The Aged P

At this time of year in the shops and on the radio there is the usual barrage of seasonal songs just to tell us (as if reminders were needed) that Christmas is getting near.  One of them, in particular, has a personal resonance for me….The Pogues and Kirsty MacColl – “Fairytale of New York”

Recorded in 1987 it not only revitalised Kirsty’s singing career but has, ever since, been a regular Christmas favourite. Tragically this brilliant singer and gifted song writer was killed in a controversial speedboat incident in Mexico in 2000 but her work is still fondly remembered by a legion of fans.

Kirsty, the daughter of folk singer Ewan MacColl was born in 1959 and brought up by her mother, Jean Newlove, in the leafier part of Croydon, on the southern edge of London. During the early 70s she was a student at Monks Hill High School which is where I was teaching at the time. She was in one of my classes when she was 13/14 and I always found her a quiet, hard working girl. Bright and well informed about the world she was  polite and well mannered but never afraid to voice an opinion if she felt strongly enough about an issue.

For my sins I was earmarked to supervise one of the school’s first discos but found it a doddle because Kirsty volunteered to organise it all. Unfortunately the DJ forgot a vital piece of equipment and I was suddenly faced with the nightmare of 250 teenagers turning up with no music playing. Fortunately even then the girl had contacts so I told her to jump into my car and we raced around tracking down the right stuff. I remember her saying “No need to panic, sir, we’ll sort it out” – and we did, thanks to her.

I also recall another classic Kirsty moment when the Headmaster gave a talk to her group about the responsibilities of democracy and how vital it was that every citizen should get involved. At the end he was about to walk off without inviting any questions. Kirsty put up her hand and very politely asked a question about a recent change of rules, querying the reason for it. The Head very sharply told her it had been his decision and was not up for debate – then walked off, leaving me to dismiss the group. Ever afterwards some of us on the staff joked about that as a brilliant example of the reality of “democracy” in action.

As the years passed I kept track with Kirsty’s music which I always liked even though her politics were the total opposite of mine. So when I hear “The Fairy Tale of New York” I recall both the feisty fiery singer/song writer whose life was cut sadly short – and also the red headed 14 year old who always did her homework and knew how to rescue a school disco.

God bless you and your family, Kirsty – I’ll be drinking a pint of Shepherd Neame Spitfire Kentish Ale to your memory later

Regular Daily Telegraph pundit Peter Oborne pens a worrrying piece about the impact on the social fabric of Britain after January 1^st when Romanians and Bulgarians, as citizens of the EU, will have unrestricted access to the UK.

The new migrants will be hungry for jobs, and are bound to price some British workers out of the market. They will have the right to use our schools and NHS, which are already creaking. They will need housing, and welfare benefits.

Business leaders will love that for lowering labour costs. The middle classes will also welcome the prospect of even cheaper servants

But there is a cost to the social fabric, and it is always the poor and powerless who pay the highest price.

Precisely

Oborne talks about how Cameron, Miliband and other leading politicians need to have the courage to stand up to the EU and develop a strategy to make access far more difficult.

The moral case for such drastic action is very strong. Despite tentative signs of recovery, Britain still faces an economic emergency. Nearly one million young people, almost 20 per cent of the labour force under 25, are out of work. Some of their jobs would surely go to the new Eastern European migrants. Mr Cameron should argue that this is a situation no civilised government can tolerate.

“What’s that noise?” I hear you say.

Don’t you know? It’s cultural icon Bonnie Greer crying “Xenophobia”. It’s Tory minister Anna Soubry yelling “scaremonger”

Only Greer called the X word out to Diane James. Soubry used the S word to Nigel Farage. Both did it on BBC Question Time. But not to a highly “respected” media pundit like Oborne but to James and  Farage because they belonged to UKIP.

Oddly enough Oborne doesn’t mention UKIP at all in his piece (quelle surprise) which is strange because there is nothing original in his article….UKIP has been saying exactly the same for several years.

So, Mr Oborne repeat after me……

UKIP HAS BEEN SAYING EXACTLY THE SAME FOR SEVERAL YEARS…..

Oh dear Peter….you’d rather choke than say that wouldn’t you!!!

Redhill in Surrey….

Remembrance in Redhill

Sea Cadets & Air Training Corps

The Redhill War Memorial

Touched by the light…

The official wreaths

Private memories

…still falling…

Lance Corporal James Hill of 1st Battalion Coldstream Guards killed in Afghanistan

 of 1st Battalion Coldstream Guards killed in Afghanistan

In all the current “hang the bankers” frenzy (see BBC Question Time every week) coming out of left wing throats most of those voices seem to conveniently forget that Gordon Brown, from the moment he became Chancellor not only schmoozed with bankers but gave them the green light to encourage banks and building societies to lend money like a drunkard who has just won the lottery. We also know that Ed Balls, now shadow chancellor, was Brown’s creature from the very start. So yesterday’s statement from the Reverend Paul Flowers, Methodist minister, former Bradford Lalour Councillor and the ex Chairman of the collapsed Co-operative Bank that Ed Balls encouraged the bank to expand certainly rings true.

The Rev Paul Flowers, who was resigned as chairman of the Co-op Bank in June, said he had “absolutely no doubt” the lender had political and regulatory support for its 2009 takeover of the Britannia Building Society that has largely been blamed for putting a £1.5bn hole in the lender’s balance sheet. Rev Flowers said shadow chancellor Ed Balls had given his full support for the Britannia deal as a minister in the then Labour government

We also learned that that Rev Flowers authorised a payment of £10,000 to Ed Balls

Rev Flowers confirmed he had been involved in authorising the payment of £100,000 to Mr Balls and his Parliamentary office, though he said the money had come from the Co-op Group and not the Co-op Bank as the lender was “politically neutral”. “We believe in supporting our political friend,” he said, describing the donations to politicians as “small amounts of money”.

The hapless Reverend also had a confession to make

 Rev Flowers admitted during his evidence his only qualification for chairing the Co-op Bank was four years spent working in a bank after he left school and said his experience could be considered “out of date”.

Four years of working in the real world – doesn’t sound much does it? But it’s four years more than self proclaimed economic mastermind Ed Balls. Though one has to admit that Ed certainly displayed a mastery of financial legerdemain in the way he operated his parliamentary expenses…  

Tim Wigmore is one of those bright young chaps at the Telegraph who have been tasked with bringing errant Tory voters back into the Cameron fold and away from UKIP. One prong of the strategy is the Vote UKIP get Miliband mantra being pimped by Toby Young’s Unite The Right crusade. The key message of UTR is for UKIP to stand down in key marginals and not rock the boat in safer Conservative constituencies. The result? Cameron stays at No !0 and can then renege on another “cast iron guarantee” after producing some sort of fudged, face saving “agreement “ full of vague rhetoric and short on hard detail.

But young Tim is pushing forward on the other flank by saying all the great unwashed outside the metro media/cultural bubble are just being fed a false narrative of scare stories about issues like Immigration and the EU and, because they are outside the bubble they really aren’t sophisticated enough to grasp the real “facts”

Take immigration…

As you may have read today, migrants are more likely to pay taxes and less likely to take benefits than Brits.

There you are, says Tim. These are “facts” fresh from the “experts” so quit all this nonsense about immigrants being a burden on the state – it’s the Brits who are sucking at the teat.

But hang on a minute Tim. From whence do those figures come? Could they be, as Douglas Carswell suggests, a tad questionable?

The “experts” who make such claims have failed to look at all the evidence. Those who insist that migrants are less likely to claim benefits tend to draw their data from the Labour Force Survey, which relies on respondents reporting claims to benefits, rather than actual data on claims made.

Working from other sources, however, such as HMRC and ONS, quite a different picture emerges

There are nearly half a million migrants claiming working tax credit in the UK.

 Migrants are at least 20% more likely to be claiming working tax credit than the rest of the population.

More migrants claim working tax credit than claim all of the main out-of-work benefits together.

 Migrants form a much higher proportion of those claiming working tax credits than of those claiming any out-of work benefit

So maybe those UKIP “scare stories” are not just stories, Tim….just saying..

In fact it’s Tim who spreads the scare story.

A ban on immigration would mean higher taxes, lower spending and a higher deficit.

Now that is over egging the pudding, Tim. UKIP has never said ban all immigration. We just believe in Controlled Immigration where the main drivers are the skills sets required by the economy and the ability of our social infrastructure – housing stock, schools, healthcare etc – to absorb those numbers efficiently and effectively.

Now, Tim, just scribble about something else until the DT gets the next missive from Tory HQ

Season of mists and mellow fruitfulness
Close bosom-friend of the maturing sun

As a ten year old South Londoner in 1950 autumn was always my favourite time of year, especially October and November. Autumn fruits on the classroom’s Nature Table, going down to Tooting Bec Common and throwing lumps of wood up at the Horse Chestnut trees to knock down conkers then stringing them and soaking them in brine, ready for the playground gladiatorial contests. Kicking up the leaves on the walk back from school.. Above all the anticipation of Bonfire night and fireworks on November 5^th…then the run down to the excitement of Christmas

The last week of October was a half term holiday. The immediate task was making the guy by stuffing some old clothes with newspaper topping up with a scrunched up ball fronted with a paper mask and the whole crowned with an old hat begged borrowed or stolen from someone’s aunt. Then down to Streatham High Road to dump him on the pavement and call out “Penny for the guy” to  passing adults.

The theory was that we could use any money collected to buy fireworks but there was never really enough donated – indeed some sniffy grownups would condemn it as “begging” but we didn’t care. As ten years old adults were an alien breed who rarely impinged on our world unless stirred up, rather like wasps, by some innocent act that threatened to disrupt their mysterious world

Fireworks, of course, were a major subject of discussion – not the “pretty ones” so beloved of mums, aunts and sisters, but the “bangers”. We compared notes on which brand was the most explosive and we tested them in back alleys and secret hideaways. I don’t know if there were restrictions on selling them to youngsters but we were never refused by any shopkeeper.

The greatest excitement was making our own bangers. Would you believe it? We went down to Boots in Streatham and bought Sulphur and Potassium Nitrate. Actually we asked for saltpetre and the helpful chemist told us its proper name….he even told us the quantities to use although he did warn us to take care. He didn’t sell charcoal but told us to go to an art shop further up the road….not much health & safety then….

Charcoal from the art shop which we then ground down to black dust…one third of each ingredient and we had our gunpowder!  Pack it into a cylinder of cardboard or several layers of paper and tie at both ends with string so it looked like a sausage. Then off to the model shop to buy some jetex fuse (normally used to ignite the engines of model aeroplanes and sold in coils of wick in small round tins).  Insert the small length of wick into the end of the sausage, stand clear and await the explosion.

We used them packed into the ground to make small craters or put them in milk bottles or tin cans (Lyles Golden Syrup were the best)…fortunately we were all fairly bright so knew enough to move far away but I am sure slower witted boys could risk some nasty injuries.

Out all day, at someone’s house or down on the common, as long as we were home for lunch or tea parents didn’t seem to worry. The streets and commons and parks were teeming with young boys and girls, running free, maybe irritating adults who would shout and we would run away – but the idea of staying at home all day, being guarded by parents and checked on every half hour? Never..

Another time, another age. Were there paedophiles lurking around waiting to rape us or sell us into slavery? Maybe and I suppose it did happen. But not much was reported and teachers and parents appeared fairly sanguine. Being outside, of course, did make us streetwise  and we seemed to have an internal radar which could distinguish between the well meaning helpful adult and one who was …a little weird

In 1950, 0f course, WW2 (the “war”) was still very much part of family discourse. Fathers and uncles reminisced about their experiences, mums and aunts would talk about the blitz and air raid sirens. There were still some “bomb dumps”, sites where buildings had been damaged by bombs and not yet cleared (glorious adult free playgrounds for us) and “rationing” of sweets, sugar and meat. Parents talked incessantly of “before the war” when you could supposedly buy anything you wanted when you wanted but such a cornucopia meant little to us because it was beyond our experience. We made our own lives with what we had.ever

Now, of course,  you never see kids with a guy in the street – in fact the whole idea of burning Guy Fawkes on a bonfire is probably seen  as being in bad taste and maybe even considered a hate crime. Yet we were quite adamant.

    Remember, remember! 
    The fifth of November, 
    The Gunpowder treason and plot; 
    I know of no reason 
    Why the Gunpowder treason 
    Should ever be forgot! 
    Guy Fawkes and his companions 
    Did the scheme contrive, 
    To blow the King and Parliament 
    All up alive. 
    Threescore barrels, laid below, 
    To prove old England’s overthrow. 
    But, by God’s providence, him they catch, 
    With a dark lantern, lighting a match! 

We believed we were celebrating the defeat of a terrorist plot to destroy king and parliament and impose the rule of Spain and the Inquisition – to us an escape from tyranny similar to 1945 when we had street parties to rejoice in the defeat of another danger (indeed, well into the late 40s many guys possesed a Hitler moustache). Still my mum did remind us that Fawkes, though heavily tortured, had never sneaked on his co-conspirators so in some peculiarly English way we also admired his bravery because, like boys all over, we never liked sneaks or tell tales…

Now the guys have gone, the fireworks are all safely organised, the parks and commons empty. Instead we have the ghastly American import of Halloween, heavily pimped by the retail trade selling themed paraphernalia and an excuse to blackmail fearful pensioners into treating to avoid tricking.

Odd, is it not, that we have substituted the remembrance of a true historical event with the mythological detritus of the occult – a sign of the times?

Maybe being a ten year old in South London in 1950 wasn’t a bad place to be….

pic hat tips  conkers    guy

So much for the anti fracking frenzy that has gripped Sussex in the wake of the incidents at Balcombe (or so we have been told by both green zealots and the always-happy-to-over-hype-a-story media)

Storrington…..West Sussex County Council By election 26/09/13….turnout 22.53%

Of course Caroline Lucas and George Monbiot might say the good people of Storrington are oblivious of how fracking would destroy their rural idyll.

But maybe it’s because the villagers have a different perspective.

For the last few years there has been a ‘Nodding Donkey’ oil rig tucked behind the trees off the A283 just to the east of Storrin

 gton, and opposite the entrance to historic Parham, an Elizabethan house open to the public.

It’s so quiet and unobtrusive few knew it was there…

“Campaigning Charities” like the Tax Payers Alliance and The League Against Cruel Sports are extrememly upset by the proposed Lobbying Bill according to Mark Wallace who has worked for several “Campaigning Charities” including the TPA.. As a result lots of them are so upset they have briefly put aside their differences to campaign against the bill.

Fortunately not every reader of his article felt convinced by his sob story and I thought this one hit the nail squarely on the head.

I have no objection to people campaigning. I do object to taxpayer funding for fake charities – something that should be addressed by ensuring that such organisations are not allowed the privilege of charitable status as an enhancement of their credibility.

Precisely.

Charitable status should only be reserved for those organisations which actually use donations to provide a service rather than outwork for PR consultants and contacts for advertising agencies

I’m a great supporter of the work done by the TPA. But I certainly don’t see why I, as a taxpayer, should help subsidise its staffing and campaigning. In fact the whole notion of a Charity Industry makes me very nervous about motives….