Pointless power

 

There is always something exhilarating about an electric storm, especially in this part of the world, as they seem (when they happen) to be the showy Drama Queens of thunder and lightning with constant flashes and histrionic rolls of thunder.  As I open the door of third floor to gain greater immediate access to the shenanigans of the weather, I am reminded of what we used to do in my first primary school.

     We were not allowed to use ball point pens, but instead we were issued with wooden nib holders and a metal nib to use the ink that was portioned out into the inkwells that were part of the desks that we used.  The inkwells had a sliding metal cover which was put in place when the ink was not being used to limit evaporation and keep things from falling in.  During thunderstorms, as we had been informed of the propensity for lightning to find a metal conduit to “earth” itself, we very carefully put pieces of blotting paper over the metal inkwell covers so that we were not electrocuted by a stray branch of lightning finding its way into our classroom.  Even though, even at that age, we suspected that a small piece of blotting paper was unlikely to be of very much help, it seemed better than doing nothing, and gave a most pleasurable sense of danger possibly prevented to liven up we already storm-excited kids.

     The storm has now passed, with the rolls of thunder being more of the distant grumbling variety rather than the window shaking type that really did buffet us just a few minutes ago.  The lightning remains, but more as distant fading flashes looking like poor theatrical attempts to try and mirror the real thing.

     A storm like the one that we have just had has an immediate legacy in this district of Castelldefels.  The name of the district is taken from the number of pine trees that abound and any storm washes off quantities of needles from the trees which, unless they are removed with expedition block gutters and drains and produce almost instant flooding.

     We have no pine trees growing in our garden, but we are surrounded by them in other gardens and so our garden is covered in needles, all of which need to be gathered up and put out on the pavement on a Friday when the organic collection of rubbish takes place and the raked debris disappears.

     I must admit that in my first year of teaching, I vividly remember a lad giving a passionate and informed talk to the rest of the class about his dad’s job in the local sewerage works.  His description of nematode worms and their essential part in dealing with waste and his simple wonder about the worth of sewerage and waste management has stayed with me through my career and beyond.

     I do find the whole logistical exercise of waste collection fascinating and I never fail to be moved and astonished by the way that it is done.

     In Castelldefels we have had a system of rubbish specific bins that are emptied on a daily basis by the use of massive lorries with a hydraulic arm that picks up each (large) bin, empties it into its appropriate section and replaces it with amazing precision when it has been emptied.  It must all be computer controlled and the lorries must cost a fortune, but it seems to work.

     I’m now typing in silence, the storm ended, and only the sound of the two fans which more than cover the sound of a very distant thunder roll.

     There are several pinch points in Castelldefels where storm water accumulates and the drainage system is inadequate in dealing with it.  As I make my way to the pool tomorrow I åshould pass at least two of them, but on the bike, it is easy to find a dry way through and not have to plough through the massive puddles.

 

 

Well, all that was last night and now its the afternoon of the next day, so to speak - and the sun is shining and the fans are on!  Ah, what a joy to live in a country where the weather is not lingeringly spiteful!

     The results of the downpour last night were obvious in the amount of leaves, needles and small branches littering the streets, pavements and more importantly gutters.

     My cycle to my morning swim was uneventful apart from the new bumps of tree litter strewn along my way, but the more spectacular even was to turn into the leisure centre and see the new lake that had formed taking over a chunk of the seating area and part of the parking area as well!     

     The attempts of the technical staff to use an electric pump to get rid of the water at first resulted in a small ornamental fountain, but by the time that I had finished my post-swim tea, the water had gone.

     As will the rest of the organic rubble as tomorrow is the leaf collection day and the little piles that have now accumulated outside our houses will magically disappear.  I hope.

     If not then our parking spaces (because some people put their tree and grass waste on the road) will be limited for another week - and not everyone obeys the rule that no waste can be put out for collection until Thursday at the earliest.

     It is very difficult not to feel resentment against those people who Take Advantage.  And what do we saintly others who obey the rules do?  Grumble a little, but actually do nothing.  I have read that some parts of the UK have draconian rules regarding the sorting of rubbish into correct receptacles, and woe betide the recidivist who makes a second mistake about the placing of egg shells: punishment is condign and expensive!  So, I'm told.

     One of the pleasure of owning a bike was the ability to ride along the Paseo and see the sea.  That is now forbidden.  It was done in stages: firstly on the narrower part of the Paseo and then extended to all of it.  And I obey the rules.

     Except, each time I come back from my morning swim, I cycle along the road which runs parallel to the out of bounds Paseo, and I ALWAYS see a few cyclists enjoying the forbidden sight of the sea.  And what happens to them?  Nothing!

     I know that I should be satisfied to do what is right and that feeling of rectitude should be reward enough.  But it isn't.  If I may paraphrase and overused saying, "It is not enough for me to do good; I must see those who do not, suffer!"

     Another character flaw I have to work on!

Words are important!

 

 

Still no indication of when I am going to be vaccinated.  My group has been prioritised in so far as we are told that efforts are being made to vaccinate us, but we have also been told to be patient we are at the younger end of the tranche.  Which of course, I am.

     The galling thing is that, had I still been in the UK, I would have been vaccinated by now.  I always told myself that my probable jab date would be in April, but it looks likely that my first jab will now be next month.

     I do have an alternative: to go to one of the mass vaccination centres and I did get as far as filling out an on-line application, until I found that the nearest centre is rather further away than I am comfortable with.  But, I have also decided that if I get no indication of my chance of a jab by the end of the week, then I am filling out the form and going wherever I can get one.

     Next month also sees the relaxation of national State of Emergency rules and even now, people are behaving in a more relaxed way, and given the low rates of vaccination that seems foolhardy to say the least.  It therefore follows that to be safe, it will be worth a boring car ride to some centre outside the region to start to get at least a putative 60% protection from the influx of visitors that we are bound to get as the weather gets warmer.

 

I watched PMQs today and saw Liar Johnson have a whole series of anger management problems with the clinical questioning of the Leader of the Opposition.  Keir was viciously glacial in his contempt for Johnson’s bluster.  And, as usual, I watched the Prime Minister’s performance with a mixture of shame and loathing: shame that such tawdry liar could get to the highest office in the land; and loathing that the burbling semi-coherent venom he spat out abused the language in which I delight.

     When teaching Paradise Lost, especially Satan’s great speeches in Book 1, I always said that politicians could learn a lot from the way that Satan use the form of what he said to cover the truth in what he said.  The Heroic cadences of his words almost masked the reality of defeat.  The speech is magnificent in the way it sounds – but it is all lies, a series of empty rhetorical gestures.  Johnson didn’t even rise to an interesting rhetorical gesture in what he said – but what can you expect from a moral vacuum?  Johnson should read Paradise Lost – not Satan’s speeches, he will never rise to those linguistic depths of mendacity, but rather to read about what happens to someone who tries to live the lies he spins!  Unfortunately, Johnson is clinically and morally incapable of what Satan experiences,

“Abashed the Devil stood

And felt how awful goodness is”

Since Johnson is incapable of feeling shame, there is not even a slim chance that he will ever be “abashed” and as he finds it virtually impossible to appreciate “goodness” without seeing it as weakness, there can be no moment of recognition of a force greater than himself.  He has no moral compass because he is his own loadstone.

     I am not, by the way, comparing Satan with Johnson.  Satan in Paradise Lost is a literary construct, a humanized embodiment of evil and therefore the purity of the depiction is compromised by the very humanity that makes his character able to be appreciated by the reader.  But the concept of the character of Satan is a very useful example to use when comparing what he says and how he says it with the way of looking at and listening to the techniques that politicians use to duck answering questions or to rewrite disaster as victory.

     Time after time, I come back to the failure of the “delete all and insert” technique of formal debate from my time in college, when clever debaters used to think up amendments to motions using the “delete all and insert” to try and completely change the original motion to its opposite.  Sometimes this worked or should I say ‘worked’ and the amended motion was passed, but then it failed when reality came into play and the thing had to work in the real world outside debate.

     Words are tricky things and you play with them at your peril.  In the graveyard scene in Hamlet when talking with the gravedigger who plays linguistic games with what Hamlet is saying, Hamlet says, “How absolute the knave is!  We must speak by the card, or equivocation will undo us.”  Johnson, Gove and the rest of the third-rate lickspittle lightweights with whom they have surrounded themselves are playing the gravedigger and hoping to “‘scape whipping”

     I would remind those worthless attendant lords that Hamlet does not end well and neither will they.