DIARY OF A SEPTUAGENARIAN
- John Copeland -
Friday 13th November - Thursday 19th November, 2009
Stormy weather
"Britain is broken, almost beyond repair. Knife crime has, shockingly, become part of everyone's lives as teenagers take their arguments onto the streets. Fear and insecurity fan the flames of racism and intolerance, while our prisons are full to bursting as police struggle to maintain law and order."
Review of the film "Harry Brown" in our local newspaper. As an apt description of life here in the ever deepening recession in Lax Britannica, the comments would be difficult to equal.
FRIDAY 13 NOVEMBER
With the popularity of the Cameroons continuing to fall, their lead in the latest opinion poll (for what these polls are worth) being down to 10%, giving the party an overall majority of 2 seats, I was not in the least bit surprised to see that Labour won decisively at the Glasgow North East by-election. Although Scotland is not necessarily representative of England, it seems that Labour is now on the way back, this latest election result representing the turning of the tide.
Although the electorate loathes the worthless Calamity Brown, who gives the appearance of not knowing which day of the week it is, it seems that there is an even greater loathing for the Cameroons, knowing that they will wreck the National Health Service that they despise so much, while turning us into an unimportant little offshore island in their hatred of the European Union. In a year when the country will be experiencing economic and social chaos, possibly seeing extensive racial rioting, a Conservative Party in government, cutting everything to the bone, is the last thing the country needs as it goes ever deeper into recession.
All the bets are therefore now on a hung Parliament, just as I had predicted, in which Calamity Brown will be returned with a dependence on support from those political fairies who make policies on the wing - the Lib-Dims. Such a result will paralyse all government activity, and no better thing could happen, bearing in mind that the politicians bugger up everything they touch. As J.S.Mill so wisely remarked: "That government governs best that governs least."
When I told one of my neighbours this latest election result, he responded by saying: "I couldn't care less! They're all a load of wankers!" Earlier, he had told me that he was never going to vote again, which is a resolution I share, knowing that the social and economic decline of this country has overshot any possible political solution. Only a dictator can save us now, possibly by a military take-over, always assuming we can find a general with a few brain cells, not an easy task.
I liked the comment I received in an e-mail today on the result of the Glasgow election: "That is a big one in the face of the very appalling, gutter 'Sun'." Yes, indeed, and so say all of us. What political party needs enemies when it has the support of the appalling "Sun", the nasty little comic invariably backing the wrong horse.
Although I am basically a Tory supporter, I worry immensely about the prospect of the Burlingdon bully boys coming into office with their extreme right-wing agenda that will cripple the National Health Service and reduce welfare benefits, probably seeing my old age pension reduced in another Geddes axe. All the failed policies of Thatcher, from which we are still trying to recover, will be wheeled out, dragging the country into economic and social chaos, especially if that little wimp Osborne becomes Chancellor. It is a frightening thought..
The "Bricks & Mortar" supplement of today's "Times" had Saville's predictions of property prices next year, suggesting that for the country as a whole there would be a decline of -6.5%, presumably reflecting the double-dip of the recession in 2010. In the north-east, never the most affluent part of the country, the fall would be as much as -7.0%., whereas London would go down -4.1%, presumably on account of the ending of quantitative easing that has been pouring taxpayers' money into the back pockets of the bankers.
The supplement also had an article with the heading "Left behind: the owners who can't sell - despite the recovery." The reason is that, after a slight increase in August and September, the property market has fallen back again, seen in the reduction in mortgage advances for October. In all parts of the country there is a great glut of houses left unsold, becoming larger every month, and it is this surplus of supply over demand that, in itself, will keep prices down. The same is true of the lettings market, in which prices are starting to fall, many buyers-to-let having caught a nasty cold.
There was the news that National Express is to hand back to the Government the East Coast mainline railway between Edinburgh and London, no longer able to afford to pay the franchise. What with the nationalisation of some of the banks, both here and in America, it seems that we could be seeing the beginnings of the demise of capitalism. Of course, the railways should never have been privatised, for under private ownership we have had a disjointed and poorly run railway system, in marked contrast to the first-rate state-owned French railways.
As always, those bloody "Red Arrows" were skimming over my house all the morning, making a deafening noise and creating goodness knows how much pollution, not to mention spending £120m of taxpayers' money every year. What a waste, and to think our troops in Afghanistan are under-equipped for lack of money while these frivolous fliers play around in the skies of Lincolnshire, illustrating the distorted values we have in this ailing land.
Just to make matters worse, assuming that to be possible, the aerial acrobats now have a woman in one of the little red aeroplanes, presumably in the interests of political correctness in having a token woman, rather like the Fire Brigade being required to have a woman on each fire engine, possibly to make the tea after an extensive conflagration. I dread to think about the woman flier parking the aeroplane, probably having at least ten attempts to get it into the hanger. It would not surprise me if her aeroplane ends up with scratches all down the sides.
I was not surprised to see on Ceefax that France, having come out of the recession along with Germany, is seeing continuing growth. Yet at the beginning of this year, in "The Times" for 12th January, Anatole "What Crisis" Kaletsky was predicting that, "Economic conditions in Britain should improve significantly by the middle of 2009. In the year ahead, the focus of global economic troubles is likely to shift from Britain and America to Continental Europe." Precisely the reverse has happened, Lax Britannica still being firmly in recession.
However, our Anatole is a useful economic commentator, for if you take the very opposite to what he is predicting you will not go far wrong, always providing that you remember he invariably has the cart before the horse. It could also be suggested that his dislike of the European Union, so obvious in much of his writing, distorts his better judgement. Of late, though, he has not been making quite so many predictions, which, given his appalling soothsaying record, is probably not surprising.
I was horrified to read in today's badly printed "Times" (the front page spreading over onto the back) that. "Christmas will not be Christmas in Dundee this year. All references to the religious holiday have been dropped from the switching-on ceremony of the city's festive lights. Instead of the traditional Christmas Lights switch-on, residents will be attending the 'Dundee Winter White Night'. Council officials have also decided that rather than a retelling of the Nativity story there will be a disco, a contemporary circus, a continental market and a fairy on stilts."
In other words, the unbelievably daft Dundee City councillors have gone completely barking mad, bowing to immigrants within their midst, especially not wanting to upset the delicate religious sensitivities of the Muslim bunch. These are the religious fanatics who are allowed to parade in the streets with placards saying "Death to the Infidels", but we must never upset them, taking off a play at the theatre they do not like, and certainly not offending them by having Baby Jesus on the Christmas stamps.
An explanation for the madness of the Dundee councillors - and it is the councillors who make the decisions, not the officers, is that the elected dim-witted members are aware of the large immigrant vote, and do not want to upset this significant electoral group. Equally obvious is that people in Dundee appear to put up with this tyranny of a "Winter White Night" without a murmur of protest, just as there are no protests elsewhere. The irony is that, far from giving rise to a more tolerant acceptance of the immigrants, this hateful political correctness breeds a bitterness and resentment among true Englishmen (those whose families have been here for four generations or more).
So when is the worm going to turn, proclaiming that this is a Christian country and that if other religions do not like it, they can take the advice of the most worthy Mr. Rudd in Australia and go home to where they belong? And let it be said that this growing anger about the swamping of our culture, such as remains of it, will not go away with any accusations of racism or by saying this is BNP stuff. The fact is, and always will be, that this is our country - the country for the English - not for immigrants who refuse to integrate, some of the Muslims apparently wanting to murder us and impose their religion on our country.
Another form of madness seems to have affected the National Trust, whose officers are now, according to an item on the news this morning, urinating on bales of straw in the grounds of their properties in order to save water in the flushing of toilets, though at the moment this supposedly environmentally friendly initiative is being limited to men. I have to admit that I have never much cared for the National Trust, taking the view that they often bugger up the properties they supposedly save, even if they stop the developers.
I think particularly of the area around Flatford Mill on the Essex/Suffolk border, where the little thatched cottage has become part of the National Trust property. A once quiet and peaceful cottage and surrounding area that I knew in my teen and twenty days has become a tourist hell, with tea-rooms, extensive car parks, a souvenir shop, and licks for the brats. In my teenage days I would row down the river from Dedham to Flatford with a girl friend, enjoying the peace and quiet, but now there are coaches galore and everywhere is crowded with the Great Unwashed, horribly crowded on a bank holiday. Willy Lott, who lived in a nearby house (painted by John Constable) and who boasted he only left the area once in his entire life, must be turning in his grave.
One of my regular correspondents sent me an article from the ghastly "Guardian" for the 10th November explaining "How Waterstone's killed bookselling", the argument being that the firm has no love or understanding of books. However, I am not in the least bit bothered about Waterstone's, for I never go anywhere near the two branches in Lincoln, much preferring to order from Amazon where, with no postage, the books are virtually half price. Ideally, I like to see a book before purchasing it, but the local branches of Waterstone's seldom stock the books I am interested in.
I had my last book ordered this year from Amazon delivered in the post this morning. The total expenditure on books this year was £629, which is rather more than usual, despite my resolve to cut back on book buying on account of the ever rising inflation. So much for good intentions. However, had I bought the books locally at Waterstone's the cost would have been in the region of £945. On the other hand, even with this substantial saving when buying from Amazon, there is no doubt that I will have to cut down next year when inflation will become an even more serious problem as the pound collapses.
The joiner came during the morning to fit yet another bookshelf. This will take up to about 50 books, which represents a year's purchase. I now have 1,762 hardback books, and ideally would like my collection to extend to 2,000, though at the rate of buying 50 a year I may not live to see that total, probably never seeing a Conservative government again. Hitler had a library of some 18,000 volumes, though many of the books were sent by admirers, and others he pinched from the Jews.
Stormy skies. There was torrential rain and gale force winds this evening, fortunately doing no damage to the house or garden.
Mrs. Copeland, who works as a volunteer driver for a charity in a nearby village, providing transport for old people out in the sticks to take them to hospital, hairdressers and to the shops, was out all the morning taking an old fellow to the county hospital, waiting there for hours while he saw a consultant, and then driving him home. The charity also provides transport for elderly people who want a lift to the airport when they go on their foreign holidays.
It might perhaps be argued that somebody who can afford one of those ghastly foreign holidays should and could afford a taxi, but I do not dare to challenge the logic of this worthy charity. Nevertheless, somewhat to my relief, Mrs. Copeland has decided to resign as a volunteer driver, finding that there were too many demands upon her time. I suppose this relief reflects my loathing for all charities, though at least this one does not have a £120,000-a-year chief executive.
A quiet day at home, catching up on e-mails and, after a goodly intake of alcohol at lunchtime, having a fairly lengthy siesta. I had feared yesterday that I had a cold coming, but this fortunately has not materialised.
In the evening I read some more of "The Storm of War - A new history of the second world War" - a wonderful book, one of the best I have read on the war. The book mentions the ineffectiveness and sometimes downright inefficiency of the British Army, whether at Dunkirk when our troops were outwitted by the Germans, or in Singapore where they were no match for the Japs. Presumably the British Army had the problem - and maybe still has - of being dominated by public school Noddies, none of the lower classes having any prospects of promotion. Dim-witted sons from the upper classes went into the Church, while the really stupid ones went into the army,. where, unlike the Navy and RAF, no skills were required.
There was torrential rain and gale force winds in the evening. At one point, we heard a great crash of a branch falling, but as far as I could see with a torch the trees were all right in our garden. Presumably a branch had come down in the avenue of trees, joining the other fallen branches, nothing being done to clear them away. Indeed, there has been no care or maintenance of this magnificent avenue of oaks in all the 39 years we have lived in the village.
In fairness, I suppose it has to be admitted that it would be prohibitively expensive to cut away the dead wood, and since everything is nowadays ruled by accountants, this maintenance would be ruled out of order. It also has to be mentioned that there is absolutely no concern - and I emphasise the "absolutely no concern" - for the environment in this ailing land, the planning authorities being the worst offenders in allowing developers to build their grotty little executive-style houses wherever they like, always providing, of course, that the bribes and baksheesh are paid. Local Plans often point the way to the best sites, usually in conservation areas, for the developers to ruin.
SATURDAY 14 NOVEMBER
Although I recognise that it is a rather cowardly thing to do, I have blocked the e-mails I have received in the past from some very unpleasant people, most of them Jews, particularly from a very nasty one indeed in New York who, not surprisingly, has a very Jewish sounding name. Understandably, these Jews object to my views on the pariah country of Israel, their communications being full of abuse and threats. I would willingly have a reasoned discussion with them, but I see little point in being subjected to these abusive comments that probably only serve to illustrate that there will never be a solution to the Middle East crisis so long as Israel is allowed to extend into Palestinian lands.
In "The Financial Times", which I take on Saturdays instead of the dumbed down weekend "Times", there was a chart showing how this country is behind all major nations in failing to come out of recession, even being deeper in the recessionary mire than Spain, would you believe it. It is this depth of the decline in this country, far worse than in any other European nation, that is going to make any recovery here very difficult, if not impossible.
Maybe the massive doses of quantitative easing being pumped willy nilly into the economy will show a slight recovery in the final quarter of this year, possibly seeing a decline of only -0.1%, but it is next year, when mortgages become more expensive, quantitative easing has to end, and when VAT returns to 17.5% against a background of extensive public expenditure cuts, that will see a more substantial fall in GDP as the double-dip develops.
Interestingly, there were articles in the paper about the return of inflation - a point that I have been making in this diary during the past few weeks as prices continue to rise, having, for instance, paid 15% more for a delivery of heating oil last week than last April. The worry is that interest rates will have to rise, which is an almost unknown consideration in times of a recession. There is no doubt that we are living in very interesting times, especially for those of us interested in economics, seeing all textbook theories being overturned.
Graph in today's "Financial Times" showing the depth to which the recession has snk this country, unlikely to see much of a revival in the next few years. We are even behind Spain.
At 10 a.m. we set off in the Peugeot for yet another visit to Essex, having also gone last weekend. This time we were attending a 21st birthday party of a niece, noisy gatherings that I do not much care for, but family protocol and Mrs. Copeland's insistence demanded my attendance. I am in enough trouble over the creeper without heaping on more woes.
Nevertheless, I enjoyed the party in the evening, which seemed to combine successfully the young and the old - a rare phenomenon. I always think of parties as being for the under 40s, occasions for young people to meet new people and enjoy their youth, not for those in middle age and beyond. There ought to be a different name for social gatherings of people over 40.
There was only one fellow who annoyed me at the party, boasting about his keep-fit activities that involved quotidian jogging and a work-out at home every day. It reminded me of Churchill's remark to Montgomery when the obnoxious field-marshal boasted that he never drank or smoked and was 100% fit, to which the Prime Minister responded, "I smoke and drink and am 200% fit."
I find, perhaps not surprisingly, that I can seldom get on with these fitness fanatics, finding them immensely tiresome, just as I find people who go to bed before 10.30 p.m. rather uninteresting souls. It was Dr. Johnson who said that anybody who went to bed before midnight was a scoundrel, but then it has to be remembered that the learned lexicographer did not have to get up early in the morning. That makes a big difference.
One of the problems in staying at mother-in-law's house is the energy-saving electric light bulbs that, in their dimness, resemble emergency lighting. The bulbs said to be the equivalent of 60W are barely 40W, and even the most powerful ones are impossible to read by. It makes me so thankful that I have a large stock of the old tungsten bulbs that should last me for at least ten years. Fortunately, the tungsten bulbs are still available at the little emporium in Saxilby, but I gather the stocks that arrive are soon gone as most people loathe the energy-saving ones.
SUNDAY 15 NOVEMBER
At 11.15 a.m, after a good night's sleep at mother-in-law's, Mrs. Copeland and I set off to visit my elder sister and her husband in the village of Manningtree, some miles north of my hometown of Colchester. We travelled along the Colchester by-pass, finding that it was horribly crowded with traffic, involving long tailbacks, a right hell on earth in the densely populated county of Essex, there being hardly room to move. Presumably it is the time of Christmas shopping, God forbid.
Seeing such terrible traffic made me realise the wisdom of moving away from Colchester many years ago, eventually, after a miserable period in Yorkshire, ending up in the quiet backwater of Lincolnshire where, in Yeats' words, peace really does "come dropping slow" - apart from those bloody "Red Arrows". I would be so unhappy were I living now like a sardine in Essex. More and more houses are being built in the county, but since it is already buggered up I suppose these additional developments go unnoticed and make some sense.
During our visit, brother-in-law put me right on several issues, including a severe reprimand for describing television as "the idiot's lantern", informing me that there were many very good programmes if only I bothered to watch them. I was also told that my diary - which he rightly recognised was not a blog - contained "17 spelling mistakes last week and was a travesty of the English language." He hated seeing English "being murdered" in this manner. I was also very wrong about my dislike of broadband.
I would defend my strictures on the idiot's lantern to the last, but I accept that the diary has so many typing errors and careless mistakes, deserving the condemnation. In the past, Mrs. Copeland made the corrections, but there were so many of them , including problems with syntax, that I found that the proof reading made me extremely bad-tempered, disliking the pointed out carelessness. So now I try to correct the entries on my own, but I become increasingly aware that you cannot correct your own work, only seeing what you want to see. Perhaps I ought to have an entry at the end of the diary "E & O.E,." with an addendum for the necessary corrections.
As for broadband, I can see absolutely no point in going onto it when I only use the Internet for e-mails and my diary, never accessing any of the other sites. Instead, I use Ceefax for all my other requirements, and that is free, especially for a geriatric over 75 years of age. I now pay £14.87 for an excellent dial-up service with the best ISP in the market - Claranet, so why do I need to pay £20 or more for broadband, especially as it is on the lowest possible speed in our village, little better than dial-up? Answer: there is no point at all.
At the suggestion of a friend, I installed mobile broadband on my year-old laptop, but I find that I seldom use it, only accessing my diary on occasions, often finding that there is no reception. I shall therefore give it up when the present allowance expires on the 2nd December.
After our visit we set off on the long journey back to Lincolnshire, stopping as usual at the pleasant "Ram Jam Inn" where, thankfully, no background music is played, making for a civilised institution. How I loathe music in pubs! Arriving back safely, we were relieved to find that we had not been burgled, not that we have much to burgle, other than my collection of books. When my books are stolen I will know that the Government educational reforms are starting to work.
Lily at mother-in-law's house
After dinner, I read "The Sunday Times, " seeing an advertisement for a "Director of Funding & Trading" on £100,000 for a charity that was not named, presumably on the grounds that there was some shame in paying such an enormous salary, representing a lot of collection tins being rattled around by enthusiastic volunteers. Once again, it made me so thankful that I have never given so much as a penny to any charity, and never will do so, having left instructions in my will that any donations at my funeral be given to our local Club, which will do far more good, the money actually reaching the Club.
I also read the film reviews, seeing that the reviewers only gave the film "Harry Brown" one star, describing it as a crude complaint about social breakdown - "It's too daft to pass muster as action-movie hokum, let alone as social commentary." Unfortunately, the impression is given that the reviewers prefer the Hollywooden blockbusters. especially those for children, which makes some sense as they are the favourite films. By far the best reviews, a good deal more mature, are those on a Saturday in "The Financial Times."
Whenever the reviewers in "The Sunday Times" praise a film, we invariably find that we do not enjoy it, whereas those that are condemned prove to be highly enjoyable. The reviews nevertheless fulfil a useful purpose. We will therefore be going to the Lincoln Odeon on Monday, attending the early evening performance to avoid the popcorners and the "wretched unidea'd girls" who giggle and play with their mobile telephones through much of the performance.
I find it interesting that in today's films, the baddies are nearly always immigrants in British productions, whereas in America they are invariably coloured, usually very black indeed. I am surprised that our loathsome Stasi, the Commission for Equality & Human Rights, does not have something to say about this, but then I suppose it could be argued that it is a fairly accurate representation.
In one of the articles in the paper it was stated that, "No fewer than 50,000 of the Ministry of Defence's 85,000 officials are to receive 'performance bonuses'. It makes you wonder how many would have received bonuses if the MoD's defence procurement had not been described as incompetent from top to bottom in an official report three months ago."
Although I can just about understand that greedy bankers may have bonuses, I nevertheless find it totally unacceptable that public servants, not having to worry about any profit motive, should also have bonuses, especially as there is no effective measurement of their efficiency, most of the departments being grossly overstaffed, despite Government assurances to cut back on the number of layabouts.
I suppose these bonuses are all part of the "each man for himself" syndrome as the country falls steadily apart into economic and social chaos, just like the decline of the Roman Empire. It is a smash and grab society, taking what we can amidst the wreckage, knowing that things are going to get steadily worse over the coming year. As the old adage has it: "Cheer up. The worst is yet to come."
Amidst this prevailing attitude, the impression is being given that the Government has abandoned our troops in Afghanistan, knowing that they can never win, but not wanting to withdraw by way of admitting that the Taliban have won, political pride being the dominant consideration rather than men's lives. This is why we keep losing troops, and will continue losing them until the politicians have the unlikely courage to admit that enough is enough. It might have been hoped that the Cameroons would have had a policy of bringing the troops home, but it seems that the Burlingdon bully boys have no policy on anything, other than hurling abuse at the European Union that will one day be saving our bacon.
A fairly early night as I felt tired after the long drive home.
MONDAY 16 NOVEMBER
Much to my concern, loathing anything to do with home improvements and beautification, I have been very concerned that Mrs. Copeland has indicated that our bathroom, revamped only 12 years ago, needs replacing, being very old fashioned. I can see nothing wrong with it, and will oppose any changes.
Another issue on which we have recently disagreed is the external painting of the house, Mrs. Copeland wanting to take down a creeper on the front of the house, admittedly now obscuring some of the windows, so that we can have the services of a professional painter to smarten up the place, instead of relying on my amateurish touch-ups. The thought of this magnificent elderly creeper coming down fills me with despair, and I shall do everything I can to save it, even if it means risking connubial felicity.
I suppose my trouble, common amongst geriatrics, is that I can never accept change, not being the least bit concerned about fashions, all of which I see as totally irrelevant. It always amazes me, for instance, that some of the people I know change a perfectly good kitchen after a few years because of a change in fashion, surely the epitome of extravagance and vulgarity, suggesting more money than sense. If a kitchen or bathroom still serves its purpose, not falling apart, then leave it alone instead of giving into a hateful materialism. Function rather than fashion should be the key: if it ain't broke leave it alone.
In the morning's post, Mrs. Copeland received a "sample cheque" made out to her "for your approved amount of £24,300," this being the amount that she could instantly borrow. Obviously the banks are up to their old tricks again, lending money as if there were going to be no tomorrow, just as they did earlier, landing us all in a really fine mess. No doubt historians in fifty years from now will wonder why on earth seemingly endless amounts of money, described as "quantitative easing", were poured into the back pockets of these irresponsible spivs in suits, enabling them to add again to the overburdening debt in this ailing land, the most indebted country in Europe. Madness, the historians will probably say.
As I was still having problems with a leaking gutter on the rear of the house, I employed the services of a professional roofer who came last Thursday, putting on some sealant. He was here for all of 20 minutes, having come out to give a roofing estimate for a house next door, yet I have received a bill for £61.33. It is the feeling of being cheated that I find so unpleasant, though there is nothing I can do about it here in rip-off Lax Britannica.
Much to my annoyance, the gutter is still leaking where the repair was supposedly undertaken, but rather than call the firm out again, probably being charged another £61 charge, I did some further repairs this morning, braving being high up on a ladder. I am hoping that this will at last have stopped the leakage. The gutters were replaced only a few years ago - plastic ones, which are not nearly as good as the former metal construction. Mrs. Copeland does not like me going up the ladder at my great age, but needs must to avoid a rip-off from the professionals.
Creeper on the house (to the right) that Mrs, Copeland wants to have taken completely down. I am opposed to the proposal.
At lunchtime - our main meal of the day, which I regard as being far more healthy than having dinner in the evening that means going to bed on a full stomach, not "working it off" I had some "Matra Mountain" Pinot Grigio wine from Hungary (12%), and a delightful relatively dry white wine it was, too, so good that I had three-quarters of the bottle. Mrs. Copeland bought it for £5.49 at Waitrose.
Mercifully, it was not a wine recommended by the wine critics in the press. I have always believed that these wine buffs are in league with the supermarkets, recommending a wine that won't sell. Any wine so being recommended will see the shelves cleared by Monday evening. It always mazes me that the French have never been able to produce a decent white wine, but then it has to be acknowledged that the French, having rested far too long on their laurels, have fallen well behind in the world wine markets, and serve them right.
After lunch, having Mrs. Copeland holding the ladder, I trimmed the branches of the creeper that were tangled around the telephone wires on the front of the house. As mentioned earlier, Mrs. Copeland wants the entire creeper taken down, but I am planning to employ a professional to trim it back, hoping that this will make removal unnecessary. In the meantime, though, I thought that I had better cut around the telephone wires, fearful that the professional would cut through the wires, which would mean an expensive charge from BT to restore the service.
In the evening we went to the 6.20 p.m. performance of "Harry Brown" at the Lincoln Odeon. When the seemingly endless advertisements were on, a group of teenagers was laughing and giggling, the girls playing with their mobile telephones, one of which rang. I feared we were in for a noisy performance, but amazingly they kept quiet during the film. I enjoyed the film, seeing it as a fairly accurate picture of life in an inner city estate dominated by immigrants with their violence and life of drugs.
Back home I saw on Ceefax that the chairman of the nationalised Royal Bank of Scotland had warned that the restriction of bankers' bonuses "was a dangerous route to go down", interfering with the rule of law. Dear oh bloody dear. Does the little chappie really believe that we are going to allow the greed and irresponsibility of bankers to have full rein again, getting us into yet another fine financial mess? To allow yet more of our taxes going into their back pockets in the form of renewed bonuses would be an outrage.
It seems that President Obama is becoming a big disappointment in America, and not just among Republicans. This I gleaned from an American correspondent who sent me an article from the "American Thinker", describing Obama as "Failing. Failing big. Failing fast. And failing everywhere: foreign policy, domestic initiatives, and most importantly, in forging connections with the American people. The incomparable Dorothy Rabinowitz in the Wall Street Journal put her finger on it: He is failing because he has no understanding of the American people, and may indeed loathe them. Fred Barnes of the Weekly Standard says he is failing because he has lost control of his message, and is overexposed."
The main problem seems to be that, like our dreadful Calamity Brown, President Obama cannot make up his mind about anything, especially Afghanistan. Whether old man McCain and the unbelievably silly Sarah Palin would have done any better is something we will never know, but in all probability they would have "nuked" Afghanistan and have done with it, always supposing they could find it on the map. At least it would have been decisive policy, whereas the present incumbent huffs and puffs but blows nobody's house down.
I was amazed to learn somewhat belatedly today that a Royal Navy armed vessel stood by, doing nothing, when pirates captured the elderly sailing couple, subsequently trying to cover up their abysmal inaction. Presumably the captain did not have time to do a risk assessment, thereby allowing the pirates to escape with their hostages. Why do we have to be so pussyfooting these days, allowing thugs to get away with murder?
During the evening, wanting to see the weather forecast, I switched on the idiot's lantern, keeping the set on to see the news that followed, having been told by my brother-in-law last Sunday that I should watch more television programmes. There were two presenters, one of them a coloured man as black as the ace of Spades, the whites of his eyes shining quite spectacularly, and a little woman, and what an awful bulletin it was, clearly aimed at the Great Unwashed, there being no analysis and only a brief review of each item.
I shall not watch the bulletin again, much preferring the more intelligent radio programme, "The World Tonight", in which the review and discussion of a single issue can sometimes take up the entire bulletin. Presumably the problem with the televised news is that the viewers do not have an attention span of more than five minutes, explaining why there have to be two presenters who read alternate paragraphs, there being no analysis.
TUESDAY 17 NOVEMBER
The unbelievably stupid Sarah Palin, surely the daftest politician in the entire world, even barmier than our Rt. Hapless Harriet Harman, and who is directly responsible for the Republicans losing last year's presidential election, has written a 400-page, presumably describing the extensive and significant part she played in old man McCain's downfall. Incredibly, she is saying that she is going to stand again for election, suggesting that she has learnt nothing from her humiliating defeat, the Republicans having had to write her off midway during the campaign because of the embarrassment she caused the party
Another humiliation is the Hundred Years War in Afghanistan, in which Calamity Brown has at last admitted that we have lost the battle with the Taliban, saying that our troops will be coming home next year. The main problem now is to find an excuse for our dreadful defeat in which the lives of 202 British servicemen were unnecessarily lost to prop up a thoroughly corrupt government. So far the war score of the West since the 1939-45 War is undertaken 3, drawn 0, lost 3, "hopefully" pointing out to our politicians that we should leave these far flung countries to get on with their own dreadful business, instead of forever interfering with them.
Maybe, too, the day will dawn when Calamity Brown realises that al Qaeda poses a threat principally BECAUSE we are meddling in their countries, having no right to invade them. At the same time, he may even realise that the policies of his government, having got this country into a fine financial mess in which debt is now 57% of GDP, not to mention allowing immigrants to flood in unchecked, are doing far more harm to the economic and social structure than any number of suicide bombers could ever achieve with their homemade bombs.
Autumn foliage
On yet another gloriously sunny morning in this wonderful Autumn, probably the best in half a century, I swept up the leaves in the back garden while those bloody "Red Arrows" were roaring overhead, wasting £120m a year of taxpayers' money. I had hoped that this nonsensical close-formation flying team would be disbanded as part of the MoD defence cuts, but it seems that once again they have survived. I suppose it might help matters if I could understand the purpose of their frivolous antics, possibly appreciating that it is very clever indeed to do cartwheels in the sky and to fly in close formation, racing across the skies at my expense.
Afterwards, I rode into Lincoln on the scooter to have some digital photographs printed, finding that the commercial printing is so much better than when done on a computer.
At last it is officially being recognised that inflation is rising again in this country, the latest figures showing that the CPI rose to 1.5% in October, up from 1.1% on the previous month.. For week after week I have bee saying in this diary that I am becoming more and more affected by rising inflation, having had to increase the weekly household allowance because of the rising cost of food in the supermarkets, as well as having to make additional budgetary provision for heating oil (up by 15% since April), while petrol at the pumps goes up a penny a litre a week, plus the increased cost of insurances. Yet again you read it here first.
Apparently the laundry at the Office for National Statistics could no longer manipulate the monthly inflation figures, not even with its 640-item database that can conceal large increases in essential household items. The real figure for essential household expenses, which I call the Corrected Inflation Index (CII), can be found by multiplying the current CPI figure by 3 and adding 1, which gives a present reading of 5.5%. With this rise in inflation and falling output, we are now back in the traditional arena of stagflation, from which we never really escape.
As one of the three trustees of our local Club, I attended the monthly committee meeting in the evening, which started at 8 o'clock and lasted for over an hour and a half I cannot say that I greatly enjoy committees, seeing them as a sure way of preventing any kind of action or decision. No doubt they are all very democratic, but as Clement Attlee, the greatest Prime Minister we have had since 1945, said: "Democracy is all very well, providing you can stop people talking."
It amused me to hear during the somewhat acrimonious proceedings, which at least livened things up, that there had been trouble with a direct debit, the FSA having taken £425 out of the Club's bank account instead of £55., the item relating to unpaid taxation. I was reminded, if ever I needed any reminding, that direct debits enable firms to take out as much money when they like from a customer's account, meaning that all control over the account is lost. I will never have a direct debit so long as I live, which is one of the reasons that I decided against having an iPhone, not just the prohibitive cost.
By a remarkable coincidence, there was an article in today's "Daily Telegraph" warning about the use of direct debits with some of the Internet and telephone companies, the problem being that it is very difficult to cancel a monthly payment, invariably involving outrageous cancellation fees. Luckily, BT does not insist on direct debits, charging only £4.50 a quarter so that I can pay by cheque on a quarterly invoice I would gladly pay three time that amount to avoid a direct debit.
Back home, I heard on "The World Tonight", having decided that I never again want to watch a television news bulletin, that Israel, in a deliberate defiance of President Obama who wanted to see no further settlements on occupied Palestinian lands, was building 900 houses in occupied East Jerusalem. The settlements, which are against international law - not that the Jews have any regard for the law - will make any peace proposals even more impossible, but then that is the aim of that pariah country, not wanting to see the establishment of a Palestinian state.
Once again we are reminded of the terrible mistake that was made in setting up the state of Israel in 1948, effectively putting the wolf in with the chickens. Hitler suggested that the Jews should have been sent to Madagascar, putting them out of arm's way where they could do no harm to any neighbours. Siberia was another alternative.
WEDNESDAY 18 NOVEMBER
Today's "Times" had a news report, quoting the latest rise in the CPI, that inflation was likely to grow strongly over the next few months - the very point that I have been making in this diary at a time when the Governor of the Bank of England, who gives the impression with his thick glasses that he can see no further than three yards ahead, certainly not beyond next Tuesday, has said that there was no risk of inflation returning. There are times when I feel he ought to have a refresher course in economics, learning that a poorly pound in a country that imports nearly everything is bound to lead to rising prices.
As always, our Anatole "What Crisis" Kalatesky was also dreadfully wrong in saying in his column for the 8th January 2009 that there was no fear of inflation. Alas, experience shows that he is wrong on nearly everything he predicts.
Not surprisingly, the paper reported that, "Rising exports led to an unexpected trade surplus for the eurozone in September", while this country saw a massive deficit of £7.2 bn for the month, having risen from £6.1 bn in August. It is, of course, through exports that a country generates wealth, principally from manufactured goods, whereas we have very little to export, though Rolls Royce recently did well with new orders for aero engines, which is something to write home about. Ironically, the car scrappage system has worsened our trade deficit with more cars being imported.
Mrs. Copeland went for a meal at a village pub a few miles out of Lincoln with the village's Ladies Luncheon Club, telling me on her return that the pub was extremely noisy as there was a party of 80 or so of retired employees of Tesco, presumably having their Christmas celebration. How I loathe those Christmas luncheons, not only because they are a rip-off with plastic-tasting turkey and bright yellow frozen sprouts, but also because of the compulsory wearing of paper hats and the blowing little trumpets, which makes me feel deeply embarrassed, especially when the wimmin have had a touch too much to drink.
During the late morning I had wine with a friend, making for a pleasant diversion, enjoying some interesting discussions, including one on that professor being sacked from the Advisory Drugs Committee. My friend thought that there was nothing wrong in the so-called soft drugs, and that the professor was wrongly sacked. It was an argument that I could not accept, believing as I said last week that it is every parent's dread that the offspring will get into the seedy and sordid world of drugs, probably going onto stronger versions. I was therefore delighted that the Home Secretary had the good sense to sack the fellow, and that several of the committee members gave in their resignations.
Hanger on
In the Queen's Speech today - and what a lot of outdated nonsense is all that clowning and pageantry - the Government outlined plans to provide social care in the homes of the vulnerable members of the community, and to curb the excesses of the City. As might be expected, the Cameroons have bitterly opposed the measures, saying that they will do everything possible to prevent the proposed measures going onto the statute book. Presumably it could be argued in terms of the Samuel Smiles self-help policy of the Cameroons, that the Tories would like to reverse the measures, taking away support for the vulnerable and giving more benefits to the bankers.
The arthritis in my knees seems to be getting steadily worse, making it very difficult for me to walk. I have been prescribed some new tablets which help to ease the pain, but make me feel awful, almost as if I have sat through a meeting of the Parish council. In a way I think I would rather have the pain.
In the evening, Mrs. Copeland and I went to the Museum of Lincolnshire Life to an event labelled as "An Evening at the Flicks", organised by the Friends of the Lincolnshire Museums, most of whom are well over 70, giving the impression that matron of the residential home had let them out for the evening. Sandwiches and cakes, even some ice creams were provided in the two intervals, all included in the cost of the tickets. It seems these days that we have to eat wherever we go, whereas I would much rather just have a drink.
I cannot say that I enjoyed the films all that much, certainly not a long sequence of the Glen Miller Orchestra whose music I have always loathed. And much to my surprise, I did not even find the Laurel & Hardy sketch funny, possibly because Brown and Cameron can be a good deal funnier. Not much better was a clip from "Calamity Jane" starring Doris Day. This really made me wince with embarrassment, not that I like musicals at the best of times. However, for most of the audience it was an evening of nostalgia, even with the fruity voice of the announcer on Pathe News that I found so nauseating, suggesting that some things have got much better.
THURSDAY 19 NOVEMBER
On the radio this morning there was the truly wonderful news that Spanish researchers have found, after a survey of 15,500 men and 26,000 wimmin, that "drinking alcohol every day cuts the risk of heart disease in men by more than a third." In other words, all that nonsense pumped out by the British Heart Foundation and the worthless quango known as the Food Standards Authority is a load of rubbish, totally without any medical or scientific evidence.
I have alcohol only at lunch time, seldom drinking in the evening unless we go out to a social function. Between Monday to Friday I usually have a half bottle of white wine, probably about 4 units, or a bottle of strong beer such as "Old Bob" at 5.1% and amounting to 2,.6 units. At weekends the consumption goes up somewhat, possibly to 6 units on a Saturday, and 8 on a Sunday. With this moderate consumption, I am spot on in terms of this latest and worthy research.
This latest survey is yet another reminder that absolutely no notice whatsoever should be taken of any of the edicts and recommendations of the Food Standards Authority or any other nannying body that tells us what we should and should not eat and drink. Instead, follow the advice of the ages and "Eat, drink and be merry", remembering that teetotallers and those horrible food freaks are soulless people, unhealthily obsessed with fitness, including visits to those fetid disease-laden health centres, making their lives a worrying misery.
The latest research makes me wonder how long it will be before a survey shows that those butter substitutes that look and taste like Castrol XL are bad for the body with their gooey vegetable oil and multitude of chemicals and colourings. The products are banned in our house; instead we have plenty of butter in the belief that a God-given product is far better than anything devised by scientists.
Amongst the latest crazy thoughts of scientists is the belief that this country is gong to warm up by 6 degrees Celsius within the next 50 years. Since these scientists have not a clue what is going to happen next Tuesday, let alone the year 2059, the comments should be taken with a goodly pinch of salt, salt being good for you.
There was also the good news, confirming what I have always believed, that the new energy-saving electric light bulbs are not as bright as they are made out to be.. A correspondent has kindly sent me an article that appeared in "The Daily Mail", reporting that, "Energy-saving lightbulbs being used in millions of homes could lose up to 40 per cent of their brightness over the next few years, engineers warned yesterday. A design flaw in compact florescent bulbs mean they become dimmer as they age, a report by the Institution of Engineering and Technology said. Millions could need replacing long before their advertised lifespan of five or six years is reached."
The report added: "Independent retailers and critics say many of the low-energy alternatives are ugly, expensive and produce poor quality light. Doctors have warned that CFLs may cause rashes in light-sensitive patients. A report in Engineering and Technology Magazine now warns that CFLs lose 'a significant amount of brightness' over time. Even a good quality bulb could lose 20 per cent of its light over its 8,000-hour lifespan - while cheaper bulbs could dim even more. The problem is made worse because some manufacturers exaggerate how much light comes from CLFs in the first place, the report says."
This, surely, confirms everything that I have said about these dreadfully dim energy-saving bulbs, having said that they were not as bright as maintained, and that they were ugly. Once again you read it here first! My advice is therefore to buy up as many of the old tungsten light bulbs as you can while stocks still last. You will never regret the investment. Unfortunately, because there is such a demand for the traditional bulbs, they have gone up in price, but they are still worth every penny. The new bulbs may save energy, but not your eyesight.
Not such good news was the announcement that the Burlingdon bully boys "Are to call for 'massive reform' of the media industry to boost local news and help commercial broadcasters." In other words, the Tories with a little help from Mr. Murdoch, their saviour, want to do away with the BBC, an institution that they have always loathed, in favour of commercial rubbish with programmes dominated by advertisements. If anybody believes that the idiot's lantern is bad now, they ain't seen nuffink yet.
A young fellow who has recently set up business cleaning gutters and undertaking gardening work came at 11 o'clock to give me a quote for trimming the creeper on the front of the house - the one that Mrs. Copeland wants taken right down. I am hoping that this trimming will represent a compromise, but I am not banking on a resolution. The work will probably be done on Saturday morning before I go off to the pub to meet my friends.
A day pottering around, cleaning the scooter and the Scorpio, both vehicles having become very dirty in the wet weather we have been having recently. At lunchtime, following the wise advice about the need to drink excessively to stave off a heart attack, I had two bottles of beer instead of wine.
Over lunch, during which I had two bottles of beer instead of the usual one as a result of the advice to drink heavily, Mrs. Copeland, who works at one of the clinics at the County Hospital, was telling me that new anti-infection rules have been introduced in the hospital. Nobody is allowed to wear a wrist watch; sleeves must be short; and no ear-rings or any rings in the nose must be worn. At least it is good that the earlier panic about swine influenza, when we were warned that half the population would go down with it this Autumn, was totally unfounded, little being heard about the malady now. In previous years we were all going to die of Aids, but this fear proved to a false alarm, too.
How they love to put the frighteners on us! It makes me wonder what warnings they will dream up for 2010. It would not surprise me if a new disease, known as Debt Immunity Syndrome, sweeps the country as a result of people becoming ill after shopping until they drop. There could also be fears if the Burlingdon bully boys come into office, though that looks to be increasingly unlikely as the party falls steadily apart with its deep divisions and inability to think up any new policies. Even if they do, Mr. Brown pinches them.
During the day I was asked to complete a questionnaire on those utterly horrible e-books, which will take away all the delights of owning and reading a book. I responded by saying that I would never even dream about buying an e-book, even if the machine and subsequent entries were priced at only one penny. Who in his right mind could ever believe that it would be enjoyable on a windy winter's evening to sit by the log-burning fireside holding one of those infernal appliances instead of a book?
No doubt the e-books will eventually replace books, making me so thankful yet again that I am old and really did see the best of times in my lifetime. It makes me realise what a charmed life I have led, and that even in these falling apart times in Broken Britain I am relatively secure and insulated from the ever deepening recession. No forthcoming generation will ever have the delights and the advantages that I have enjoyed.
Standing up against the nonsense of political correctness.
E-mail: johncopeland@clara.net
Lincolnshire 19th November, 2009,
Comments welcomed
No. 612
Diary of a Septuagenarian<BR>
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