Slavery

If the current campaign to mark the 200th anniversary of the abolition of slavery with a formal state apology and the payment of compensation to the descendants of slavery succeeds, we may have a case to start a new campaign. If the criteria used in this case are upheld, then surely the descendants of the Anglo- Saxon victims of Viking rape and pillage in the 10th century deserve an apology and a return of Danegeld from the Norwegian and Danish governments.

Those who clamour for an apology for slavery are surely taking a few facts and ignoring a whole host of others in making their case. It cannot be denied that it was cruel of white slave traders to take slaves from Africa to the new world and force them to work on plantations amidst much brutality. However, this does ignore the fact that many slaves were sold into slavery by black slave traders, that living conditions for most people in the UK were truly appalling in the eighteenth century, that most working people had very few freedoms and were treated brutally by the authorities if they stepped out of line. The average life expectancy for poor people in the UK in 1807 was 20. Descendants of former slaves are now free to live in the UK, the 13th wealthiest country in the world, descendants of those not sold into slavery enjoying a much lower standard of living I would venture to suggest. The gruesome instruments of torture and branding used on slaves are very similar to those than can be found in any small town museum throughout the UK. They were used just as mercilessly on supposedly “free” citizens.

If my plan to secure money from the Danish and Norwegian governments fails, compensation could be funded via the UK tax system. Anybody whose surname is “The Unready”, “The Confessor” or “The Great” would be entitled to receive money from taxes levied on anybody whose surname was “Bloodaxe” or “Forkbeard” or “Harefoot”. This I think is a simple, fair and effective solution. I may have been touched by the hand of genius.

Operation Varsity

Veterans relax before a moving ceremony

In a clearing in the woods, we stood in silence, staring at the distant tree line and watched and waited. Despite this vigil, we were all taken by surprise when a lone glider appeared from behind the trees and flew silently overhead. Behind it, four helicopters skimmed the treetops in formation.

Last week saw the 62^rd Anniversary of Operation Varsity, when 440 gliders flew to Hamminkeln to drop 3,380 men and vehicles behind German lines in a bid to capture and hold the town and 3 bridges across the River Issel. Such was the danger of this one-way mission that only 88 gliders remained undamaged and 204 pilots were killed or wounded.

The bravery of the Glider Pilot Regiment can only be marvelled at. To go on such a mission, flying gliders full of men and machinery into a heavily defended area knowing that your chances of survival were slim is very humbling.

The Service of Remembrance last week was a truly moving occasion. It was attended by the band and soldiers of the Army Air Corps, a detachment of Cadets from Colfe’s School, veterans, families of veterans and members of the public.

The quiet dignity of the service, the thoughts of all us towards those who served, the beauty of the setting and awe inspiring grace of the solitary glider caused a few tears to be shed. Standing there shivering in the bitter cold meade me think of the horror of war, the courage of those who fight in wars and the impact this operation had on people’s lives. One of the civilians came forward and laid flowers on the memorial. He comes every year in memory of his father who died in the battle.

Many good people died fighting that day in 1945. They are not forgotten.

A poem about changing priorities

When you use marijuana
you can do what you wanna
you can fly like a haddock
you can swim in the paddock
you can go to Tijuana
you can do what you wanna
marijuana
marijuana

If you think I’m using cocaine
You really must be jokin’ *
It messes with your septum
And facts you can forget ‘em
While you’re bent over the loo
Feeling like poo
cocaine
cocaine

I don’t wanna end up
sniffin’ bags full of glue
Out of economic necessity
‘cos crack is excessively
Far too expensive for me
Just like LSD
Was back in the sixties
When admittedly
I was a school chiddley
And was hugely unaware
Of the big bad world out there
before mohicanned punks
replaced pineapple chunks
as the most fascinating sight
on a Saturday night
Also
I didn’t expect my dealer
To look like Garrison Keillor
I really thought a pusher
Should look a bit more like Usher
Besides
I don’t really need drugs
At this moment in time
What I could really do with
Are laminated floors
Or some interior doors
Or even of course
A share in a racehorse
If you’re supplying
At the price that I’m buying
And the discount is good
For middle-aged men in this hood
If you know what I mean
Who could strike a deal
For what I need to buy
To really get me high
Is nothing more badder
Than a two section loft ladder.

* the second verse relies on the first two line endings rhyming so make sure you pronounce one or both end words accordingly

How rich are they?

I took some days off last week and went visiting gardens in search of visual stimulation, fresh air and a chance to see how spring is shaping up. I ended up at Exbury on the south coast. The gardens belong to Mr and Mrs Edmund de Rothschild, of banking fortune fame.

As it is still early in the year, the rhododendrons and azaleas are not yet at their peak. There are plenty of them, acres and acres of the things, and they will be hugely impressive later on, but for now the camellias are the stars of the show. They have two walks amongst the most wonderful red, pink and white flowering camellias. They are well worth going to see and a return visit or two later in the year would also be worthwhile. The estate is large enough and well-designed enough to have largish areas of interest throughout the years.

One thing that strikes you is the number of plaques beside trees stating that this one was planted by Her Majesty the Queen, this one by Prince Philip, another by Lady Di etc. Not only have all the royal family planted trees but the Queen and her mother must have planted at least 10 each on separate occasions. How rich can the de Rothschild family be if they have the British royal family do their gardening for them? It makes you think….

The Purple Fop

If I was ever to own a bar, I’d like to call it “The Purple Fop”. As is the way these days, it would need a tagline, and I would suggest that you couldn’t do much better than “where regency decadence meets post modern zeitgeist.”

With that name and tagline, the whole concept of the business falls neatly into place. The décor would be mock regency, all chandeliers and pastel striped wallpaper. The clientèle would be well-heeled, pretentious poseurs, professional footballers, metropolitan go-getters, media types and dim-but-wealthy party animals. Drinks would be outrageously priced. They would have names like “The Madness of King George” (a cocktail of 9 parts of absinthe, 1 part vodka – just to dilute it a bit) or “Madame Guillotine” (a cocktail of 1 part absinthe to 9 parts battery acid – for drinkers who might find “The Madness” a little tame). You could stretch to existing cocktails like the Scarlet Pimpernel (made with Pimms) if you really had to, but new versions of old ideas would be the most popular. Your customers wouldn’t really be original thinkers or even remotely creative, so would be happiest adapting the familiar and pretending it is new. The lavatories would be named “Ladies” and “Dandies”. Security would be told to only admit guests if they were flamboyantly dressed. A supply of bonnets, ruffs, lacy cuffs and velour waistcoats would be kept in a “dressing-up cloakroom” just in case a super-rich celebrity showed up dressed unadventurously. They could then be made to wear these clothes, a bit like when you were young and turned up for PE without your kit, only this time it would done with panache, rather than acute embarrassment.
Including the word post-modern and zeitgeist in the tagline would attract all the superficial people in your city at a stroke. The joy of this concept is that anyone who is shallow, rich and basically stupid would be drawn to it like a bear to a honey-smeared salmon. Which gives me an idea for the menu…
Next time you’re in town, call in to The Purple Fop - where regency decadence meets post modern zeitgeist.

Signs of dullness

You know that you are probably quite a dull, sad individual when you are able to answer a question like "I'm ordering some labels today, do you have a favourite type?"with "Oh yes, I prefer the Avery L7161 labels". A "friend of mine" (ahem) did just that today....