22nd December 2014

How should Christmas feel?

Tinselly?

Sprucey?

Flashing lighty?

Carolly?

Even Richard Dawkins apparently enjoys singing Carols but as a FB friend of mine commented recently singing Carols is OK.

It's when you deconstruct the stories that the narrative collapses.

In my fifty odd years as a Vicar I have seen my main role as deconstructing the stories in order to rebuild them as believable narratives.

Of course the first story to be deconstructed is the story about Santa Claus.

You start believing as the gifts appear miraculously overnight, certainly in the days before Amazon, eBay, Yodel, Hermes and DPD, parcels did not appear moments after you had clicked a mouse or tapped a keyboard.

So Santa was a good bet.

Then one year as a young adult you wait all night and wake up with no presents and so you come to the sad conclusion that there is no Santa.

But then before you can sing Jingle Bells, having meanwhile married and begotten children, you realise that being Santa is now your responsibility, you have become Santa.

But there are Good Santa's and Bad Santa's, one year wrapping presents and filling pillow cases at two in the morning after Midnight Mass, the indoor critic and I put the wrong presents in the wrong sacks and spent the following morning correcting our mistakes with the words, what a Silly Santa .....

In Italy at Christmas one year we had a last minute shopping expedition to a special seasonal Christmas Market in order to be sure that we had local food for our visitors.

One stall was selling Salami.

We asked which was best, the stall holder held out a Salami saying Asino, uncertain for a moment as to the exact meaning and context of this reply, I pointed to the nearby scene of a Stable, a Manger complete with lowing animals and pointed to the affable looking Donkey in its straw filled pen?

Yes I was told, Asino.

And it was delicious and the grandchildren who hadn't quite worked out how Santa had followed them to Italy quickly cottoned on and asked for more Donkey Sausage without a qualm.

Early in my career as a young clergyman I was invited to take part in a Christmas Nativity to be put on by a local young wives group.

Everything went well until in the dress rehearsal Mary turned on Joseph and threw him out of the stable, throwing the baby after him and screaming in quite unseasonal language, 'and take your bloody baby with you!'

Clearly the couple had been at odds long before the narrative collapsed around them.

One year in my first parish I had spent some time working with a young musician who had used some of my lyrics to write songs, one of the songs he performed to which he had written his own lyrics was called Little Child, so I persuaded him that he might perform it at the Midnight Mass and I would preach on the lyrics of the song.

As the service was due to start at 11 30 pm there was no sign of the singer or his guitar, then the door burst open and in he fell, drunk!

It'll be fine Geoff, It'll be OK .....

I managed to get two burly sidemen to sit on him and deconstructed my way through my sermon without the musical accompaniment.

But music and Christmas goes together well, as Richard Dawkins alleged love of Carols suggests.

In my time in Newcastle which had begun with a headline in the local paper announcing, Pin back yer lug holes Tyneside, here comes the Revd Punk! I worked with a group of local musicians to put on a show in Church that we called 'Rocking the Cradle'.

On Christmas Eve before they closed I pinched all the decorations from Habitat and hung them in Church, big silver baubles, giant snowflakes and a Santa Claus.

The whole band was plugged via extension cables into one 13 amp socket, Mikes, Guitars, Drums, Vocals, Keyboard and lights.

After two hours the evening ended with John Lennon's Imagine and the stage lights went down and the Church Lights were switched on and I heard a wistful sigh from one of the congraudience.

 'Oh! It's a boring old church again'.

Again the narrative was deconstructed.

From the Christmas card showing a radiant Mary announcing to a bewildered Joseph 'It's a Girl' to the jokes about wise men and their gifts and the difference if they had been wise women, the gifts would have been useful and they wouldn't have gotten lost on the way, Christmas needs to be deconstructed if only to remind us that this story of the Babe at Bethlehem is the story of the unconditional surrender of power and the triumph of the unconditional power of the story to change hearts and lives.

17th December 2014

According to my Dictionary compiled by Samuel Johnson and dated 1870:

Oats are 'generally given to horses'.

Under Porridge, which Johnson notes derives, 'from porrum, Latin for Leek, porridge is food made from boiling meat in water; broth'.

According to Baroness Jenkins porridge costs 4p and is 21p cheaper than sugary cereals.

Apparently in an earlier edition of my Dictionary Samuel Johnson completed his entry for oats by adding after the reference to horses, 'and which in Scotland supports the people.

Well now, after the Eton educated Archbishop of Canterbury's committee reported its findings on food poverty in the UK, it is apparently now recommended that oats also support the people in England.

It seems that if you had porridge every day of the week it would cost only marginally more than if you ate Cereal on one day.

In fact if you ate porridge every day instead of breaking your fast in the Cereal Cafe you might save even more.

This morning I made porridge.

The oats cost 39p and there were enough Oats in the packet to make porridge for myself and the indoor critic for five days which confirms the Baronesses view that a serving  costs 4p (although I confess to cheating by adding cream to my porridge which almost doubled the cost for my bowl).

Possibly the Archbishop and the Baroness being knowledgeable in Latin would be able to calculate what it might cost a poor family to boil their meat in water in order to create porrum or meaty broth.

I have in a previous blog retaled the story of the WEA Class held in a working class part of the North East.

As the lecturer arrived for his talk he noticed that there was a cookery class in session entitled 'Fish Head Soup'.

He immediately changed the title of his own talk to 'Who got the rest of the fish?'.

Dr Johnson not withstanding it seems to me that the real question here is not: Is a 4p bowl of porridge cheaper than a bowl of sugary cereal at 25p? But rather, how is that in this country to day hundreds if not thousands of families are reliant on food banks in order to feed themselves?

In his book Political Order and Political Decay, Frances Fukuyama poses the question: 'How do we get to Denmark?'.

Well if that is the Question then to quote another well known writer, today it seems: 'Something is rotten in the state of Denmark'.

The national conversation to which amongst others, bloggers seek to contribute, is currently confused by a major public aversion to politicians and political life and debate.

What is called 'pantomime politics' and which can be seen as evidence of the political decay that Fukuyama points toward.

But in addition to this the waters are muddied by a political false way which is opening up and which the leadership of can, in all seriousness, describe the problems experienced on a journey on the M4 as arising because of 'immigration'.

But it seems that a large swathe of the public are of the opinion that the only alternative to the major parties is a party that has no possibility of being elected to form a Government, no Programme to offer and no obvious way of financing its contradictory policies.

Austerity, which has proven to be a major tax on the poorest in our society but which it seems barely touches the wealthy is it seems to me almost directly responsible for the rise in food poverty and it is to the credit not only of customers in stores which hold collections for food for redistribution but also for churches and congregations which collect food and support food banks in their communities that the food is there, whether it is porridge for 4p or sugary cereals for a treat.

I generally avoid alumni gatherings and I am not an Eton Alumni but I imagine that both the Archbishop and The Prime Minister might possibly be, but whether or not I imagine that they afford each other opportunities to meet.

It would be hard to imagine what might be said on such occasions?

Maybe the conversation might start with breakfast.

I have in a previous life, had two invitations to breakfast at 10 Downing Street, on the first, the PM of the day instead of being there to greet his guests, sent a video message, so I breakfasted on fruit kebabs with a hologram rather than porridge and I imagine the fruit kebabs cost more than 4p?

Whatever might or might not be said, it is possible to hope that the Archbishop might just ask, given the commitment to austerity with tax cuts:

 Who benefits?

6th December 2014

I recently had occasion to drive down the A23 from the Elephant and Castle to Brighton.

The contrast with the quiet country roads of Cumbria could not be greater.

As I drive out of the street where I live onto the A69, I only rarely pause to let  traffic by.

As an American friend of mine once characterised his town in New Hampshire 'We only have one stop light'.

The drive down the A23 was the drive through hell.

Sally Sat-Nav tells me when there is a speed camera ahead, she practically dinged herself hoarse poor thing.

Additionally, about every 100 to 200 yards overhead cameras hovered watchfully to be sure that you didn't inadvertently stray into a bus lane.

Big Brother was watching us closely the whole way along the tortured route.

But the Bus Lanes were cunningly marked with confusing messages and contradictory signage, so for a hundred yards or so, you could enter the bus lane at the time we were travelling, then suddenly you were forbidden, 1 00pm until 7 00pm became 1 00pm until 4 00pm or 10 until 1 00pm or whenever, whenever.

It became clear that this was a no win situation.

We were going to get a ticket for something whatever we did no  matter how much care we took.

I am still watching the postman anxiously as he delivers my letters.

I was reminded of this journey during the Chancellor's autumn statement.

Not so much because of Bus Lanes and Speed Cameras and general surveillance but because every few minutes the Economic version of Sally Sat-Nav somewhere at the back of my tired seventy year old brain told me, hey! that's not true!

Then of course there was Mr Cable saying basically that whether you are the Chancellor or not you cannot have your cake and eat it.

There will either, be deep and savage cuts in public services or there will be tax rises, it's pretty simple really.

After all we know that the most of the jobs created have been low paid, temporary, zero hours contracts or self employment.

This is why tax receipts are down and no amount of jiggling the books will obscure the fact that the economy is not working in the interests of the majority of people who if they don't see that in the run up to Christmas will almost certainly notice when the credit card bills arrive early in the New Year.

Mr Cable sings from a different hymn sheet than his colleagues Mr Alexander, a fully signed up Tory-Lite Chief Secretary and Mr Clegg who appears to have gone AWOL.

So the Chancellor makes his statement, all that hardworking people stuff, all that our plan is working stuff, all that politicking over the Mansion Tax by fiddling around with Stamp Duty stuff.

But underlying all that, the great truth of it, we are being taken back to the future.

The Tory's with the support of the Lib-Dems are taking us back to a time when public investment was at its lowest as a share of GDP.

Back to the future.

Back to the thirties, back to the menfolk 'on the stones' and the womenfolk holding things together as best they can.

My father who remembered those times well used to tell a story, one of his many stories, about the man who, unable to afford to feed his dog, trained it to manage without food, just as he succeeded with the training, the dog died!

I imagine that if I tried in my imagination to drive backwards up the A23 from Brighton to the Elephant and Castle unwinding time as I did so, I might manage to unravel the complex nightmare that we have created for ourselves.

All that street furniture, all that Orwellian watching, all that imposing taxation in the form of fines for failing to understand the complex instructions give.

What I do not imagine will happen is that as the Chancellor and his Chief Secretary drive us backwards to the 1930"s that we will find ourselves in a kinder, more generous, more human place.

Rather we will find ourselves in a country we no longer recognise.

A country in which, it will become very clear, we have no desire to live.

28th November 2014

I have recently been receiving emails and text messages announcing that today will be, and indeed now is, Black Friday.

I know what Good Friday is but what on earth is Black Friday?

Where did the idea come from?

I guess that like most things it came from America.

Apparently the name originated from the fact that most retailers operate in the red for most of the year and only begin to see profits during the Christmas shopping period.

Black Friday, the day after Thanksgiving, is the start of the Christmas shopping period and the point at which for retailers red turns to black.

It is also a day when bargains are announced, shops open early and the rush to spend money overcomes common sense.

According to my newspaper one shopper interviewed leaving a store with a new vacuum cleaner commented that she had really wanted a TV but they had sold and as she had to have something she bought the vacuum cleaner, she didn't need it, but it was heavily discounted.

I guess when she gets it home she will switch it on only to be disappointed that there are no pictures just a loud humming noise.

Another entrepreneurial shopper with a number of TV's in a shopping trolley was seen offering them for sale along the queue outside the store.

Cost me £250, yours for £350, £300 for cash.

Of course the British don't celebrate thanksgiving, after all what America celebrates is independence ............. From us!

So not a lot to celebrate!

But inevitably what America does today will in time find its way over here so who knows maybe in a year or two we will start celebrating thanksgiving by deep frying a turkey in an oil drum?

Of course we won't know what we are celebrating but, hey! Any excuse for a party?

Maybe if UKIP has its way with Mr Cameron, or the Tories outflank him and Britain is persuaded to leave the EEC or Brexit's as the newspaper headlines have it, then we could make the Thursday before Black Friday, Thanksgiving,

Free, Free at last!

Of course it may be that leaving Europe plunges us into economic uncertainty, that European Markets collapse, business abandons the UK to headquarter in Europe and we experience financial meltdown, in which case we may not be so thankful after all and as the pound in our pocket shrinks, we may not have much to spend on Black Friday.

Indeed if retailers rely on it to kick start their profit surge then those without money to spend on TV's and vacuum cleaners might find that Black Friday rapidly becomes Red Friday when the credit card statements arrive.

Apparently church attendance on Sunday continues to decline although Cathedrals report increasing numbers attending mid week services. That is certainly true in Carlisle where I occasionally celebrate a mid week communion service.

It is interesting to see how the regular faces are joined by a group of those who attend because they are in town or just visiting the Cathedral and often by a larger group who stand outside the circle and observe, as though they were witnessing some strange arcane ceremony that they vaguely recall having heard about.

Which of course they are.

Of course attendances pick up at Easter and at Christmas.

Both are times of the year when not only do people need to shop, for chocolate eggs, for special celebratory meals and for presents, but they are times of the year when the shop's close for the religious holidays. As my old prayer book suggests these were Red Letter Days in the Churches year and in the Calendar the dates were often highlighted in Red to illustrate that these days were indeed high and holy.

So arcane rituals involving bread and wine recalling the beliefs and worship of previous generations change over time and are replaced by other arcane rituals, Good Friday becomes Black Friday and Red Letter days are announced monthly by the arrival of the credit card statement

23rd November 2014

There is something extremely sad and disturbing about the thought that people are turning to UKIP to give them back their country.

Which country is that exactly?

I was born before the NHS had been established.

Before the Kingdom of Bevan had been established.

I was born into a grey and forbidding country where there was rationing, privation and where my childhood sleep was disturbed by the sound of Mill Workers Clogs on the cobbles outside our house, as they headed to the Medlock Mill to begin their morning shift.

My old man was not a dustman, as Lonnie Donegan's was, but my Maternal Grandfather was.

My Paternal Grandfather had died before I was born, probably as a result of having been gassed in the trenches in France, meaning that my father had to leave school at 14 to become the family breadwinner, and that later his sister had to care for my Grandfather who ended her days in a bed in my Aunt's living room because ill and immobile as she was their was little or no public provision for the care of the elderly.

In my first school I was given sheets of scrap paper to write on and was told that I would be given an exercise book when my handwriting was good enough.

I left that school without ever receiving an exercise book.

Just a couple of personal examples which make me clear that that is a country I do not want back.

Not for myself and not for my children and grandchildren.

Nostalgia is not what it used to be.

But what are these nostalgic people recalling about the country of the past that makes them think that UKIP can return it to them?

When I walked home from school with friends we tried to imagine the future.

The jobs that we might have.

The income that we might earn.

In the 1950's we set the bar at £1000 a year.

If we could find a job paying £20 a week then we would surely have a comfortable life?

As I type this blog on a lap top, which corrects my spelling as I go along, I can reflect that I am fortunate that I don't need an exercise book.

If I order a book that I have seen reviewed and which I think I might like to read I can order it on-line, a concept unimaginable in the 1950's, and it will be delivered tomorrow.

If I want to listen to a particular piece of music I can listen to it immediately.

These are relatively simple, almost trivial, examples of the transformations that have happened in our social and community lives in the past seventy years, but there are countless other examples some more important, some essential.

Low cost air travel making for affordable holidays. Dramatic improvements in diet. The shelves of the supermarkets filled with goods. Health care provided free at the point of need.

Sadly of course we have it within our gift to ensure that each and every one of us can benefit from these improvements but choose not to do that.

Indeed the current Government continues to wage a war of attrition on those who rely on public support in the form of welfare whilst offering what appear to be unfunded tax cuts to those they choose to call 'hardworking'.

The rise and rise of Arturo Ui suggests that amongst some people nostalgia is mistaking the past for a pleasant land and decrying the achievements of the present.

What no-one appears able to explain is how UKIP will at one and the same time give people their country back whilst ensuring that all the benefits of life in the present are maintained.

UKIP will never form a Government, almost all of its policy proposals are either unfunded or unaffordable, whilst the policies themselves are contradictory.

And none of this is to mention the most significant achievement since 1945, the continued commitment of the nations of Europe to work together to ensure that the two wars which tore Europe apart in the past will never happen again, apart from its role as an economic community the EEC is a project for peace and as such is crucial to our continued well being as a community of nations.

The other issue which bedevils our public life and seems central to this myopic vision of the country of the past, immigration, has been addressed fairly and squarely in the USA by President Obama, in according residence rights to those who have settled without papers.

America of course was built on immigration.

In the past of course ours was a nation of emigration as the economically dispossessed or the convicted left to start new lives in New Worlds and as they did so the colours of the world map reflected British colonial expansion, now reflected in what we call a Commonwealth of Nations.

What UKIP cannot understand, it seems, is that immigration makes a powerful contribution to the continued 'commonwealth' of our developing and enriching way of life as our contemporary cultural and economic wealth continues to increase as we become renewed and energised reinventing  ourselves along the way as a Global Nation.

It has become a cliche but perhaps the best response to the challenge of UKIP and those who offer it comfort at the Ballot Box is a gentle reminder of the perils of nostalgia:

The past is history, the future is a mystery, but today is a gift that is why it's called the present.

11th November 2014

Armistice Day.

How to reflect on Remembrance 100 years since war broke out in Europe and 96 years before a troubled peace was declared?

Of course we don't hear much from this Government about the big society any more, but that is not surprising, just as we don't hear much about hugging hoodies, vote blue turn green or any of the other phrases which turned out merely to be empty rhetoric.

Of course what we do hear is the constant litany of austerity.

And interspersed between the constant barrage of attacks on immigrants, welfare claimants and the poor, the continual rumbling about Europe.

When in 1918 the Armistice was signed the clear up began. Famously whilst the allies debated what might be done, the good burghers of Ypres just got on and rebuilt their city.

A British army chaplain, The Revd Philip Thomas Byard (Tubby) Clayton began to think about what  might happen next.

His brainchild, Talbot House in Poperinghe, would in time close as the troops were withdrawn and begin to settle back down to civilian life with their families as they resumed the jobs that they had left to go to war five years earlier.

Surprisingly, Talbot House is still in existence as a centre dedicated to peace and as the home base of the Belgian grouping of Toc H, the organisation that Clayton started after he too had returned to England, first to train ordinands for ministry in the Church of England, in Knutsford, Cheshire, many of whom had discovered their vocation in the trenches, and then as Vicar of All Hallows in London.

Starting with what today we might call a data base, i.e. the friendship roll signed by the thousands who found respite, refuge and fellowship in Talbot House, Toc H in signallers code, during the war.

Clayton wrote to suggest that contact should be renewed and those who had survived the war years should dedicate themselves to service in memory of those many thousands who had lost their lives.

In this way Toc H began life as a voluntary organisation committed to serving local communities, it became the single largest source of 'volunteers' in Britain. although as older members commented to me, they kept their membership of Toc H as a hidden light and served as volunteers of whatever organisation they represented from the Red Cross to the Samaritans.

Clayton knitted this army of volunteers together through a concept known as The Four Points of the Compass:

To Love Widely,
To Build Bravely
To Think Fairly, and,
To Witness Humbly

So Toc H was built around a challenge to its members to commit themselves to Friendship, Service, Fair Mindedness and what Clayton, very much in the mind set of a later Archbishop, William Temple, saw as the secular expression of The Kingdom of God.

When I was appointed as Director of Toc H in 2000,  my father commented, don't know a lot about it but it seemed to try to 'do good by stealth' which fits with Clayton's own aphorism, one of many, 'Do something useful every day but don't get found  out'.

I always saw Toc H as an expression of what, under New Labour, active communities might be about or later what was meant by David Cameron's big society.

My time with Toc H ended and I am now able to relax and write my blog in my dressing gown!

But as I reflect on this anniversary of Armistice I am reminded that the idea of Europe sprang from the dream that nations should not, would not, could not tear themselves apart ever again, Europe represents a vision of a truly big society.

But watching the evening news on TV, reading my newspaper, listening to the poverty stricken debates between the parties, watching as we are threatened with separation, disintegration and diminishment as a nation I wonder what is needed to make this Armistice a true anniversary of a better way of living, a better way of thinking, a better way of sharing each others burdens?

Clayton's Four Points of the Compass might not be a bad place to start.

27th October 2014

Saturday night was Opera Night.

At the Buccleuch Centre in Langholm, 'the muckle toon', we saw Verdi's opera Macbeth.

Witches, Tantrums, Ghosts, poor judgement and as Shakespeare had it, but Verdi didn't:

'Vaunting ambition that o'er leaps itself and fall down on t'other side'.

It seems to me that the least we can expect from those who lead us is competence.

Once Macbeth started murdering he simply couldn't stop until Macduff finally stopped him.

Much of what happens once a Government is elected is that it should manage its affairs in such a way that the interests of the governed, both those who have elected and this who haven't are served equally and efficiently.

And we all know this.

People recognise good managers when they see them and deplore bad management when they encounter it.

Working people especially.

But all of us in our daily  lives can experience the frustrations when matters are not handled competently and can enjoy a sense of well being when they are.

To a large extent thoughtfulness lies at the heart of it.

Whenever decisions are taken quickly and without proper reflection they have to be changed or altered or remade.

So in a family a parent who constantly changes the rules will find that children become confused, unsettled, irritable, simply because they have arrived at a point where, they can't do right for doing wrong.

Then emotions tip over and as in the advert about insurance the sense that there may be trouble ahead grows.

The latest fiasco to hit the headlines and become the talked about item of news is the £1.7 Billion we apparently owe the EU.

Immediately the news breaks the tantrums begin.

Podiums are thumped.

Threats are made.

The anger it seems is real enough.

But then we discover that it has been known about for some time. It is a mechanism that has been implemented because the British Economy is out performing the wider European economy.

That it is not a Bill for this year it is a Bill for eleven years and is therefore a relatively small annual sum which even when it is rolled up is less than 0.6% of Britain's contribution.

Even the FT that august institution in its leader stated that: (Mr Cameron's response is) 'an exaggerated response to what is a somewhat modest issue'.

It's hard to know what is happening as the toys are thrown out of pram, ill considered words are ill chosen to describe the experience of those living in Britain's Towns and Cities, those on welfare and immigrants are held responsible for Britain's deficit whilst, apparently our economy continues to grow and we continue to promise tax reductions to all and sundry.

It seems that, as in the Opera, Macbeth sees the ghost of Banquo sitting in judgement at his dining table, so Mr Cameron is constantly unsettled by the sight of Mr Farage raising a glass to toast his growing popularity.

25th October 2014

The indoor critic relies on a wheelchair to get around.

Think of it as an aid to mobility the doctor said.

And it is.

And around we have got.

About a year or so ago we got around to shopping in Carlisle, the Great Border City.

We parked the car and visited the indoor Market and picked up some essentials and then on our way to Boots we passed the street where the car was parked, so leaving my partner sitting in the sunshine in her chariot, I popped down to the car and unloaded the various purchases that we had made.

When I got back I found her looking extremely distressed and being comforted by a passer-by.

What happened? I asked.

It turned out that three youths had happened by and one of them had grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and violently swung the wheelchair around almost but not quite tipping her out of it.

She had screamed and tried to use the brakes to no great effect, by the time I got back there were no signs of the youths, who proud of themselves and their actions frightening an older lady half to death, had run off laughing.

Later I learned that in fact they were still around but the indoor critic was concerned about what I might have done, knowing that in fact if I had in any way injured them I could (as the police later confirmed) become the guilty party.

Well I guess that boys (or as Cyndi Lauper had it) Girls Just Wanna have Fun?

But getting your kicks from bullying a disabled wheelchair user doesn't seem like fun to me.

But this story took a turn for the worse when we reported the incident to the Police.

The first response we got was in fact complete lack of interest, persistence however meant that we did get a call back and were told that the incident had been filmed on CCTV but that it was impossible to identify the culprits and that there would be no further investigation because, apparently, spinning an unwilling victim around in a wheelchair was not a crime, not an assault, nor an invasion of privacy.

Well it certainly felt like all three of those things and since then I have been unwilling to leave the wheelchair and its occupant unattended.

This was an isolated incident and thankfully it has not been repeated.

But it has been interesting to notice how, as the Con-Dems have continued their subtle and persistent attack on the disabled by reducing benefits, exchanging DLA for PIP, cutting the Welfare Bill whilst raising taxes for those in work, attitudes have continued to worsen.

When we walk down the street the looks which can be interpreted as sympathetic have decreased to be replaced by looks that somehow imply that with a bit more effort you wouldn't need to be taking up space that could be better used by others.

Recent articles in the Guardian have raised the issue of reducing public sympathy and tolerance for the disabled and linking it with public statements made by ministers and it is hard from our perspective not to see this as a right reading of the situation.

There are of course exceptions and it is true that we continue to be shown both sympathy and support, people do, as the law requires try to make reasonable provision for access and that is appreciated.

We have been assisted in Restaurants, on Airlines, on Trains, in Hotels and such assistance is appreciated, but in announcing the Big Society the Government presumably meant it to be a BIG Tent under which all can shelter?

So why insist on the poorest in that society being constantly held to be responsible by insisting again and again that society cannot afford the costs of welfare and by implication making victims of those whose needs should be a touchstone for what kind of society we want to become?

18th October 2014

Last weekend I visited my sister in Brighton.

Whilst there I baptised my Great Nephew, Manny. The service was great fun and because it was a family occasion we were able to break the rules somewhat, which was helpful as one of his God-Parents is a Muslim.

So instead of the Bible reading one of his cousins read a poem that I had written to celebrate his birth and then instead of the usual music we ended the service with Judy Garland singing Somewhere over the Rainbow downloaded via 4G on a mobile 'phone.

I observed that there were two reasons why this was a good choice:

One because the film Wizard of Oz, begins in black and white and, as Dorothy steps into the Land of Oz is the film is transformed into colour, the implication being that baptism is the spiritual equivalent of transforming life into Technicolour!

The other because the Rainbow is a sign of God's promise that he will be faithful to us even if we occasionally fall from Grace ourselves.

The next day was typically sunny and warm on the South Coast and we had a lovely day walking on Brighton Beach exploring the shops in the town centre and walking back for fish and chips on the sea front.

(Sadly the fish and chips were disappointing).

Then with a terrible forecast for Tuesday we set off to drive home.

The drive was however uneventful and we made excellent progress.

At some point, North of Knutsford services on the M6, which I always think of as nearly home, even though that was when I actually lived in Manchester rather than further North, as I do now, but somewhere after Knutsford, I caught and overtook a small green car with a roof box on a roof rack.

As I drove by I noticed that the car was extremely tightly packed with the rear seats full of luggage.

As sometimes happens on Motorways I noticed that the driver had increased speed slightly, both of us  within the the speed limit given the strong wind and rain which we were being reminded of not only by the gusting but by the overhead signs advising us to limit our speed.

His slight increase in speed meant that he overtook us and I realised that the driver was not the woman on the right but that it was a left  hand drive car and was being driven by a man on the left.

As they drove past I noticed that the car had a European registration number and a Romanian plate.

I mused that whenever I write Farage the spell check on my computer changes the word to Garage although on one occasion it changed it to Farrago.

As motorway driving is in fact dangerously boring the indoor critic and I started a conversation reflecting on what exactly might bring a couple to drive from Romania across Europe and into Britain and then keep on driving, taking the narrow road to the deep north?

I began to sense as we kept company with our fellow travellers that their destination might even be Scotland although we lost touch with them after we stopped at Tebay for refreshment and diesel.

Maybe they were tourists?

Maybe they were refugees?

Maybe they were visiting family?

Maybe they were Romanian reporters preparing a documentary on the the Scottish Referendum?

Who knows?

But what we did reflect was that visiting a Britain that is in the grip of an irrational fear of immigrants, where words such as swamping fall easily from the lips of  people who should know better was in itself an act that was either very brave or foolhardy especially when your chosen mode of transport carried a large sign indicating that you were indeed Romanian.

So we wished them well in their spirited enterprise and as they followed the Yellow Brick Road North we hoped that they would not make the mistake of confusing Farage with Garage.

They might need one but they could do without the other!

11th October 2014

So UKIP has an MP.

What next?

Will Admiral Farage order his sailors to weigh anchor?

Order the engine room full steam ahead?

Prepare to sail the SS Ukip away from the contaminated shores of Europe?

Taking the British Isles, re-imagined as a Terry Gilliam like, great ship of State, out into the Atlantic?

Heading where?

With its little flotilla of islands, buzzing around like tugs and dinghies, it could eventually move South, where the weather is better, or further West towards the Americas or simply drop anchor half way and set up shop (ship) as a new independent Kingdom.

Of course once re-located, taxes would be reduced.

Prices would fall.

Grammar Schools would be re-commissioned.

The standard of living of all those aboard this great ship of state would rise as anyone without a British Passport will be invited to swim for it (or sink!).

Does this sound any more far fetched than UKIP's actual policies?

How anyone can vote for a party whose sums don't add up and whose policies are impracticable I can only ascribe to the fact that nostalgia is simply not what it used to  be.

Offered a romanticised vision of what life used to be in a mythical England where beer was cheap and you could smoke in the public bar and everyone spoke the same language many of those who have voted for UKIP have presumably done so because they hope that by doing so they can bring the past back into the present, from olden age to golden age.

But memory plays tricks.

Re-imagining the past as a Golden Age through rose tinted glasses is dangerous.

I remember the past. It wasn't that great.

An era of low wages, poor health, early deaths.

With the single exception of my father who moved to Australia after my mother died, I am now older than any of my parents and grandparents generation were at their death, and in better health.

My grandfather died at 63 as did my Mother.

And they died from industrial diseases, my uncle died of Asbestosis, or from diseases such as cancer linked to lifestyles. They were all smokers.

The problem here is that nostalgia is not what it used to be.

We are actually better off, richer, both economically and culturally, now than we have ever been.

So voting UKIP is not the answer. Nor, heaven forbid, is the Tory Party turning even further right into the cul de sac of small state, privatised health and reduced welfare.

If in 2015 UKIP increase the number of MP's which they may well do and displace the Liberals in a future coalition we may well move from Con-Dem to UKON.

A scarier thought I can't imagine.

3rd October 2014

It is a few years since I read Harold Bloom's The Western Canon but a particular thought that was stimulated by that book, was the observation that most things can be read through the lens of either Freud or Shakespeare.

As I recall it, Bloom described this as a Shakespearean reading of Freud or a Freudian reading of Shakespeare.

This past week watching the two party conferences I found myself remembering this idea.

There is a drama being played out in our public life at the present time which is both Freudian and Shaespearean and it takes an understanding of both to attempt a proper textual criticism.

It reminds me to a certain extent of the old joke about how a husband and wife share responsibility in their marriage.

The Husband makes all the big decisions:

Should we send British war planes to bomb Isis?

Should China surrender to the students in Hong Kong?

Should Warren Buffet have invested in Tesco?

Meanwhile the wife:

Plans the Menu for dinner, decides which friends to invite over for supper, gets the children ready for school and books the family holiday.

At one level what is said at party conferences rarely has any meaningful effect on people's daily lives.

Ed Miliband forgetting the deficit whilst quite prossibly Freudian, is understandable, because the deficit is in fact meaningless, it will make very little difference to the decisions that the imaginary wife in the joke will make, although the imaginary husband might have strong views which he will share with imaginary work colleagues in the imaginary pub, after work which might be imaginary as well.

Equally, David Cameron's proposed tax cuts will have little or no effect either, because a) They don't take effect until 2020 and b) by then inflation will have done most of the work.

So anybody who thinks that they will be worse off because Ed Miliband failed to mention the deficit or better off because of the proposed tax cuts will be disappointed.

None of what has been said or not said will make any difference.

Of course that is not to say that the promised austerity measures as proposed by Messrs Osborne and Duncan Smith will have no impact cutting welfare and the introduction of  patronising policies aimed at controlling what reduced welfare payments can be spent on.

For both the Chancellor and Mr Duncan Smith, Shakespeare's warning that the world is a stage on which we are players should be salutary, and if they needed any reminding that their time is limited, then the Mayor of London was there to remind them, as indeed was Mr Farage.

The Tory Party is fast approaching a state where, with nothing left to cut, no more savings to be made they will have to turn to the great Wonga of the Economy and plead that their deficit be forgiven, written off, expunged from the record.

So if the Labour Conference was a bit dispirited, and the job application was understated, the Tory Conference was essentially Freudian or at least the revealing selfie of one minister who seemed to be applying for a completely different sort of job whilst resigning from the one he had before he had heard if his application had been successful.

The party political playwrights of both left and right set out their stall early on the two conferences.

The audience were invited to vote with their cheque books by buying tickets, it was adversarial, which of these two is the most Prime Ministerial, the one who already is or the one applying for his job?

Well, insofar as one sends planes to bomb Isis and flies to Afghanistan and Chairs the Cabinet and the  other doesn't, the answer is fairly clear and not really a question that needs answering.

But in 2015 we will have to choose. So what in essence do I want from a Prime Minister? What is the job really?

It is surely:

'To believe thoroughly in the philosophy
Of equality of opportunity' Hugh MacDiarmid from: The Battle Continues

I think that this as good and radical a yardstick as any by which the appointment panel (the electorate) should select its preferred candidate.

24th September 2014

The indoor critic and I visited my daughter and her family this last weekend.

Because of access issues for the wheelchair and other constraints, these days we usually stay in a budget hotel by night and visit by day.

The dog needed walking and the children needed exercising.

So off we went to Poo Park.

We  called it Poo Park when we lived nearby.

Often when visiting our daughter I would exercise the dog round the park, every visit was an obstacle course, the grass, the paths and the verges were soiled with the mess left by the many dogs that were exercised in the park and not collected by their owners.

This was a park which was used by the local school as a football pitch, it was a park where children played on the swings, roundabouts and parallel bars.

As such it was a health hazard.

In the mornings children would hide in the bushes around the perimeter to smoke before the school bell called them in.

There were weeds, it was overgrown, it was smelly, you had to check your shoes after any walk and there were no bins if you scooped your dogs poop.

The park was managed by the local council and as the notices reminded you was subject to local bye laws.

I have been visiting the park for almost fifteen years and most visits have been pretty depressing.

Then, a couple of years ago a new person moved into the neighbourhood, he and his wife bought a house in Park View, opposite the entrance to the Park.

Slowly, beginning with a few daffodils, the person in question began to exercise some interest in improving the amenity that the park represents.

Over the past four or five years the general ambiance has changed.

In part because of the voluntary effort initially of an individual and then of the group that the person began to recruit to his cause.

Now on this most recent visit the improvements are really noticeable.

The surface of the paths has been relayed and extended right around the perimeter of the park, the grass is mowed (still by the council but it seems more regularly), around the verges, planting boxes have been constructed and planted with wild flowers, annuals, perennials and herbs, each bringing pleasing scents and aromas.

Around the football pitch new young trees have been planted and miraculously not torn down.

Some graffiti on the paths has been removed and the culprits identified and spoken to.

Litter bins and a supply of bags to safely remove dog litter have been installed.

The park has been awarded a plaque to celebrate the transformation.

I lift my hat to the individuals who have been responsible, they are genuine civic leaders.

The transformation of Poo Park to New Park is an example of Big Society in action.

Big efforts. Big difference. Big change. Big improvement.

Holding the local council and Government to account, creating a partnership in which public and private (volunteers) work together for mutual benefit.

As the leaders of the three main parties begin to bicker over the fall out from the Scottish referendum, as we imagine devolution, England for the English, Scottish MP's unable to vote on English Issues, new constitutional settlements and the West Lothian Question, it seems to me, that we need to move towards a new public/private partnership which encourages the kind of responsible citizenship that can in a few short years transform a public park, with modest effort, some local investment and with the local council playing its part fully with the essential support, both financial and political from central government.

We need to re-imagine and re-energise what it means to be active citizens, co-operating in the renewal and regeneration of our communities.

17th September 2014

There's something strange happening on Facebook.

Nearly every day I find a new question from a certain David Cameron telling me that he would like to know my views on a range of issues from the NHS to Immigration.

I find this strange for a number of reasons.

First, because David Cameron is not someone that I have befriended on Facebook.

Second, because neither have I befriended the Tory Party on whose behalf the questioner claims to be inviting my views.

Third, because no matter how I continue to ignore the request the next day and the day after come further requests to hear my views.

I haven't bothered to respond to these 'surveys' but suspect that they will be written in such a way that the outcome will support the con-den policy.

A  distorted version of what Americans call Mom and Apple Pie.

Take the survey on Immigration for example:

Labour, it states, don't agree with our policies on immigration, the five questions which follow are in fact heavily loaded to encourage agreement.

Unsurprisingly they also perpetuate unproven assertions which verge on the status of Urban Myths.

Hardworking taxpayers? (What's not to like? Except that the majority of immigrants are in fact hardworking tax payers)

Benefits tourism? (Where's the evidence that this exists?)

Bogus Colleges? (Again where is the evidence? Of course if a college is bogus? Wasn't Eton founded to educate poor children and is it not in fact still a Charity?)

Deport foreign criminals? (Duh?)

Immigrants should speak better English? (Try that one on the Costa Geriatrica, where everyone, except the Spanish, speak better English!)

Well Mr Cameron if you really want to know my views on Immigration, or anything else, for that matter, I would prefer it if you didn't pretend to be my friend on Facebook (Facebook please note that I am being stalked and take appropriate action!).

But my views on Immigration are as follows:

I enjoy living in and experiencing the richness of a multi-cultural society.

Most of the evidence that I see is that those who come to this country to improve their circumstances contribute significantly to the economic flourishing of British Society.

I find the anti immigration rhetoric of your con-dem colleagues and the new Tory Lite party led by Mr Farage to be as offensive to me personally as it is to people that I am proud to count as real friends, both on Facebook and in real life.

The greatness of the British Isles has been built on the fact that it was a big enough society to welcome not only my forebears (from Ireland) but countless numbers of people from across the world who have made their homes here and in doing so have helped not only our language develop and change but have enriched our fashion, our cuisine, our social fabric and our sense of ourselves and our self worth as a global nation.

That generosity of spirit and a Biblical commitment to welcoming the 'stranger in our midst' is part of our DNA as a nation.

Your questionnaires demonstrate to me that you were as serious about the 'big society' as you were about voting blue to turn green, and underscore why I was right not to vote for you in 2010 and why I won't be voting for you in 2015.

9th September 2014

Thinking aloud about the big society.

Today's news suggests that in nine days time, the UK might just become smaller.

Living just seven miles from the border between Scotland and England could make it more difficult to visit Scotland, no longer able to simply set out and drive to the Solway or to see a concert in Langholm or to shop in Gretna Gateway, just beyond the Blacksmith's Forge and Rory Stewart's Cairn, designed to celebrate the continuation of the Union(?).

There have been many thousands of words written about the campaign for Scottish independence.

Both for, and against.

It will be interesting when, after the vote has been counted, whether the outcome is a Yea or Nay, what the commentators and analysts will conclude?

If it is a Yes, will this be Alex Salmond's victory or David Cameron's loss?

It is certainly the case that the Prime Minister of the historic 'Unionist" Party will have, if the vote is Yes, be criticised for surrendering both the date, (2014 is the Anniversary of the Battle of Bannockburn, when the Scots won a decisive victory over the English) and extending the franchise to include young people who are over sixteen, effectively balancing the inclination of the over sixties to vote to stay within the Union.

It remains to be seen whether Mr Cameron's position will remain tenable in the face of a Yes vote.

Equally of course a No vote will also be a yes vote, but rather a yes to a fairer, more just society as outlined by various papers published under the broad title of Commonweal by the Reid Foundation, which effectively reject the role of capitalism and markets in driving the economy, which has been the effective policy of both Conservatives under Margaret Thatcher and George Osborne and which was heavily subscribed to by New Labour under the Leadership of Tony Blair and Gordon Brown.

My instinctive response to the debate is to hope that the outcome is Yes.

My reasons for this arise in the main because what I think I see being acted out in the campaigning and the debating is a developing vision for a better society than is currently being exploited and explored by the Con-Dems in the UK.

For how much longer can we stand by and see the NHS privatised, the growth of food banks supplying essential food parcels for those who have been sanctioned by the DWP?

How much longer can we stand by and see the poor, the disabled, the young, students and pensioners pay the price for the failure of the banks?

How much longer can we stand by and watch as the private sector is subsidised and bailed out by Government, whilst pretending that marketisation is a success?

If the vote is Yes, surely it will create a serious review of current Government policy, of austerity, of welfare reform(?) of further privatisation of utilities and transport in what is left of the UK.

The debates are beginning not only in Wales and the North of Ireland but in the regions as Northern Cities begin to challenge the domination of London and public investment in the South of the country.

This debate is happening because the question at the heart of the Yes campaign has all along been what kind of society do we want to be?

Interestingly however, if the vote is No then the debate will not simply cease, that cannot happen and won't be stopped by building a Cairn at Gretna, because both Labour in Gordon Brown and the Tories in George Osborne have begun to propose a wide re-allocation of powers to the Scottish Parliament, suggesting in part, if not entirely, that the future for the United Kingdom, if it remains United will be a form of Federal Structure.

London will still be a powerful force within such a Federation, but it will have to state its case and argue strongly that its share of the cake, or the public purse should remain disproportionately large in relation to other Kingdoms, Regions, or Cities.  

Whether the fear that the loss of Scottish Labour MP's will make it impossible for the Labour Party to form a Government in England will be realised remains to be seen but again the decline of the Liberal Party, the rise of UKIP, the emerging Little England mentality, future relations with the rest of Europe may well mean that England will also have to engage with the question of what kind of society we want to be and to become.

Certainly the Yes Campaign's commitment to increasing immigration, a commitment that may well mean a Border Post replacing Rory Stewart's Cairn at Gretna (at least the stone can be recycled as building materials), then we will begin to see just how an open, liberal, fair society can be both welcoming and successful.

It might be a small country, it might even as one commentator observed, like Greece without the Sunshine, but it stands a pretty fair chance of becoming a real big society.

And, when the border is redrawn it might be if it's a small map and broad brush pen that Carlisle somehow finds itself included in that big society.

22nd August 2014

I left school in 1960, maybe 1961, with the headmasters words ringing in my ears.

Smith, he said, it would benefit neither you nor the school for you to stay here a day longer than necessary.

My Mother was present for this interview, which was ostensibly about my spending a further year in what was called 6th Remove to resit my GCE examinations.

On hearing the headmaster share his opinion of my general worthlessness my Mother was mortified.

She dragged me out of school and onto the bus and, as we were walking up the hill towards home, we passed the premises of The Normeir Tyre Company, they were advertising for a trainee, the wage £4/1 shilling a week.

So I started work on the Monday after I had left school, or school had left me, on the Friday.

I enjoyed receiving a weekly wage packet.

Of the £4/1 shilling I gave my Mother £3 for my Board and Lodging and kept the £1/1 shilling for myself.

I managed pretty well on the money, and if occasionally I ran out of money on a Thursday or, heaven forfend, a Wednesday, I simply had to wait 'til Friday and I would have money again.

After a year I left the job, which it turned out was not a trainee salesman at all but, after a weeks training, a Tyre Fitter which as I have mentioned in a previous blog, was the most responsible job that I have ever had.

My next job, as a Civil Servant, was monthly paid.

I had to convince my Mother that £3 a week could be converted into a monthly amount by multiplying by 52 and then dividing by 12.

So 3x52 = 156.

156 divided by 12 = 13.

So if I paid her £13 pounds a month then we would be as we were.

She was not convinced. a) I had failed Maths, so there was a credibility problem and, b) Some months had four weeks and some five, so that was another problem.

Eventually I managed to convince her but for both of us the transition from weekly to monthly was difficult.

So when I retired, after a lifetime of robbing Peter to pay Paul, of too many days and not enough money at the end of the month.

I checked the small print and decided that I wanted my pension paid weekly.

The young lady in the Ministry of Pensions advised me that it would have to be paid monthly but I disagreed and quoted the relevant sub section, after speaking with her nameless and faceless supervisor I was advised that yes, the pension could be paid weekly, if I requested it to be.

I requested and for the last four years my pension has been paid weekly.

Why tell you this story?

Well it is a big society story.

Mr Ian Duncan Smith is introducing a new system of benefit payments and Universal Credit is to be paid monthly.

Already Housing Associations are advising tenants to pay more in advance, because as the payment is to be made in arrears and rent is paid in advance, they may well find that following the introduction of Universal Credit, they will almost immediately be plunged into arrears.

There is nothing big society about this decision, because benefits are paid in arrears, by transferring all beneficiaries to a monthly payment the Government will effectively save money by keeping substantial receipts in the Treasury for four weeks before they are paid out so who wins and who loses?

Is the reverse calculation multiply by 12 and divide by 52? Perhaps the mathematicians can advise?

My Mother was of course right all those years ago, because I paid her in arrears not in advance, for one month I had free board and lodging but I doubt if Mr Duncan Smith will be as generous as my Mother.

15th August 2014

In a recent game of Words with Friends I found myself with only one consonant and six vowels.

This selection of letters made it hard to play my turn.

But then I realised that I had just the right combination of vowels to  make the word 'queue'.

So I played and managed a decent score with the 'Q' on a a tile which doubled its value.

I'm amazed that I didn't see 'queue' instantly because it is a very current word and there are lots of queues in the news these days.

Years ago I published an article in which I used the image of the queue to illustrate a thesis about the rise of unemployment.

I described a queue stretching across history as the poorest in society struggled to make ends meet relying as they always had on the 'dole'.

The dictionary defines a 'dole queue' as 'the number of unemployed people at a particular time'.

In the UK today that queue is made up of 6.4% of the population or 1. 01M people.

There was much made of the recent fall in this number, by 33, 600,  as evidence of the success of Government policies.

Meaning that the economy has recovered to its 2008 levels after six years of austerity and whilst the left hand has been busy cutting jobs in the public sector the right hand has been congratulating the private sector who have been equally busy cutting wages.

So in today's big society the unemployed are being invited to leave the dole queue in order to earn their poverty or become self employed.

But as one queue shortens another becomes longer.

The number of people who are in work but are still claiming Housing Benefit or have found that they now need to claim is growing, the queue is getting longer.

Sure the queue at the Job Centre door marked employment is shorter but the queue at the door marked help with housing is longer and just down the street at the Church Hall the queue at the door marked Food Bank is getting longer too, according to one report, up to three times longer.

Queues have always seemed to be a sign or reflection of either popularity or distress.

Queues were a feature of wartime rationing, of shortages and need.

But equally they might just hint at popularity, the queue for the latest block buster or popular night spot might stretch round the block and people will try to find ways of jumping the queue, using charm or luck or cheek or connections to get to the front so as not to miss out on either their entertainment or perhaps, if its that kind of queue, to grab a bargain in the sales.

Buying tickets on line or using telephone banking you might find a serene and charming, but disembodied voice advising you of your position in the queue, as it counts you down from fifth to second when one of our advisers, all of whom are busy with other customers, will become available to speak to you.

But the queue as defined and supervised by Mr Duncan-Smith and his department is for some people about as close as it is possible to come to a dystopian, Kaflaesque nightmare as is evidenced by the stories which emerge of the sheer human distress arising when people find themselves in a queue to have their disability assessed by ATOS or their accommodation assessed to ensure that they only have  the correct (and allowable) number of rooms.

Well I managed to play the word queue with my selection of letters, how will you do with these?

igucarnn

ieadnsmpirte

arcgit

eeamnngdi

ygsooncciebit

6th August 2014

In 1978 I  moved from Manchester to Newcastle upon Tyne.

Partly as a result of publicity around this move and partly as a result of what was then my blog AKA the Vicars Letter in the parish magazine, a piece that I wrote was picked up by TV and Radio and the media generally and I was interviewed about my liking for Punk, I was outed by the Daily Mirror as Britain's first punk vicar.

Hey Ho.

Four days later buying fish and chips for supper my chips were handed to me wrapped in the edition of the newspaper carrying my photograph and the story, which was by now old news and soaked in vinegar.

Hey Ho, indeed!

In 1979 however, my interest in music (and Punk) undiminished,  I read a review of a new EP released by a Manchester Band called The Tunes, the title of the album was Truth, Justice and The Mancunian Way, a play on both the theme of superman as well as a knowing reference to the continuing need for Justice in the light of the rise of what was becoming known as Thatcherism, following the 1979 election.

I have continued to keep the title of the album as a personal slogan given that I was born in Manchester and continue to be committed to both socialism as a way to create a better world and Manchester United whose winning ways have always made my Saturdays better than the Saturdays when the team has lost.

I did consider using the title as a strap line for this blog but Truth, Justice and The Mancunian Way was in a sense copyrighted by The Tunes and they deserve not to have their brilliant pun pinched by me.

However I recently found myself absorbed in a book that might well have been called Truth, Justice and the Mancunian Way.

Easy to do I guess.

You find yourself caught up in the Author's characterisation, the development of the plot and, usually the actions of the key character (s).

The book is in its way a horror story.

A story of deception.

A story of a particularly successful exercise in highway robbery.

A story of a land grab.

A story about the private exploitation of public assets.

What it wasn't was a novel.

It is called The End of the Experiment - From competition to the foundational economy.

It is published by Manchester Capitalism an imprint of Manchester University Press.

It has an introduction, a conclusion and three case studies.

At the heart of the books' thesis lies the suggestion that privatisation and the creation of markets is a failed experiment which allowed private companies to generate shareholder assets from the publicly owned goods that they 'inherited'.

The three case studies are, telecoms, supermarkets and dairy and banking.

The book is well researched and annotated, it is also well written and I read it in a single sitting.

By the end I was shocked and angered.

I hope that it is on the Shadow Cabinet's reading list, as it offers plenty of solid ammunition to demonstrate that the con-dem's, sub-thatcher commitment to privatisation contributes largely to the economic problems that we face as a society.

My only disappointment with the concept of a the foundational economy was that the book did not explore the potential for increased co-operative models, as in for example energy, telecoms and the co-op's alternative model of food retailing.

But Truth, Justice and the Mancunian Way is promoted in this challenging book written by a team of members of the Centre for Research on Socio-Cultural Change.

The book ends on an optimistic note:

'We can blame others for the continuing failure of the thirty year experiment, the political responsibility for ending that experiment and starting another is collectively ours'.

1st August 2014

Just back from two weeks in France.

We had an enjoyable stay in Lille with trips to Ypres and Poperinge in Belgium together with a very pleasant lunch at the St. Sixtus Monastery, a place that always seems a trifle surreal to me.

The Trappist Monastery is enclosed and silent and the monks here brew beer which is sold at the monastery gate, usual in large wooden crates containing approximately twenty four bottles with a significant deposit charged on the crates and the bottles.

But the surreal aspect stems from the beer hall next door, where the Trappist Ale is sold 'on tap' alongside plates of food; bread and cheese, pate, pickled beef and a local delicacy, 'hennepot' which is a mix of meats, including ham and rabbit set in a jelly.

As you eat and drink, around you sit table after table a range of farmers with well developed beer bellies and their wives, Lycra clad cyclists, leather clad motorcyclists, families, scooterists and not a few who have arrived in motor homes and caravans.

Dancing between the tables are the waiters and waitresses bearing great trays of drinks often with up to six plates of food on their free arm.

It is a spectacle and the profits obviously pay for the maintenance and upkeep of the Monastery but building a beer hall such as this, outside a silent Monastery, in the midst of fields and farmland has something of the optimism of the Kevin Costner film, Field of Dreams.

I am sure that the Monastery Business Plan was impressive but it nevertheless has the feel of 'if you build it they will come'.

And they do!

On our last Sunday we were invited for lunch and over conversation a comment was made by our hosts that one of the differences between France and the UK was that in France personal banking does not come with a credit card, only a debit card.

This we were assured made all the difference to family finances because it ensured that personal indebtedness is more strictly controlled than in the UK.

Indeed in some stores and restaurants all transactions have to be by debit card as credit card payments are not accepted.

I must say that I used both credit and debit cards on holiday and both were accepted without argument from either waiters, cashiers or supermarket card reading machines so ces't la vie.

Travelling abroad is always an enlivening and enriching experience and raises all sorts of questions about how things are done in England.

In France it seems that every small town has its boulangerie, its boucherie and its patisserie.

On our last evening in Calais we were intrigued to see a crowd gathered outside the shuttered door of a locked shop, what is going on?

On closer examination it was an automatic dispensary dispensing freshly baked bread 24/7.

A couple of Euros in the slot and a stick of warm freshly baked french bread appeared as if by magic.

The collapse of the French economy is routinely forecaste not only by Osborne and Cameron who remain convinced it seems that the only possible economic strategy available to the UK is austerity, austerity, austerity.

But as Philip Collins writing in The Times today comments, despite protests from the English right the French prove again and again that that 'there is no robust relationship between levels of taxation, the size of the state and economic growth'.

Indeed!

But it might also be the case that, as our hosts at lunch advised, by ensuring that anything bought with your Carte Bleu or any cash advance withdrawn using it will be debited from your account immediately that, to quote Philip Collins again, despite working a bit less and paying themselves a bit more, maintaining a large public sector paid for by higher taxation, the French have made a different choice, one that calls austerity into question.

France has, it seems, rejected usury, the usurers and all their works leaving the French to pay as they go, whether its 'Fromage or Vin or Pain' they remain happily in the 'Noir' and try not to venture into the 'Rouge'.

8th July 2014

Another long gap between blogs!

I seem to be suffering from a form of lassitude which is more to do with politics and politicians than with my personal circumstances!

As the Labour Party seeks to position itself to the right of George Osborne and in some desperate measure attempts to convince the electorate that it is not only tough on immigration but tough on the causes of immigration, not only tough on benefits but intends to cut the benefits for and of young people unless they find some form of training, not only tough on, well ..... whatever it needs to be tough on, in order to convince the electorate that it can be trusted with being in charge of the economy, I find myself wondering how things can possibly get worse?

Of the three main parties the Liberals have become so compromised by their part in the coalition that they barely register on the swingometer, the Conservative Party it would seem is keen to lead us out of Europe and into a little Englander Laager, with the waggon's (no doubt privatised and run by G4S or Virgin) circled to keep out all and sundry, and an aimless, directionless Labour leadership constantly fighting shy of words like socialism, welfare or justice in case the appear to be, well too socialist or maybe, just too Labour for the voting public.

And all this of course leads to an opportunity for UKIP to appear to be setting the pace both in anti European Rhetoric, anti Immigration Rhetoric, with a programme that makes no sense economically (the sums don't add up) or in terms of building a better more open, more humane, more caring society.

So Lassitude or Ennui or Enervation not assisted especially by the England Team's dire performance in the World Cup.

So how to address this?

I see three possibilities:

The first is escape, a good holiday, let's just clear off to a part of the world where it's not possible to find Radio 4 on the dial or view the BBC News.

Then of course there's simply switching it all off, TV, Radio, Newspapers and burying your head in a good book, escapism of a different sort.

Then there's fighting back, where to start? Well one place may well be a concept that has both religious and social connotations.

The Common Good.

What goods should we hold in common?

What goods should be protected?

What goods should be shared equally?

What is the common good?

Essentially that which enables individuals to enjoy both freedom and liberty, to live peaceably with their neighbours and enjoy the security which comes from having a place to live, food to eat and leisure time to enjoy.

Immediately it is possible to see how the current designs of the coalition's sheep's clothing, masking their wolfish designs makes that vision of the common good impossible for so many to realise.

Whether it's the bedroom tax, or zero hours contracts, or the sanctioning of benefits, or student indebtedness, or the high cost of housing for many people in our society there is neither peace or security or freedom or liberty.

For too many people the idea of the common good is simply an abstract idea which is impossible to realise and that is not good enough!

So for the Labour Party in particular here is a place to start.

How does the idea of the Common Good translate into a practical programme.

In Catholic Social Teaching a path is steered between Laissez Faire Capitalism and Marxism, in practise a route that allows private property but insists that wealth is shared through mechanisms like a living wage.

Governments, through taxation and broader legislation have a responsibility to ensure that public wealth is distributed equitably and fairly throughout the population, in this way as we share in creating that wealth so we share in enjoying the fruits of the wealth, either in terms of creative and rewarding work, through the enjoyment of leisure, or the benefits that come with retirement.

As I relax in the evening or walk around my community I want to see evidence that my neighbours are enjoying the rewards that arise from their contribution to making our and other communities better places for human fulfilment and that together we can enjoy the goods that arise, health, education, work, welfare, leisure, money, and the environment, in common.

Lip service has been paid to this ideal by all political parties from the big society to the one nation, it is time that the Common Good is defined and articulated in the Party Manifesto's that are being drawn up for 2015.

21st May 2014

Here is a snapshot of modern British Society.

On the main street of the City where I live is a UKIP poster, the poster has a series of photographs of leading politicians, each figure has been gagged with gaffer tape and the caption of the poster, says:

Giving Britain it's voice back.

However the ungagged picture of Nigel Farage has been subtly altered with the addition of a small, toothbrush mouustache over his upper lip.

No comment was needed, the subtly amended photograph says it all.

However that is not the snapshot I meant.

Rather, on the opposite side of the road, a little way out of the City is a brand new car wash.

Today I decided to use it, it having been recommended to me by a neighbour.

There is no machinery. There are however buckets and hoses and mops and spray lances and chamois leathers and soap and and the whole operation is carried out by hand by a work force, singing as they wash and wax and polish.

It could almost, in the sunshine we enjoyed today, have been a Hollywood Movie or perhaps a Disney Musical, Hey Ho.

At one point there were two young men working on the passenger side and two working on the drivers side, singing as they worked.

Once the car was considered suitably clean I was ushered forward to another bay where another four people took on the slightly more envious task of polishing off, and here we moved on from Disney to the Karate (polish on, polish off) Kid, franchise.

At the end of the time the car looked cleaner than the day it was delivered and the price list for this service ranged from £5 for small cars, £6 for medium cars and £8 for large cars.

Thinking back to the poster I had passed earlier I found myself thinking about tomorrows European and Local Council Elections.

My car wash, is a litmus test for all politicians, gagged or graffiti'ed.

First, we have an economy where it is cheaper to employ people to 'hand wash' your car than it is to invest in the high cost of the machinery needed to be installed for what until recently was the usual self service car wash.

Hand Washing was something that Boy Scouts did during Bob a Job Week.

Secondly, I have no idea of the country of origin of the young men and women who washed my car, it was difficult to keep the window open to engage them in conversation what with the detergent, water, and wax that was being sprayed on my windscreen and side windows.

However, it seemed, to me, that at least a percentage of the workforce were, as Nigel Farage might observe, were engaging with each other and singing in a language other than Cumbrian.

But the cars they were washing were in many cases new, in other cases top of the range, for the 10 or 15 minutes we were there, I counted two Porsche and a Range Rover, so whatever was being shared between the workforce in a language that had something of the vorsprung durch technik about it, it was obvious that a new variation on the American Dream had gripped parts of Eastern Europe and people were here, enjoying a freedom and mobility that allowed them like Dick Whittington to set of and make their fortunes.

Thirdly, as tomorrow we cast our votes to determine who will represent us in Europe, I can only hope that we will have sense to vote for people who will work to promote and strengthen the Union, encourage open frontiers, welcome people into our City as we would wish to be welcomed into theirs.

We need to ungag the politicians and make it clear by our vote that we remain committed to a greater and more peaceful Europe in the years to come, because otherwise the graffiti'ed image of Mr Farage will remind us of Brecht's the Rise and Fall of Arturo Ui and the last line of that tragi - comedy, The bitch that bore him is in heat again.

We need to also remember that the full title of Brecht's Play is The resistable rise ......

10th May 2014

My Linked in occupation is given as 'Voice Crying in the Wilderness'.

I'm not sure just how hard it is to work at being a voice in the wilderness?

A blog a week is hardly demanding after all.

But Hardworking is the thing to be.

Unless you're UKIP where you can at least spend some time in the bar with a pint.

Now Labour has jumped on the hardworking bandwagon.

What on earth does: Hardworking Britain Better Off, actually mean and why pinch such a ridiculous slogan from Tory Toffs who have never worked hard in their lives?

My Dad worked hard, spent years in the fifties and sixties working split shifts driving buses in Manchester taking other hard working men and women back and forth to and from work.

That was hardwork, and all his passengers worked hard, it was an era of full employment, of manufacture, of 'stuff' being churned out from factories and sold around the world.

In those days people made things and things made money now of course money makes money, betting on futures, derivatives, interest on debt and buying and selling shares in Royal Mail.

I cannot now remember if I claimed the Voice Crying in the Wilderness name for myself or if it was given to me by a friend, who commented on both, my apocalyptic rhetoric and the fact that I was always looking for wildernesses to cry in.

I have to say however that in the present climate I feel that the rhetoric of the apocalypse is the only rhetoric that makes sense and that before too long there will only be wildernesses left to cry in.

But what is the prophetic word in the face of the wilderness that we have been condemned to inhabit by the condemns?

What is the prophetic word that needs to be spoken to the: Back to the Fifties, (Oh wasn't it luvverly?) nostalgia of UKIP?

What is the prophetic word that needs to be spoken when all the hopeful signs of a civilised and generous governance, the NHS, the Welfare State, a commitment to preserving full unemployment are being swept away in a maelstrom of cuts and austerity.

I am sure that it is not Hardworking Britain Better Off or even as the better educated Tory Toff might have it:

Industrius Britannia Bonus Melior Optimus


Well, clearly there is no doubt that some industrious folk in Brittania are optimising their bonuses but I still have my doubts that anyone needs to earn a Million plus a year?

What on earth would you spend it on when Coop Gin is £16 75 a Litre?

This Blog is a voice crying in the wilderness, crying for a better, a more just, a more humane, a kinder world.

When the Genie is out of the bottle how do you press it back in?

We are told, again and again, that companies need to pay in telephone numbers if they are to attract the right calibre of staff, well it seems to me that if the new Chief Executive needs a telephone number pay package then s/he is the WRONG calibre of staff.

At a recent Coop Meeting, this argument was presented to justify the high pay of the Executive team compared with the less than the living wage paid to the shop floor staff.

And how do you compare a hard working CEO's hard work with someone who delivers food to stores, loads and unloads the pallets and stacks the shelves?

How does one persons £100,000 compare with another person's £100?

It may be a wilderness out there, but as the Office of Compline has it, Your enemy the Devil (is not in the detail, but) goes about as a roaring Lion.

The real problem is not that we are being offered competing visions of a better tomorrow but that on one side of the house the ayes are keen to stay in charge and reward their pals when they do, and the nayes are
keen to upstage and replace them, so that they can be in charge and reward their pals.

We live, it seems, in a flawed democracy where the leader of the smallest party can confidently express his ambition to remain as Deputy to anyone as long as they will have him.

Presumably it wouldn't trouble him to be faced with a LIBKIP coalition as long as he was Deputy Dawg?

Mortality means that it all comes down to what is written on your gravestone.

I don't know who coined the phrase: Hardworking Britain Better Off but I hope that on my gravestone it will say: Gone in search of new wildernesses to cry in ......

26th April 2014

Google Piketty and you get 42,400,000 hits.

An amazing result.

I bought the executive summary of his book Capital in the 21st Century, but that only whetted my appetite so now the book is on its way.

It seems from the reviews that I have read that most of what Piketty reports is common sense and his main conclusion can be evidenced from a cursory reading of any Newspaper.

The rich are getting richer, and as the song says, the poor get poorer.

But the research, supporting his argument, is impressive and exhaustive

Piketty argues that the two main drivers of wealth accumulation are the rise in managerial compensation including I imagine, bonuses paid to bankers and inheritance.

In his conclusion he argues for taxation as the best way of correcting these processes.

Two news items this week suggest that the public appetite for the continuing drift towards social inequality might be lessening.

The decision by the Chancellor to refuse to allow RBS Executives to reward themselves by paying handsome bonuses, so handsome in fact that the FT no less felt, able to comment in its editorial today, that 'half of the £576M bonus pool intended by the RBS board would have been reserved for the investment bankers ..... a pretty lavish handout, given that the part of the business in which they operate made only £620M in 2013'.

Not every one agrees with Piketty but the research and the detail which he has brought to bear in support of his analysis is pretty impressive.

Yesterday I had to pay a bill.

Not an uncommon event of course we all have to do it, the bill was not unreasonable given the service that I had received from the company and the quality of the workmanship involved.

But as the bill was presented it came with an apology that the VAT meant that a reasonable invoice immediately appeared unreasonable, especially as it was being paid out of an income on which I had already paid income tax.

Unlike so many tax efficient companies who domicile themselves for their greater tax efficiency, I cannot, say, have an office in Luxembourg for the purposes of paying myself, with another office in say, Monaco for the purpose of paying my bills.

So, like most people, I pay VAT at 20% out of income on which I have already paid tax at 20%.

Piketty sees taxation as the best instrument to achieve social equity in the economy, but, and I haven't read his argument that closely yet, it seems to me that unless the underlying principle behind taxation is radically reviewed, the instrument will be too blunt to respond to the challenge of growing inequality.

And the rich will get richer.

I am sure that there is an equation, I might find it explained in the book, when an individuals net wealth will simply outstrip any conceivable expenditure that the individual could possibly undertake.

This equation will explain how some people when they fall asleep in the evening will always wake up richer in the morning despite having done nothing other than sleep the night away.

It explains why for some people in todays climate, the old saw of how to end up with a small fortune, to begin with a large one, remains only a distant and vaguely amusing possibility.

With the recent change of manager at Manchester United we have seen how the economics of football have changed so dramatically from the days when Newton Heath Football Club changed their name.

Accompanying the huge rise in  personal and company wealth whereby financial assets appear to have become magnetised so that capital has a constant polarity attracting more capital to itself we are also seeing a dramatic increase in public debt.

Governments borrow more and the Condems in the UK have pursued their austerity policies in such a way that the poorest bear the highest burden of paying down that debt whilst the rich are excused the responsibility.

For Piketty higher taxes should be progressive and used to pay down Government Debt thereby relieving the burden that currently falls on the shoulders of those least able to pay.

But this debate is unwinnable in the short or long term and Piketty has been attacked by the right in the US, although the book has been welcomed and received good reviews in the UK.

What I would like to see, given the tragedy that is unfolding in the UK in the mutual business called the Co-op is for the Co-op to address some of these issues in a tangible and open manner.

We could start by challenging the view that monopoly salaries are necessary to attract the best people. There should be a clearly stated relationship between what the highest paid employee earns and what the lowest paid employee can be paid, and that should be made mandatory.

It would be interesting to see what calibre of managers might be attracted and what value they would add to the business.

In the novel The Great Gatsby, Gatsby, Fitzgerald's poor boy become rich, living in extraordinary opulence in his fine mansion on the bay, orders Klipspringer to play the piano and so he plays the song 'ain't we got fun'.

Landlords mad and getting madder
Ain't we got fun?
Times are so bad and getting badder
Still we have fun
There's nothing surer
The rich get rich and the poor get laid off
In the meantime, in between time
Ain't we got fun?

17th April 2014

Barking, they're all barking.

No offence to dogs or those who own them. But they are, Barking!

I looked up Mountebank on Google.

The etymology of this word is derived from the Italian, mont am banco, so as a sometime Chaplain to the Anglican Congregation in Genoa I felt qualified to observe that there is a resonance with current statements emanating from the Prime Ministers office.

Building on this Doctor Johnson in his essential Dictionary, of which I have a revised edition with the date 1870 marked in faint pencil on the flyleaf,  Johnson defined a mountebank as 'A Doctor that mounts a bench in the market and boasts his infallible remedies and cures'.

Well, that strikes me as a somewhat appropriate definition for the recent outburst of Christian Apologia from a PM who claims, unlike Mr Blair, to do God, as Alastair Campbell put it when correcting his boss.

Not only do we hear that indeed, 'We now do God', but the claim is reinforced by other Tory commentators, and underlined by an Article in the Church Times and other speeches about the warm glow that comes from sitting in the family pew.

So this Easter we are treated to the sight of politicians of the right, climbing onto a bench, or as John Major preferred soap box, and boasting not only that their infallible remedies and cures are working but that Jesus would have approved because austerity has brought out the best in people and the big society is actually coming into being as the victims of austerity reach out to assist one another.

Barking!

So how does the sermon of the mountebank compare with the Sermon on the Mount?

Clearly the sayings of Jesus collected into the NT passage known as the Sermon on the Mount are, essentially, spiritual in nature, key words qualify each statement, poor is qualified as, in spirit, those who mourn will be comforted, those who hunger and thirst do so for righteousness and those who show mercy will receive mercy, and the peacemakers become children of God.

But in the middle of austerity Britain, regaled by spokespersons for most of yesterday because the line on the graph showing wages had just touched the line showing inflation, meaning that if you had managed to hang onto your job through thick and thin, if your employer had kept your job open despite the investment poor environment he was operating within, if you were not someone on a zero hours contract or had not become, 'self employed', were not on benefits or disabled then the tax on your poverty, which is what inflation is, was about to be balanced out by the fact that your take home poor had reached the level it had been before the great crash.

I have always been in the company of various commentators on the sermon on the mount who see it as offering a radical programme.

There is little of value in offering someone deferred gratification by way of, if you're poor you're blessed because you are guaranteed entry into the Kingdom, especially when we pray your kingdom come on earth.

Poverty can be a spiritual blessing if it is chosen but not if it means days worrying how to pay the rent or feed your children, the kingdom should be our action plan for here and now, not where and when.

Those who mourn the death of hope as they wait for Atos or the DWP to get round to assessing their claim should be comforted by prompt and efficient action to enable them to rise to the challenges imposed by the crises they face.

The rise in food banks are not a sign of the big society they are a national disgrace but at least those who are hungry and thirsty are being filled.

The justice system is constantly struggling to show mercy but faced with the rhetoric of those hard liners clamouring for punishment it is hard to see where mercy will come from and in what form.

Jesus saw those who seek peace as the true children of God but we hang on to Trident and rattle our sabres at every opportunity and the world becomes an increasingly dangerous place.

So yesterday we were told that the remedies and cures imposed on us by a coalition government we didn't vote for have had a miraculous effect, well sorry to spoil the party (again!) but I don't think so.

It's a choice, the Sermon on the Mount, radical change and social transformation or the Sermon of the Mountebank, you choose .......
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