English medieval alabaster plaques

Above: unexpectedly the ancient door in the Norman doorway was unlocked.



Above: inside it was dark, but the setting sun sent what appeared to be a golden ball of light into the building, allowing me a few minutes to look around.



Above: looking to the east. You can see the unusual arrangement of standard candlesticks which are lit at Easter, Christmas and the Feast of All Souls. Notice the high altar. In the nineteenth-century an alabaster plaque featuring the patronal saint was found under a flagstone in the chancel. Presumably it had been hidden there during the Reformation. The plaque would have been displayed above the high altar.



Above: English alabaster religious plaques were carved from sulphate of lime only found in a particular corner of south Derbyshire. Thus there is a fine display of the plaques in Nottingham Castle museum (from where I purchased this very thorough monograph). Mostly dating from the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, they were exported all over Europe, but have now become extremely rare in England itself.



Above: if you don't want to travel to Nottingham you can see English medieval alabaster plaques in the Victoria & Albert Museum. On the right is St Catherine and the Burning of the Philosophers (the Roman Emperor Maxentius sent a group of philosophers to convert St Catherine to paganism, but instead she converted them to Christianity at which point Maxentius burned them). The plaque on the left is the head of St John the Baptist (interestingly, alabaster plaques of these heads were produced for private houses rather than churches, the cult of the head of St John the Baptist originating with the Knights Templar and signifying...).

I have to think about the possible repercussions - the past week at work

I have decided to return to my Work Diary. Over recent months I stopped it, afraid that I might be discovered. Now I no longer care.

Monday

I was determined to get to work on time today, after a number of sarky comments from Yvette (the agency "Head"). Arriving at five to nine, I found Yvette and Andrea were there before me, which was gratifying as I could make a lot of noise coming in so that Yvette would know I was in the building. Without even getting a cup of coffee I sat at my desk and began typing up Status Reports.

Almost all of the morning was taken up with the agency weekly meeting. We all sit in Yvette's office while she promulgated her unique commercial philosophy. Always in these meetings there is a point when, without warning (although we have learned to expect it) she sharply picks on someone and asks them what they have been doing over the last few days (today it was the turn of junior Account Executive Duncan, and Yvette was very rude to him, telling him his new business efforts have been inadequate).

The meeting finished by Yvette telling us: "I think you're all quite underpaid by advertising standards" which was encouraging (although not strictly true - the salaries are more or less the going rate except for Duncan who is paid a pittance).

After the meeting I was asked to remain and explain what had happened with our American toy client. I tried very hard not to squirm, although it was difficult. At the end she told me to go with that soft feminine voice she sometimes uses, as if she was Brigitte Bardot sighing Je t'aime and not a sixteen-stone woman of steel.

Andrea was summoned in to see Yvette, and so long was she in there that Chris (lady who does the accounts) and myself became concerned at her possible fate (Andrea used to be "Head" of the agency and has had a number of run-ins with Yvette).

When Andrea finally emerged she insisted that she and I went to lunch. We went to a nearby Italian cafe mostly frequented by tourists. I had a slice of cold pizza, a savoury croissant, a cup of coffee and a sickly chocolate truffle confection.

Andrea was in an excited mood, and revealed that she and I are to be formed into a new Account Team handling the clients Yvette is bringing in. We will have a new admin assistant (Associate Account Exec) who is to start this week. Because Terry (ultimate MD of the agency) wants the headcount to remain static either Duncan or graphic designer Neil will be laid off.

This information left me with the hope (experienced so many times over the last months and then dashed) that there might be a future at the agency after all. A major concern is that many of the clients on my list have gone very quiet. I resolved to make more calls to them.

I stayed late, wanting to get my Contact Reports up to date. Yvette went upstairs to see Terry (he runs the PR side on the top floor). When she came down at half six I was the only one left in the office and she off-loaded her complaints onto me, expressing disgust at the state the agency had been in before her arrival, and saying that Terry had misled her.

Tuesday

Sat at my desk this morning, with a pile of work in front of me, I grew nostalgic for the pre-Yvette days when I had been free to do as I pleased. Now everything has to be "accountable" and before doing anything I have to think about the possible repercussions. We are also often put on the spot and asked to explain decisions taken months before Yvette arrived.

Eleanor started today as the new Associate Account Executive. Aged about forty-five, she has short blonde hair, average figure, and a smile that seems a little hostile. Within an hour of arriving she was talking about her abrasive divorce from a Greek person ("Greece is where men are men" said Duncan. "No they're not" said Eleanor, "they're pigs").

Eleanor's arrival gave Yvette an excuse to indulge in her favourite hobby of moving people and furniture around.

In the evening I went from work to a committee meeting of the educational charity I do voluntary work for. We sat in the splendour of the Willingdon Room shivering our way through the agenda because the heating was off. The meeting was very optimistic, discussing access to new funds (just as the charity is about to fail someone leaves it a bequest and it is able to stagger on for a few more years).

We looked furtively at each other when the issue of co-options was discussed. I suspect most of the Council members share my desire to resign and hand our responsibilities to someone new. There are however limits - I heard of a very obnoxious person I knew at university putting out feelers as to whether he could join the Council and clattering about the headquarters in very loud shoes (the building has marble floors).

Wednesday

More introspection as I sat at my desk - I wish I could just get on with things and not have to bother about other people. Since Yvette's arrival the agency has become more stressful but also more exciting. There is a sense of movement after all the stagnation.

During the morning Yvette called us into her room to introduce a new digital media designer (freelance) she had appointed.

In the afternoon Yvette called Andrea and myself into a "review" meeting with our printer. Ange (short for Angela) listened to Yvette's immense list of complaints. Predictably the meeting became confrontational and Ange resigned as our supplier. She stormed out of the office after calling Yvette "Hiawatha" (Andrea giggled).

In the last hour of the working day Yvette called another general meeting and told us how the agency was being restructured. As expected Andrea and I are to form a new Account Team (and privately told we would get pay rises within three months). Neil and Duncan are to be formed into a Creative Team.

Thursday

All the afternoon was taken up with a general "Group" planning meeting chaired by Terry. I suppose it was a privilege to be invited, although it went on for a tedious length of time and finished by discussing the new contract for the cleaners. Director John W's made unfunny quips the entire time.

By the time we got out of the meeting the rest of the staff were putting on their coats to go home.

After work I went to Kensington to see Adrian. His teenage cousin Antonia opened the door and asked me to wait in the untidy television room as Adrian had gone out for a while. From the television room I could look into the kitchen where I saw Antonia fussing a delicate blue-eyed cat and talking to two lanky youths (no doubt the double-boyfriend Adrian had told me of).

Adrian came back, and Matthew also arrived. We went upstairs to the sitting room and over a bottle of white wine we had one of our long hectoring conversations about politics. Adrian defended the Greens and Liberals, Matthew sneered at all politicians, I was the only one who thought the Conservatives would positively win the next election (as opposed to Labour losing it).

Halfway through Antonia brought up a plate of roast beef sandwiches, telling us "the tomatoes are home grown" (surely not true in November?).

Friday

Duncan was very late this morning, adding to the sense that his days are numbered.

I methodically worked through the papers on my desk, and this organised approach (which I don't always manage) paid dividends and I got a lot of things done.

Yvette told Andrea she was not wearing acceptable clothes, and refused to take her with her when she went to see the new printers we have appointed.

This put Andrea in a bad mood, and in turn she gave Duncan a hard time. Duncan is increasingly the butt of jokes in the agency. I try not to join in this baiting.

And the week ended with my finally completing all the Client Status Reports and talking through each of them with Yvette - it doesn't sound much but for me this was a considerable achievement.

Meat

Above: Wards Butchers - I can recommend the sausages.


Health Secretary Andy Burnham has proposed reducing meat consumption in the United Kingdom by about a third, both as a way of helping the environment and as a health measure (countering the trend towards obesity). Almost immediately his office retracted the statement and denied he had said any such thing and that the media had misunderstood what he had really said (one imagines hysterical Thick Of It scenes in the Department of Health). Later Andy Burnham's office issued a denial that he was (or had ever been?) a vegetarian.



Above: prize winning cattle at a local show.


The proposal actually makes a lot of sense. Too many people are getting fat, and meat products are too cheap in this country (meaning poor animal welfare standards - most people would not eat meat if they could see the industrial ways in which the animals are kept and slaughtered). We need to pay more for meat, eat less of it, and give the animals a decent life.



Above: the Shoulder of Mutton pub - has a good range of ales.


Eating meat has been culturally important in the British Isles since prehistoric times. Sir James Frazer has collected many references to the way in which meat has been produced and consumed over teh centuries. Folklore records heroes who eat their meat roasted as opposed to marauding pirates who eat their meat raw; taboos and prohibitions about when raw meat can be touched; restrictions on how meat must be served (Saxon princesses require specific herbs with their roast lamb, and on no account must any bones appear on the plate).


The Thick Of It hysteria: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NIgT7gVNLm0

Michael White's piece in The Guardian

I read Michael White's piece in The Guardian today about Philip Blond. It seemed to be a complete rip-off of an item from last night's Newsnight, even down to rehashing Danny Finkelstein's comment that David Cameron needs a range of think tanks so he can have a sort of pick'n'mix choice of intellectual ideas. When The Guardian practices lazy journalism I fear for the future of the free press.

Editor of The Guardian is Alan Rusbridger.

PS when I discussed Newsnight with Terry (our MD) he told me Danny Finkelstein used to be a "Liberal-Salad" in the 1980s.

Midland style

Above: the Midland Hotel in Morcambe in the early morning sunshine.

Recently I was at a conference in Lancashire, a county I had never visted before (unless you count Liverpool). One morning I got up early and had a big fried breakfast and drove across to Morcambe on the coast to see the Midland Hotel. The hotel is a fine example of art deco architecture, but the rest of the town was very run-down (and Heysham even worse).



Above: sculpted sealions above the main entrance.

The Midland Hotel has been restored fairly recently. Like many art deco structures, it has a nautical theme, inspired by great liners such as the Normandie. I only had about twenty minutes to look around before I had to leave to get back to the conference.



Above: on the seaward side the windows looked out over a terrace, the beach and the wide expanse of Morcambe Bay.



Above: Morcambe Bay from the hotel terrace.



Above: I went into the hotel to look around. Here you can see the main reception area. I am not sure if the furnishings are original - they don't quite look right (actually they look a bit cheap, whereas one of the characteristics of art deco was the use of expensive materials).



Above: looking up the main stairwell to a ceiling mural that seems to feature Neptune.



Above: the hotel sign in characteristic font.

The Midland Hotel in Morcambe is important not just as an example of art deco architecture, but as a final flowering of the Midland Railway style (in its final manifestation as the LMS). In this sense it is doubly interesting as both art deco and the Midland style were totalitarian design codes in which everything (exteriors, interiors, fittings and furnishings, signage, uniforms, letterheads etc) all conformed to an overall look. In the Midland Hotel we see this the result of this obsessive need to control everything.



Above: one of my favourite books - I never tire of reading it.

We think of "corporate style" as being a modern concept, but it goes back to Victorian times and was brilliantly executed by the Midland Railway which created a design empire which stretched throughout the United Kingdom (and terminated in London at the wonderful St Pancras station). People look at the Midland style today and think it is fussy and old-fashioned, but they miss the essential point. The Midland designers realised that when people make rail journeys they are under stress (the stress of getting to the station on time, the stress of standing in a ticket queue, the stress of the journey itself with the inevitable delays and hold-ups etc). Thus the entire time you were travelling by Midland railway the environment was designed to calm you down so that you almost suffocated in comfortable familiarity. This idea has been lost by modern architects and designers. Airports for instance are designed to increase the stress and alienation that travellers feel (what do Richard Rogers and Norman Foster care about ordinary passengers - they are more interested in building monuments to their egos).

Generally I feel that architects and designers are responsible for a fair amount of the stress people experience in modern life. This is because designers do not tend to study psychology and think that everything has to be "striking" (whereas most people do not like being struck most of the time). The coinage for instance - just at the time when we want people to have confidence in the currency we have that garbage design where the national symbols are chopped up.



Above: the contents page of Midland Style. Just leafing through this book I am transported to another world. I can't see the Network Rail corporate guide evoking the same sensation.



Above: even the colour swatches are calming to look at. Perhaps that's why I like this book so much. The designs are still working and reassuring people.

My own feelings of boredom

Teacups teetering on the edge.

I came out of the seminar early, bored by the social media junk I had heard before. And I saw these teacups, waiting with pregnant expectation, far too many of them (at least double) for the seminar attendees, and lined-up ridiculously close to the edge. The sense of presentiment was palpable.

Had I caught them just about to throw themselves over, in an effort to relieve themselves of the boredom of being teacups?

Or was I projecting my own feelings of boredom and urge to self-destruction (to yell at the speakers, to throw my papers around, to DO something) onto inaminate objects that can neither feel nor think?

And if I have an urge to self-destruct does this mean I am going mad?

Or was Yvette right when she said I was too boring to be mad?

Capture the unconscious influencers

Emerson is an amazing writer. The intellectual ideas he formulated are very relevant today. It is impossible to read Emerson without scribbling in the margins. One of the most intriguing ideas he expressed: "Society is a wave. The wave moves onward, but the water of which it is composed does not. The same particle does not rise from the valley to the ridge". Since I have read these three lines I have been thinking about the way in which influences move, like waves, through society. Only a few hundred people actually decide, either consciously or unconsciously, what the world is going to be like in 5 years, 10 years, 20 years. The conscious influencers are easy (media, fashion, politics etc) but it is the unconscious influencers that have the most impact. If you can capture the unconscious influencers imagine how ahead of the curve you would be.

Staffordshire Hoard on temporary display

Above: I went to see some of the items from the Staffordshire Hoard on temporary display at the British Museum. Although I picked a time (just before closing) when the museum is usually fairly empty it was still difficult to get near them. In particular there was a party of elderly French people who leaned over the cabinets with no sign of moving, as if they were mesmerised by the gold.



Above: I think these are bits of a helmet (I couldn't see the caption as a French person was obstructing it). As you can see, earth is still attached to the items. According to The Times archaeologists wept when they first saw the finds.



Above: birds of prey fighting over a fish. Possibly part of a shield decoration. The military nature of the finds underlines the warrior aspect of Mercian society (and indirectly verifies Bede's "History" - one of the few Saxon texts that relates to the period).



Above: the golden inscription Rise up O Lord and may Thy enemies be dispersed and those that hate Thee be driven from Thy face. If Jung were alive today he would no doubt posit the workings of synchronicity in the appearance of this holy text (emerging from the Midlands earth after thirteen centuries) and the time of national emergency (bankrupt banks, terrorists both within the country and threatening from outside, a political class mired in the corruption of "expenses" etc). Will this Saxon hierograph have some kind of rejuvenating effect upon society?

There is much discussion about where the Staffordshire Hoard will finally be housed. It would be a disaster if the finds should end up in a corner of some existing museum in Birmingham (the Saxons were never city dwellers). In my opinion a new museum should be built especially for the treasure, preferably close to where they were found.

Context: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Pwm_cfRClmc

Elizabeth Truss, South West Norfolk

Sent by e-mail:   It was interesting to see on Newsnight the reports about Elizabeth Truss, the Prospective Conservative Candidate for South West Norfolk, threatened with deselection because of an undeclared extra-marital affair with MP Mark Lord (it's not the original deed but the deception that seems to have annoyed people).  My grandparents used to live in the area, in a hamlet so small it is not marked on most maps.  I can confirm that it is an extremely conservative (small and big C) district where adultery is generally condemned and the word "whore" is still in current usage (a vocabularly shared with hip hop performers).    There is also a cultural context that the commentators seem to have missed.  In the 1990s a group of five parishes in south west Norfolk declared themselves in a state of schism with the Church of England over the "adultery" of their Rector (Kit Chalcroft I think) who wanted to get married for a third time and was told no by the Bishop.  The group of parishes ignored the Bishop and declared themselves independent, their Rector leading this mini-Reformation.    The Bishop responded by defrocking Mr Chalcroft (is there a ceremony for this?) and putting in a new Rector.  There was a period when the two priests attempted to elbow each other out, holding rival services and denouncing each other ("Listen to your churchwardens you silly man" is supposed to have been shouted at the Bishop).  In the end the Bishop won, and the schismatics were defeated and expelled (a warning to any priests thinking of going over to the Church of Rome - they will not be taking any property with them).    As for Ms Truss, is she going to have any sort of future after this false start?

Ambassador Eikenberry

I read in yesterday’s Guardian that the American ambassador in Afghanistan has publicly (yes PUBLICLY) warned President Obama that the war in Afghanistan risks becoming another Suez.

His words are: “You either commit to D-Day and invade the continent or you get Suez. Half-measures end up with Suez. Do it or not do it.”

This has bothered me ever since I read it.

What exactly is this undiplomatic diplomat saying?

Whatever the moral aspects, the “Suez” invasion of Egypt as a military operation worked superbly well. All the objectives were achieved. The country was effectively in British (and French) hands.

However, Suez became a debacle because Britain’s closest ally refused any support (and not just refused support, but sided with the “enemy” and, incredibly as it seems now, threatened the United Kingdom with an economic war).

Either Ambassador Eikenberry is so ignorant of military history that he thinks the invasion failed, or else he is sending out a coded message (as well as the crass overt public messages he is issuing).

And if there is a coded message, what could that coded message be?

Is he saying that Britain might withdraw troops unilaterally, effectively refusing America support in the same way that America refused Britain support in 1956?

More: http://www.guardian.co.uk/world/2009/nov/12/obama-us-troops-afghanistan-kilcullen

The behaviour of The Sun

What an unpleasant publication The Sun newspaper is.

Despite all my misgivings about Gordon Brown (and they are many) he has behaved entirely creditably in writing personally to the next of kin of soldiers killed in Afghanistan and telephoning the mother concerned when he thought she had been upset.

The mother is obviously distraught with grief and her words should not be repeated to millions of onlookers, especially as she may regret them later on.

The behaviour of The Sun in this context has been disgusting.

It's difficult to know what to do about The Sun and other Murdoch publications. Occasionally I am in the same room (along with a hundred others) with one of the extended Murdoch family and I suppose I could throw a glass of tepid white wine over that person. I would be too inhibited to spit and swear (although that is what they deserve).

Just as nauseating has been the individuals writing to the Letters page of the Guardian condemning The Sun's support for the Conservatives - they were docile enough when Murdoch was giving his tainted support to Labour for the best part of a decade.

Christenings

Above: there are so many Christenings these days that locally they are being grouped into the third Sunday of every month. This is designated a Family Service (without Communion) and is characterised by lots of twenty and thirty year olds filling the front pews and taking photos of each other. More than three children being Christened and the side aisles are full - a phenomenon not experienced for many years.

A writer in yesterday's Guardian (I forget who - I think it was in the Family section) defended parents who suddenly express religious fervour as a way of getting their child into the local Church of England school. A Jewish school in north London has been accused of discrimination because preference is given to children who have Jewish mothers. No-one seems to be asking why the state primary schools are so bad.



Above: photographic display on the theme of Christenings. As a social custom it has great antiquity, although it tended to go out of fashion in the 1990s. Sometimes you see the parents getting married and choosing to have their child(ren) baptized at the same time.



Above: an elderly lady said "that one's mine. It's about a hundred years old. It's even been to Australia. It used to be for girls and boys but only the girls use it now. Boys these days have little suits."



Above: another gown in the display - the note says 67 yrs old.

Twenty-two days or half a lifetime by Franz Fuhmann

Have just finished reading Twenty-two days or half a lifetime by Franz Fuhmann. This edition was published in 1980 and cost at the time £1.50 (so obviously subsidised by the East German state). I have had it a long time and have finally got round to reading it.

Everyone who has seen me with this book has picked it up and said "This looks boring". And I have to admit that it does look boring. But on the whole it is not boring at all.

Fuhmann is obviously writing in code, and the account of his trip to Hungary (also a communist state at the time) is filled with obliquity.

He talks about his role as a Writer (capital W - writers were honoured in the communist states): "...that particle of literature which he and he alone can write - in this sense he is indispensible..."

He talks about the Marxist way of writing: "It was my first experience of the Other in intellectual terms, my first encounter with Marxism, with dialectics, with materialism... that someone (or rather a method) should see relationships, lines, processes, inherent laws, where we were accustomed only to barren dates..."

He talks about society: "...we have no real cities anymore, we only have large small-towns..."

An interesting view of the world. And doubly interesting since hardly anyone takes communism seriously anymore (for instance, the Milibands came from a communist household and now represent the last vestiges of Blair's corruption of the Labour party). I also liked the way Fuhmann wrote about Kafka, obviously (but obliquely) comparing Kafka's nightmare with 1970s communist social structures.

High Anglicanism

Pope Benedict XVI has created an "Anglican Rite" within the Roman Catholic church for High Anglicans who wish to leave the Church of England.

Two things strike me about this announcement.

First that the Supreme Pontiff of the Universal Church seems to have abandoned the idea that Anglicans are heretics and has, logically, conceeded High Anglican clergy equal status with Roman Catholic clergy.

Secondly, that inviting High Anglicans to enter the Church of Rome rather misses the point about High Anglicanism.

The Oxford Movement which developed High Anglicanism emerged from antiquarian research and philosophical enquiry in the 19th century that reached the conclusion that the Church of England WAS the true Catholic and Apostolic Church - purged of error, with the Apostolic Succession maintained, representing the purest form of the Christian religion (insofar as any Church can claim to have "the truth").

It's very gracious of the Pope to invite High Anglicans to join the Roman church, and no doubt we should return the compliment by inviting Roman Catholics to join ours.

The newspapers have generally written up this announcement as another episode in the "tottering" Church of England at war with itself over gay clergy and women bishops.

At the parish level this commentary has no meaning and is unrecognisable.

Tomorrow, across the land:



Above: the brass will be burnished.



Above: the flowers will be arranged (not normally in such a jokey fashion).



Above: the bells will ring.



Above: the candles on the altars will be lit (six candles for High Anglicans).



Above: the choirs will sing (this is actually choir practice - they will wear robes on Sunday).



Above: and the congregations will take their places as they have done for hundreds of years (these hassocks are stuffed with wool and date from the 18th century - they are very hard to kneel on, but the height of the hassock means you do not have to crouch on the edge of the pew).

Question Time

Posted by e-mail:   Normally on Thursday evenings I watch Newsnight, then the last twenty minutes of Question Time, then This Week.   Yesterday, in common with most of the population it seems, I watched Question Time in its entirety (I checked the first five minutes of Newsnight, but I was always going to switch over).   It was a bear garden of a show.  In a provocative move the BBC had invited onto the panel the leader of the United Kingdom's most extreme political party.  The result was reminiscent of the moment in William Dieterle's 1939 feature film The Hunchback of Notre Dame where the freak-monster Quasimodo is baited by the mob.   This is not to show any sympathy for the political extremist.  He knows that the things he says are going to upset people and persumably he is prepared to cope with the response.  But I was disappointed that nothing intelligent was said (by anybody - it was just an hour of incoherent shouting).   I also find it inexplicable that one million adults voted at the European elections for an outmoded ideology that is culturally located in 1930s Germany.  Of all the solutions to the social problems we face, this seems to be the most implausable.  And yet no attempt was made on Question Time to explore this area.   Like most people I tend to steer clear of the subject of immigration.  Mostly because it's a controversial topic, and in the rural fastness of the county it does not touch me in a personal way.  The tide of immigration would have to rise very high before it lapped at my feet.   However, I cannot be unaware of the fact that social cohesion is breaking down and that the low-skilled sections of society have been largely abandoned.   One of the most interesting interventions in last night's programme was from a member of the audience who said that an overseas doctor was happy to work in the United Kingdom as a cleaner.  Instead of exploring this point David Dimbleby just went on to the next ranter.  But it illustrates the fact that for many people globalisation has meant the import to the West of third world standards of pay and conditions (instead of the export of first world pay and conditions).   As the minimum wage is still vastly greater than the average salary in most of the developing world, the pressure to reduce wages and conditions still further (via agencies, temporary contracts and other scams) is going to intensify.  It is against that background that socio-economic groups D and E are going to feel they have nothing to lose by voting for a revolution (and a national-socialist revolution would be a disaster for the rest of us).  Logically either socio-economic groups D and E must be disenfranchised, or globalisation of wages and salaries halted, or extemist parties must be accepted as a permanent and growing component of British elections.

Prime Minister's Questions, 22nd October 2009

Sent by e-mail: Working so much recently that there wasn't time to watch PMQs live, but I caught the repeat after midnight on the Parliament channel (followed by Andrew Neil's Daily Politics which showed PMQs again). I was stunned by the coolness with which Jacqui Smith stood up and called for Surestart centres to be protected from public spending cuts. This is a woman who has looted hundreds of thousands of pounds from the public finances. Instead of facing prosecution she has been "pardoned" by her parliamentary colleagues in get-out-gaol-free scam that would have embarrased General Pinochet. The money she has siphoned from the public purse into her own pockets would surely be enough to fund a whole Surestart centre for the term of the next parliament. As Redditch is a slender marginal there is no point (argue the Commons establishment) in asking her to pay the money back. On the "awkward bench" next to Dennis Skinner a large gentleman got to his feet and blustered about socialism, but not a word did he say about Jacquie Smith's kleptomania (what does she want all that money for? - surely there is a limit to what you can spend in Redditch shops?). Several times the newspapers have said that there is no point in asking many of the MPs to give back the immoral amounts of "expenses" they have awarded themselves - these MPs are standing down at the next election and thus there is no sanction the party leaders can apply to force them to reimburse the public. Perhaps "Dave" should threaten to pass legislation so that where there is clear evidence of wrongdoing identified by the relevant scrutiny authorities the money should either be deducted from the MP's parliamentary pension fund or his/her parliamentary pension should be suspended until the money is paid back (they were happy to raid our pension funds when it suited them).

Dave (I’m just an ordinary bloke) Cameron

Sent by e-mail:

 

Thursday, three days ago, I took my work up to the Boardroom so I could watch Dave (I'm just an ordinary bloke) Cameron's speech to the Conservative Party Conference – the last of the three party conferences before the general election.

 

Leaving political issues to one side, in marketing terms "Dave" is a fascinating character.  He has, single-handedly, taken a dying brand and revived it so that it is being sought after by millions.  I keep trying to work out how he has done this, since the process is not obvious.

 

In an analysis that should be required teaching on all marketing courses Goethe drew a distinction between the object which creates an image and the image which creates an object.  Dave (I'm just an ordinary bloke) Cameron is an example of the image which creates an object.  And the object has become concrete and come alive and is organising itself to run the country (probably).

 

In part he has "become the change he wants to see" but it must be more than that.  "Dave" is obviously not an ordinary bloke, but the jibes about wealth and privilege and the Bullingdon Club just bounce off him.  It seems that the public, who like an ironic joke, are ignoring the Old Etonian connection as a way of winding up the Labour government (whom they have come to despise). 

 

Also ordinary people seem to genuinely like him.  Is it possible that Mr and Mrs Cameron, in their current manifestation as "ordinary people" represent a lifestyle ideal many households aspire to?  The house, the clothes, the loving family, the bicycling to work, the relaxed holidays, the tough-love talking – it's a flawless performance (if you packaged this lifestyle and dropped it into the Ideal Home Exhibition the queues for the showhome would be enormous).

 

And there is an additional quality I struggle to define.  It is more than just charisma.  Whenever "Dave" appears it is as if The Temper Trap are playing Sweet Disposition just below the human audible frequency range.

Musical incompetence

Against a bright red background Prime Minister Gordon Brown spoke to the Labour Party Conference. An impressive recital of policy achievements over the last twelve years (but no mention of the Iraq war, which is one of the key reasons the party is going to lose). We saw an overhead view of the audience clapping and cheering - an odd view since it appeared that many of the women delegates were wearing red clothes the same shade as the red carpet.

Conference speech crescendos are an anthropological category worthy of more study.

At the end, during the standing ovation, "Gordon" was joined by his popular wife and they kissed and chatted and acknowledged the crowd like Akhnaten and Nefertiti at one of their audience windows.

However, just as the acclaim was approaching triumph (these sessions have an escalating format) some idiot put on "upbeat" music and we heard Heather Small bellowing out Who do you think you are, stop acting like you're some kind of star...

The delegates were clapping along as Heather was telling Gordon ...you're moving on out, it's time to break free...

Heads should roll for that musical incompetence.

Akhnaten and Nefertiti at their Window of Appearances: http://www.mfa.org/egypt/amarna/akh_tour/akh_tour_page3.html

Those lyrics:

You've done me wrong, your time is up
You took a sip (just a sip) from the devils cup.
You broke my heart, there's no way back.
Move right outta here baby.
Go and pack your bags.
Just who do you think you are?
Stop acting like some kind of star.
Just who do you think you are?
Take it like a man baby if that's what you are.

[chorus]
'Cos I'm moving on up.
You're moving on out.
Movin' on up.
Nothing can stop me.
Moving on up.
You're moving on out.
Time to break free.
Nothing can stop me,Yeah.

On the Today programme this morning

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Lord Mandelson was interviewed on the Today programme this morning.

 

The interviewer was James Naughtie, who seemed entirely unable to put any challenging questions, or even stem the flow of words from Peter Mandelson's mouth.

 

"I don't feel under great pressure from you Jim" said Lord Mandelson, which about sums the interview up.

I am jibbering

I am fascinated by the Anglo-Saxon treasure found near Lichfield. I have a great desire to know more about these objects and the context in which they were found. For me this is the most important event to occur this century.

I feel I must skip work tomorrow and immediately go to Lichfield (but I won't).



And I find myself wondering how this discovery will change society. For I am in no doubt that "information" on this scale and of this magnitude will change everything we think about ourselves. Very seldom has cultural identity been so fundamentally affected - and in ways we can currently only guess at (for instance, if a trashy movie such as Braveheart can affect the self-image of a "nation", what will be the impact of a genuine archaeological/historical narrative a hundred times greater?).

But I am jibbering and will stop and go and listen to Tristrum Hunt talking about Mackinder on Radio 3 (he was discussed on the World Service recently and I have been intrigued ever since).

Fabulous treasure

All the news bulletins today have led on the fabulous 7th century Anglo-Saxon treasure unearthed somewhere in "Mercia". Over one and a half thousand golden objects have been dug up in a muddy field, mostly military items including gold sword pommels and a gold processional cross with a Biblical inscription invoking divine wrath against the "enemy" (writing in the 7th century was regarded as a form of magic). The find is considered equal to the epoch-defining Sutton Hoo treasure dug up in 1939.

Michael Wood appeared on BBC Radio 4's PM almost hyperventilating and babbling on about burnt woods and the cult of St Chad based at Lichfield.

Sneering Jon Snow reported the item on Channel 4 News. Looking at part of a golden helmet, magnified many times over on a screen, he said: "It doesn't look very English." The British Museum expert sitting in the studio corrected him: "It's actually classically Anglo-Saxon."

And not a peep so far from Francis Pryor and the other Anglo-Saxon migration deniers.

How is Francis Pryor going to explain all this away!

More: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/staffordshire/8272058.stm

Crumbled to dust

Liberal Democrat Treasury spokesman Vince Cable's seemingly impregnable reputation crumbled to dust yesterday. On BBC Radio 4's PM programme they played an interview where the female interviewer (I didn't catch her name - I was driving at the time) comprehensively demolished his arguments and reduced him to whining complaints and vague generalities. This interview was re-staged, almost word for word, by Jeremy Paxman on Newsnight, indicating that Vince Cable had made no effort in the intervening hours to improve his defence.

It was shocking to witness someone normally so astute and well-informed effectively fall flat on his face.

Getting up again is going to be difficult.

The darkness when it came was chilly

Above: the facade of the Down Hall hotel, taken just as I was walking back to my car.

In the evening I went to the Down Hall hotel near Bishops Stortford for dinner with friends. The hotel is an Edwardian mansion with modern extensions, down a long narrow lane (that leads from a village with about nine pubs in it). I arrived just after 7 as the light was fading.

Meeting one of my friends we took our drinks out onto the terrace. The garden looked well-kept with borders of pink flowers and arrangements of neatly clipped topiary. The scene had all the appearance of summer but with none of the warmth (and the darkness when it came was chilly).

The others arrived and we went into Ibbotsons restaurant. Not many tables were occupied. Mumm Cordon Rouge champagne to drink. I had a sort of terrine made from wood pigeon, roast venison, and what was called an "upside down cake" with a fruit sauce. All the food had a tangy aftertaste which I didn't care for, although the others raved about their meals. The presentation of the courses was tricksy, in a piled-high nouvellish sort of way.

We talked about economics, politics, society.

One of the group, who is a strong Conservative, praised David Cameron: "Don't you see how brilliant he has been in forcing spending cuts onto the agenda. Now both Labour and the Liberal Democrats are in a bidding war on who can cut the most. And the joke is that the blow will fall on the public sector which is mainly made up of Labour and Liberal supporters..."

We talked about books - The Long Tail; a book about geopolitics (The Next 100 Years); and (surprisingly) Suite Francais.

We had our coffee in the great hall, lounging on sofas grouped around a massive unlit fireplace.

We talked about travel and L was so insulting about Tel Aviv that another of the party struggled to his feet (he had had a lot of champagne) and announced "I'm Jewish".

Apart from myself, everyone was staying over. I left them about midnight. The drive home took me about three hours.

Lord Mandelson interviewed on the Today programme

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Peter Mandelson was interviewed by James Naughtie on the Today programme this morning on BBC Radio 4.

 

The Secretary of State for Business, Innovation and Skills was slightly hesitant, and his delivery included pauses, audible swallowing, and a slightly hysterical "let me make my point".

 

The interview was presaged by the BBC's political editor Nick Robinson.

 

Lord Mandelson couldn't resist swiping at Nick Robinson, claiming he was wrong to have said the Prime Minister's previous policy position had been one of "Labour investment" opposed to "Tory cuts".

 

In an act of nemesis the BBC produced the Prime Minister's actual words, spoken at Prime Minister's Questions, and asked Peter Mandelson while he was still on air to correct himself.  It left him looking very foolish.  He finished the interview snarling.

The Man InThe High Castle by Philip K Dick

The 70th anniversary of the outbreak of the second world war has been much in the news this weekend.



Above: coincidentally I am currently reading The Man In The High Castle by Philip K Dick. The book describes a world in which the Allies lost the war and America has been divided between German-occupied eastern states and Japanese-occupied western states with a sort of American quisling-state buffer zone in the middle. I don't normally read science fiction, but I am finding this novel very complex, subtle and interesting - with an appearance by Philip K Dick himself, thinly disguised as the dissident "man in the high castle".



Above: Philip K Dick is supposed to be more than just a science fiction writer. He is widely regarded as a prophetic visionary who can "see" the future. His statements, so we are told, are not to be dismissed lightly.

Therefore you can imagine my surprise when I reached page 156 (in the Penguin edition) to read his most sympathetic character, the one who represents everything decent and "normal", voicing the opinion that the British should rule the world.

And in the "book within the book" the man in the high castle (ie Philip K Dick himself) predicts a world in which the British attain world hegemony, even over the Americans.

As I said, it's a complex book.

Which makes me wonder, were the opportunity to present itself, whether we would want world hegemony again. No-one would thank us for it. Wouldn't it be more comfortable to jettison even those foreign commitments we currently have (EU, NATO, Commonwealth) and turn our back on the world and become like Switzerland.

Controversial historical theme: there is a developing trend among some historians who are starting to look at British-American relations post-1945 from a very critical standpoint. "No foreign government has harmed British interests more than the Americans in the post-war period" is the thesis (America is supposed to have financially bled Britain dry in the years 1939-41; callously abandoned the British people to near-starvation in the years 1945-47; refused us support during the Suez Crisis; insisted on decolonisation during the 1950s and 60s; interfered in Northern Ireland during the 1970s; and dragged us into two pointless wars in Iraq and Afghanistan). It's an interesting perspective, but one I would like to see more expanded before I give it serious consideration.

Elephant & Castle

Above: the Heygate Estate in Elephant & Castle. A failed modernist experiment in social engineering, put up in the 1970s and already scheduled for demolition. Architects are divided on why the residential housing failed to create a viable community, but probably it was because of the lack of defensive space - as soon as you stepped outside of your unit (you can't call them flats) you were in communal areas and vulnerable to whoever happened to be there. This sort of architecture might work in quasi-fascist or quasi-socialist societies with a heavy police presence, but is entirely unsuited to individualistic lifestyles. The extensive use of concrete might look impressive in strong sunlight, but in the English climate appears oppressive and depressing. The replacement plans are not much better.



Above: the Elephant & Castle pub. It has "rooms" above, but is not really an hotel. The planners responsible for the post-war development of this area should be shot (only joking!).



Above: the K9 pet shop under the central shopping centre at Elephant & Castle. I was appalled to go into this store and find in an airless area at the back, without natural light, pens of puppies for sale. Is there a link between the inhuman treatment of people (via the brutalist architecture) and their subsequent cruel treatment of animals (and each other)?



Above: I did like this row of business under the railway arches.

Chilling

James Murdoch, heir to Rupert Murdoch's evil empire, gave a speech yesterday at the Edinburgh Festival. Is it possible that when Rupert Murdoch finally goes he will hand his illicit political power to his son? It is not the BBC's ambitions that I would describe as "chilling".



Above: the article which James Murdoch wrote for today's Guardian was intellectually bogus and full of doublespeak. News International is an organisation that routinely corrupts the political process in the United Kingdom. There are very strong grounds for suspecting its employees have broken the law on a massive scale, and if this lawbreaking was authorised at a senior level then James Murdoch should be in a prison cell, not feted at the Edinburgh Festival.



Above: Newsnight has kept going through the summer with a number of "guest" presenters including Nick Robinson. The BBC is one of the few media organisations that has looked impartially at the mobile phone hacking scandal. The national press has maintained a collective silence on the issue (either through fear of Rupert Murdoch or because they themselves are implicated).



Above: one of the few journalists to cover the mobile phone hacking scandal was Lucy Mangan. All the big guns of the British press have remained silent, leaving this latter-day Adela Quested to speak out despite the pressure to keep silent (very real if unspoken pressure - it's unlikely News International will be offering her a job anytime soon). The power of the press today is comparable to the power of the unions in the 1970s, and one of the actions "Dave" should do as soon as he gets in (as soon as he gets in) is to destroy the power of News International through a media monopoly bill - otherwise News International will eventually destroy him.

She refused the white wine - a work incident

It has been so long since I updated my Work Diary on this blog, and so many things have happened, that I scarcely know where to pick up the thread.

The agency now has a new Head - Yvette. Andrea, the former Head, has been demoted to Account Director (everyone expected her to slink away but in the current recession there is nowhere for her to slink to). Yvette is a monstrous, bad-tempered, bullying woman who swears, shouts and threatens people.

For a while I thought of ending my Work Diary, since discovery would mean the end of everything. Or at least the end of my career in advertising and PR since Yvette knows almost everyone in the trade, and almost everyone knows her. But like Procopius I feel the need to keep a secret record.



Above: as I walked southward along Regents Street, the silver-blue summer dusk and emerging city lights gave a dreamlike glamour to the end of the working day. In the picture, if you follow the pavement along the right you can see half-way down a little side-turning. Just on the corner of this turning is the entrance to Cocoon.



Above: the function room at Cocoon - packed with PRs and very hot.

I collected my namebadge from the temporary reception desk and went up the curving stairs and through the restaurant to the function room. This low-ceilinged salon was absolutely packed with PRs networking with each other. The noise was intense and the temperature unbearable, despite all the windows being open.

I took a glass of white wine (unchilled) from the bar and made a slow circuit of the room that entailed a great deal of gentle pushing to get through. There was no-one there I recognised. Like Catherine Morland in Northanger Abbey I felt the awkwardness of having no party to join.

I forced myself to approach a pretty blonde girl from Aurora PR and we chatted easily for a while. A large middle-aged woman drifted into the room and joined us. I finished a third glass of the horrible white wine (on an empty stomach).

It was at that point I noticed Andrea standing quite close, and excusing myself from the others I went across and asked her how long she had been at the event. She had arrived before me and had watched my circuit of the room and subsequent dithering with the other waifs and strays. While I had been wasting time she had made quite a lot of progress, collecting business cards from potentially useful contacts.

She introduced me to Justin from Fuel PR, a towering American aged mid-twenties. Then two freelances who might be able to write for one of our clients. Then an elderly man whose name and function I didn't catch (I was on my fifth glass of wine by this time).

Yvette arrived and her position in the room, moving towards us, was immediately apparent from the noise she made and the number of people who greeted her. She must have changed in the office as she was wearing a shapeless gold kaftan of a diaphanous material (silk-like, but not silk I think) that outlined her body as she moved, identifying the rolls of fat around her middle. She laughed constantly with that unique social laugh of hers where she grins and nods her head vigourously and makes a "He he he" sound.

Arriving in our little circle she talked very graciously to Andrea and myself, all the while her cold suspicious eyes flicking around as if she had caught us shirking (which in my case, she had). She refused the white wine, giving the glass back to the waiter and insisting on champagne. After a little arguing she got her way, and the waiter returned with a tray of champagne flutes although so rude had Yvette been to him that I wondered if he had spat in each of the glasses (he would be justified in doing so).

Yvette, Andrea and myself withdrew to the edge of the room where Yvette wanted to know who we had spoken to and what new business we had identified. Andrea went through the business cards she had collected. Then it was my turn to explain what I had done at the event.

However, just at that moment there was a presentation in the middle of the room. A "body wrap" was demonstrated by a model and an assistant who dextrously wrapped her up ("She has wrapped Vannessa Feltz" the presenter announced). This presentation went on for about twenty minutes, and at the end of it a middle-aged man with dyed black hair came up to suggest to Yvette that they had dinner in the restaurant.

"We'll catch up in the office" Yvette said to me. As soon as they disappeared from sight I left the event. I was given a goodie bag on the way out.

Postscript: days later I arrived at work and Chris (does Accounts) immediately said in a whisper "Have you seen Yvette today! Have you seen her! She's thin!"

I went into Yvette's office to look at her and she was indeed improbably thin.

"She must have had the body wrap" Andrea said.

Doublespeak

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In the news today was an attack on the "meddling" of the Prince of Wales into architectural decisions.

 

The report contained an attack upon the Prince of Wales by someone called Graham Smith who, in a brazen example of doublespeak said:  "We need to know if decisions are being made according to what the public wants and needs or what Prince Charles wants".

 

Graham Smith (who represents an organisation called Republic) is deliberately distorting the truth here, since he must know (if he has even half a brain) that "the public" overwhelmingly wants an end to brutalist architecture constructed on an inhuman scale.  He must also know that the Prince of Wales is fully representing the voiceless and voteless public in opposing the arrogant and undemocratic imposition of offensive architecture despite the wishes of those who have to work in it or live near it.  Real democracy should mean everyone who lives and works within a quarter-mile of a development getting a vote (paid for by the developers) if the building is above a certain scale or involves intrusive styles of architecture (and if the public wants pastiche the public must have pastiche).

 

The choice is not actually between "pastiche" and "modernism".  There would be far fewer complaints if the new buildings being put up were of high quality (Norman Foster is not Mies van der Rohe - not in my opinion anyway).  The gherkins, shards and cheese graters proposed by the intellectual elite do not represent the sort of utopia most people want to live and work in (and for an idea of the utopia most Londoners dream of I would refer you to Hatch End).