Christmas? No problem!

 

 

 

 

 A plastic bag that has been lying around the third-floor slum that I call my study turned out to have the midget Christmas Tree in it.   

     Midget it may well be, but it fits almost comically perfectly on the shelf that Toni constructed to take the fan to blow away the noxious ciggie smoke from the “departed” neighbour who used to sit in her open window and waft her filth towards us.

     Now the little shelf looks purpose built to take the tree.  And with its raising we have Christmasified ourselves completely.  With the single Christmas card from Andrew and the plugging in of the annual (well, we don’t ever take it down) Christmas star in the kitchen window, there is little more that we can do to become completed festivified.  And we have spent virtually no time whatsoever in getting to this stage of entering into the spirt of the season!  A win-win situation.

     My mother had a habit (that I have enthusiastically adopted) of declaring certain of her purchases (especially those of questionable value) as officially “Best Buys”. 

     This designation sought to imbue the purchase with the sort of cachet which made it “good value for money” and therefore justifiable, and (further therefore) well beyond the carping criticism of a confirmed anti-shopper like my father.  She was also well aware that she could always call on my unbiased, enthusiastic support for the mere act of purchasing, let alone giving her approbation for the actual object itself.

     My mother was the inventor of the clothing doctrine: “If it fits and is comfortable, buy it in all available colours.” 

     I remember being with her once when she put this into operation.  My mother and I share what may be described as “fussy” feet, where the cheap, cheerful, and totally acceptable ordinary shoe does nothing for our feet.  Indeed, mere expense is no guide to comfort and finding the right shoe for us made Prince Charming’s quest look slipshod!

     My mother found a court shoe that fitted, was comfortable and utilitarian.  She bought a single pair to try and pronounced them fine and, with me in toe, she went back to the shop and did as she believed, and literally bought a pair in every colour they made.  My mother, being my mother, explained what she was doing to a completely indifferent salesperson, and we both returned home triumphant and slightly hysterical.

     As the numerous pairs of shoes were laid out for inspection, my father merely sighed a little and lit his pipe.

     A similar process obtains with cutlery and crockery.  As a boy who was made aware of the differences between different grades of china at an early age and was taught to weigh and balance cutlery in hand to evaluation its worth, plates, spoons, glasses, and suchlike have an important place in my life.

     I like things to match and so the purchase of a ‘life’ canteen of china is something not lightly entered into.

     I had no way of knowing that life, the universe, and everything would bring about the downfall of a potter like Wedgewood.  For goodness’ sake, William Blake did drawings for the early publicity of the firm! 

 

 

 

 

 

It was a business founded in righteousness and destined to see us all out.  The choosing of a pattern in Wedgewood was therefore something that would last, if not forever, at least for a reasonable lifetime.

     The transience of things thought to be permanent, would have been more of a problem if I had not followed my mother’s other dictum related to china, “Buy at least 12 of everything” so even with inevitable breakages, I am still able to set a decent table.

     When I bought the Wedgewood Aztec patterned service from Debenhams 

 

 

(a store also gone the way of all flesh) I bought so much (see my mother’s advice above) that it came with a “free breakages replacement” guarantee for a year!  During the first year only one plate was broken (by Helen who stood on it) and the pieces were carefully kept because, if you did not claim on the insurance, you were given a whole single place setting free at the end of the year.  At the end of the year, my not having claimed, I was sent not one, but two place settings free.  And that insurance offer was terminated soon after they arrived!  What sensible advice my mother gave!

     On the basis of direct descendance, I now claim the right to designate things “Best Buys” and the few years old tree and the more than a few years old star qualify for that title.  And their reuse gives green credentials to the activity and the carbon footprint is low because the lights on the tree and the star are low power led.

     Christmas done and dusted!

Buildings take time

 

 

 

Another tortuous milestone in the construction of the Sagrada Família has been reached with the placing of the star light on the top of the Virgin Mary Tower and, this evening, blessing and lighting it.  This is the first of the two filial lights to be achieved, the second will top the central and largest tower in the basilica – the one which will mark the completion of the project and the one on which building has been delayed because of Covid.

     There was an ambitious plan to have the building complete for the centenary of Gaudí’s death in 2026, but this is looking more and more unlikely.

     In spite of living in Barcelona (the province and metropolitan district) I have visited the Basilica only once, in the summer of 1958 when my father dragged me off the bus tour of the city that we were on and took me to what I understood to be a series of ruins but was informed that I was standing in the unfinished part of an on-going masterpiece by the Catalan architect Gaudi.  I was, generally, unimpressed – though that attitude changed as I found out more about the architect and his buildings.

     Why, you might ask, have I not visited the building again, especially as it now has a roof, and the interior is complete?

     Gaudi is constantly associated with natural forms and the Basilica looks like a growing thing, something more vegetable than stone. 

     Gaudi ‘lived’ his buildings, he was intimately involved in their evolution from design to structure and he was capable of making on-site adjustments to his plans, so that the word ‘evolution’ associated with his buildings is something which is real – that is what happened.  The plans were a starting point and Gaudi was the guide to their development.

     The great cathedrals of the past were always works in progress, and sometimes that progress was glacially slow, as buildings emerged over decades and sometimes centuries.  Gaudi lived on site towards the end of his life, and he was dedicated to seeing his concept of the building rise.  And that’s the point: a Gaudi building needs Gaudi to see it through to completion.  Without Gaudi, the building is something else.  Not worthless and not necessarily inferior, but definitely something else.

     Gaudi was killed in a traffic accident, but his plans survived.  Well, they survived until the Spanish Civil War when they were burnt, but enough survived for projections to be made about what the final form of the building should take.

     Every great building is, of necessity, a collaboration – it is how far that the collaboration should ‘develop’ from the original idea that is in question about the ‘finishing’ of Gaudi’s masterpiece.

     I used to say that I would have preferred to have had some sort of encompassing structure placed around the parts of the Basilica that Gaudi had completed and say, this is what we have, we can imagine the rest.  A building without Gaudi throughout is not a Gaudi building.

     Perhaps that is a little too purist and I have vowed that if and when the building is finished (in my lifetime) I will visit.

     Those visitors from the UK who have visited the Basilica have come away singing its praises.  I have been content to view it from a distance and enjoy the silhouette rather than look too closely at the detail!

     The quick-sketch outline drawing of the Sagrada Família shares a place with similar sketches of the Eiffel Tower, Big Ben and The Sydney Opera House as being something that is instantly recognized from a few quick lines.

     As I visit Barcelona on a fairly regular basis, I have of course, seen the Sagrada Família close-up from the car and I have to admit that it is an imposing pile, I hope that things come together, and I will be able to visit!

Johnson is a liar.  He is liar who is found out in his lies on a regular basis.  He treats the truth with the same contempt that he reserves for his past wives.  And yet, he preserves his popularity with the voting public.

     Perhaps, the Christmas Party of Christmas Past will be the ghost that drags him down.  With scandal piling onto scandal in the traditional way of Conservative rule over any period of time, it seemed as if each new disgrace was something that could be wafted away with an airy phrase or some cod Latin.

     The joking contempt that his personal spokesperson displayed in laughing about how to deflect difficult questions about a Christmas party held during the height of Covid restrictions might be the thing that finally (finally!) cuts through to the general population and brings about, if not his downfall, then at least some sort of change in the way that we are governed.

     Johnson has tired his usual tactic of smooth sincerity and the sacrifice of an underling to turn away the rightful wrath that should be meted out on his head.  His lies have finally caught up with him and there is a growing groundswell of opinion that he should resign.

     Although I personally think that he should have been sacked rather than given the chance to resign a long time ago, I am still not convinced that the Tory Faithful will give up what they see as an electoral advantage (i.e., Johnson’s skills (!) in campaigning) for any airy concept of honesty or probity.

     This evening, Covid Plan B has been announced by Johnson (in a press conference NOT in The House of Commons) as a necessary part of the regulations to try and keep the Omicron variant in check – but also, and far more importantly from Johnson’s point of view as a “dead cat on the table” distraction to keep prying noses out of the detail of exactly what when on in the Christmas Party Fiasco of last year.

     Why should anyone do anything Johnson says, when he so signally doesn’t feel himself to be bound by the rules that he stipulates for others?

     It will be interesting to see what the media say about all of this, especially as there were pointed questions about the hypocrisy of Johnson and his misfits in the press conference announcing the measures.

     The best Christmas present that we could all have, is that Johnson resigns instantly.  God knows I loathe the deadbeat candidates that are likely to take over, but they (with the possible exception of Goblin Gove) are almost bound to be better and to have at least a shred of something approaching an ethic.   

Please!

 

A range of rants

 

 

A double vaccinated member of my Catalan family has now contracted Covid and will have to self-isolate, emerging from this on the 22^nd of December, just in time for the Christmas Celebrations.  At the moment he has flu-like symptoms, and we are hoping that they do not develop any further, relying on the expectation that the vaccination will limit any serious consequences.

     What it does do is emphasise that the pandemic is nowhere near over, and we are still very much in the dark as far as any coherent view about what post-pandemic life may be, and when we might be experiencing it.

     At this moment in time, all our planned celebrations for the three days from Christmas Eve are still in place, though these same plans become more brittle with each passing day.

     In spite of the growing fears about the Omicron variant, there does not seem to be a great deal of concern about the progress of the pandemic, and the rules that are already in place do not seem to be widely followed. 

     For example, we are now supposed to show Covid vaccination certificates in restaurants, bars, gyms etc – the policy is, shall we say, being loosely applied.  Today in a restaurant we were not asked for our certificate, and I saw no one who came into the restaurant asked.

     If this laxity is indicative of the approach here, then it is only a matter of time before the pressing need for more taxing restrictions are brought in because of an exponential rise in infection.

     I count myself partly to blame because, until Toni mentioned it this evening, it didn’t even cross my mind that the regulations had not been followed.  Life goes on as normal, and one is easily seduced into forgetting the reality with which one is surrounded.

     I know that it is wrong for the government to expect members of the public to act as their surrogates in getting policy delivered, but it is in all our interests that the very reasonable precautions that should be taken, are taken.

     I resolve to show my certificate even if I am not asked for it, and that might provoke the right behaviour.  I shall be more vigilant in future.  In a future that looks increasingly bleak as the news of the spread of the Omicron variation looks unstoppable.

 

 

Yet again I ask myself what the Conservative Party has to do to get people to stop voting and supporting them!

     It is an exhausting job merely listing the scandals that Johnson and his rag bag government have racked up.

     Just in the last week or so we have had the revelations about the last year Christmas parties that were held (or not held) in 10 Downing Street, with Johnsons categorical (eventual) denials having all the force of the ‘do not tumble dry’ instruction on clothes (image courtesy of John Crace or Marina Hyde in the Guardian).  Basically, if Johnson says something it is a fairly secure rule of thumb that the exact opposite is true.  So, while the rest of the country was obeying the strict lockdown rules, No 10 was flouting them.  And now lying about them.

     Coupled with this is the “apology” for failings in the Grenville Tower disaster in the administration of building regulations.  Tell that to the dead.

     Today we heard graphic descriptions of the disorganized chaos in the Foreign Office with the deadhead Raab presiding over a dysfunctional and deadly, inefficient, badly led, disaster of a department.

     And the final and grotesque garnish to the vileness of the government is the revealing of the lies that Johnson and No 10 have talked about the evacuation of pets before people.  I am a staunch believer in the fact that people who do not care about animals, will care little for humans as well.  But people must come before pets, and if resources were diverted to help a pet sanctuary rather than help the people who aided the mission in Afghanistan AND that Johnson lied about his involvement, then surely disgust and repugnance is the only appropriate attitude to have towards him and the low life that supports him.

     And that lot is only what has been brought to us today!  It is exhausting despising the worthless chancers who rule us.  With Thatcher (whom I hated and continue to hate) I didn’t feel this drained and depleted by my loathing.  Thatcher was a person and not a cult.  Johnson is a populist with, as far as I can tell, not a shred of ‘ethos’ motivating his actions apart from his narcissistic self-regard.  He demeans the country, politics, and himself.  He is a disgrace – but he will not and indeed cannot see that.  To recognize his own fatal limitations will mean his instant evaporation.

     It will be instructive to see what happens to the Conservative majority in the next by-election.  If the Conservative Party senses that he has or will become a liability, they will be ruthless in their elimination of an obstacle to their continued grip on power.

     I can look forward to Johnson’s fall from grace (though he certainly did that a long, long time ago) but I shudder at the ‘slimy things with legs’ that will slither their way out of the sewer of sleaze and corruption that is the Conservative Party at the moment and try and shin their way up the greasy Tory donor money painted pole to power.

     God help us all!

Different perspectives?

 

 

I remember when I was having a picture window in my house in Cardiff replaced, that I was shocked by the difference in clarity and light through the empty space as opposed to the glazed space.  

     I don’t think that I had realized that the glass in a window makes an appreciable difference to the amount of light getting through, in spite of the fact that windows do open and so you would have thought that the difference would have been plain through extensive experience.  But apparently not.  Because window glass is transparent, the assumption is that all the light gets through – and when you find out that the assumption is false, it knocks your world a bit!

     I am constantly surprised by the fact that little things can change your world – or at least your perception of it, and sometimes, quite literally your view of it.

     I should imagine that I was not alone in having problems with pines.  To be specific those that grew at the bottom of my garden and, while effectively blocking out the unlovely sight of the house that occupied the plot, it also destroyed any view that I could have had from any part of the house.  As my house was built on the side of a fairly gentle valley, I could, in theory have had a panoramic view of the distant city centre of Cardiff from at least one bedroom and the bathroom.  The neighbour’s pines closed off such a possibility.

     And they grew and grew.  As pines will.  A few desultory attempts at ‘legal’ pruning of stray branches that impinged on my property did little to lessen the density of the growth.  And I simmered in (shaded) misery for years.  And then the neighbour cut them.

     The difference was immediate and liberating as light (and sights) were available again.

     Something of the same situation occurred yesterday.

     Along part of the border fence between my house and the neighbours there grew a tree.  At least I have always taken it for a tree, with rather attractive blossom in the season – but I think that it was really an overgrown plant.  If there is such a difference.  It certainly had tree height and in spite of furious pruning along the vertical line of the fence on my side, no amount of rough tearing of branches seemed to affect the health of this vigorous weed.

     New neighbours and new visions of how the garden should look have brought the once mighty tree (or whatever it is) to a series of nicely short stumps.  As you can tell from the picture above, not one of the trunks looks capable of being called a tree trunk, and yet it was 30 ft tall at least.  And now it’s gone.

     And suddenly we have an unobstructed view of the communal pool.  Admittedly, at this time of year there are only yellowing leaves floating in it rather than bronzed bodies, and the only thing that raises ripples on the surface is the wind, but still, an unobstructed view!

     And with the lack of the mass of vegetation there is also, now, a small gap in the trees of the houses in front of us, which give a view of the sea.  Small, it may be, and you might have to be sitting in a particular position, but it is undeniably a fragment of the Med and you can make out real waves thereupon!

      The removal of the tree, which was ornamental if obstructive, is like giving us an extra breathing space, making our view so much more expansive.  All we need now is the weather to enjoy it!

 

 

The use of the Covid passports or certificates in bars, restaurants, gyms etc is a little haphazard at the moment, with the people who have to check not being entirely comfortable with the software that authenticates the digital information.  I assume that these are teething problems and that soon the system will be up and running and people will, by and large, accept it as something which is reasonable giving the growth of the Omicron variety across the world.

     As I understand it, the information about your certificate is loaded into a database of the place in which you are visiting, and you do not have to show it multiple times for each visit.  So, for example, my daily swim, does not require me to represent the information as it is stored.  Allegedly.

     I will be interested to see how diligent bar staff and waiters are as the Christmas season develops, and how much ‘waving through’ there will be.  I remain sceptical about the dedication of people who have, in effect, been co-opted by the government to become unpaid civil servants fulfilling a civic dictat!

 

 

As of today, all our Christmas Plans (or the lack of them) are still in place, and the Christmas Meal in a restaurant is still go.

     What is of interest, is what happens on Christmas Eve and Boxing Day.  Concrete plans for those two days are not, as yet, forthcoming.

     And we have bought no Christmas presents.  Yet.  Sigh!

     Roll on chaos!