If you have read my blog for any length of time, you are bound to be aware that I am not a fan of the social networks and refuse to join them. I get all kinds of “come-ons” on the net, imploring me to open their emails , such as I have three classmates from school just this month enquiring about me, or that I have been tagged for such and such’s birthday. I’m sorry, I know I am probably missing out on golden opportunities to expand my personal network, but, frankly, I don’t give a rats ass. I’ll just go on being an old misanthrope who likes the friends he got the old-fashioned way, even if many of them in my age bracket are gone now.
The potential and actual intrusions you frequently hear about always bother me. For example, I read in the newspaper of a case of a young woman in England, selected and serving on a jury, who then tried to contact the defendant on the internet. That’s just plain stupid. I’m sure British courts are similar to ours, since our legal system was based on Britain’s, and insist on never communicating with the defendant in view of the need for total impartiality and objectivity. This dingbat tried to contact the defendant on Facebook. It comes as no surprise that she is in a heap of trouble.
A whole litany of potential problems has been associated with social networks and the invasion of privacy. Now I don’t blame Facebook for this young woman’s stupidity or impulsive action, to be more charitable, but it is part of the danger which can occur with those who become almost addicted to the social network. I don’t like the potential problems and, especially, the loss of privacy. I know, you are supposed to be able to decide what you want known and enter only data you choose, but I think too many, like this British young woman, live on their social network and consider it an essential part of life and never consider the potential pitfalls.
That’s what I like about a blog . I can keep my anonymity, if I choose, and still write about things that concern me or experiences I’ve had. I probably don’t have a wide following, but I don’t really care, except to hear from those I care about or other bloggers I’ve come to appreciate.
Sometimes it’s fun being a misanthropic old fart.
Friday, July 29, 2011
Thursday, July 28, 2011
ANOTHER PERSPECTIVE
One of my most respected economic thinkers here in U.K. is Jeremy Warner, who publishes a column in "The Daily Telegraph". He is obviously well educated in the fields of Economics and Commerce, plus he writes fluently, and frequently hits the bullseye in analyzing the economic problems of today.
Yesterday he did not have a column in "The Telegraph" but a full-fledged article entitled "AMERICA FACES A DECISION THAT WILL DEFINE ITS FUTURE---AND OURS". Let me quote some lines that will give you the essence of the article.
"Economic might is as much to do with confidence and perception as reality. The spectacle of a nation so lacking in credible political leadership that it cannot resolve its differences, threatens to default on its debts and would rather print money than face up to its underlying economic challenges, is already perilously close to breaking the spell. America needs to wake up before it's too late."
The spell he refers to is the perception of America as the land of economic miracles and leadership, setting a standard for the world. He feels the present deficit crisis is underminig that confidence in and perception of America.
Sometimes it helps to have an objective viewpoint in analyzing a crisis. Obama and Boehner, plus a host of others, please heed.
Another final quote from Mr.Warner: "For the U.S. to forsake the principles that have underpinned its economic success for more than two centuries would be a disaster, not just for the country, but for the world."
Yesterday he did not have a column in "The Telegraph" but a full-fledged article entitled "AMERICA FACES A DECISION THAT WILL DEFINE ITS FUTURE---AND OURS". Let me quote some lines that will give you the essence of the article.
"Economic might is as much to do with confidence and perception as reality. The spectacle of a nation so lacking in credible political leadership that it cannot resolve its differences, threatens to default on its debts and would rather print money than face up to its underlying economic challenges, is already perilously close to breaking the spell. America needs to wake up before it's too late."
The spell he refers to is the perception of America as the land of economic miracles and leadership, setting a standard for the world. He feels the present deficit crisis is underminig that confidence in and perception of America.
Sometimes it helps to have an objective viewpoint in analyzing a crisis. Obama and Boehner, plus a host of others, please heed.
Another final quote from Mr.Warner: "For the U.S. to forsake the principles that have underpinned its economic success for more than two centuries would be a disaster, not just for the country, but for the world."
Friday, July 22, 2011
THE BLAME GAME
Here in U.K., unless you are confined in a cave underground and never see the papers or watch the telly (as the Brits call it), you are saturated with the hacking scandal and the hearings in the House of Parliament where the M.P.s have had their shots at the Murdoch empire and the Prime Minister.
Rupert Murdoch showed the proper degree of contrition and even announced that “this was the most humbling day of his life”. He also appeared as a doddery old man. It really was embarrassing to have that idiot throw a plate of shaving cream at him. His younger wife, Wendy, looks like the Dragon Lady from the old comic book days of “Terry and the Pirates”, and this Chinese lady showed one potent right jab as she leaped up and swatted the man who dumped the cream on her husband.
James Murdoch, the C.E.O. of European operations and second son of Rupert, came off as the archetypal M.B.A., filled with smooth corpspeak. He was polite, evasive---and came off as a slime ball to me.
Rebekah Brooks, under that incredible umbrella of red Medusian curls was another portrait of slick evasiveness, phony sincerity and incredible memory lapses.
In fact, they all must suffer from some sort of Alzheimer’s Disease. Of course Rudolph is old enough to qualify, but the other two must have premature Alzheimer’s. It’s sad in those so young.
Seriously, it’s the old corporate game played at the highest level. What you don’t know won’t hurt you. You can just hear these high-powered executives, titans of industry, telling their key subordinates: “Just get the job done, whatever it takes. Just don’t involve me and put nothing in writing.” This game has been played forever in the corporate stratosphere (and on the lower levels, too) so that layers of insulating fog cushion the top echelon from the muck and sweat below. It’s obviously taken to a new level in the communications world of television and newspapers.
James Cameron, the P.M., also found out what hits the fan in his time before his fellow M.P.s. He struck, I thought, a good balance between contrition and dignified defense. He admitted his mistake in hiring Andy Coulson, the man in the eye of this political and economic hurricane. Even the royal family is pissed off at the P.M. because he hired Coulson, the man who had been editor of “News of the World” when two reporters hacked the phones of aides in Clarence House and even William’s phone. David Cameron’s political stock has taken a swift and deep fall. He is going to have to work extra-hard to restore it.
It continues to get messier, involving not only the Murdochs,their people and the P.M, but the Metropolitan Police whose two top men have resigned. The blame game will look like a badminton match with the shuttlecock flying all over the place.
Then we get our turn in the U.S. of A---hooray!
Rupert Murdoch showed the proper degree of contrition and even announced that “this was the most humbling day of his life”. He also appeared as a doddery old man. It really was embarrassing to have that idiot throw a plate of shaving cream at him. His younger wife, Wendy, looks like the Dragon Lady from the old comic book days of “Terry and the Pirates”, and this Chinese lady showed one potent right jab as she leaped up and swatted the man who dumped the cream on her husband.
James Murdoch, the C.E.O. of European operations and second son of Rupert, came off as the archetypal M.B.A., filled with smooth corpspeak. He was polite, evasive---and came off as a slime ball to me.
Rebekah Brooks, under that incredible umbrella of red Medusian curls was another portrait of slick evasiveness, phony sincerity and incredible memory lapses.
In fact, they all must suffer from some sort of Alzheimer’s Disease. Of course Rudolph is old enough to qualify, but the other two must have premature Alzheimer’s. It’s sad in those so young.
Seriously, it’s the old corporate game played at the highest level. What you don’t know won’t hurt you. You can just hear these high-powered executives, titans of industry, telling their key subordinates: “Just get the job done, whatever it takes. Just don’t involve me and put nothing in writing.” This game has been played forever in the corporate stratosphere (and on the lower levels, too) so that layers of insulating fog cushion the top echelon from the muck and sweat below. It’s obviously taken to a new level in the communications world of television and newspapers.
James Cameron, the P.M., also found out what hits the fan in his time before his fellow M.P.s. He struck, I thought, a good balance between contrition and dignified defense. He admitted his mistake in hiring Andy Coulson, the man in the eye of this political and economic hurricane. Even the royal family is pissed off at the P.M. because he hired Coulson, the man who had been editor of “News of the World” when two reporters hacked the phones of aides in Clarence House and even William’s phone. David Cameron’s political stock has taken a swift and deep fall. He is going to have to work extra-hard to restore it.
It continues to get messier, involving not only the Murdochs,their people and the P.M, but the Metropolitan Police whose two top men have resigned. The blame game will look like a badminton match with the shuttlecock flying all over the place.
Then we get our turn in the U.S. of A---hooray!
Tuesday, July 19, 2011
"THINGS FALL APART"
Really, I almost hate to pick up the newspaper or to go online. What is going on in this chaotic world? We are witnessing the fight over debt limit in the U.S. or the Eurozone debt crisis or the Murdoch empire intruding into our lives. As we all tremble on the edge of a financial precipice, we also find our privacy violated ---or perhaps ravished would be a better word.
Obama and the Republicans are playing chicken---or is it Russian Roulette---on increasing the debt limits. The Tea Partyists are pushing the G.O.P. toward this precipice as August 2 looms nearer and nearer. Gunfight at the O.K. Corral revisited.
Meanwhile, here in jolly old Blighty, things are going to hell in a hand basket at increasing speed. Now the Prime Minister, David Cameron, is having his credibility sorely tested and, even more important, his judgment and leadership qualities questioned. Hiring Andrew Coulson, former Editor of “News of the World”, as his Press Secretary---against the advice of a host of confidants, including the deputy Prime Minister, Nick Clegg, was a boo-boo of classic proportions. Also, being palsy-walsy with the Murdoch clan, having Christmas dinner with Rebekah Brooks, the recently deposed Editor of the now defunct “News of the World”--- all these associations do not sit well with the general public.
A man has a right to pick his personal friends, but is it judicious for the P.M. to get so buddy-buddy with yellow journalists and power brokers who love the chance to influence him? I think you can guess who were major contributors to Cameron and the Conservative cause in the General Election.
The opposition,the Labour Party, who has been in disarray since losing the General Election in 2008, is suddenly finding new life, a whiff of oxygen, in this scandal, and Ed Milliband, the Labour Party leader, is jumping on the Conservatives, and Mr. Cameron in particular, with both feet, demanding investigations, questioning Cameron’s veracity and leadership and keeping the Conservatives on their back feet.
I’m reminded of lines from W.B. Yeats:
"Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity."
That’s what scares the hell out of me---all that passionate intensity for the wrong reasons.
Obama and the Republicans are playing chicken---or is it Russian Roulette---on increasing the debt limits. The Tea Partyists are pushing the G.O.P. toward this precipice as August 2 looms nearer and nearer. Gunfight at the O.K. Corral revisited.
Meanwhile, here in jolly old Blighty, things are going to hell in a hand basket at increasing speed. Now the Prime Minister, David Cameron, is having his credibility sorely tested and, even more important, his judgment and leadership qualities questioned. Hiring Andrew Coulson, former Editor of “News of the World”, as his Press Secretary---against the advice of a host of confidants, including the deputy Prime Minister, Nick Clegg, was a boo-boo of classic proportions. Also, being palsy-walsy with the Murdoch clan, having Christmas dinner with Rebekah Brooks, the recently deposed Editor of the now defunct “News of the World”--- all these associations do not sit well with the general public.
A man has a right to pick his personal friends, but is it judicious for the P.M. to get so buddy-buddy with yellow journalists and power brokers who love the chance to influence him? I think you can guess who were major contributors to Cameron and the Conservative cause in the General Election.
The opposition,the Labour Party, who has been in disarray since losing the General Election in 2008, is suddenly finding new life, a whiff of oxygen, in this scandal, and Ed Milliband, the Labour Party leader, is jumping on the Conservatives, and Mr. Cameron in particular, with both feet, demanding investigations, questioning Cameron’s veracity and leadership and keeping the Conservatives on their back feet.
I’m reminded of lines from W.B. Yeats:
"Turning and turning in the widening gyre
The falcon cannot hear the falconer;
Things fall apart; the centre cannot hold;
Mere anarchy is loosed upon the world,
The blood-dimmed tide is loosed, and everywhere
The ceremony of innocence is drowned;
The best lack all conviction, while the worst
Are full of passionate intensity."
That’s what scares the hell out of me---all that passionate intensity for the wrong reasons.
Saturday, July 16, 2011
THE NEW BLACK PLAGUE
I see from the papers that the disease is contagious---the Murdoch plague.
The news is dominated by the hacking scandals of the "News of the World", the tabloid that has for 143 years been Britain's largest tabloid. Now it is gone, but the scandal carries on. And, I note from the papers, Congress is proposing to investigate Rupert Murdoch and his Evil Empire---really the dark side.
Murdoch is not the first journalist baron to abuse the public. Remember Robert Maxwell, Lord Beaverbrook, Conrad Black and Randolph Hearst. Abuse of power goes with the territory. Journalism is a competitive game, and you are always seeking the competitive edge. The story justifies the means. How many old films have you seen where the reporter will do anything to get the story?
One prestigious lady journalist, now knighted, remembers her early days as a reporter when she was doing a story on a notorious man confined to a hospital. She naively went directly into the hospital and asked at the reception desk to see the patient and was, of course, refused. Then she saw several rival reporters dressed as hospital aides and one even as a doctor! So, tricks to get a story are nothing new.
But a total invasion of privacy by hacking phones and paying off cops to get confidential information is a form of rape, as far as I'm concerned. The F.B.I., I understand, is now checking out the possibility of hackers and the 9/11 victims.
I'm sure our skirts are no cleaner than the Brits, and Rupert Murdoch isn't the sole villain by any means. Before this nasty business is over, I predict there will be a plethora of villains on both sides of the Atlantic.
Murdoch is simply the worst example of what greed and power---they go together---can wreak in order to get what is wanted. We have too much of such abuse in positions of power in too many places. No, it's not a British disease, nor an American one, but all over the world, unfortunately.
And they haven't found the vaccine to cure it.
The news is dominated by the hacking scandals of the "News of the World", the tabloid that has for 143 years been Britain's largest tabloid. Now it is gone, but the scandal carries on. And, I note from the papers, Congress is proposing to investigate Rupert Murdoch and his Evil Empire---really the dark side.
Murdoch is not the first journalist baron to abuse the public. Remember Robert Maxwell, Lord Beaverbrook, Conrad Black and Randolph Hearst. Abuse of power goes with the territory. Journalism is a competitive game, and you are always seeking the competitive edge. The story justifies the means. How many old films have you seen where the reporter will do anything to get the story?
One prestigious lady journalist, now knighted, remembers her early days as a reporter when she was doing a story on a notorious man confined to a hospital. She naively went directly into the hospital and asked at the reception desk to see the patient and was, of course, refused. Then she saw several rival reporters dressed as hospital aides and one even as a doctor! So, tricks to get a story are nothing new.
But a total invasion of privacy by hacking phones and paying off cops to get confidential information is a form of rape, as far as I'm concerned. The F.B.I., I understand, is now checking out the possibility of hackers and the 9/11 victims.
I'm sure our skirts are no cleaner than the Brits, and Rupert Murdoch isn't the sole villain by any means. Before this nasty business is over, I predict there will be a plethora of villains on both sides of the Atlantic.
Murdoch is simply the worst example of what greed and power---they go together---can wreak in order to get what is wanted. We have too much of such abuse in positions of power in too many places. No, it's not a British disease, nor an American one, but all over the world, unfortunately.
And they haven't found the vaccine to cure it.
Thursday, July 14, 2011
AN ENGLISH ODYSSEY---PART 3
The next day started with a visit to Holt, a beautiful Georgian town which was completely rebuilt in the stately Georgian style after a devastating fire in 1708. We walked around this beautiful town in a gentle rain which only lasted a few minutes, and it was well worth the stop. We drove through a north coast village, Wells-Next-to-Sea, called “Next-to-the-Sea” because it is no longer “By-the-Sea” due to time and erosion creating a silt deposit which moved the town inland.
We later arrived at the village of Thursford, home of one of the most unusual museums I’ve ever seen. The museum was created by George Gushing whose passion was steam engines and steam machines of every kind. George had worked for the village in Victorian times when steam power was in use. The village decided they did not need his services full time and let him go. Not a bit deterred, George found much work and obviously did so well that he eventually owned an astonishing number of steam-powered machines, the largest in the world. He also ended up doing work for the village and probably charged them more than it would have cost them if he had stayed an employee!
In addition to all the steam machines, George had a passion for organs, calliopes, carousels and amusement rides, all steam-driven originally, so he created this unique museum in Thursford which has become a major tourist attraction. From humble beginnings it has grown into a cavernous building containing a magnificent Wurlitzer organ, the kind that rises from a pit and is capable of being a one-man band. Daily two concerts are held in which a master organist puts on a half-hour show of classical and popular music. In between these concerts, you are kept busy by a battery of concerts emanating from a series of ornate Rococo-style calliopes performing concerts, ranging from opera to marches from John Phillip Sousa and other bandmasters. If you get tired with the concerts or of walking around, jump on the most beautiful carousel I’ve ever seen or a mini-roller coaster. Naturally, they now have a restaurant and gift shop to relieve you of some funds.
The steam machines can only be described as magnificent and maintained, by terms of George Gushing’s will, in perfect working order. The paints on these machines are gorgeous, usually either a British Racing Green or Burgundy with brass fittings blindingly polished. They are truly works of art and an engineering enthusiast’s dreams. I’m no engineer and I was still awed!
The next day we drove to the Imperial War Museum, Air Division, at Duxford. We spent the whole day there and did not see it all. The museum is housed in seven different buildings, plus entry building with ticket stand and gift shop, plus an airfield where they put on air shows during the summer. While we were there, the air show featured German Messerscmidt 109s, American P-51 Mustangs and British Spitfires---a mini-World War II.
We concentrated---and it took most of the day---on three buildings. The first contained most of the British aircraft of the last thirty years, including the Concorde SST, now no longer in service and originally created by a consortium of British and French aircraft designers and builders. You are allowed to tour through the Concorde, which even has a section of seating to show the configuration of seats in the plane. As you tour, you note how small the windows are, about 6”X6”, and then you realize at supersonic speeds you could not have larger windows due to the danger of them blowing out at such speeds. Some of the electronic systems of the plane are exposed and displayed, as well.
The second building contained “The Battle of Britain” with the planes of that period, 1940, including German Messerschmidt 109s and Junker dive bombers, British Hawker Hurricanes and Spitfires. The display also included a simulated Andersen shelter, what we used to call Nissen huts, with a family inside having tea. They even have the German V-1 “doodle bug” rocket that created so much havoc in the latter stage of the war in 1944 and 1945.
The last building was devoted to American aviation from WWI to today. They show a film about World War II, and I thought the voice of the narrator was familiar. Then it hit me---Charlton Heston. It turns out his name is on the wall as Chair of the fund-raising campaign to build this museum in 1997. One of the highlights of this section which really attracts the crowds is the Blackbird, the original Stealth plane whose ominous sleek lines draw huge crowds.
This Imperial War Museum is the second-best air display I’ve ever seen, beaten only by the Air Force Museum at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base near Dayton, Ohio.
We drove home the next day, weary but elated al the sights and scenes we had covered. East Anglia was worth the effort.
And that completes our English Odyssey!
We later arrived at the village of Thursford, home of one of the most unusual museums I’ve ever seen. The museum was created by George Gushing whose passion was steam engines and steam machines of every kind. George had worked for the village in Victorian times when steam power was in use. The village decided they did not need his services full time and let him go. Not a bit deterred, George found much work and obviously did so well that he eventually owned an astonishing number of steam-powered machines, the largest in the world. He also ended up doing work for the village and probably charged them more than it would have cost them if he had stayed an employee!
In addition to all the steam machines, George had a passion for organs, calliopes, carousels and amusement rides, all steam-driven originally, so he created this unique museum in Thursford which has become a major tourist attraction. From humble beginnings it has grown into a cavernous building containing a magnificent Wurlitzer organ, the kind that rises from a pit and is capable of being a one-man band. Daily two concerts are held in which a master organist puts on a half-hour show of classical and popular music. In between these concerts, you are kept busy by a battery of concerts emanating from a series of ornate Rococo-style calliopes performing concerts, ranging from opera to marches from John Phillip Sousa and other bandmasters. If you get tired with the concerts or of walking around, jump on the most beautiful carousel I’ve ever seen or a mini-roller coaster. Naturally, they now have a restaurant and gift shop to relieve you of some funds.
The steam machines can only be described as magnificent and maintained, by terms of George Gushing’s will, in perfect working order. The paints on these machines are gorgeous, usually either a British Racing Green or Burgundy with brass fittings blindingly polished. They are truly works of art and an engineering enthusiast’s dreams. I’m no engineer and I was still awed!
The next day we drove to the Imperial War Museum, Air Division, at Duxford. We spent the whole day there and did not see it all. The museum is housed in seven different buildings, plus entry building with ticket stand and gift shop, plus an airfield where they put on air shows during the summer. While we were there, the air show featured German Messerscmidt 109s, American P-51 Mustangs and British Spitfires---a mini-World War II.
We concentrated---and it took most of the day---on three buildings. The first contained most of the British aircraft of the last thirty years, including the Concorde SST, now no longer in service and originally created by a consortium of British and French aircraft designers and builders. You are allowed to tour through the Concorde, which even has a section of seating to show the configuration of seats in the plane. As you tour, you note how small the windows are, about 6”X6”, and then you realize at supersonic speeds you could not have larger windows due to the danger of them blowing out at such speeds. Some of the electronic systems of the plane are exposed and displayed, as well.
The second building contained “The Battle of Britain” with the planes of that period, 1940, including German Messerschmidt 109s and Junker dive bombers, British Hawker Hurricanes and Spitfires. The display also included a simulated Andersen shelter, what we used to call Nissen huts, with a family inside having tea. They even have the German V-1 “doodle bug” rocket that created so much havoc in the latter stage of the war in 1944 and 1945.
The last building was devoted to American aviation from WWI to today. They show a film about World War II, and I thought the voice of the narrator was familiar. Then it hit me---Charlton Heston. It turns out his name is on the wall as Chair of the fund-raising campaign to build this museum in 1997. One of the highlights of this section which really attracts the crowds is the Blackbird, the original Stealth plane whose ominous sleek lines draw huge crowds.
This Imperial War Museum is the second-best air display I’ve ever seen, beaten only by the Air Force Museum at Wright-Patterson Air Force Base near Dayton, Ohio.
We drove home the next day, weary but elated al the sights and scenes we had covered. East Anglia was worth the effort.
And that completes our English Odyssey!
Tuesday, July 12, 2011
AN ENGLISH ODYSSEY---PART 2
Our second day started with a visit to Beth Chatto Gardens, a so-called “informal” garden of infinite variety. The English national hobby is gardening: even the most modest homes have gardens. The climate here, with few days of excessive heat (they consider the mid-eighties a heat wave!) and lots of rain, promotes floral growth of diversity and magnitude. The roses have heads frequently as large as our chrysanthemums. Chatto Garden had wonderful rose beds as well as every floral variety you could imagine and a dazzling array of trees. They had several oaks that had to be 150-200 years old. You wander past endless beds of flowers into tree-lined groves with lakes and streams. While the women were oohing and aahing, all I could think of was how glad I am that I didn’t have to tend such a garden.
From Chatto Garden, we drove to “Constable Country”, one of the most beautiful sights in this “green and pleasant land” of England, as the poet William Blake described it in his poem “Jerusalem”. John Constable, who was born July 4, 1776 and died in 1837, was not a Yankee Doodle Dandy but one of the greatest English landscape painters of all times, famed for his pastoral scenes and, especially, for his skies filled with puffy cumulus clouds. No one ever caught the beauty of clouds with such a luminous ethereal quality. We were at an area called Flatford Mill, which Constable made famous with his painting of the mill and scenic bridge next to it. As a matter of fact, his father owned the mill and was a prosperous merchant of the time. Also nearby is Willy Lott’s cottage. Willy Lott, a farmer, is only known because of Constable’s famed painting of his cottage. A lovely walk across the bridge leads to a panoramic view of the unforgettable rural scene.
From the Constable country, we went east to the coast where a series of picturesque fishing villages dot the North Sea. We wandered through a maze of narrow country roads, many of which are one lane only and a test of our nerve and playing “chicken”. (Actually there are frequent wider spots in the road where you can pull over to make room.). Eventually, after meandering through these fishing villages, we made our way to Lowestoft, a port in Norfolk (the name of the county, and counties are more like states) where we spent the night.
Every night we stayed in Premier Inns, a relatively new chain in U.K., much appreciated by traveling men and economy-minded travelers. They are spotlessly clean and new---but also VERY BASIC. Of the five nights on the road when we stayed in them, only three had telephones in the room. No soap bars or shampoos---only a soap dispenser on the wall over the basin and in the shower. Two bath towels and two hand towels. The beds were good, and, yes, they did have TV. Decent restaurants were attached or right next to them.
The next day we made our way northwest passing through one of the larger ports in England, Great Yarmouth in the county of Norfolk. South of great Yarmouth was a broad expanse of sandy beach overlooking the North Sea where we took a long walk along the promenade above the beach and enjoyed the chance to stretch our legs. We then drove through the Norfolk Broads, a series of canals and rivers where boating is prevalent. The water is muddy and not very appealing, but the boaters enjoy it and are frequent. We did find a charming pub on one of the waterways where we enjoyed a good lunch.
We drove to Horning, a beautiful tourist spot where a “Mississippi” paddle-wheeler runs up and down the waterways frequently with loads of tourists. Nearby we went for a wonderful walk through the woods of 1/2 mile or more and ended up on a large lake where boats of all shapes and sizes were plying the waters. A large houseboat, which can sleep 6-8 people was tied up to the dock, and we struck up a conversation, and my wife even sat on the stern of the boat, talking with a charming Scot from Lockerbie (remember the terrible PanAm tragedy?) who was traveling with son and wife and their two kids. He particularly approved of my wife whose father was from Glasgow and maiden name was Scott!
More of our saga next time!
From Chatto Garden, we drove to “Constable Country”, one of the most beautiful sights in this “green and pleasant land” of England, as the poet William Blake described it in his poem “Jerusalem”. John Constable, who was born July 4, 1776 and died in 1837, was not a Yankee Doodle Dandy but one of the greatest English landscape painters of all times, famed for his pastoral scenes and, especially, for his skies filled with puffy cumulus clouds. No one ever caught the beauty of clouds with such a luminous ethereal quality. We were at an area called Flatford Mill, which Constable made famous with his painting of the mill and scenic bridge next to it. As a matter of fact, his father owned the mill and was a prosperous merchant of the time. Also nearby is Willy Lott’s cottage. Willy Lott, a farmer, is only known because of Constable’s famed painting of his cottage. A lovely walk across the bridge leads to a panoramic view of the unforgettable rural scene.
From the Constable country, we went east to the coast where a series of picturesque fishing villages dot the North Sea. We wandered through a maze of narrow country roads, many of which are one lane only and a test of our nerve and playing “chicken”. (Actually there are frequent wider spots in the road where you can pull over to make room.). Eventually, after meandering through these fishing villages, we made our way to Lowestoft, a port in Norfolk (the name of the county, and counties are more like states) where we spent the night.
Every night we stayed in Premier Inns, a relatively new chain in U.K., much appreciated by traveling men and economy-minded travelers. They are spotlessly clean and new---but also VERY BASIC. Of the five nights on the road when we stayed in them, only three had telephones in the room. No soap bars or shampoos---only a soap dispenser on the wall over the basin and in the shower. Two bath towels and two hand towels. The beds were good, and, yes, they did have TV. Decent restaurants were attached or right next to them.
The next day we made our way northwest passing through one of the larger ports in England, Great Yarmouth in the county of Norfolk. South of great Yarmouth was a broad expanse of sandy beach overlooking the North Sea where we took a long walk along the promenade above the beach and enjoyed the chance to stretch our legs. We then drove through the Norfolk Broads, a series of canals and rivers where boating is prevalent. The water is muddy and not very appealing, but the boaters enjoy it and are frequent. We did find a charming pub on one of the waterways where we enjoyed a good lunch.
We drove to Horning, a beautiful tourist spot where a “Mississippi” paddle-wheeler runs up and down the waterways frequently with loads of tourists. Nearby we went for a wonderful walk through the woods of 1/2 mile or more and ended up on a large lake where boats of all shapes and sizes were plying the waters. A large houseboat, which can sleep 6-8 people was tied up to the dock, and we struck up a conversation, and my wife even sat on the stern of the boat, talking with a charming Scot from Lockerbie (remember the terrible PanAm tragedy?) who was traveling with son and wife and their two kids. He particularly approved of my wife whose father was from Glasgow and maiden name was Scott!
More of our saga next time!
AN ENGLISH ODYSSEY, PART 1
If you wondered whether I was alive and still writing blogs, I'll explain that my wife and I have been away with friends from the London area for a five-day tour by car of East Anglia, a part of England with which we are not familiar. We covered 500 miles, which is like driving double that in America.
I won't bore you with every stop or place but give you some of the highlights. First, some background. I have to say my friend John, who is the youngest and spryest 86 I've ever seen, did all the driving---and he is a superb driver whose relexes are still keen. John and wife Joan have a Honda Accord, two years old, which he keeps immaculately. Joan does not drive but excels as a backseat driver with lots of unneeded and unheeded advice. John also has a GPS in the car, whom we dubbed "Susie", with a refined and quiet voice as she instructs us on our route. John loves to wander on the back roads or take some deviations from the established route, so every now and then we turn Susie off, and I, in the front seat, help John as navigator with very detailed maps of which the Brits have many. Joan any my wife are obviously in the back where my wife occasionally gets a word in.
As for the highlights, in chronological order, the first stop was at Ightham Mote, a magnificent manor house in northern Kent, which is part of the National Trust, an organization that is a multi-million pound corporation, owning and maintaining many of the stately homes of Great Britain, charging admission to view these homes. I might add, some of these homes are castles or the equivalent. Ightham Mote, interestingly enough, was owned by an American who restored it to its fifteenth century glory days. Harold Robinson was a manufacturer of top-quality paper in Portland, Maine. As a young man, after college, he did a bicycle tour of England, spied this manor from the road--and fell in love with it. Years later, after he had amassed his fortune, he bought it and restored it beautifully. After his death, he bequeathed it to the National Trust. You can spend a day there, wandering through the maze of rooms and walking the beautiful gardens. All of us had seen it before, so we did not spend the day there but still put in two hours. One of the highlights was the master bedroom, painted in a light grey with white trimming of the panels, a perfect combination of colors to accent a collection of paintings on the walls. Robinson brought over from America a stunning oval Federal mirror, which hangs over the fireplace, and it is great to see a bit of Americana in this English setting. and it fits in well.
I'll continue this in future blogs so that I don't overdose you with our travelogue!
I won't bore you with every stop or place but give you some of the highlights. First, some background. I have to say my friend John, who is the youngest and spryest 86 I've ever seen, did all the driving---and he is a superb driver whose relexes are still keen. John and wife Joan have a Honda Accord, two years old, which he keeps immaculately. Joan does not drive but excels as a backseat driver with lots of unneeded and unheeded advice. John also has a GPS in the car, whom we dubbed "Susie", with a refined and quiet voice as she instructs us on our route. John loves to wander on the back roads or take some deviations from the established route, so every now and then we turn Susie off, and I, in the front seat, help John as navigator with very detailed maps of which the Brits have many. Joan any my wife are obviously in the back where my wife occasionally gets a word in.
As for the highlights, in chronological order, the first stop was at Ightham Mote, a magnificent manor house in northern Kent, which is part of the National Trust, an organization that is a multi-million pound corporation, owning and maintaining many of the stately homes of Great Britain, charging admission to view these homes. I might add, some of these homes are castles or the equivalent. Ightham Mote, interestingly enough, was owned by an American who restored it to its fifteenth century glory days. Harold Robinson was a manufacturer of top-quality paper in Portland, Maine. As a young man, after college, he did a bicycle tour of England, spied this manor from the road--and fell in love with it. Years later, after he had amassed his fortune, he bought it and restored it beautifully. After his death, he bequeathed it to the National Trust. You can spend a day there, wandering through the maze of rooms and walking the beautiful gardens. All of us had seen it before, so we did not spend the day there but still put in two hours. One of the highlights was the master bedroom, painted in a light grey with white trimming of the panels, a perfect combination of colors to accent a collection of paintings on the walls. Robinson brought over from America a stunning oval Federal mirror, which hangs over the fireplace, and it is great to see a bit of Americana in this English setting. and it fits in well.
I'll continue this in future blogs so that I don't overdose you with our travelogue!
Saturday, July 2, 2011
GOD SAVE THE QUEEN---AND HER MONEY
The Queen, God bless her, has got a few money problems. The monarchy is an expensive proposition, and some republicans in this country would like to replace the monarchy with a republican form of government. As you know, the power of the monarchy is purely symbolic,while the government is run by elected officials, M.P.s (Members of Parliament), one of whom is chosen for Prime Minister to run in a general election and become head of state. The majority of the people, however, still like the symbolism of the monarchy, the pomp and majesty of a tradition dating back to 1066 when William the Conqueror of Normandy, after the Battle of Hastings where his forces defeated Harold and the Anglo-Saxons, became William I, King of Great Britain.
The headlines of one of the major newspapers today states: MONARCHY ‘SHORN OF ITS DIGNITY’ TO SAVE MONEY”. What the paper was referring to was an attempt by the government, in its continuing effort to get a handle on expenses in these austere times, to rein in some of the royal expenses. In fact, it has been proposed to cut the Queen’s budget by 10% over the next four years. George Osborne, the Chancellor of the Exchequer (Secretary of the Treasury), has proposed that the Queen’s budget be subject to governmental review in the form of a new law, agreed to by the Queen, called the Sovereign Grant Bill which would give the National Audit Office the right to scrutinize royal expenses and try to keep expenses in line.
Being a Royal is an expensive proposition. You can imagine that the honeymoon-cum-p.r. trip of William and Kate to Canada and California will cost considerable shekels. The clothes budget for Kate, who is the new Diana, the showpiece of the royal family, has got to be a small fortune. Actually, by the time William and Kate, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, become king and queen, King William V and Queen Katherine, the monarchy will have changed, slowly but surely. I’m sure they will have the common touch, popularizing the monarchy in a new way. I doubt if I will be around to see that Coronation.
Speaking of coronations,my wife and I were on our honeymoon in 1953 when Elizabeth II was crowned, and we were lucky enough to be in the throng crowding the Mall when her golden coach passed on the way to Westminster Abbey. We had stood in our spot for five hours waiting to catch a glimpse of the Queen. The crowd was fun and good-natured. If you had to go to the bathroom, they would save your place when you returned. Just when you thought you would fall asleep standing up, vendors came with an extra edition of the newspapers, informing us that Edmund Hillary and Tensing Norkay had become the first to climb Mount Everest. Can you imagine the roar from that crowd? I can still goose pimple remembering the pomp and circumstance, especially the sound of the various regiments as they were called to attention when the Queen neared, snapping their boots together with a sound like artillery fire. It's an indelible memory--and we’d do it all over again.
That was a different time and a different place than today. As Bob Dylan would say, “The times, they are a-changin’!”
The headlines of one of the major newspapers today states: MONARCHY ‘SHORN OF ITS DIGNITY’ TO SAVE MONEY”. What the paper was referring to was an attempt by the government, in its continuing effort to get a handle on expenses in these austere times, to rein in some of the royal expenses. In fact, it has been proposed to cut the Queen’s budget by 10% over the next four years. George Osborne, the Chancellor of the Exchequer (Secretary of the Treasury), has proposed that the Queen’s budget be subject to governmental review in the form of a new law, agreed to by the Queen, called the Sovereign Grant Bill which would give the National Audit Office the right to scrutinize royal expenses and try to keep expenses in line.
Being a Royal is an expensive proposition. You can imagine that the honeymoon-cum-p.r. trip of William and Kate to Canada and California will cost considerable shekels. The clothes budget for Kate, who is the new Diana, the showpiece of the royal family, has got to be a small fortune. Actually, by the time William and Kate, the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, become king and queen, King William V and Queen Katherine, the monarchy will have changed, slowly but surely. I’m sure they will have the common touch, popularizing the monarchy in a new way. I doubt if I will be around to see that Coronation.
Speaking of coronations,my wife and I were on our honeymoon in 1953 when Elizabeth II was crowned, and we were lucky enough to be in the throng crowding the Mall when her golden coach passed on the way to Westminster Abbey. We had stood in our spot for five hours waiting to catch a glimpse of the Queen. The crowd was fun and good-natured. If you had to go to the bathroom, they would save your place when you returned. Just when you thought you would fall asleep standing up, vendors came with an extra edition of the newspapers, informing us that Edmund Hillary and Tensing Norkay had become the first to climb Mount Everest. Can you imagine the roar from that crowd? I can still goose pimple remembering the pomp and circumstance, especially the sound of the various regiments as they were called to attention when the Queen neared, snapping their boots together with a sound like artillery fire. It's an indelible memory--and we’d do it all over again.
That was a different time and a different place than today. As Bob Dylan would say, “The times, they are a-changin’!”
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