Tim Atkinson's Blog, page 18
March 29, 2018
We have invented nothing...
Two surprisingly good bits of TV have come our way recently.
First, Troy: Fall of a City which, for Saturday night telly (and for someone who spent last year teaching Homer's Iliad) is actually rather fine.
Second, Civilisations. Don't forget the 'S', because we've been here before (with Kenneth Clark) as you can see it for yourself right here:
The old patrician, slightly patronising delivery dates terribly, and reminds you that presenters can get in the way of what they want to show you. Some of them still do!
While I've not always appreciated Simon Schama's sometimes idiosyncratic syllables, it has to be said he is masterful in this new BBC series. Not least, I suppose, because of the subject matter in the first episode - prehistoric cave art from up to 40,000 years ago.
When Picasso visited the famous Lascaux caves in France he is supposed to have declared, 'we have invented nothing'. Some of these prehistoric paintings are as vital, as real, as expressive as anything from any artistic epoch. It's astonishing to imagine its creation in such an otherwise primitive society living a hand-to-mouth, hunter-gatherer existence.
But then, as the opening sequence of episode one also shows, we've learned next-to-nothing in terms of respect for art and culture in the last 40,000 years either.
As a species we seem as determined to destroy as we are to make. Vladimir the Inpaler Putin chose the week of the series airing to announce new ways of achieving mutually assured destruction. And as the first episode of Civilisations shows, the extremists of Isis did unspeakable damage to ancient treasures - as well as murdering their guardian - in Syria.
Not that long ago it happened here, too. Go round almost any parish church and certainly most cathedrals and you'll find signs of the damage done either by one Cromwell (in the name of the King) or another (in anyone's name BUT!).
It is, as dear old Kenneth Clark said at the start of his series fifty years ago, only by the skin of our teeth that we're still here, reading books, admiring paintings, listening to music... watching television.
And finally, on the subject of television and this series in particular, a footnote. It’s decidedly 'off' to say anything negative about Mary Beard and I do so reluctantly. But her faux Estuary English glo’al stops - a trait she doesn’t exhibit much in voice-overs but which peppers her pieces to camera - do get a tad irritating in episode two. (Mind you, so does Schama’s odd pronunciation of mountayne’ and ‘fountayne’ so perhaps it’s me.)
Come back, Kenneth, all is forgiven! One way of getting yourself in the way of the subject you're espousing is as bad as any other. Maybe Picasso was right after all. As far as the presenters are concerned, we really have learned (almost) nothing.
First, Troy: Fall of a City which, for Saturday night telly (and for someone who spent last year teaching Homer's Iliad) is actually rather fine.
Second, Civilisations. Don't forget the 'S', because we've been here before (with Kenneth Clark) as you can see it for yourself right here:
The old patrician, slightly patronising delivery dates terribly, and reminds you that presenters can get in the way of what they want to show you. Some of them still do!
While I've not always appreciated Simon Schama's sometimes idiosyncratic syllables, it has to be said he is masterful in this new BBC series. Not least, I suppose, because of the subject matter in the first episode - prehistoric cave art from up to 40,000 years ago.
When Picasso visited the famous Lascaux caves in France he is supposed to have declared, 'we have invented nothing'. Some of these prehistoric paintings are as vital, as real, as expressive as anything from any artistic epoch. It's astonishing to imagine its creation in such an otherwise primitive society living a hand-to-mouth, hunter-gatherer existence.
But then, as the opening sequence of episode one also shows, we've learned next-to-nothing in terms of respect for art and culture in the last 40,000 years either.
As a species we seem as determined to destroy as we are to make. Vladimir the Inpaler Putin chose the week of the series airing to announce new ways of achieving mutually assured destruction. And as the first episode of Civilisations shows, the extremists of Isis did unspeakable damage to ancient treasures - as well as murdering their guardian - in Syria.
Not that long ago it happened here, too. Go round almost any parish church and certainly most cathedrals and you'll find signs of the damage done either by one Cromwell (in the name of the King) or another (in anyone's name BUT!).
It is, as dear old Kenneth Clark said at the start of his series fifty years ago, only by the skin of our teeth that we're still here, reading books, admiring paintings, listening to music... watching television.
And finally, on the subject of television and this series in particular, a footnote. It’s decidedly 'off' to say anything negative about Mary Beard and I do so reluctantly. But her faux Estuary English glo’al stops - a trait she doesn’t exhibit much in voice-overs but which peppers her pieces to camera - do get a tad irritating in episode two. (Mind you, so does Schama’s odd pronunciation of mountayne’ and ‘fountayne’ so perhaps it’s me.)
Come back, Kenneth, all is forgiven! One way of getting yourself in the way of the subject you're espousing is as bad as any other. Maybe Picasso was right after all. As far as the presenters are concerned, we really have learned (almost) nothing.
March 23, 2018
Cornwall Revealed As Family Friendly Holiday Capital Of The UK
Today is National B&B Day, apparently. (No, I didn't know about it, either!)
Anyway, it's good news for people planning to go away this Easter. The AA has done a survey revealing the UK counties with most family friendly B&Bs. They are (•drumroll•) -
The South West, North Yorkshire and Cumbria
Cornwall and the Isles of Scilly come out top as the number one destination for family holidays, with 72 AA Registered B&Bs offering additional services and facilities to suit families with children of all ages including children’s menus (33%), baby-sitting services (6%), safe play areas (4%) and children’s entertainment (1%).
With 68 B&Bs catering for families of all ages, Devon is a close second, with a high proportion offering children’s menus (49%). Somerset comes in third, with 67 B&Bs offering family friendly extras, while North Yorkshire is fourth with 65, and Cumbria is fifth with 47, over half of which offer children’s menus.
In total, 1,226 B&Bs registered with the AA are family friendly, taking bookings from families with children of any age, and 1,215 of these offer something extra to make families’ lives easier. The most popular benefit is the option of a children’s menu which can be found at over 40% of the UK’s family-friendly B&Bs, followed by safe play areas (7%), baby-sitting services (3%) and children’s entertainment (1%).
Nine B&Bs registered with the AA offer every family friendly benefit measured:
Double-Gate Farm in Wells, Somerset
Cottage in Hope Cove, Devon
Stoke Gabriel Lodgings - Badgers Retreat in Totnes, Devon
The Commercial In Tarland, Aberdeeneshire
The Coppleridge Inn in Motcombe, Dorset
The Crown Inn in Boroughbridge, North Yorkshire
The Haughmond in Upton Magna, Shropshire
The Royal Oak in Chichester, West Sussex
Trecarne House in Liskeard, Cornwall and Isles of Scilly
Simon Numphud, Managing Director of AA Hotel & Hospitality Services said: “British families have a wealth of choice when it comes to booking a family friendly B&B this Easter. It’s great to see B&Bs across the country going the extra mile to ensure families have everything they need to make their stay even more enjoyable, and it’s wonderful to mark National B&B Day to celebrate the incredible variety of B&Bs throughout the UK.”
To find more top counties to visit go to https://www.theaa.com/bed-and-breakfasts
Anyway, it's good news for people planning to go away this Easter. The AA has done a survey revealing the UK counties with most family friendly B&Bs. They are (•drumroll•) -
The South West, North Yorkshire and Cumbria
Cornwall and the Isles of Scilly come out top as the number one destination for family holidays, with 72 AA Registered B&Bs offering additional services and facilities to suit families with children of all ages including children’s menus (33%), baby-sitting services (6%), safe play areas (4%) and children’s entertainment (1%).
With 68 B&Bs catering for families of all ages, Devon is a close second, with a high proportion offering children’s menus (49%). Somerset comes in third, with 67 B&Bs offering family friendly extras, while North Yorkshire is fourth with 65, and Cumbria is fifth with 47, over half of which offer children’s menus.
In total, 1,226 B&Bs registered with the AA are family friendly, taking bookings from families with children of any age, and 1,215 of these offer something extra to make families’ lives easier. The most popular benefit is the option of a children’s menu which can be found at over 40% of the UK’s family-friendly B&Bs, followed by safe play areas (7%), baby-sitting services (3%) and children’s entertainment (1%).
Nine B&Bs registered with the AA offer every family friendly benefit measured:
Double-Gate Farm in Wells, Somerset
Cottage in Hope Cove, Devon
Stoke Gabriel Lodgings - Badgers Retreat in Totnes, Devon
The Commercial In Tarland, Aberdeeneshire
The Coppleridge Inn in Motcombe, Dorset
The Crown Inn in Boroughbridge, North Yorkshire
The Haughmond in Upton Magna, Shropshire
The Royal Oak in Chichester, West Sussex
Trecarne House in Liskeard, Cornwall and Isles of Scilly
Simon Numphud, Managing Director of AA Hotel & Hospitality Services said: “British families have a wealth of choice when it comes to booking a family friendly B&B this Easter. It’s great to see B&Bs across the country going the extra mile to ensure families have everything they need to make their stay even more enjoyable, and it’s wonderful to mark National B&B Day to celebrate the incredible variety of B&Bs throughout the UK.”
To find more top counties to visit go to https://www.theaa.com/bed-and-breakfasts
March 20, 2018
GTech Pro Plus review
Over the years I've become something of an expert in vacuum cleaners. We've been sent a few to review. And I've bought a few myself, including the GTech AirRam which I thought was quite possibly the best thing in vacuum cleaning since sliced bread (...all those crumbs!).
That's not the only GTech product I've bought. I've got their frankly wonderful lawn mower, too. And the cordless hedge trimmer. I think it's safe to say - having been a pretty regular customer of theirs - that I'm a fan.
So, when they sent me the new GTechPro to review, I felt both pleased and, well - challenged. You see, a review is nothing if not honest. And I honestly thought there'd be no competition for the AirRam.
Like the AirRam (like everything from GTech) there are no wires. That's bonus number one. That and a more-than-adequate lithium-ion battery which provides enough juice for picking up plenty of crumbs. And just about everything else including - thanks to something called its AirLOC feature - large bits that other vacuum cleaners miss!
Unlike the AirRam, the GTech Pro has a bag. Aha! I thought. Fiddly, unnecessary, dirty (after years of having bagless cleaners). But... it has its advantages.
For a start, you don't have to worry so much about filters (which can be a pain to clean). And although the AirRam is great at compressing all the dust you suck up into a nice, neat, easy-to-empty cassette it's SO good at compressing it that you can, well, leave it rather too long to empty. And then get a bit dusty.
But this isn't about the AirRam. It's about the Pro. And so not being bagless might actually be an advantage.
What's also a distinct advantage is it's versatility. The Pro is really three vacs in one. It's a hand vac for those hand-vac moments, a stair vac (this is probably my favourite adaptation) for stair cleaning and a floor vac for, well, floor vac-ing. Look!
All in all I can do no better than say that if we hadn't already got an AirRam (did I tell you how impressed I was with that?) I'd definitely be getting a Pro instead. It's everything you need in a vacuum cleaner without an awful lot (wires, for instance) that you don't.
My wife has criticism. For a long session (which the battery, with up to 40 mins charge, easily permits) it can start to get a little heavy. But when you compare it to other models (as in this Which? report) the GTech actually weighs in as the lightest, and almost half the weight of the equivalent Dyson.
Anyway, I just told her it wasn't a problem as I'd do all the vacuuming.
Which, with the GTech Pro, is (almost) a pleasure!
Highly recommended.
Disclosure: we were sent a Gtech Pro by Gtech for the purposes of the review, but our opinion - as always - is entirely honest and neutral.
That's not the only GTech product I've bought. I've got their frankly wonderful lawn mower, too. And the cordless hedge trimmer. I think it's safe to say - having been a pretty regular customer of theirs - that I'm a fan.
So, when they sent me the new GTechPro to review, I felt both pleased and, well - challenged. You see, a review is nothing if not honest. And I honestly thought there'd be no competition for the AirRam.
Like the AirRam (like everything from GTech) there are no wires. That's bonus number one. That and a more-than-adequate lithium-ion battery which provides enough juice for picking up plenty of crumbs. And just about everything else including - thanks to something called its AirLOC feature - large bits that other vacuum cleaners miss!
Unlike the AirRam, the GTech Pro has a bag. Aha! I thought. Fiddly, unnecessary, dirty (after years of having bagless cleaners). But... it has its advantages.
For a start, you don't have to worry so much about filters (which can be a pain to clean). And although the AirRam is great at compressing all the dust you suck up into a nice, neat, easy-to-empty cassette it's SO good at compressing it that you can, well, leave it rather too long to empty. And then get a bit dusty.
But this isn't about the AirRam. It's about the Pro. And so not being bagless might actually be an advantage.
What's also a distinct advantage is it's versatility. The Pro is really three vacs in one. It's a hand vac for those hand-vac moments, a stair vac (this is probably my favourite adaptation) for stair cleaning and a floor vac for, well, floor vac-ing. Look!
All in all I can do no better than say that if we hadn't already got an AirRam (did I tell you how impressed I was with that?) I'd definitely be getting a Pro instead. It's everything you need in a vacuum cleaner without an awful lot (wires, for instance) that you don't.
My wife has criticism. For a long session (which the battery, with up to 40 mins charge, easily permits) it can start to get a little heavy. But when you compare it to other models (as in this Which? report) the GTech actually weighs in as the lightest, and almost half the weight of the equivalent Dyson.
Anyway, I just told her it wasn't a problem as I'd do all the vacuuming.
Which, with the GTech Pro, is (almost) a pleasure!
Highly recommended.
Disclosure: we were sent a Gtech Pro by Gtech for the purposes of the review, but our opinion - as always - is entirely honest and neutral.
March 14, 2018
Sing unto the Lord!
O Sing Unto the Lord: A History of English Church Music by Andrew GantMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
If you’re a fan of English church music, if you know the pieces and the people discussed then this book will be a joy. But it will take a long time to read. James Booth’s biography of Larkin had me constantly scurrying back to the collected poems. And it’s almost impossible to read ‘O Sing unto the Lord’ without stopping on every other page to trawl your CD shelves or do a quick YouTube search. If Gant says (of the music of William Lloyd Webber, among others) that it ‘compressed the sound-world of the Palm Court orchestra and the romantic symphony into well-crafted music for choir and organ, like tinned Gounod’ you just have to hear that with your own ears!
And If a survey of two thousand years of church music proves anything, it’s that there is nothing new under the sun. Certainly, disputes about music go back several centuries. The poor monks of Glastonbury found themselves quite literally on the sharp end of their Abbot’s sword, when they proved less than enthusiastic about Thurston’s new continental musical practices. And if you think discordant harmonies are modern, or practices like improvisation innovative, think again. Jamming (they may not have called it that) goes back almost a millennium. As Gant says, get someone to sing a song with another improvising a harmony line above and someone improvising a bass line below and ‘they will be doing something their medieval forebears did every day... your choir will be doing something it didn’t know it had forgotten how to do.’ (p42). The book is full of such rich details.
Gant also has a vividly memorable and pithy way of summing up the broader historical picture. The English Reformation was ‘an insurrection by the government against its own people, a war… with the added complication that the government kept changing sides.’ This was the time when ‘English church music hit puberty. Before this, you didn’t have to think about whether you accepted the Pope, or if the Virgin Mary answered your prayers: Mum and Dad were always right. Afterwards, there was a period of experimentation, and a series of associations with with partners of wildly varying character, none of which - perhaps fortunately - lasted very long.’
Sometimes you actually seem to get a better sense of history and a deeper understanding of an era from such small details, approached here from a very specific direction. Gant quotes the only eyewitness account of the dissolution written from the monastic side of the fence. A monk present when Henry's commissioners arrived a Evesham Abbey recalls that in the 'yere of our Lorde 1536 the monastery of Evesham was suppressed... At evesnonge tyme... at this verse 'Deposuet potentes' and would not suffer them to make an ende.' Deposuet potentes being the Latin phrase 'He hath put down the mighty from their seat' from the Magnificat. In other words the troops waited until the very moment in the service when the words being sung were most significant - and pounced!
At other times Gant (a distinguished church musician himself) memorably sums up a situation that would in other hands require an entire dissertation. ‘Church music,’ he writes (p312) ‘has always had a place for those who are good at sucking up to the clergy and the pen-pusher, and has shown itself concomitantly intolerant of those who find such arts undignified.’ Enough said.
That particular mot juste was inspired by Samuel Sebastian Wesley (grandson on the hymn-machine, Charles) - that slightly loveable but decidedly odd composer almost of the ‘he’s-so-bad-he’s-good’ variety. Explaining Wesley’s appeal to the English (while Europe was enjoying Wagner) ‘is like trying to explain cricket to the French,’ says Gant. ‘But it’s worth it... English church music needed Samuel Sebastian Wesley. Though, perhaps to our relief, we will not see his like again.’ (316).
English church music is a rich and varied subject. Covering it comprehensively could have been a dull but worthy undertaking. In Gant’s hands it is anything but.
View all my reviews
March 12, 2018
Oh! what a tangled web we weave...
Just thought I'd give you all the quickest of quick updates, which is this. After many years of blogging I've finally gone and got a website, bringing together all my activities and interests and linking to important things like, well... this blog, as well as media appearances, my Facebook page and YouTube channel.
It's a work-in-progress at the moment, but do please click the link and take a look. And tell me what you think!
https://www.timatkinson.info
It's a work-in-progress at the moment, but do please click the link and take a look. And tell me what you think!
https://www.timatkinson.info
March 7, 2018
Olé!
It's the birthday (or would be, if he were here to celebrate) of that wonderful man of French music Maurice Ravel, one of my favourite composers.
Someone asked me the other day why I'm so fond of these 'on this day' ditties. The dead aren't here to blow out any candles, after all.
But the thing about the creative dead - or rather, those creative artists no longer with us - is that their music (in this case) or poetry or paintings, books, albums, all are. And that's as good a reason to celebrate as any, in my opinion.
So I'm going to listen to Le Tombeau de Couperin (Ravel's tribute to friends killed in the Great War), Alborada del gracioso, the sublime Daphnis et Chloé and the first piece of his I think I ever heard, the Introduction and Allegro.
Oh, and how could I forget the brilliant, jazz-influenced Piano Concerto in G? (Listen to the slow movement if you don't listen to anything else today - it starts at 8m 20s!) I'm certainly going to listen to that.
Probably not, though, to his most famous composition - Boléro. Why? Because as he himself said of it, 'I've written a masterpiece. Unfortunately it contains no music' which is a bit harsh... but very funny.
Anyway I do like Boléro, it's just that - like Elgar's 'Enigma' variations - distance might lead to more enchantment. And it must be a real chore to play. And to conduct. I mean, just look at this - Daniel Barenboim hardly bothers! He lets the West-East Divan Orchestra at the 2014 Proms just get on with it.
Mind you, they do a damn fine job!
Olé!
Someone asked me the other day why I'm so fond of these 'on this day' ditties. The dead aren't here to blow out any candles, after all.
But the thing about the creative dead - or rather, those creative artists no longer with us - is that their music (in this case) or poetry or paintings, books, albums, all are. And that's as good a reason to celebrate as any, in my opinion.
So I'm going to listen to Le Tombeau de Couperin (Ravel's tribute to friends killed in the Great War), Alborada del gracioso, the sublime Daphnis et Chloé and the first piece of his I think I ever heard, the Introduction and Allegro.
Oh, and how could I forget the brilliant, jazz-influenced Piano Concerto in G? (Listen to the slow movement if you don't listen to anything else today - it starts at 8m 20s!) I'm certainly going to listen to that.
Probably not, though, to his most famous composition - Boléro. Why? Because as he himself said of it, 'I've written a masterpiece. Unfortunately it contains no music' which is a bit harsh... but very funny.
Anyway I do like Boléro, it's just that - like Elgar's 'Enigma' variations - distance might lead to more enchantment. And it must be a real chore to play. And to conduct. I mean, just look at this - Daniel Barenboim hardly bothers! He lets the West-East Divan Orchestra at the 2014 Proms just get on with it.
Mind you, they do a damn fine job!
Olé!
March 4, 2018
Why do we bother, Fawlty?
I've nothing whatever against strike action. In fact, the right to withdraw your labour has got to be one of the fundamental rights of man. And woman.
But if you do (and I've been on strike) your pay suffers. That much also is true and - as long as such deductions are proportional - is right and as it should be.
I've been on the receiving end, too, as a punter. I've bought train tickets for trains that haven't run because of strikes and I've had events cancelled for the same reason. Believe it or not, as a student, I was even affected by a strike of university lecturers.
The difference is, back then, I wasn't paying. Not directly. Back in the good old days the state funded your degree and even chipped in for your living costs. Whatever the rights and wrongs of that, it was the system then and the same for everyone.
This time, of course, the striking lecturers are depriving students of some very, very expensive lectures, tutorials, even exams. Because I was informed at the weekend that at least one university (well, faculty within one university although it may be more widespread) - one world-famous university at that - was planning to make its students sit their end-of-year exams but then refuse to mark their papers, issuing a blanket 'pass' grade to everyone instead.
Now, my daughter is paying a great deal for her higher education. She's also working very hard, as hard as you do when your future depends on it. Because it does. She and thousands of others like her get one chance at this. And what's happening could seriously adversely affect their career, to say nothing of their pension.
I have nothing but sympathy for the lecturers or indeed for anyone faced with a similar pension shortfall. And as I've said, I have nothing whatever against taking industrial action. Indeed, neither have they because at the same institution to which I refer, the one my daughter attends (and which had better remain nameless) many of the said lecturers are NOT taking action - those teaching medicine, for example, and engineering.
But I do strongly object to the effect it's having on those students whose one chance this is, who have worked damned hard and who are paying a premium for something they're not getting.
Of course, the lecturers want to create an impact. They need to cause disruption to get noticed. And they have been. (Although it's telling that my wife hadn't - until the other day - even heard of the dispute.)
But there are other means, perhaps more high profile, and certainly less damaging. I don't tune in the BBC Radio Four on Thursday mornings and hear Melvin Bragg announcing that In Our Time has been cancelled because no lecturers will appear. I don't see academics appearing any less frequently on telly. (Yes, I know what we're seeing now will have been recorded months ago but that still leaves the programmes currently being made.) And are they all crashing their publisher's deadlines, or boycotting the prestigious academic journals that publish their research papers?
I'd like to know. Because it they're not, I'd like to know why. Why, instead, they're choosing to jeopardise the future of thousands of fee-paying students?
Students paying for a service they're not getting.
And who aren't getting any refunds, either.
But if you do (and I've been on strike) your pay suffers. That much also is true and - as long as such deductions are proportional - is right and as it should be.
I've been on the receiving end, too, as a punter. I've bought train tickets for trains that haven't run because of strikes and I've had events cancelled for the same reason. Believe it or not, as a student, I was even affected by a strike of university lecturers.
The difference is, back then, I wasn't paying. Not directly. Back in the good old days the state funded your degree and even chipped in for your living costs. Whatever the rights and wrongs of that, it was the system then and the same for everyone.
This time, of course, the striking lecturers are depriving students of some very, very expensive lectures, tutorials, even exams. Because I was informed at the weekend that at least one university (well, faculty within one university although it may be more widespread) - one world-famous university at that - was planning to make its students sit their end-of-year exams but then refuse to mark their papers, issuing a blanket 'pass' grade to everyone instead.
Now, my daughter is paying a great deal for her higher education. She's also working very hard, as hard as you do when your future depends on it. Because it does. She and thousands of others like her get one chance at this. And what's happening could seriously adversely affect their career, to say nothing of their pension.
I have nothing but sympathy for the lecturers or indeed for anyone faced with a similar pension shortfall. And as I've said, I have nothing whatever against taking industrial action. Indeed, neither have they because at the same institution to which I refer, the one my daughter attends (and which had better remain nameless) many of the said lecturers are NOT taking action - those teaching medicine, for example, and engineering.
But I do strongly object to the effect it's having on those students whose one chance this is, who have worked damned hard and who are paying a premium for something they're not getting.
Of course, the lecturers want to create an impact. They need to cause disruption to get noticed. And they have been. (Although it's telling that my wife hadn't - until the other day - even heard of the dispute.)
But there are other means, perhaps more high profile, and certainly less damaging. I don't tune in the BBC Radio Four on Thursday mornings and hear Melvin Bragg announcing that In Our Time has been cancelled because no lecturers will appear. I don't see academics appearing any less frequently on telly. (Yes, I know what we're seeing now will have been recorded months ago but that still leaves the programmes currently being made.) And are they all crashing their publisher's deadlines, or boycotting the prestigious academic journals that publish their research papers?
I'd like to know. Because it they're not, I'd like to know why. Why, instead, they're choosing to jeopardise the future of thousands of fee-paying students?
Students paying for a service they're not getting.
And who aren't getting any refunds, either.
University lecturers strike UK 2018
I've nothing whatever against strike action. In fact, the right to withdraw your labour has got to be one of the fundamental rights of man. And woman.
But if you do (and I've been on strike) your pay suffers. That much also is true and - as long as such deductions are proportional - is right and as it should be.
I've been on the receiving end, too, as a punter. I've bought train tickets for trains that haven't run because of strikes and I've had events cancelled for the same reason. Believe it or not, as a student, I was even affected by a strike of university lecturers.
The difference is, back then, I wasn't paying. Not directly. Back in the good old days the state funded your degree and even chipped in for your living costs. Whatever the rights and wrongs of that, it was the system then and the same for everyone.
This time, of course, the striking lecturers are depriving students of some very, very expensive lectures, tutorials, even exams. Because I was informed at the weekend that at least one university (well, faculty within one university although it may be more widespread) - one world-famous university at that - was planning to make its students sit their end-of-year exams but then refuse to mark their papers, issuing a blanket 'pass' grade to everyone instead.
Now, my daughter is paying a great deal for her higher education. She's also working very hard, as hard as you do when your future depends on it. Because it does. She and thousands of others like her get one chance at this. And what's happening could seriously adversely affect their career, to say nothing of their pension.
I have nothing but sympathy for the lecturers or indeed for anyone facd with a similar pension shortfall. And as I've said, I have nothing whatever against taking industrial action. Indeed, neither have they because at the same institution to which I refer, the one my daughter attends (and which had better remain nameless) many of the said lecturers are NOT taking action - those teaching medicine, for example, and engineering.
But I do strongly object to the effect it's having on those students whose one chance this is, who have worked damned hard and who are paying a premium for something they're not getting.
Of course, the lecturers want to create an impact. They need to cause disruption to get noticed. And they have been. (Although it's telling that my wife hadn't - until the other day - even heard of the dispute.)
But there are other means, perhaps more high profile, and certainly less damaging. I don't tune in the BBC Radio Four on Thursday mornings and hear Melvin Bragg announcing that In Our Time has been cancelled because no lecturers will appear. I don't see academics appearing any less frequently on telly. (Yes, I know what we're seeing now will have been recorded months ago but that still leaves the programmes currently being made.) And are they all crashing their publisher's deadlines, or boycotting the prestigious academic journals that publish their research papers?
I'd like to know. Because it they're not, I'd like to know why. Why, instead, they're choosing to jeopardise the future of thousands of fee-paying students?
Students paying for a service they're not getting.
And who aren't getting any refunds, either.
But if you do (and I've been on strike) your pay suffers. That much also is true and - as long as such deductions are proportional - is right and as it should be.
I've been on the receiving end, too, as a punter. I've bought train tickets for trains that haven't run because of strikes and I've had events cancelled for the same reason. Believe it or not, as a student, I was even affected by a strike of university lecturers.
The difference is, back then, I wasn't paying. Not directly. Back in the good old days the state funded your degree and even chipped in for your living costs. Whatever the rights and wrongs of that, it was the system then and the same for everyone.
This time, of course, the striking lecturers are depriving students of some very, very expensive lectures, tutorials, even exams. Because I was informed at the weekend that at least one university (well, faculty within one university although it may be more widespread) - one world-famous university at that - was planning to make its students sit their end-of-year exams but then refuse to mark their papers, issuing a blanket 'pass' grade to everyone instead.
Now, my daughter is paying a great deal for her higher education. She's also working very hard, as hard as you do when your future depends on it. Because it does. She and thousands of others like her get one chance at this. And what's happening could seriously adversely affect their career, to say nothing of their pension.
I have nothing but sympathy for the lecturers or indeed for anyone facd with a similar pension shortfall. And as I've said, I have nothing whatever against taking industrial action. Indeed, neither have they because at the same institution to which I refer, the one my daughter attends (and which had better remain nameless) many of the said lecturers are NOT taking action - those teaching medicine, for example, and engineering.
But I do strongly object to the effect it's having on those students whose one chance this is, who have worked damned hard and who are paying a premium for something they're not getting.
Of course, the lecturers want to create an impact. They need to cause disruption to get noticed. And they have been. (Although it's telling that my wife hadn't - until the other day - even heard of the dispute.)
But there are other means, perhaps more high profile, and certainly less damaging. I don't tune in the BBC Radio Four on Thursday mornings and hear Melvin Bragg announcing that In Our Time has been cancelled because no lecturers will appear. I don't see academics appearing any less frequently on telly. (Yes, I know what we're seeing now will have been recorded months ago but that still leaves the programmes currently being made.) And are they all crashing their publisher's deadlines, or boycotting the prestigious academic journals that publish their research papers?
I'd like to know. Because it they're not, I'd like to know why. Why, instead, they're choosing to jeopardise the future of thousands of fee-paying students?
Students paying for a service they're not getting.
And who aren't getting any refunds, either.
March 3, 2018
Edward Thomas - Snow
Edward Thomas, poet, naturalist and soldier, was born on this day in 1878. To mark the occasion here is one of his many short lyrics, made especially appropriate by this week's weather.
In the gloom of whiteness,
In the great silence of snow,
A child was sighing
And bitterly saying: 'Oh,
They have killed a white bird up there on her nest,
The down is fluttering from her breast!'
And still it fell through that dusky brightness
On the child crying for the bird of the snow.
In the gloom of whiteness,
In the great silence of snow,
A child was sighing
And bitterly saying: 'Oh,
They have killed a white bird up there on her nest,
The down is fluttering from her breast!'
And still it fell through that dusky brightness
On the child crying for the bird of the snow.
March 2, 2018
The Temporary Gentleman, by Sebastian Barry
The Temporary Gentleman by Sebastian BarryMy rating: 5 of 5 stars
You can’t read Sebastian Barry slowly. It’s like poetry. It IS poetry! How else to explain a sentence like this? ‘Such are the embers of things spoken when the great conflagration of life is nearly over...’ WHAT a sentence! And the book is full of them. How can a first-person voice be at once to vivid and poetic and yet utterly artless and authentic? I wish I knew. Barry does. And so I keep on plodding through his prose... or poetry. And what an immense pleasure it is, too.
This is just the latest in a long list of his books I'm either reading or re-reading. And none - so far - not one, disappoints. Unless it's from the knowledge that you know - as someone who tries his hand at a bit of writing, now and then - that you'll never, ever live up or even approach such heights yourself.
But you can learn. As always, you can learn from the masters and I've especially learned from Barry's wonderful use of the active voice in what it otherwise standard third-person omniscient narration. There's a immediacy of expression that almost blurs the boundary between that and first-person (especially unreliable) narration. It's a wonderful trick to behold on the page. And Barry does it so, so well.
View all my reviews
