lack of water that are being made by the Environmental Agency and the water companies, arguing that the ground is so hard that the rainwater merely runs off and is wasted. Instead, there is a view that the water companies have not invested enough in water collection.
THURSDAY 10 MAY
To town in the morning to buy some gloss paint from B & Q, and some printer cartridges from Staples. I use an HP Deskjet D1360, finding that the two cartridges - a black and a colour, only last about 7 weeks, costing £32..99 Fortunately I get a £1 back for empty cartridge I take in.
During the visit to town I called in at the Cathedral to light a candle for a lady friend who died several years ago. We had known one another since teenage days, moving apart when she was married and went to live in rural Suffolk, subsequently often communicating to one another by mail. I find it so sad, as I tiresomely keep mentioning, that so many of my old friends have died. This is among the regrets of age and outliving people.
We had to replace a lavatory seat this week, Mrs. Copeland going to B & Q to purchase one. I forgot to tell her to make sure the seat was not made in China, but luckily she was aware of this, buying one that was made in America. I find it utterly incredible that everything we buy is now made abroad, even the lavatory paper from Waitrose being made in Switzerland.
On the other hand, German manufacturing industries are soaring ahead, a report in yesterday's "i" saying that "leaped ahead 2.8% last March." How can we ever hope to come out of recession when we have hardly any manufacturing industries, and even those we have are nearly all foreign owned - even Weetabix.
Still no further news about the Inquisition, making me wonder what has gone wrong now that it is in its 7th month, longer than a murder trial As I mentioned before, the trouble seems to be to find a suitable punishment for me. So what about making me attend three consecutive meetings of the full District Council, seeing the councillors tapping away on their laptops, some of the machines freebies? I would not be able to stand much of that and would soon declare everlasting pennance, thereafter treating district councillors with the greatest possible respect in their Toytown world.
One of the lakes in the village, formerly gravel pits, now as full of water as I have ever seen in it, yet we have this terrible drought. Could it be that we don't collect enough water?
I had planned to renew the painting of the bedroom on returning home, but somehow I could not face it. You have to be in the right kind of mood to undertake decorating, otherwise the paint goes everywhere. I will resume next week.
In town I saw pickets who were part of the one-day strike by public sector workers, the complaint being that these employees will have to work longer and pay more for a reduced pension. I can understand their complaints, especially when they see the Chancellor benefiting the rich by lowering their tax liability from 50% to 45%, while cutting back on pensions and welfare benefits. It is politically insensitive, but then this is what Conservatives do, so we must not be surprised.
Every fortnight I have a film showing with my to brothers-in-law and a male neighbour, taking it in turns to show the DVDs at our respective houses. This evening we will be at brother-in-law Steve's house in Lincoln, while his wife comes to sepnd the evening with Mrs. Copeland.
Watch out for the Thought Police. Don't speak out or question. Closed minds stop thought crimes
E-mail: johncopeland@clara.net
Lincolnshire, 10th May 2012
Comments welcomed
No. 741
Diary of a Septuagenarian<BR>
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