26 April 2011
Being Tuesday, I was meant to go to the Worlington geriatric golf morning and lunch with my golfing mates. However, when I wake up, ‘ my lovely’ told me that there was a very chilly wind and add this to the fact that the temperature is 10° colder today than it was over the last three days, we decided it was sensible if I did not risk it, so sadly, I cancelled today’s outing
I received a very interesting e-mail this morning from my friends, in the USA, Bob Foraker. With an array of photographs of our Queen with 12 different US president – Obama; George W Bush; Clinton; George Bush (senior); Reagan; Carter; Ford; Nixon; Johnson; Kennedy Eisenhower; Harry Truman. Wow, some record. As my friend says if you remember all of these your no spring chicken either!
The good doctor arrived late afternoon in time for us to crack our usual bottle of champagne and for me as a special treat, to to smoke a small cigar. Fortunately the wind had died down a little and with a weak son it was possible for us to sit outside with me muffled up in great gran’s cloak .
25 April 2011
A quiet day after the busy weekend. Not much happening at this end so I thought I might share with my readers two interesting e-mails I have received. The first time comes from a cousin of Alice’s, Bruce Kirkby, whose father emigrated to Canada some years ago but the family retained a cottage, on or adjacent to the old family estate in North Wales. In fact, I believe the cottage,.Trefaes Uchaf (even Bruce, not surprisingly, stumbled over the Welsh spelling) may well have been part of the land belonging to Hafdy, the house that Alice’s paternal grandfather purchased when he returned disabled from the Boer War and was confined to a wheelchair.
As a result, Hafdy still has a veranda running around the entire perimeter which enabled her grandfather to get out in the fresh air and manoeuvre around in his wheelchair. Both Hafdy and Trafaes Uchaf are within half a mile or so from Blwch Uchaf, Alice’s house, although Hafdy is no longer in family ownership.
This account of his childhood memories of this Welsh cottage, written by Bruce, appeared recently in a local Montréal newspaper. It is nicely written and evocative of the Wales we know and love. Click on the link below to read this interesting article.
The second e-mail was sent to me by my dear daughter-in-law Kimberly and is a 30 min. radio programme which was broadcast on the BBC entitled The Swedish Invasion. It is a fascinating insight into the lifestyle and thinking of this highly taxed socialist nation with some of the most liberal attitudes towards sex and drugs in the world, from which, apparently a third of the world’s music emanates and is the source of many fine films and interesting literature. I have been to Sweden , on a number of occasions – as my regular readers will be aware – to stay with my good friend Dr Michael Long (in fact he arrives here tomorrow to spend a couple of days with us) I have sent him a copy as a Swedish resident, and shortly become a Swedish citizen with two Swedish born grandchildren, I will be interested to hear his reaction. I certainly recognise some of the traits attributed to these people but not all of them. Simply click on the link below to hear this broadcast.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b010k2f6Â
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24 April 2011
In my Good Friday entry I mentioned that I was in Jerusalem in the mid-50s, possibly on the way to Baghdad, I cannot recall without researching memoirs (to do so is extremely different manner as I cannot move from this chair or indeed handle paper any more the reader must just put up with what I perceive to be the memory of what happened at the time)
There were three or four special events which stick in my mind about that trip. First, was that archaeologists had recently excavated the steps to Pontius Pilate’s Palace and I stood on the steps thinking that this was the very spot where this provincial governor ceremoniously washed his hands, on the eve of a Jewish holy festival, (now Good Friday) leaving it to the Jewish people to choose which prisoner. out of those due to be crucified, should be released, the robber Barabbas or Jesus. Well we all know which one they chose! These few moments of reflection gave me a tingling feeling down my spine. On the same trip I stood by the banks of the River Jordan on the spot where it is claimed John the Baptist baptised the young Jesus.
A day so later I was taken to see one of the original entrances to ancient city of Jericho. It was a sloping hole in the ground through which a single person could slide and therefore it was carefully guarded from the inside against unwanted intruders. The interesting thing about this particular excavation was that around it there were charred remains which gave credence to the biblical story about the walls of Jericho tumbling down (the result it seems the great conflagration).
Whilst I was in the area I decided to pay a visit to the Dead Sea and indeed like so many other tourists swam in it and found that the salt content was so great that it was impossible to sink-I believe I’m right in saying that this is one of the lowest places on earth something like 1400 feet below sea level. What was also particularly interesting about that vacation was that it was around there that they found the famous Dead Sea Scrolls in the Qumran Caves. I read about them at the time was absolutely fascinated that they had been preserved in sealed amphora (clay jars) and that most of them were written on lead. I certainly read contemporary books at the time written about the Scrolls but it was clearly going to take scholars very many years to translate them, from the original Hebrew and Greek, and I must now see what contemporary literature exists to bring me up-to-date. In the meantime I reproduce what I found on the Internet about this amazing find.
Significance to the Canon of the Bible
The significance of the scrolls relates in a large part to the field of textual criticism and how accurately the Bible has been transcribed over time.
Before the discovery of the Dead Sea Scrolls, the oldest Hebrew manuscripts of the Bible were [[Masoretic]] texts dating to 10th century CE such as the [[Aleppo Codex]]. The biblical manuscripts found among the Dead Sea Scrolls push that date back a millennium to the 2nd century BCE. Before this discovery, the earliest extant manuscripts of the Old Testament were in Greek in manuscripts such as [[Codex Vaticanus Graecus 1209]] and [[Codex Sinaiticus]].
According to ”The Oxford Companion to Archaeology”: {{Quote|The biblical manuscripts from [[Qumran]], which include at least fragments from every book of the [[Old Testament]], except perhaps for the [[Book of Esther]], provide a far older cross section of scriptural tradition than that available to scholars before. While some of the Qumran biblical manuscripts are nearly identical to the [[Masoretic]], or traditional, [[Hebrew]] text of the Old Testament, some manuscripts of the books of Exodus and Samuel found in Cave Four exhibit dramatic differences in both language and content. In their astonishing range of textual variants, the Qumran biblical discoveries have prompted scholars to reconsider the once-accepted theories of the development of the modern biblical text from only three manuscript families: of the [[Masoretic text]], of the Hebrew original of the [[Septuagint]], and of the [[Samaritan Pentateuch]]. It is now becoming increasingly clear that the Old Testament scripture was extremely fluid until its [[Biblical canon|canonization]] around 100 CE.<ref>Fagan, Brian M., and Charlotte Beck, ”The Oxford Companion to Archeology”, entry on the “Dead sea scrolls”, Oxford University Press, 1996.</ref>Â
We all got up at pretty much a usual time and after breakfast ‘the young’ went off to church. When they returned I was wheeled out into the garden for a smoke and a glass of wine before lunch. It’s one of those rare days when we were able to eat outside, where I think the food always tastes so much better. It may have something to do with the early years of my life spent in Australia.
23 April 2011-St George’s Day
Our patron saint’s day. Sadly not celebrated universally as is St Andrew’s Day in Scotland and St Patrick’s Day in Ireland. Shame on us. However, I was delighted to read the following in What’s – In and around Uttlesford  St Georges Day celebration in Saffron Walden. Starts 2 pm at the Castle. Music and celebration will follow the Dragon down to the Market Place for a world peace song (this event starts at the Rising Sun pub in Castle Headingham at 11 am and finishes in London at 8 PM with a live music and dance. St Georges Day happens this year to fall on the Easter weekend but this is not always the case as Easter is a movable feast. It also happens to be the date that our greatest author and poet, William Shakespeare died. Although it cannot be verified decisively many people think that he was also born on 23 April.
Today Smiler and Kimberly came after lunch and to spend the night with us. It was great to see them. The fine weather continued and I was able to sit outside for an hour or so with my shirt off in the sunshine. We all had tea in the garden before I was taken back into the study and ‘the young’ went for a short walk across fields. Dear Kimberly provided the supper, which was absolutely delicious and, just as important, relieved ‘my lovely’ of just one more chore.
The other little family, Chloe and co. are in Alice’s house, Bwlch Uchaf, (literally Upper Pass) in the foothills of Snowdonia, North Wales. I’m glad to say that they are experiencing a rare bout of fine weather as, my experience, over the last 50 years or so, is that it rains a great deal in Wales-and, by heavens, when it rains it rains with a vengeance- but there is nowhere more beautiful when the sun is shining. They have coincided with the lambing season and I’m glad to hear that the children have become friendly with the next generation of farmers who are now running the old family estate of Llanfendigaid and are actually helping to bottle feed the new born lambs. Sadly I can no longer visit Bwlch Uchaf as there is a very steep flight of steps up to the front door and other steps on the ground floor which would require ramping. In any event, even if we overcame those obstacles, we have none of our special lifting equipment there which makes life bearable at this end.
Continuing my reminiscences about Easters past, I recall one year being in Cooper Pedy, in Southern Australia. If I tell you that it was 1000 Miles North of Woomera, from whence the Australians tested and fired their areospace rockets, you can believe why is known affectionately as ‘the Bugger All’. Anyway we were in Cooper Pedy, at Easter, on an opal mining expedition (but that’s another story). Most of the miners, many of whom were refugees from justice, lived in caves, underground or carved into the hillside. There were only two sets of buildings above ground and they were occupied by two different families, who nine years earlier, had fallen out and had since refused to speak to each other.
On this particular Easter some missionaries came to take an Easter service at the request of one of the families, one of the lady missionaries playing a foot operated organ. We were invited to the service and happily accepted. However, the moment the poor lady started pumping her foot pedal, and playing the first hymn, the other family turned on their gramophone, opened their windows and play their music as loudly as they could in order to disrupt the service. How crazy is that? Two families living hundreds of miles from their nearest neighbour, who loathed each other so much that they couldn’t even bear the other family having an Easter service. Not exactly in the true spirit of the Easter message!
Paddy and Mick
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Paddy and Mick were walking along a street in London. Paddy
looked in one of the shop windows and saw a sign that caught his eye.
The sign read, “Suits £5.00 each, Shirts £2.00 each, trousers £2.50
per pair”.
Paddy said to his pal, “Mick look at the prices! We could buy a
whole lot of those and when we get back to Irelandwe could make a
fortune. Now when we go in you stay quiet, okay?  Let me do all da
talking ’cause if they hear our accents, dey might tink we’re thicko’s
from Irelanda nd try to screw us. I’ll put on me best English accent.”
“Roight y’are Paddy, I’ll keep me mouth shut, so I will. You do
all da business” said Mick.
They go in and Paddy says in a posh voice, “Hello my good man.
I’ll take 50 suits at £5.00 each, 100 shirts at £2..00 each, and 50
pairs of trousers at £2.50 each and I’ll back up my truck ready to
load them.”
The owner of the shop said quietly, “You’re from Ireland, aren’t you?”
“Well yes,” said a surprised Paddy. “What gave it away?”
The owner replied, “This is a dry-cleaners.”Â
22 April 2011
I was in Jerusalem in the late ’50’s, on Good Friday, I remember joining the procession to Calvary – along the Via Dolorosa -with a small group of tourists, nuns and priests. It was a time before mass tourism occurred in this part of the world. I recollect that we stopped at all 6 stations of the cross – where significant events occurred during the progress of climbing the hill to the site of crucifixion – for prayers before we reached the church allegedly built over the ground where crucifixion traditionally took place. I know that we were allowed inside this church of The Holy Sepulchre and that it seemed to be divided into several Christian denominations each with their own special icons or artefacts. I also seem to remember looking into a hole in the Christian part of the church which I believe (I could be quite wrong here) was either meant to be the cave where the body of Jesus lay after the crucifixion or at least representative of it.
Although I am now a confirmed atheist, which readers will have gathered from previous entries, I cannot say what I felt at the time was a religious revelation, although I have always believed, and still do, that Jesus existed as a man but not as the son of God. Nevertheless, I cannot fault his teachings, or indeed the 10 Commandments laid down in the old Testament so, for that reason, I have always claimed to be a Christian, at least abiding by Christian rules.
Having said that I certainly felt at the time,an element of awe, in following the footsteps of those who tramped up the hill to Calvary with Jesus dragging this heavy cross. My abiding memory of this particular occasion was the true sense of history that I felt; the quiet aura of reverends emanating from the whole group of worshippers and, in retrospect, the small number of people that formed the group which followed the priest.
A low day for me. A prisoner in my chair looking through the window at the beautiful summer’s day outside. We could have got out into the garden in my wheelchair but the problem was there was no-one to help get me out of the chair when I returned to the house and I was totally against ‘my lovely’ gong around banging on neighbours doors to help. Anyway, tomorrow, with any luck/, when Smiler’s here, I will get out into the sunshine.
21 April 2011
My third session of chess with Kit. This time I decided that we would turn it into a lesson as he is a far more experienced player than I am.. I decided that I would play normally and when I made a bad move ask Kit to point out to me why it was a bad move and what he would have done in the same position., In that manner I hope to improve my game and be able to give him a better run for his money in future. It was such a lovely day we took the chess set out into the garden and sat at the garden table. This had the added advantage of allowing me to smokers more cigar.
Kit opened with the classical Sicilian Defence (bringing out his knights, rather than the traditional move of King pawn to Kp4). Although I played my own game, as we were going to treat this as a lesson I did discuss aloud various alternatives and their made up my own mind with Kit tossing in the odd bit of advice now and then. . After a couple of hours we had both lost all our major pieces, the only difference being that Kit had one more pawn than I did but was decent enough to offer a draw, although I suspect with that one pawn advantage he would have been able to win in the end. A good and enjoyable game from which I emerged slightly better chess player.
You can scarcely can on the radio these days without hearing about the economic mess that not only we are in and indeed Europe and America and Japan. That being so, for a bit of fun, I thought I would include the following interview with a man who has fairly strong views about the mess that the Irish got themselves into..
I must apologise for the rather colourful language that this gentleman uses to express his views although if you can ignore that side of the interview I think most would probably agree with the sentiments. Simply press CTRL +CLICK (left-hand mouse button) to hear this interview.
20 April 2011
Wednesday again and ‘Jane the sheep’s ‘ regular visit. Fortunately her own sheep in our paddock are behaving themselves and enjoying their new surroundings. No bleating so no retribution on Violet Elizabeth!
The saga of the wayward dentist continues. The Investigating Committee of the Dental Council, did, apparently, start looking at the paperwork on this case but adjourned it for another day when they decided that they had insufficient time to do it justice. In the meantime I await with anticipation receiving a clear direction from the Dental Council caseworker inviting final comments on comments after which a line will be drawn. Jane and I spent some time preparing a draft reply to the dentists solicitors latest comments. Will this ever end? After all it’s a simple enough matter the dentist claims to have the scale my teeth when in fact he did nothing of the sort. No more or less than that.
In view of the fact that I was told that the Investigating Committee was unlikely to look at the case last week and then, in the event, did start the process. I’m taking no chances and sending my response to the dentist’s solicitors letter now, just in case we find the Committee had sat again and not considered my comments.
I am continuing this battle, as I’ve said on a number of occasions, not for myself but for all of those other elderly, and possibly disabled, people, of whom it is only too easy to take advantage and who might be less articulate and stubborn than I am and not be able to fight their corner.
I have finally given up on my AbilityNet trainer. He is a lovely man but, consistently fails to do what I have requested and provided with a simple checklist enabling me to add media to this blog solely by voice. He serves up the information in various forms none of which satisfy my request. I’m sorry to have lost that I’ve now put the matter back in the hands of AbilityNet .
19 April 2011
An absolutely glorious summer’s day which fortunately coincided with the geriatric golf day at Worlington. The usual arrangements, Barry took me and fetched me but as he had another job he was rather later than usual and I was able to sit outside in the sunshine smoking a very nice Monte Cristo provided by my good friend John Gray
Regular readers will recall me drawing a parallel between the political and economic state of prerevolution Russia, almost exactly 100 years ago and the problems which face the EU today.(See 4 April entry) My friend of 40 years or so, Dr James Snowdon Barnett, dry wit. Intellectul, bon viveur, poet extraordinaire and lawyer, penned an amusing response to this entry. He has given me permission to reproduce it below. To make it more intelligible to the reader I should mention that MC is a good friend and James’ and does downloads for him. When I say Jamie is a poet, he is of international renown. His Magnus Opus, on which he had been working for the last 25 years is called, The Village of Perception, for which we all eagerly await publication./The astute reader will also observe that Jamie and I have diverse political views but we’re never allowed such to get in the way of an enduring friendship. So this is what Jamie wrote:
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My Dear Mark
1.    So this is wot a blog is!
2.    It’s a stream of consciousness (nothing wrong with that path, perfected (if there ever is such) by Joyce).
Yours, however, reminds me of the similar reflected in verse by the American Poets of last Century such as Anne Sexton and Robert Lowell’s Notebooks.
3.    MC “downloads” (it sounds like something better performed in a WC) for me but he is (again) in L.A. and so I asked Nina to do so and her note says:
        “I couldn’t seem to print just the day (4th April)”
So Nina has printed the whole of April (to date) 1st to 9th, and Nina adds:
        “He sounds a lovely man”.
Now, I can’t go that far, any “loveliness” you have brushed off from your lovely wife Alice (who will be beatified in due course as St Clavering). I realize now that Alice’s attentions to blind sheep (et al) in that field was merely a preparation for her present workings in this “other field”.
4.    Considering you blog, it reminds me of when Laurie Hoffman read the manuscript of my first novel “The Murders in Muzard Road” of which he pondered whether anyone would be interested in that which he called my “mature reflections”.       Â
That was 1986 and now with information overtaking and crushing knowledge, perhaps there is an audience knowing little or nothing of things (Gerard Manley Hopkins favourite word) which seem trite to our generation.
5.    You asked me to comment on your entry of 4th April (my wife of 40 years + birthday).;
With respect, I think you may have side-stepped Tolstoy’s “message”.
All that has happened is that Master/Servant has been replaced by lender/borrower. If a Borrower can’t pay then down the plug BUT if a lender is “in difficulties” he puts in the plug and engages in “quantative easing” (which just means they print more money). This happened in The Collapse of the City of Glasgow Bank in the 1880’s (as to which see my Now is as it pitches and again ) when Dumbell’s Bank collapsed just before the First World War in Douglas, Isle of Man.
Nothing is learnt, because Capitalism exists (as Del Boy does) by one person in the market making a “profit” out of the loss of another.
What we reap now in 2011 is the harvest sown by the sees of Mrs Thatcher’s (as she then was) guru Sir Keith Joseph in the 1980’s.
Quite simply, it is a newly appointed minister needing “to do something”. Look at “Tricky Dicky” Crosman in the 60’s deciding to built 500,000 residential units (most (I am told) now demolished !!
It is this “quick fix” which “unsticks” future generations.
6.    However, I needs must end with this sad tale.
Beth Emanuel (who types my longer MS’s) has sent me the proofs of the first part of Village of Perception:
            “the Village”
BUT (don’t tell Alice) I am “a-feared” of reading it unless it does not live up to my expectations.
Some kind of “reverse writer’s block”.
As ever,
Dr Snowdon Barnett
PS: Once there is cheap printing of “blogs” then Anna Karenina will become a very short book, indeed.
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Although I normally assiduously avoid any political comment or controversy on this blog, to give it the widest possible appeal, I have to take issue with my good friend Dr Barnett and blame the current situation not, on the Iron Lady (Mrs Thatcher – as she was then) but on the worst Chancellor of the Exchequer (Gordon Brown) this country has seen this century, who left us in the worst debt we have ever had, after having squandered billions of pounds from various sources-North Sea oil, selling our gold at $265 per ounce (?) -It is now over $1500 an ounce and rising; ripping off the pension funds to the tune of £5 billion a year; concealing vast sums of investment into PPF contracts which means we are saddled with paying for the next 20 or 30 years and so on and so on. But then as I say dear Jamie and I have different opposing political views.
The other thing that has puzzled me for some time is the comment that Jamie makes about one person making a profit at a loss to another. It has always been my understanding that for every force there is an equal and opposite counterforce. So it should be in terms of investment. If the banks have lost billions then following Jamie’s theory somebody has made those billions, so the money is not really lost, at all, it is merely indifferent hands (or rather pockets!). Alternatively, is wealth a mirage?. What if all the houses in this country were overnight to be worth 50% of what previously it was said they were worth provided the cost of everything else was also 50% of what it had been previously (although in theory, of course, with so much imported this would not be possible, then is anything really lost?
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19 April 2011
A full day/. At 9.30 this morning we had a visit from Dr Margaret Saunders, from the Rank hospice in Cambridge. She came in her capacity as a palliative care adviser to check up on a few of the irritating problems from which I suffer and which if resolved would improve the quality of my life.. She turned out to be a very gentle, quietly spoken lady in whom one immediately has a great deal of confidence. She ha certainly gives the impression that she’s heard it all before and knows exactly how to tackle the problem.
My particular issues, although they may well sound minor, were irritating enough to need attention. For example my constantly runny nose which is extremely debilitating and exhausting for me to have to keep trying to raise the handkerchief up every few minutes with such weak arms. Also, it can be a real problem under the respirator. She has some ideas how we might tackle that one. Then there is the flatulence which is caused by excess air in my belly causing it to expand like a football, compressing my diaphragm and making my breathing more difficult. Apparently, as an air swallower, all night on the respirator probably introduces a certain amount of air into the stomach which gets trapped . The doctor will be sending a physiotherapist to train Alice how to massage the stomach in the morning.
No doubt to release some of this air. I suggested’ my lovely’ could j simply jump on it, rather like getting air out of a lilo, but the good Dr didn’t seem to be in favour of that method of releasing the air!. We then dealt with the painful joints in bed and she suggested dropping one of the diazepam,, as this is muscle relaxant, to see if that helped. Otherwise there are other thing she can try. As I say we both found this delightful Dr most sympathetic and helpful and have a great deal of confidence that she will alleviate these minor problems as far as it is possible.
As soon as she left I had a long session with David of the technical arm of AbilitNet, as my Dragon (voice activation system) was playing up and not picking up my Buddy Microphone. In the end I’ve had to re-train it but it really doesn’t take very long and seems to pick up my speech profile where I left off.
Almost immediately that session came to an end my good friend and stockbroker, Peter Long, a director of Brewin Dolphin, arrived by train from London to take me out to lunch at the Cricketers Pub next door. We sat outside in the sun and spent half an hour or so discussing various investments, the unpalatable truth being eased down with a glas paid post title here front of document s of champagne. The papers having been put away we enjoyed a good lunch washed down with a decent bottle of Merlot. After wheeling me back to the house, Peter, our good gardener, very kindly ran the other Peter to the local station as he had been ripped off by a taxi driver on the inward run. It’s always good to see Peter, who, over the many years has looked after my meagre investments. We have become friends and enjoy our lunches together talking, of everything but money.
By the time Peter had left and’ my lovely’ and I had had tea I just about had time to deal with my e-mails and make one or two phone calls before it was time for my evening glass of front of document
D. Mark Cato
D. Mark Cato