Don't Mention the Weather

As my bedroom electric fan swings back and forth for its 50th uninterrupted hour or so, I feel moved to comment on that universal subject of casual conversation: The Weather.

It is currently uncomfortably (for a Northern European, even one who grew up in the San Francisco Bay area) warm and humid. Earlier this week we had the fire on in the lounge. These variations are par for the course in this country but are no less irritating for all that. The ideal day for me is a sunny one at 70F with a light and pleasant breeze. A day like this is so rare as to be a candidate for display in the Natural History Museum. Too cold, too warm, too wet - this is the norm.

The problem is that these variations are as nothing compared to most other places in the globe. "What's it like in Baghdad today, Nigel?" "Oh, it's 50C with only 10 minutes of electricity a day to run the fridges." "As we look out on the wasteland that used to be several Bangladesh villages before the torrential floods . . ." "And of course the Sahel desert is expanding by 382 meters a month, leading to famine, disease, social disintegration . . ."


So one feels selfish and Little Englandish to complain about weather in just about the world's most temperate climate in the Southeast of England. I mean, one could live in a land of really awful weather and severe deprivation with a largely uneducated population who have failed to grasp that key talent in the world fast lane, fluency in the English language. But enough about Scotland . . .

Is it my fault that I have the tolerance for changes in temperature and humidity more common to cold-blooded animals? But one inalienable right of the British is to complain about the weather. So I will not be cowed or silenced. How can I elaborate my thoughts properly in the midst of this slight warm spell?!



What do we want?

Temperatures of between about 68F and 72F with a light cooling breeze!

When do we want it?

Quite soon would be very nice. But don't put yourself to too much trouble!!




So the Battlecry goes forth!

The Budget

Well, in less than 2 days' time we will know the shape of the UK government's Budgets for the next 4 to 5 years. Speculation is rife, of course - some of it doubtless due to planted rumors by various interested parties. For what it's worth, some comments in advance on what I'd hope it will be:

It should be bold. This is a unique period in British political history: one opposition party is tied into the Coalition government, the other is leaderless for some months to come and thus powerless to an extent it won't be again in this Parliament. So this is THE opportunity to take the difficult, unpleasant measures in both taxes and spending that might really make things better when the next election rolls around in 2015.

In that context, it must start the long, hard slog toward public service reform (ie. less being done by central government done by fewer state employees with more realistic salaries, perqs, and pensions); and welfare reform (ie. fewer people receiving state money for fewer categories of things).

If the difficult things are done now, then maybe in the last Budget before the election tax cuts can be made and popular spending plans can be announced. The less that is done now, the less credit for the eventually improved economic situation will go to the Coalition government.

Mr Chancellor: Be honest, be principled, be bold.

I have a theory

The Algerian goalie just let in a very easy goal that should have been no problem to save. Combined with England's Robert Green's similar - OK, even worse - allowed goal yesterday, it starts to become obvious to me what is happening.
It's of course impossible to believe that goalkeepers at this level are so incompetent as to let in such goals under normal circumstances. I am convinced that the problem is that being told for weeks that the balls used in this World Cup would unpredictably move and swerve in the air, they were just not prepared for shots which went straight at them without deviation.
This now makes everything clear and understandable. It isn't incompetence at all . . . they just don't have the right balls.

The World Cup is Upon Us . . .

So it's that time of the every-fourth-year again, when men's fancies turn to fantasies of England having GOOD luck, the Brazilians getting frustrated and red carded, and the Spanish going down on penalties.

We always wake up, of course. The trouble with the big build-up to the England World Cup campaign is not that it's unrealistic. When did sports fans start being realistic?! No, the trouble is what happens when England falls at the QF or (chance would be a fine thing) SF stage. Most of the country suddenly has to face the utter dreariness and meaninglessness of what passes for real life. The alcoholic high turns to a nasty hangover, and all the flags come down . . . literally and metaphorically.

Let's be clear about this: I am as much a victim of this quadrennial delusion as anyone else. I may see it for what it really is, but I am no less in its thrall for that.

Tomorrow England play the USA. As a native of the latter and a newly made citizen of the former, I have been struggling for weeks over which side I should support. But today that greatest invention of modern man - Twitter - delivered to me the answer to all my doubts: U.S. Vice President Joe Biden will be at the match rooting for the USA team. So now, proudly and without hesitation, I can say


C'MON ENGLAND!!!

Hurrah for the English Countyside

I'm just back from afew days with my wife and father-in-law in a farmhouse cottage in the County of Dorset. Every time I pry myself away from greater London and get out into the English countryside, the beauty and peace of life, not to mention the village pubs and multitude of thatched roofs, is a joy. So many American and other foreign visitors to England only really see London, with maybe a day trip or two to Stonehenge or Oxford or the like. There can be no other country so rich in interesting and evocative places to visit - and more to the point spend some time exploring - than England. As I have grown so fond of France (Paris AND non-Paris) and Belgium (Brussels AND non-Brussels), so guests in this country should properly partake of the treasures beyond the Metropolis.

John Wooden RIP

John Wooden has died at the age of 99. Not only was he the greatest basketball coach of all time, but his beliefs (aka Failing to prepare is preparing to fail) stood many of his players in good stead for their future basketball and non-basketball careers.

Today's society doesn't produce many men like him any more, so I can just be proud and happy to have witnessed his reign at UCLA and the marvelous teams he produced.

God now has a pretty good coach for Heaven's team.

Starting over again at West Ham

So Avrim Grant has been officially appointed the new manager of West Ham Utd. There's some grumbling that he's not really what we need, but I rather think he might be.

Number One: the owners (or owners of 60% of the club to be accurate) like him and are likely to feel comfortable with him. This is very important, as the money available for purchasing new players is likely to be limited over and above what is made from the sale of some of our players. All parties need to be on the same page and in real communication at all times.

Number Two: He knows something about managing in the Premiership. He did a good job at Chelsea and had no chance at Portsmouth.

Number Three: The dour (dull?) personality he projects to the media and public might actually be a blessing. The owners Gold and Sullivan have quite enough to say for themselves without the manager trying to compete. And we're told he has an excellent sense of humor, so his relationship with his players might be better than some expect.

Over all, we certainly could have done worse. And what we need now is a real dose of realism. Finding the middle bit of the league and staying there should be our goal for the moment. We all know that thinking about Europe can end up as flirting with relegation. I think the fans know this and will support a manager and a team which plays solid football and gets the results it should get.

Now what we require is a squad to accomplish this.

Humiliations of Not a Handy Man

What is it like to be useless in a practical way around one's home? As a sufferer from this condition, I muse on this subject as I sit here listening to a discussion on Edmund Burke on BBC Radio 4 while hearing our hired workman extending his ladder outside my window to continue the painting of the back of the house.

I don't like ladders. I don't much like painting. Putting these two together in the great outdoors, which is lovely today but could equally be cold, wet, and windy, is something I am minded to avoid if mere money can be deployed to do so. This is the case as I write.

I was raised to be idle. There's no way around it. This was not the perfect upbringing for a middle class boy without connections but with a natural predeliction toward sedentary pursuits. Mowing the lawn was at the very cutting edge of the physical exertions that were expected of me. School, college, and then life in an office work environment taught me discipline but added not a whit to my ability to change a lightbulb, et al.

The problem is this: in Britain to be "handy" - or atleast to believe one is and act accordingly - is expected as a part of the natural order of things. As one without any proclivities of this sort, and as one who grew up in a land across the Sea where everything tangible seems to have a different name, I am left to the last bastion of defense of my status as a Man: Sports!

My devotion to sports - on TV and print, of course - over a substantial range of British and American competitions gives me entry into practically any conversation with other chaps, especially in the milieu of the Public House and, before my retirement, in the office.

But doubtless needless to say this cuts no ice in my own home where I remain a continuing disgrace in this area. My constant attempts at distraction onto the ground of the intellect - where I feel more confident and atleast know the names of things - prove of only sporadic and short term effect. But what can I do? I am and remain . . .

Not a Handy Man.

PM Cameron's first PMQs

I watched Wednesday's Prime Minister's Questions with considerable interest and curiosity, it being David Cameron's first time answering the questions after years of asking them (usually fruitlessly). The mood in the House - perhaps because of all the newbie MPs and/or the horrible shooting spree in Cumbria - was much less rambunctious than usual and all the better for it. The PM answered each question crisply and has already learned to use his response to the acting Opposition leader's last of her allotted 6 questions to stick the knife into the ex-Labour government. With no comeback allowed, this is often a good trick to use.



The fascinating saga of this Coalition government was again highlighted by questions from Liberal Democrat and Conservative backbenchers, some of which were less supportive of the government as of their own pre-Coalition agreement views. This is an intriguing aspect of the great Coalition experiment. Will it extend from asking questions and making speeches to abstentions or voting against Government measures? The Whips will have their work cut out for them I'm sure.

Here we go!

I've finally taken the plunge and created (aka slavishly copied the template) a Blog. At this point I have no idea how much I'll have to say or what I will say, but who knows - from little acorns grow . . .

My main interests (the PG ones anyway) are politics - U.S. and U.K. - history, movies, sports - again U.S. and U.K. - and, well . . . myself. I promise to keep the last one well under control.

Be gentle with me.