Highbury 2 - the Quadrant Estate

The sun was setting and the light beginning to fade by the time I reached the Quadrant Estate, but there was just time to look around before it became dark. The time was about four-thirty in the afternoon and the estate was absolutely quiet. I hardly saw anyone the entire time I was there.



Above: opened in 1954, the estate comprises a mixture of about forty low-rise blocks plus some terraced housing. About six hundred households in all. The area pioneered low-rise post-war blocks of flats.

The design was by the architectural department of the old London County Council.



Above: at the centre of the park-like estate is the Birchmore community hall (hardly any thought seems to have gone into the external appearance of this building which is a utilitarian brick shed). The hall was the venue for the first screening of local history film Views From A Pear Tree in which residents talk about the history of the estate and why it is a pleasant place to live. About a hundred of the original 1954 residents still live on the Quadrant Estate.

You can see part of the film: http://www.guardian.co.uk/society/video/2010/jan/04/highbury-quadrant-london



Above: the film Views From A Pear Tree puts forward several thories as to why the Quadrant Estate has been so successful, including a tendentious claim of "progressiveness". Far more convincing must be the landscaping policies (there are a thousand trees on the estate, giving the area a soft and beautiful aspect even on a cold gloomy December afternoon). Also significant is the statement that a hundred of the original residents still live there fifty years after moving in. Do people stay because it is a pleasant place to live, or is it a pleasant place to live because people stay? If you look at most problem communities, one of the common underlying themes is lack of a stable population. Modern society is obsessed with "mobility" but an endlessly transient population is not the way to build happy satisfied communities.



Above: obviously life on the estate is not perfect. Drug-related anti-social behaviour is a concern, and the police are monitoring several "crack houses" in the flats. The police also use informers, which is not a good sign of a happy community.



Above: 1959 statue entitled Neighbours by the Second World War refugee artist Siegfried Charoux. The work seems to be a socialist-realist monument to the white working class. Recently restored and Grade II listed.

Declaring war

I am working at home because of the bad weather.

On BBC News 24 I am following reports of Business Secretary Vince Cable declaring war on Rupert Murdoch's evil empire.

This is wonderful news. How is it possible for Vince Cable to be embarrassed by this revelation? He should be proud of taking this stand.

There is now an opportunity for the government to demonstrate they are independent of Murdoch by publicly backing the Business Secretary (and privately forcing News Corporation out of London, using all the tricks governments have at their disposal).

News Corporation is an organisation antithetical to democracy.

It was inevitable that this moment would come.

Why hasn't Ed Miliband made a statement supporting the Business Secretary?

But no Newsnight tonight to give more analysis.

Highbury 1 - Aberdeen Park Estate

Aberdeen Park in Highbury is a small estate off Highbury Park Road. There is only one road into the estate, and this restricted access has created a civilised ambiance that is much admired by town planners. Aberdeen Park is important to architectural historians because of the great variety of architecture that can be seen within a small area - here you can see the evolution of the London suburb in a walk of about twenty minutes.



Above: the entrance to Aberdeen Park is marked on Highbury Park Road by these Victorian gates. Although the gates are never now closed, they are important symbols of "defensible space" helping to shape the psychological behaviour of visitors and residents. Aberdeen Park was laid out in the 1850s and named after a long-forgotten Prime Minister.



Above: the approach road is lined by a variety of Victorian and Edwardian houses. Note the sylvan nature of the estate - as well as garden trees there are ninety trees lining the approach road and the circle. The estate has been a Conservation Area since 1990.



Above: the southern outer circle shows the kind of substantial villas that were first put up on the estate in the 1850s. Note the Osbourne-type Italianate tower. Several of these four-story buildings have been converted into flats.



Above: the Highbury Centre is now a Christian hotel. Formerly it was used to accomodate British missionaries returning to London from their overseas posts. This restrained facade shows how beautiful mid-Victorian architecture can be.



Above: Aberdeen Court, also on the outer circle, is a block of flats put up in the 1920s. Note the variegated use of balconies and Dutch gables. This expensive use of building materials has repaid itself many times over in creating desireable residences that are pleasant to live in, and easy to sell when necessary.



Above: the four blocks that comprise the Newcome flats in the inner circle were put up in the 1950s. They were opened by the actresss Joyce Grenfell. Note again the subtle use of defensible space - discreet railings, a central green space overlooked by balconies, clearly delineated approach paths.



Above: along the outer ring are these Victorian semi-detached houses, some of the earliest examples in London. They represent a significant development in suburban residential architecture, taking an average nineteeth-century detached villa model and adapting it to provide maximum privacy and garden amenity at a realistic cost. From innovations of this kind flowed the future development of inter-war London suburbia.



Above: the Edwardian proto-semis were further refined into these 1920s semis on the southern inner circle. I think these represent some of the most perfect family homes you will find anywhere. Everything about this design is on a human scale - these are genuine homes, not machines for living in.



Above: the "semi" design reached its apogee in the 1930s, as can been seen in these examples on the eastern inner circle. Scorned by modern architects, houses of this kind still represent the first choice of most Londoners. Perhaps the Big Society will allow local people to at last control what buildings go up in their area.



Above: St Saviour's church is the greatest building in Aberdeen Park, and is grade 1 listed. The polychrome exterior has been compared to Keble College in Oxford. The interior (which I have not seen) comprises colourful encaustic tiles, patterned brickwork, stained glass, wrought iron, religious mosaics and a High Anglican arrangement influenced by the Oxford Movement.

John Betjeman worshipped here as a child and the building obviously influenced his later aesthetic sense.

No longer used as a church unfortunately.

Military clues are scattered throughout the tableau

Official warnings to keep off the roads because of the severe weather conditions, but so ingrained is my habit of going out on Sunday afternoons that I decided to risk it and drove thirty miles to one of the central villages.

The church was founded in the 7th century by the Mercian king Wulphere. A few Saxon fragments remain, but the building is mostly 13th century. Some idiots have painted the entire interior (walls, box pews, even the pillars) in a modern white emulsion paint that makes the place look hideous - how can this happen in a Grade 1 building?



Above: my main interest was this brass plaque in an ashlar surround. It shows a 16th century family kneeling in a paved chamber before a plinth piled with bones. The skull and crossbones is a symbol of mortality, but also of military death or glory and membership of various secret fraternities prevalent in the county.

Military clues are scattered throughout the tableau, including the detailed armour of the eldest son, the two heraldic devices (they require more interpretation) and the significant mention in the text that the father is "armig" but not actually a knight (although the arms have helmet crests). Both parents and the eldest son are kneeling on cushions, the all the rest are kneeling on the stone floor. Note the chrysom child lying on the ground on the right (a child that died in infancy so that its christening gown was used as its shroud).

In a cultural context the eldest son's armour, and the prominence of the two coats of arms are significant. Armour obviously had a practical protective purpose, but I am intrigued by the theory that it was also used to portray the male body as acquiring a superhuman aspect. Considerable social rules surrounded medieval heraldry - who can have arms, how they assume them, and why.



Above: high up on the wall immediately over the brass plaque was this 16th century helmet. It is tempting to connect the helmet with the family in the brass engraving, but there is no evidence for this. You can see part of the gleaming emusion-covered wall.

It's all a game really - the past week at work

Monday

Meetings in the morning, including a meeting with Tom D, my immediate boss just back from holiday.

"I've had good reports about you from other managers" he told me.

More meetings in the afternoon, including a collaborative meeting with two government departments over a joint Directory we want to produce - they were not very positive about the idea.

Still working on the marketing plan.

Tuesday

We have decided to go ahead with the Directory unilaterally. It is an example of the "white" publicity we do (we also do "black" publicity, but I cannot write about that). I have given the project to the Research team, and it is good to see them excited and enthusiastic for a change.

Giving them this project has probably saved them from redundancy.

At lunchtime I walked to the lakeside cafe, compacted snow underfoot. The wide shallow lake was frozen. A smoked salmon and cream cheese bagel and an almond pastry, with a cup of coffee.

In the afternoon a long meeting with Paul Preston (manages the Innovative Development team) about his section of the Marketing Plan. He agreed with all my proposals, but not without an excessive amount of talking. I am unsure whether Paul Preston is a sincere person or not.

At the end of the working day a talk with Felix S (wooden, haltering, very old for 45) about evaluation measures for the marketing team. He is in charge of evaluation for every section of the NGO. He told me (privately) that evaluation means whatever you want it to mean - I interpreted this as a friendly hint that he would support my work.

Wednesday

Another day spent attending an "informal" meeting of the NGO's "stakeholders". I am the only person from the NGO to attend these meetings, which are not minuted. When I return to the office I have to give a verbal report to Tom D and to the NGO's CEO Alec Pressberg.

Anyway, a long drive into the Midlands to the impersonal luxury of a big hotel. In one of the meeting rooms (silent, plush, beige-coloured) the Steering Committee gave their various reports. Despite the prohibition against taking minutes I had to make notes otherwise I would not have remembered everything.

I caused a stir when I announced that the NGO was going ahead with the Directory project, funding it directly ourselves.

After the meeting lunch was served in the wide corridor outside. Looking to the right I could see the remains of other lunches, presumably left by other meetings taking place in the hotel. Not for the first time I felt how insubstantial everything was, and also how bland (bland people, bland hotel, bland food etc).

Thursday

Every few weeks Tom D holds a review meeting of all the departments under his control (Marketing, the Research team, and Statistics & Evaluation). I met several of the Research team for the first time, as normally they work from home. Half-way through the meeting Carmel (Special Projects launch) called me out to reveal that the celebrity booked for her launch had just cancelled.

In the afternoon I went to an awards ceremony held at a university college. The Baroness giving the awards launched into an attack on the government. The food was very good.

In the afternoon a meeting with Ryan M who manages the Operational Team (aged about 30, hyper-active, swears a lot). He has been one of the most difficult people for me to liaise with, but I cannot ignore him as his department is so important. I had prepared a draft of his section of the Marketing Plan and attempted to talk it through with him. He was petulant and unco-operative, and dismissed my proposals without suggesting any alternatives. Normally I would walk away from such an unpromising situation, but I do not have any other choice but to try to get Ryan M to contribute to the Marketing Plan. So I sat there for an hour being pleasant and polite and trying to get agreement.

Later, when I was walking behind one of the partitions in the Reception area, I heard Ryan M loudly denouncing the Marketing Plan to Alan Pressberg.

At 5 o'clock, just as I was preparing to go home, Yasmin S (HR manager) flopped into the desk opposite me and told me how she hated making herself unpopular with her subordinates. This confession from such a strong young woman surprised me. I told her it was not possible to be friends with people you have to manage.

Friday

The offices were strangely quiet when I arrived this morning, many people taking the day off because of the bad weather warnings (there is also a tradition of civil service laziness, which the NGO has adopted, that means very little gets done on a Friday).

News that the Special Projects launch has been suspended because of funding difficulties (Carmel was cynical about this: "It's all a game really, no-one here takes work seriously").

To my amazement all the sections of the Marketing Plan have been signed off by department managers, including Ryan M. I discussed the Plan with Tom D ("they have either accepted the Plan because they havn't read it, because they havn't understood it, or because they are going to launch a counter-attack at the Board Weekend"). Finally finishing this Plan is a great relief for me.

A room full of bankers in New Bond Street

Above: as we left we were given goody-bags.

Last Thursday, while students rioted in central London smashing shop windows and attacking cars, I was in a room full of bankers in New Bond Street. I used to get asked to these events all the time as I have a few "financial" clients I do freelance work for. Then the financial crisis began and all the invitations dried up.

So I suppose it is an indication of economic buoyancy that the entertaining has begun again.

This was a reasonably lavish event, held in an upstairs room in offices along New Bond Street. All the time I was there I was ushered, attended and "minded" by what could be described as British salarymen - polite, solicitous, but all the time selling the company to me. I wasn't left alone for a second.

The room was a large double cube, completely filled with about a hundred guests - mostly men but with a few women, almost everyone dressed in dark suits. At one end was a startlingly beautiful string trio of blonde young women playing snippets of classical music. At the other end was a table serving Taittinger champagne (not that you needed to go near the bar, glasses were continually replenished by waiters moving among the guests).

Through the guests moved waitresses with platters of canapés - honey-glazed sausages, vol-au-vents, Thai chicken with a peanut sauce.

I was introduced to various people and listened to their incomprehensible conversation: "the Russian money used to come through Iceland..." "inshore, offshore, that then becomes inshore again..." "he is one of the Collins Stewarts..."

Double-headed eagles are rare

The thaw of recent days has continued, and most of the ice and snow has gone. Going out after lunch the air felt mild although the temperature was only slightly above freezing. Drive of about thirty-five miles to the south west of the county.

The village is in a small valley prone to flooding. A shallow river winds around the parish and provides the boundary for several of the farms. The community has preserved several acres of ancient limestone grassland which in warmer weather is notable for wild flowers (pyramidal orchid, clustered bellflower, autumn gentian) and rare butterflies (chequered skipper, pearl-bordered and silver-washed fritillaries, green hairstreak).

I have tried the church door several times, but previously it had always been locked. I have read about the history of the area, and nothing remarkable has been said about the building. Therefore I was unprepared, when entering it today, for the surprises inside.



Above: below the tower parapet are these strange heads. You may need to click on the image to enlarge it. What do these heads signify, and why are there six of them?



Above: There is an outer door to the south porch and then an immense inner door. The handle of the inner door is medieval and incorporates a design of two lizards (or dragons?) and what seems to be a runic inscription. Is this meant to be a reference to a grendel-type monster?



Above: why two pulpits of such solid and ornate appearance?



Above: life-size recumbent effigies of a thirteenth-century lord and his wife. They look as if they are in bed. The arms on the shield were difficult to decipher.



Above: recumbent effigy of a fourteenth-century knight. Chain-mail armour. Angels by his head.



Above: most fantastic treasure, and completely unexpected, was this medieval altar frontal in crimson silk. It was underneath a roll blind and behind glass. The gold embroidery shows the Assumption of the Virgin surrounded by angels and double-headed eagles.



Above: double-headed eagles are rare in English heraldry so that I wondered whether the material for the frontal could have been given by Anne of Bohemia (wife of Richard II). The dates are roughly right, and Anne of Bohemia's arms include double-headed eagles. Also there was a castle seven miles away that would have been on the royal circuit and where she almost certainly stayed.

They only used one line - the past week at work

Monday

Over the weekend I had worked on the Marketing Plan for the NGO. This despite my resolution never to take work home. I have to be careful over the details of the Plan as it will be presented by my boss, Director Tom D, at the Executive Board Weekend.

When I got to the office I was surprised to see my deputy Meryl P at her desk. I had thought she was on holiday this week. She was still not doing any work (and did no real work of any kind all day) but talked at length about the UNISON Women's Conference in February.

Tom D away all week, which was a relief, since I knew nothing would be added to my workload.

I had been booked to go on a two-day training course in London, but unilaterally I decided to cancel it ("this is my first act of defiance" I said to Carmel, Special Projects manager).

In the afternoon I was asked at short notice to give a talk on marketing to a gathering upstairs of twenty consultants.

Tuesday

A lot of the NGO's work involves liaising with public sector organisations - often difficult people to work with.

Meryl P spent the whole day on trade union work - I just let her get on with it.

A meeting with colleague Felix S who is so long-winded that a huge amount of time was spent discussing a very small aspect of his research findings.

A lot of the day spent preparing for the Special Projects launch.

Wednesday

Hectic day. A rep arrived from a specialist telemarketing company we are going to use to ensure a good audience for the Special Projects launch. A lot of the morning spent with the Special Projects team going over the script that will be used by the telemarketers (because of the confidential nature of Special Projects there is a very limited amount of information we can give away).

Then a meeting about a directory the NGO is to produce.

Then a meeting with two idiots from the Health & Safety Executive (nothing to do with marketing but I think I was delegated to meet them because no-one else wanted to).

The HSE meeting was interrupted by an agitated Carmel, her desiccated face contorted with angst. The printed invitations for the Special Projects launch had been delivered with half of the NGO's logo missing. I had to break off the meeting and complain to the printing company, insisting on a reprint free of charge.

At the end of the day I gave a short radio interview. I talked for about fifteen minutes and when I listened to the broadcast later they only used one line of it. Normally Tom D would do these interviews.

Thursday

The reprinted Special Projects invitations were on my desk when I arrived this morning.

Another meeting about the Special Projects launch. I made sure Meryl P attended the meeting and was given tasks to carry out. If she fails to do this work it will be very serious (not least because Carmel will be involved, and she is someone who shouts her head off to get her own way).

Lunch with Felix in the George III pub (low beams and an open fire). He talked mostly about office politics. He told me he mistrusts the private sector.

I left early to go into London.

Friday

Most of the day with Carmel looking at potential venues for the Special Projects launch. Nothing seemed to be suitable. Aged about 55 Carmel is thin, loud and extrovert. Heavily lined face with fake tan and bright red lipstick. Her hair dyed a deep red colour. We visited six venues and she turned them all down (luckily because of the "confidential" nature of the launch we didn't need to print the venue on the invitations).

Banned

Above: The Smiths, in the person of Johnny Marr, has told David Cameron he is "forbidden" to like their music.

This was reported on the Guardian website in an article by Jo Adetunji:

http://www.guardian.co.uk/politics/2010/dec/03/johnny-marr-david-cameron-twitter

You might argue that David Cameron is big enough and powerful enough to be able to defend himself, but hearing this news made me uneasy. If Johnny Marr is going to ban Conservatives from liking his music what other groups might he ban? Scientologists are an unpopular group - is it OK for The Smiths to ban them? An interview by John Harris in the Guardian hinted that The Smiths were not keen on black people or Chinese people so are these groups going to be "banned"? What does Johnny Marr's ban consist of anyway? Banned from attending The Smiths concerts? Banned from buying The Smiths music? Banned from standing outside Salford Lads Club? Banned from walking in the streets after 8pm? Banned from owning property? Banned from working in the professions? Banned from parks, restaurants and swimming pools? Banned from owning electrical/optical equipment, bicycles, typewriters or records? Banned from cinema, theatre, concerts, exhibitions, beaches and holiday resorts? Banned from owning dogs, cats and birds?

Where does this sort of thing end? (this is a rhetorical question, we already know where it ends).

Anyway, the voting patterns among young people during the 1980s were such that a good proportion (30% to 40%) of The Smiths music sales must have been to Conservative voters - is Johnny Marr proposing to give this money back?



Above: the news was also reported on the Daily Mirror website.

One of the most depressing aspects of the post-election period has been the lazy way in which the left has jumped into strident opposition mode. Opposition for opposition's sake and the noisier the better. Ed Miliband is trying to say interesting things and develop new ideas but no-one is listening to him.

Jeremy Hunt on the Today programme

Interesting interview with Culture Secretary Jeremy Hunt on the Today programme this morning. Discussing the national provision of minimum bandwidth, it seemed as if the government sees the internet eventually replacing television and radio as the primary way in which people access programmes. It's obvious once you think about it. It would also be a very subtle way of dealing with Rupert Murdoch's extortionate Sky subscription packages as presumably you would just pay programme by programme (the BBC programmes remaining free of course).

Lead plaques

Above: although there is still a lot of snow on the ground there was some bright sunshine today - flooding in through the south windows of this church in streams of golden light.



Above: at the back, on the north wall of the tower, were lead plaques with drawings of sailing ships.



Above: No indication of who created these plaques or what thy meant. On the whole I liked the sense of mystery. They were obviously antique, and examples of folk art.

Jung writes about "the power of myth and the collective unconscious, a reservoir of age-old images buried deep in the mind which are tapped in moments of genius". Apparently we all inherit these archetypal memories and they come to the forefront of the mind during the creative process. All great creativity draws upon this reserve, and all great art features some variation of these archetypal narratives.

Anyway, looking at these plaques made me think of Donovan singing Atlantis.

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LmXElrdrJ3U

Experiencing delayed shock - the past week at work

Above: I borrowed this book from HR manager Yasmin S, but it doesn't tell you anything you don't already know.

Monday

As soon as I arrived I was called into a meeting with Tom D, my immediate boss. After a few perfunctory enquiries about my weekend he started off-loading work onto me. He also introduced me to two 16-year-old schoolgirls who are work-shadowing various people in the NGO.

Having been allocated the two girls for most of the morning, I let them sit in on a meeting with one of the ad agencies we use. Then into a meeting with a telemarketing company that we will use to get attendees for the Special Projects launch (all the targets have to be CEOs). Carmel, who is the Special Projects manager, couldn't attend the meeting so we were joined by her assistant Elaine (faded, fortyish, has the look of a troublemaker).

In the afternoon Tom D was asking where Meryl P was (she reports to me). After searching the building I found her up in the tearoom, talking to Leo (also in my department). Apparently she has been disappearing in this way most afternoons.

Later I rearranged the desks, moving Meryl so that she now sits directly facing me - previously she had been round a corner and out of sight. There was no direct opposition from Meryl, although she was obviously not happy about the move. When I told Tom D what I had done he was astounded that she had been so compliant.

Tuesday

The middle parts of the week are always the worst in terms of tiredness and fatigue.

Horrible weather today, including some freezing fog. About half-way on the journey to work there is a point where the road goes over a ridge and down into a shallow valley. The fog in this valley became very dense, and I could only see a short distance ahead.

I had to break sharply because of a queue of cars in the road, stopped by an accident (I could see the blue police lights flashing in the distance). As I joined the end of the queue and stopped my car I looked into the rearview mirror and saw a red car speeding towards me and making no attempt to slow down. A few seconds later the red car hit with an immense smashing sound, shunting my car forward to hit the vehicle in front.

From the red car an overweight woman in very casual clothes got out, wailing and apologising. It was impossible to talk to her as she picked up a toddler and ran off down the road to get the police. The woman from the car in front got out and we talked by the side of the road - she seemed even calmer than I was about the incident.

None of the three cars seemed damaged, despite the force of the impact. We slowed down the traffic that still came down the ridge, driving far too fast. Eventually the woman from the red car returned, accompanied by the police, and at the same time the woman's husband appeared, running out of the fog like a parody of Wuthering Heights.

I was glad the police were there as the man became very agitated, shouting at each of us (including his wife) about the accident. Eventually the police told him that if he didn't calm down "...only this car will be charged with driving without due care and attention" (they indicated the red vehicle). We all exchanged insurance details.

I arrived in the office very late and described the accident. I said my car didn't seem damaged, but one of the research team was insistent that I should get it checked. So at lunchtime I drove into the town and was told, by a diffident mechanic, that there was £900 worth of damage underneath my car.

I didn't do much the rest of the day. I suppose I was experiencing delayed shock. I drove home very carefully.

Wednesday

I spent the day attending a regional meeting of "stake-holders" associated with the NGO. This meant driving to a Midlands city. Normally I would have gone by train, but the bad weather has made the services unreliable.

The journey went well until I got to the city and took a wrong turning. Eventually I found my way to the big impersonal hotel where the meeting was being held. They had already started when I arrived but instead of hurrying into the meeting room I paused and had some coffee in the broad deserted corridor outside (the side tables strewn with used cups, the urns mostly emptied, giving the place a Marie Celeste feel).

Into the meeting and I didn't understand a word they were talking about.

"This new process should really speed-up efficiency" said one.

"You mean we'll reach the cock-up stage more quickly" said another.

Lunch was sandwiches and more coffee, served in the corridor outside. I did some networking and picked up a few ideas. Everyone told me how "political" life in the NGO was.

I went home after the meeting and worked on developing the NGO's marketing plan.

Thursday

Meryl was more subdued today, although still not doing any work.

A meeting with Leo and Elaine over the Special Projects launch - we seemed to make good progress.

A graphic designer from an ad agency we use arrived with some visuals - his jeans were so torn they looked shredded, and I could see out CEO Alec Pressberg frowning as I took the designer through to a meeting room.

Friday

Most of the morning I spent working on the marketing plan.

At 11.30 Tom D appeared at my desk looking restless and troubled. He was going away that evening, but had left his travel documents on his kitchen table. He couldn't go and get them as he was about to go into an important meeting.

Taking his housekeys I drove to his house (a journey that took me over an hour). Entering the house it seemed absolutely still. Going through to the kitchen I saw the travel documents immediately and picked them up. A tabby cat was curled up next to the stove, loud purr as I stroked it.

Although I am normally curious, for some reason I had no interest in looking around the house, and was actually relieved to get out of the place. Horrible journey back to the office. Small signs that the ice and snow may be receding.

Copella apple juice

Two or three times a week I drink a bottle of Copella apple juice.

The image of the company is perfect http://www.copellafruitjuices.co.uk/

So it was a shame to discover it is owned by evil giant Pepsico.

They are obviously ashamed of this fact as there is no mention of Pepsico on the About Us page and the company history "ends" in 1996.

Much as I like Copella apple juice, I feel that a company which deceives its customers MUST be punished.

Time to look for another fruit juice brand.

Architecture influences behaviour

http://russelldavies.typepad.com/planning/2010/12/wharf-november-lunchtime.html

Above: on the Russell Davis site is this short digital film of Canary Wharf one snowy lunchtime. The film is very atmospheric, and the use of the chiming music adds an Einsenstein touch. Watching this film made me think about the impersonal nature of the Canary Wharf architecture.



Above: Gillian Tett has written about the anthropological significance of the Docklands development. We know that architecture influences behaviour more than is generally realised. Is there something about the quasi-fascist buildings on Canary Wharf that has made the bankers who work there think they are Nietzschean supermen?

St Andrew's Day

Today is St Andrew's Day. In the pedestrianised precinct, in front of a shuttered retail unit, this person in tartan clothes is playing bagpipes. Hardly anyone gave him any money.

How women are going to look

Above: the Vivienne Westwood shop in Conduit Street.

Is this how women are going to look next year?

http://www.viviennewestwood.co.uk/collections/anglomania/

An M.R. James moment

Bitterly cold day, the temperature about three degrees below freezing. After lunch a drive to the middle of the county, the roads slippery with ice (especially the side roads). Because the landscape had a covering of white snow the light was reflected and refracted so that the afternoon stayed bright until nearly 4pm.

I arrived at the church half expecting the open day to have been cancelled, but when I pushed on the huge fourteenth-century door, black with age, it opened. And inside was a man aged about sixty wearing a brown tweed suit. In the south aisle his wife had set up a little table with urns of hot water and pots of tea - I was immediately offered a cup of tea.

The interior of the building was incredibly cold, so that it hurt my lungs when I breathed in. The man and his wife however were cheerfully impervious to the cold, and commenced an in-depth tour of the church. I suspected that I was the only visitor they had had all afternoon.



Above: my main interest in visiting the building was to see a carved head of a crusader knight that was supposedly brought from the Latin Kingdom of Jerusalem.



Above: the stone head itself was so unremarkable that it could be anyone. Verbal tradition links it to the crusades. We had a discussion about the topography of the area (famous for its natural springs) and demography.



Above: during the tour the elderly man took me under the tower, used as a lumber room for all sorts of unused items. Set in the wall was a Saxon stone (note the torque-like patterns - golden torques being a symbol of royalty). When the stone had been removed in 1890 a crouching body had been found behind it.

It was an M.R. James moment (and more disturbing for having seen Night Of The Demon on BBC2 last night).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hACZf6YKX3g

Office politics (which we all seem mired in) - the past week at work

Monday

Most of the morning I spent talking to the Information Services team. These five researchers have nothing to research since their projects were ended. Their manager had got a job elsewhere and rather than appoint a new manager they had simply been reassigned to the marketing department a couple of weeks before my arrival.

The expectation (among other managers) is that they will probably be made redundant, but I am determined to have nothing to do with this - I am on a temporary contract, and I don't need to get involved in this kind of unpleasant work.

Then a meeting with Ryan M, manager of the Operations Team. We discussed his marketing requirements for 2011, interspersed with many anecdotes connected with his love of football - both as a player for a local club and as a Chelsea supporter. He told me he had a fiery temper on the football pitch and often gets sent off (evidence of this sporting aggression is a small scar under his right eye).

Early afternoon a meeting with Meryl P who did my job before I was appointed, and had been demoted for incompetence. I am supposed to be supervising her work and training her to take back her old job when I leave. However she does not seem to be interested in getting her old job back, and whenever I try to delegate work to her she claims to be too busy. Presumably she is still feeling hurt and humiliated. There are two ways I can tackle this - I can either micro-manage every hour of her day until she co-operates, or I can leave her to do as much or as little as she likes. For the time being I am leaving her alone, but the downside of this is that I'm not getting any help with my ever-growing workload.

Late afternoon a meeting with my boss Tom D and Felix S who manages the other half of the department (statistics). It was a budget planning meeting. Although everyone else in the NGO is talking about budgets being cut, Tom D was confident our 2011 marketing budget would see a twenty per cent increase (his big head nodded, his wide mouth shaped into an even wider smile, his lips glistening with saliva).

I stayed in the office until six o'clock, then up to the Boardroom for a meeting about Information Services. I had not realised that Information Services had been an NGO within an NGO with a separate board. This board was now being dissolved and the team formally absorbed into the main NGO.

Present at this meeting was Tom D and two other board members whom I had never seen before. There was a lot of comments about how "difficult" the Information Services team had been to manage. I was asked to leave the room while a final remuneration payment for the two board members was negotiated with Tom D (although I saw later how much they had been paid).

Afterwards the meeting adjourned to a local hotel for a board dinner paid for out of the Information Services budget (this dinner had been an annual event, although as the NGO had been dissolved you would think they would have dispensed with it).

The hotel was a large Victorian villa, the dining room of which had been turned into a restaurant with five tables. The room was panelled and the over-furnished. Two other tables were occupied. The four of us had drinks at the bar (Campari, which tasted like cough mixture, with caviar on strips of toast) then took our places at one of the tables. The food was excellent, served with very good wines. Haddock and prawns wrapped in pastry, an enormous steak, a huge slice of chocolate gateau.

Tom D entertained the other two with a lot of management machismo talk.

Tuesday

No need to go to the office today, so I got up quite late.

At eleven I left the house and drove about seventy miles to the village where Tom D lives. He had asked Felix S and myself to a meeting at his home so that we could plan things "away from office distractions". His house was a modern building, detached but not large, 21st century bourgeois interiors.

Almost as soon as we arrived we had lunch of lasagna with a fizzy Italian wine, followed by cheeses and biscuits, followed by a glass of port. Tom's wife hovered in the kitchen, although she could have joined us at the meal. When the table had been cleared a large cafetiere of coffee was brought through.

We discussed management issues connected to our department. The budgets for 2011 have been agreed by Alec Pressberg (CEO of the NGO) and Tom's allocation has been increased by about twenty per cent (exactly as he had predicted). Tom then divided this money up - some to Felix, some to a general fund, and the remainder to Marketing controlled by myself.

The Marketing budget is huge, the largest I have ever controlled.

"The money is yours to spend as you see fit" Tom said to me, "I don't want you to feel that you have to okay things with me first" (this directly contradicts what he has said to me previously, that I have to clear ALL expenditure with him first).

The meeting finished at 4.30 and I was home by 6.

Wednesday

On the journey to work each day I have mapped out in my mind exactly what I want to do. But when I get to my desk it all seems so complex and chaotic. I am also getting a headache each day, usually in the afternoon.

A visit from Baptist Minister Caleb who is a sort of unofficial adviser to the NGO (or perhaps he does have an official role that I don't know about?). He stood by my desk chatting. Most of his anecdotes consist of massive rows that he has with people and that he always wins triumphantly.

In the afternoon a meeting with Preston who manages the Innovative department. I had been warned that he could be difficult so it was a relief the meeting went well. We talked over various marketing campaigns he wanted to do next year.

Two people came to see me from the all-women advertising agency that is producing the NGO's magazine. We went into one of the glass-walled meeting rooms. They had a selection of digital photographs for me to choose an image for the front cover ("you can't have that one, it hasn't got a woman in it").

Thursday

A day when things seemed more under control.

During the morning a meeting with the Information Services team, giving them research projects on behalf of the other departments. They responded to the new work with enthusiasm. They are very nice people and I like talking to them.

Lunchtime I went to a pub with Felix S and Personnel Manager Yasmin. It was a rowdy pub with a group of lads at the bar singing along to the chorus of Cee Lo Green's Forget You (but instead of "forget" they sang a different f-word). We sat in a bay window and talked about office politics (which we all seem mired in).

http://www.muzu.tv/ceelogreen/forget-you-music-video/733531?country=gb&locale=en

Friday

Another long meeting with Preston in his Innovative department (half of the ground floor in the right-hand side of the building). He has a sort of maverick reputation, but I suspect he just enjoys being provocative. He told me it was a relief to talk to me, and that finally he thought someone in the NGO was on his wavelength.

Then into a database meeting, chaired by Felix S (the master database is under his control). Felix so vague and waffling that I felt myself becoming irritable. At one stage everyone in the meeting was criticising Felix.

The afternoon spent Special Projects manager Carmel, visiting possible venues for her launch - none of them were suitable.

Disturbing news

Very disturbing news this morning that the Food Standards Agency is telling people that milk and meat from cloned cows is safe to eat.   We have been in this situation before.  In 1990, at the height of the BSE (mad cow disease) scandal, the then Agriculture Minister John Gummer told the nation with absolute certainty (ABSOLUTE CERTAINTY - I am using capitals to convey the hectoring tone that was used) that milk and meat from BSE cows was safe to eat.  As far as I know John Gummer has never apologised for deceiving people in this way, and he now loafs around in the House of Lords unconcerned by the subsequent deaths from BSE (a proportion must have been influenced by his assurances of complete safety).   Myra Butterworth writes about today's news in the Daily Telegraph:   http://www.telegraph.co.uk/news/uknews/8162471/Campaigners-horror-at-cloned-food-on-supermarket-shelves.html   Why is the Big Society mechanism not working to prevent supermarkets stocking these products?

Mandelson, the real PM on BBC4

I have just watched Mandelson, the real PM on BBC4.

The most surprising aspect was how dull it was.

Christmas in November

The Big Society is supposed to mean ordinary people having more control over their environment.

So can we please put Christmas back into December. I don't know anyone who is in favour of all this consumer frenzy weeks before the event. And yet the advertisers and retailers keep chucking the stuff at us.

I'm not against Christmas.

I'm just against Christmas in November.

Unclear who is to pay for all this - the past week at work

Monday

I have to get up early to get to work on time, opening the curtains on what is still darkness. The journey takes me one and three-quarter hours, mostly through grey light, listening to the Today programme. I tell myself it is only for six months.

First a meeting with a team of five researchers who report to me. They are managed by Meredith (tall, thin, late fifties, iron-grey hair, refined Geordie accent, very correct). Tom D, my boss, also attended the meeting, his big head nodding sagely at all the wrong points. Most of the talking was done by researcher Katie (blonde hair in a bob, middle-class, pushy) who complained that the team had nothing to do since the projects they were working on had been abandoned. Tom D told them reassuringly (and I suspect falsely) that new projects were being allocated to them. It was decided to rename the team Information Services, with a general remit to work for all departments in the NGO.

By the time the meeting finished it was lunchtime. I walked out of the building to get some exercise and fresh air, and kept walking until the hour was up. New commercial estate, a few suburban roads, then a messy transition into edge-of-town countryside.

In the afternoon a review meeting with Tom D. He told me "By the end of the month I want you to have a marketing plan that includes individual marketing strategies that have been signed off by each of the department heads". As the department heads have a reputation for being awkward and unco-operative I knew this was not going to be easy.

The rest of the day was spent answering e-mails - every time I leave my desk they seem to flood in.

Tuesday

Every six weeks or so the NGO holds an "awayday" for senior staff. So instead of going to the office this morning I drove about sixty miles to a conference centre in a country mansion (undistinguished Victorian architecture, interior that had a sixteenth-century staircase, damp melancholy gardens). I was wearing fairly casual clothes, but when I got there I found most of the managers were very casual indeed, Operations Manager Ryan M in dark Bermuda shorts and a T-shirt.

Felix S, co-manager in my department, told me to watch how Carmel (manager of Special Projects) behaved. She seemed to latch onto Chief Executive Alec Pressberg, holding his arm and screaming with laughter at his weak jokes. It was odd to see such a grey and characterless individual become the object of her cocquettry (as you might guess, I have taken a dislike to Mr Pressberg).

For most of the sessions we were crammed into a room that was virtually filled with an oval board table. There was a break for coffee (very good coffee) which was served in the main hall, nameless eighteenth-century portraits looking down at us, some of the canvasses having holes and tears in them. Personnel Manager Yasmin took me to one side and told me that Carl, the most junior person who reports to me, was "mad" to get into marketing and that she would arrange for him to have day-release to a marketing course (paid for by the NGO) if I would authorise it - Carl is the son of one of the other managers and it seems as if his employment and education is being off-loaded onto my department.

A lot of the sessions were very boring as we each described what was going on in our departments. Felix S was especially long-winded, droning on about the three major reports his team is producing. Because I have only worked for the NGO just over a week I had hardly anything to say.

Very good lunch of roast lamb. I was sat next to Ryan M whose bad-language and loud comments to everyone else in the room made ordinary conversation impossible. We helped ourselves to puddings on a side table - I had a bowl of sherry trifle followed by the chocolate pear dessert.

By the time the "awayday" ended I had another list of of marketing initiatives I am supposed to launch.

Although it was only four o'clock when we finished no-one was going back to the office.

Wednesday

Slight feeling of panic this morning at the amount of work I have on my desk. I have a team of nine so I ought to be delegating some of the work, but this is not as easy as it sounds. Meryl P, who is supposed to be assisting me, is very obstructive and unwilling to take on new assignments.

Most of the day spent accompanying Tom D to a local government office. They provided a lunch of dry sandwiches. I was not really sure what they wanted from us.

On the way back Tom talked about his background - a choral scholar at a cathedral school, then the civil service, then secondment to the NGO ("I love my job" he said).

In the afternoon a meeting with Carmel about the big launch she is planning. It is unclear who is to pay for all this. She wants a nice venue, a good celebrity to host it, and an audience of about a hundred (out of a list of five hundred targets she produced).

Thursday

This morning Tom D, after several requests from myself, produced a sheet of paper with the department's budget. It was much larger than I anticipated. "All expenditure must be approved by myself" he told me.

Then another trip with Tom to visit a local government headquarters. I don't see the point of these visits since they are never very welcoming to us. Tom told me it was important to build up our networks.

An informal meeting with Leo, who reports to me but is Carmel's son. Aged eighteen he has a big powerful build, fair hair in shaggy ringlets, pale blue eyes that seldom look at you directly. He monitors mentions of the NGO in the media and produces a weekly report - which I suspect no-one really looks at.

After the working day had ended I had to hang around at my desk until 7pm then drive to a local "innovation park" to represent the NGO at a meeting of about fifty local public sector heads. Sour white wine to drink. Interminable discussion about the likely course of government policy.

There were many references to the NGO and eventually someone said "Is there no-one from the NGO here?"

With a sense of foreboding I stood up and explained who I was and said "As I only have two week's experience in the job I'm reluctant to give an opinion."

Someone at the side of the room shouted "Two week's experience is the BEST moment to give your opinion."

Everybody laughed.

Friday

A meeting with Carmel to discuss her launch. I was surprised at how well it seemed to be fitting together. I told her that Tom D had approved payment for the launch from the NGO’s marketing budget.

Lunchtime I walked to the artificial lake at the centre of the commercial estate – lush water plants, abstract statues, a jet-fountain gushing up about six feet in the air. By the lake is a sandwich bar called The Patisserie, selling delicious bagels and cakes. Despite the cold foggy air I sat at one of the outside tables, on the decking, and had a quiet lunch.

In the afternoon I took steps to block a “viral” film being produced by an ad agency for the Innovations department. They told me it would “go viral” on Youtube. I told them it would probably disappear without trace, and I refused to sign-off the expenditure (but a lot of the work has already been done, and I know that the Innovations department will get Alec Pressberg to force through the payment).

Although the office is open until 5pm I noticed that most people left about 3.30, and at 4.30 it seemed pointless to remain in an empty building and I went home myself.

How much money can we make

In The Guardian today Mark Lawson said that television coverage of this week's royal engagement was greater than coverage of the 1981 royal engagement. There was a disappointed air to the piece, as if Mark Lawson had been hoping that the coverage would prove to have been less (and thus indicate a decline of interest in the British monarchy). No doubt a percentage of the coverage has been sychophantic, with no doubt much more sychophancy to follow, but there are some interesting comparisons between now and the 1981 event.

In 1981 both Russia and China were closed societies, totalitarian states subscribing to communist ideologies. The 1981 Royal Wedding barely registered in the vast territories that comprise those countries. But today the position is different.

The ceremony next year is likely to be one of the world's biggest broadcast media events (perhaps the biggest yet seen) with various commentators equating it to the Olympics or the World Cup in terms of media attention and advertising opportunities.

How far will it penetrate into the national consciousness of both Russia and China, with their huge populations? Will they remain true to their communist heritage and be completely uninterested? Or is the event sufficiently exotic and strange to attract their attention?

Tristram Hunt (historian and now a Labour MP) on Newsnight condemned the 1981 event as "imperial". There are arguments in favour of a cheaper, more austere ceremony. But in terms of newly-consumerised world poulations, is there an appetite for imperial performances? (the Beijing Olympics can be put in this category).



Above: China Daily, an official publication of the Chinese government, covered the royal engagement on their website. Admittedly this is the English-language version, but the Chinese never do anything without a reason. The Chinese do not kow-tow to anyone, so why are they doing this?

It's not as if they need United Kingdom support for anything.



Above: Pravda On-line (Pravda!) is covering the royal engagement in a series of extremely sympathetic articles. Of course, Pravda On-line is not the same as the old communist Pravda, but it still has a big following. One article even described the British monarch as "the pinnacle of excellence".

The question is: how much of this media attention is going to translate into positive responses towards British manufactured goods and services (and how much money can we make from it).

Abnormal and sickening

The proposed "super dairy" at Nocton was discussed on the Today programme this morning. To me it is a crucial test of the "Big Society" whether local people are going to be able to control their immediate environment and stop this industrial complex being imposed on their village. And looking at the marketing of these cruel products, how can anyone even think of drinking milk produced in such abnormal and sickening circumstances?

Robin Lane Fox on BBC4

Enjoyed the new Greek Myths documentary series on BBC 4 last night.  Presented by Robin Lane Fox, there were no dramatised re-enactions, intrusive special effects or oafs in stripey jumpers using archaeology to back-up political aspects of the New Labour programme.  This was genuine scholarship.

The concept of the maze

Recently I have been thinking about the idea of the maze or labyrinth in western culture.



Above: visiting a village in the south-west of the county I went into the church and saw this Norman font that was carved with unusual symbols.



Above: looking more closely at the symbols there seemed to be something familiar about the arrangement of swirls and triangles (also note the symbolic stars on the left).



Above: they reminded me strongly of the symbols I saw on the great stones at Newgrange in the Boyne Valley (in West Britain).



Above: reading more about Knowth, Dowth and Newgrange, the sites are enigmatic and the symbols obscure. The dating seems to be inconsistent (it varies in whichever book you read). I can't really remember much about my own trip to Newgrange except that it was a morning coach tour and the person sitting next to me fell asleep and virtually laid on me - I was only about seventeen, and not very assertive.



Above: this Nuba woman has had her hair cut in a maze design. When I saw the reports of the maze discovered by the National Trust at Lyveden New Bield I thought of this woman's hair. What is going on here?

http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/2010/nov/06/luftwaffe-spy-tudor-garden-lyveden



Above: in his wonderful book Vergil, Epic and Anthropology W F Jackson Knight analyses the cultural significance of the maze, tracing it back to ancient Illium (Troy).

The film Troy (2004) shows the fight between Achilles (Brad Pitt) and Hector (Eric Bana) but gets wrong the way Achilles drags Hector around the city (according to WF Jackson Knight this is a symbolic ritual connected to the labyrith at Illium).

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EIxTAqI2CpY



Above: I recently read Clock of the Long Now by Stewart Brand. Brand's argument is that humanity should plan for the next ten thousand years. And this made me think that I have been too self-limited in tracing the origins of modern behaviour back to the medieval period - it should be possible to look back ten thousand years (and perhaps the concept of the maze is a good place to start).

"We ARE the inner circle" - the past week at work

Monday

First day at my new job. The offices are located in a small town just north of London, on an estate of new buildings located around a shallow lake. Post-modern architecture, with bright red accents and chunky door handles.

When I arrived I was asked, by a very off-hand receptionist, to sit down and wait. A stream of people came through the front door, and I guessed these to be my new work colleagues. Then silence for about half an hour.

Then upstairs for a meeting with the Chief Executive Alec Pressberg. Tall thin individual in a dark grey pin-striped suit, aged mid-sixties. Heavily creased face, the skin leathery, big glasses that gave his eyes an owlish aspect.

We sat at his desk. No welcome to the organisation, but a succession of questions related to my understanding of public relations. A few probing questions about why I had left my last job (I told him openly that I hadn't got on with Yvette).

The rest of the day was taken up with meeting people and getting to know the place. I am working in a small department reporting to Director of Communications Tom Daw. I am part of the management team of this department, which includes Felix S (Research) and Meryl P (Marketing).

Tom Daw is a tall, big-boned, fleshy individual, aged about 50. Overlarge head, smooth pink face, slightly stooping shoulders. His suits look bespoke.

Both Felix and Meryl were civil servants seconded to the NGO when it was set up about three years ago. Felix had been experienced in research before taking up the secondment, but Meryl knew nothing about marketing and had struggled in her new role. A PR disaster a few months ago had led to Meryl's demotion and my recruitment on a six-month contract.

Tom Daw told me my job was to do Meryl's marketing tasks while at the same time training her to take over from me when my six months are up ("Be very firm with her" he said to me, indicating that she was not happy with the arrangement).

I talked for an hour to Felix S (aged about 45, lean, slightly pedantic). Felix told me the main reason I had got the job was my reputation for calmness, hinting at the open rows there had been between Tom and Meryl. As Meryl was a civil servant it had not been possible to sack her.

An hour spent talking to Meryl. She was a very likeable woman of about 35. Her eyes were so bright they seemed to shine. Vivacious and articulate. Divorced with a teenage son. It was obvious that she had no respect for Tom Daw (and I learned that he was also a seconded civil servant and didn't know anything about "communications").

Long, difficult and tiring journey home.

Tuesday

I have a desk at last. In the final days of the previous government the NGO had expanded, recruiting several new staff so that space was now at a premium. The accommodation of the NGO comprises four open-plan offices, each holding about ten people, plus the Chief Executive's suite, and two sets of meeting rooms on the top floor.

Most of the morning spent with affable Gerry, one of my subordinates, who runs the NGO's various websites. He took me out on a field visit to a local government office to talk to them about their requirements. Back at the office we had a visit from Caleb, a Baptist Minister who is one of the NGO's advisers.

I met Leo and Chris, two of Meryl's assistants (and therefore presumably my assistants). Both aged about 18, both sons of other mangers in the NGO (I was beginning to realise what an incestuous organisation it was). Inarticulate, rugby-obsessed, sullen.

In the afternoon a long meeting with Bonar B, the NGO's Director of Finance (Scottish, heavy moustache, wary). He told me he had opposed my appointment since the NGO was having its funding cut. He made no secret of his disapproval of Tom Daw and his spendthrift ways.

After work I had to go to an official function held in a hotel in north London. The dinner was attended by about thirty heads of various institutions. Tom Daw made one of the speeches, which went on far too long.

2am by the time I got home.

Wednesday

A cup off coffee at my desk, then into an unexpected meeting with an advertising agency. It was a novel sensation to be the client giving the orders instead of the account exec taking them. Adam, the account exec, explained to me what the campaign was all about (Meryl had told me nothing, which wasn't very supportive of her).

Then into a meeting with Carmel, manager of one of the other teams in the NGO. Aged about 50, slim-thin, bright red lipstick, loud, flirtatious, divorced (and Leo's mother). She talked about an initiative she wanted to launch in a few month's time.

In the afternoon I discovered (not an exaggeration!) a team of five researchers who report to me. I felt annoyed that neither Meryl nor Gerry had told me about their existence. They sit at a row of desks in a corridor area. They wanted to know what they needed to work on next. I took them into one of the meeting rooms and they explained what they did. I made some decisions for them with only the haziest of notions about what I was deciding.

Later I accompanied Tom Daw to a hotel just off the A1. In the lobby we met a freelance woman who is to do some promotional work at exhibitions. And then I was free to go home.

Thursday

So tired this morning that when the alarm-clock went off I knew I had to get up immediately otherwise I would fall back to sleep. Cold as I sat on the edge of the bed, in the dark, contemplating the day ahead. Outside the house I could hear the arrival of vans bringing gangs to work in the fields.

At the office I was directed to the big meeting room on the top floor. All the NGO mangers were gathered to listen to an auditor. Bonar B was there, and told us how serious the financial position was.

Then into central London with Tom Daw to meet another (another!) advertising agency the NGO uses. The agency was comprised entirely of women. We were given lunch of sandwiches and Perrier, and discussed publication of the NGO's magazine.

Afterwards Tom and I went to a government department for a briefing meeting. Tom passing more and more projects over to me ("I'm so glad to have you with us, so I can pass on some of this paperwork"). After the meeting, although it was only 3pm, Tom told me to go home.

Friday

The end of the working week. As I travelled to work I became apprehensive about all the urgent things that I have to do. I consoled myself with the thought that the job was only for six months.

During the morning a meeting with Ryan M, Director of the Operational Team. Aged about thirty, good-looking, continuously making jokes. The Operational Team is supposedly the most important part of the NGO, although their work sounded very boring.

At lunchtime I accompanied Tom Daw to a sensitive and confidential "strategy meeting" held at a country hotel. We met various senior people connected to the NGO. In a private board room they discussed future funding in the difficult economic situation (I just listened).

At one point someone said: "Does anyone know the names?"

"You're not supposed to know the names unless you are in the inner circle" said a rotund gentleman with glasses.

"We ARE the inner circle" said Alec Pressberg.

In the afternoon I had my second meeting with the Operational Team, meeting Ryan M's cynical subordinates - their cynicism seemingly a direct mirror of Ryan M's enthusiasm.

Ancient Worlds on BBC 2

On Wednesday I began watching Ancient Worlds on BBC 2. It is a review of regional "civilisations", focussing upon their urban achievements (literally civitates). Presented by Dr Richard Miles.

On the whole I liked it, although I think Dr Miles laid on the "globalisation" propaganda a bit too thick. Ancient cultures may have been inter-connected, but they thought of their own part of oikoumene as unique and their own particular polis as the centre of the world. And although Dr Miles showed us lots of evidence of ancient travel, the vast majority of the world's population never left their own village.



Above: the Sumerian exhibits in the British Museum.

The part of the programme I most enjoyed was the section on the Sumerians. Often I go to the British Museum to look at the Sumerian room. I'm not sure what it is about this early culture that attracts me so much.



Above: a ram caught in a thicket - Genesis 22, verse 13.



Above: steps of the British Museum (picture taken in the summer).

A recent post by Grant McCracken (http://cultureby.com/2010/11/a-marketing-miracle.html) made me think about the purpose of the great London museums and galleries. Grant had been disappointed by the glass cases of the Victoria & Albert Museum ("everything ranged coldly on shelves" as Dr Aziz would say). Is this a cultural difference between the New World and the United Kingdom?

Why do British people feel satisfied with a purely visual experience? Is there something about the objects being captured and contained in a glass case that adds to the sense of satisfaction? On a sub-conscious level are we seeing a cultural reflex at work?

The big London museums present themselves as international centres of scientific learning, and to a certain extent that is true. But they are also undoubtedly filled with the plundered treasures of imperium. Walking in these galleries must have seemed, to our great-grandparents, as if they had entered the allegorical world of The East offering its riches to Britannia (http://www.flickr.com/photos/22955235@N00/638426578/ ).

In that respect the British Museum is the curiosity cabinet of the nation (like the millions of glass display cabinets in British sitting rooms, filled with knick-knacks, holiday souvenirs and Coronation mugs).

There is also the sense that the Victorians were attempting to dominate and subdue The Past itself, as if all the unknown jumble of history and archaeology could be captured, analysed and explained in a continuous progression of improvement (with the unspoken implication that the United Kingdom was the final and logical expression of that process - "and here we are today...").

What is to be done?

Should we sweep the old museums away and replace them with institutions that more fully represent who we are now? Or do we leave them, accepting that who we are now is more or less who we were then, both good and bad (including a genetic disposition to dominate others). Freudian psychology suggests that if you try to repress aspects of yourself those repressions tend to burst out in unexpected ways - the supposedly socialist government of the last twelve years carried out no less than five neo-imperialist wars.

http://www.bbc.co.uk/iplayer/episode/b00w0dqx/Ancient_Worlds_Come_Together/