Nearly the end of January

J D Salinger.

The New York Times announces

..."Mr. Salinger’s literary representative, Harold Ober Associates,
announced the death, saying it was of natural causes."

By all accounts (much of them written over the last few days) ol' JD was a bit of curmudgeonly fart, who was beginning to get under the skin of many living in his community. The Catcher in the Rye has been variously described as wonderful, equivalent to my first orgasm, over-rated by many and even as a "silly book" by the reclusive author. I have never read the book, or even other JDS works so I can not comment.

New person at the Friday gathering, young, enthusiastic, smart (as in educated), professes to be interested in imagery in preference to text as a means of disseminating information, at least for other people's consumption who are probably not as young, enthusiastic or smart (as in educated). Quite possibly a product of a modern degree course from a modern, unspecified university - Dudley Port perhaps?

Lace turned up. No conversation, I was pre-occupied with the cold and she was equally preoccupied with the Lockyer.

I like the way Mariella Frostrup presents Open Book on BBC Radio 4 . Did anyone watch the Diary programmes on BBC4 Television recently?

I have also discovered The Book show presented by Ramona Koval on Radio Australia National (ABC). I have yet to find time to listen to the Book Show, although I have downloaded a Podcast to my player and if I can find a spare thirty minutes or so (that is a linear, uninterrupted 30mins) this coming weekend I'll give it a go.

http://www.abc.net.au/rn/bookshow/

I will be working on my own this afternoon, my colleague is attending a family funeral .

Cost cost and yet more cost!

A British govt report publish yesterday (26th Jan) , concludes that the the gap between the 'haves' and the 'have nots' is widening. Great.

My son and heir (bless) brings a letter home from a school teacher, which states that he has "expressed and interest" in going to Silverstone for a trip to the GP. Great, wonder opportunity, etc. Point is he didn't show quite as much interest in informing his parents - for Parents read Bankers - about it.

This year we will be expected to fund a trip to either Switzerland or Scotland for Scout Summer Camp, training camps for Duke of Edinburgh Gold etc as well. At some point the draw strings will have to be tightened.

I would suggest he gets a Newspaper round to help toward costs, unfortunately most jobs of that kind are now done by OAP's in an attempt to make their pension go further. They should be grateful they have a flippin' pension.

Rant over.

Sunday, bloody Sunday.

Today is a quiet day. Sunday for us usually means a trip out to somewhere locale. But not today, a combination of homework, reading and sleeping kept us at home.

I had intended to finish Saturdays IHT, but fell asleep.

An acquaintance emailed me intent on giving me an English Lesson revolving around the adjective 'Normal'. I fear an element of clasping the wrong end of the proverbial is the order of the day.

The rather cryptic Tectonic Plate comment in my previous posting caused a few eyebrows to point to Polaris. Needless to say the influx of new members into the Ditch Diggers and Hod Carriers Club, from different backgrounds (Dare I suggest more varied, less introspective) is causing a stir in amongst the founding fathers and the Poultney set. There is a need to maintain control, a desperate need to maintain the status quo. They have one important advantage, they are on the board.

Haiti? Nope the really moving and shaking is done in S. Devon, where the sea nibbles at the calcium carbonate with tenacity.

Mother rang.

Listened to 'Thinking Allowed' a BBC Radio 4 programme on my MP3 player.

This particular programme dealt with the concept of social mobility in Britain. The consensus is that there isn't any, at least not as much as was allowed after WW2 when the ruling establishment required brains (as opposed to mere social standing by right of birth) to pull the country from the brink of bankruptcy. Then Grammar School boys (plus the occasional girl) were permitted to join the club as associates.

We do not live in a meritocracy. As if I hadn't realised it.

I am sure the choice of venue for the programme, the University of Bedfordshire (Est 2006), was deliberate. UoB was rated 88th out of 117 in The Guardian University Guide, 2009. Exeter is thirteenth. http://www.beds.ac.uk/

Lace informed me yesterday evening that she had 'assessed' the daughter's boyfriend "He's okay" apparently. Much use of the adjective 'normal' to describe the chap, poor chap, poor poor chap. Normal is what exactly? Safe? I hope he cross-dresses.

The diety of the NLO must be feeling threatened. The tectonic plates are moving; not quite on a Haitian scale, but in a macro sense just as facinating.

2010!

Greetings all! Happy New Year and all that stuff.

Happy New Year is pushing it, 2010 has a sense of foreboding about it. 'It' is not a thing, like a bird a telly or a telescope, it isn't even a failing relationship. I feel my relationship with 2010 is destined to fail. What ever it is, it isn't good.

A colleague (actually someone who works in an adjacent work area) lost a relative in Afghanistan, her nephew.
Some how I feel this death, one of many in a bizarre war, sets the scene for 2010, both in societal terms and also, perhaps more importantly, personal terms.

Christmas was a non event. No visit to the NE.

In the New Year the snow came, the first real snow for at least two decades. As always everything stopped. The concept of PFI and contracting out public service to a Taiwanese based conglomerate does not lead to flexible decent public services. What a surprise.

The first Observatory Public opening of 2010, at which we were to assist, was cancelled.

Lace has been in touch, via text. Still making headway, cutting a tack between the twin dangers of creditability and a desire to be in control of her own destiny. It helps to have a good lawyer.

Saturdays roll into Sunday

18th October, 2009.

Another day in the bosom of the family.

Just sat down to read Saturday's Guardian. The article by Shami Chakrabarti (p4) is disturbing. The Quilliam Foundation frightens the proverbial out of me, as it should you. Apparently, according to the Vikram Dodd article on p5, the govt is funding the 'counter terrorism' activities of this group. Out sourcing the spooks! For all we will ever know it is probably a govt shadow organisation anyway. Perhaps it is time to rejoin Liberty? Perhaps Liberty has been infiltrated by the Quilliam Foundation, I would be surprised if it hadn't been by some tax-payer funded, PFI orientated, anti terrorism programme.

Just remember, when a lowly Constable shoves a Taser Gun up your bum, s/he is doing it in the name of ensuring we all live in a terrorist free society.

Lord 'Mandy' Mandelson is hopping mad with the postal workers. We should be keeping an eye open for the arrival of the Death Star any day soon.

Went to Othery yesterday.

I spent an enjoyable evening on my tod at the Observatory, two on spec visitors arrived, one hailed me from the entrance gate..."Hello! My name is John! Is this place open? We are staying in the building over there". Grappling with the gate furniture, I replied "Good Evening John, my name is Richard, family banker and Taxis Driver, tonight is an Observers evening to which you are more than welcome to come". John appeared thoughtful "If I have a meal first, I may come back afterward, is that alright...there will be someone here?" I smiled (I think) "O yes, some are here until five the following morning if the seeing (note the technical terminology) is good". Such encounters with the General Public are not unusual and, if I am honest, can make for an interesting time. One can never be sure who one will meet at the The Hill Observatory.

Saved an article from The Guardian called 'Teen Spirit: The secret life of Britain's teenage boys'. I have not read it myself yet, but I suspect it will be yet another attempt by middle class, middle Englander types to get their elitist, yet strangely mediocre, heads around teenage boys. Girls are not, it seems, so problematic (sigh) .

Mother rang.

Mother turned up.

Mother left.

Still no word from Lace.