Whoo-Whoo

I determined today to avoid the subject of politics, but as I sit down to pen these notes I find that Radio Scotland, of all people, are airing a documentary invloving relationships between my MP, my local authority and its planning process and councillors (of which the said MP was one until but recently), and a local developer.  The relationships must be aired, but why oh why were they suppressed in the run up to last year’s general election?  All that has happened inthe meantime is a planning debate involving supermarkets, you know those bodies that Labour do not want to enhance profits of in the opposition to minimum unit pricing, and do want to increase the profits of in their opposition to rates levies.  Anyway let’s leave politics aside for now.

The Grasshopper has had a good run this morning, the middle loop today, mainly in sunshine after the early mist burned off.  Glorious it was too, with only two dog walkers, and their three charges, out and about.  I too had walkies on a couple of occasions, the hills seeming too arduous not for my legs but for the all important heart muscle.  I took a break to slow it down, concerned that it may relate to the underlying chest virus as I panted and gasped in lungfuls of cool fresh air.  That said it is over a week, well over it in fact, since I had to resort to the inhaler.  A good outing, and a warm afterglow.

For now the bread is, hopefully, rising on the Rayburn.  I’ve a few concerns regarding the wiring in the kitchen having picked up a couple of shocks loading the washing machine, and also on the Rayburn.  The Genealogist had reported a similar charge, but from the toaster.  May need to get a man in.  The underlying problem could relate to a dodgy switch on the under-cupboard lights, or the oil tank connector which has begun to flash sparodically.

Some gloom yesterday on the sports front, as The ‘Lok went down at home to The ‘Nock, with a performance which warrants neither debate nor understanding.  Then later, Les Bleus played as if the Auld Alliance remained strong, masquerading as they did as the Scottish rugby team in succumbing to defeat at Twickers with a performance ruined by mistakes and bad breaks, and perhaps some dodgy decisions from the refereee.  Meanwhile the Glee Club of Inverdale and Moore goes on apace, the Grand Slam decider not out of the way.  I am reminded of the last time they had only to turn up in Dublin for the final game to be awarded the trophy, only to be duly rewarded with a thumping.  Here’s hoping.  Perhaps a strong Irish performance at Murrayfield today will give them some confidence, even if it gives me divided loyalties.  From where in the emerald isle did this McEvoys of mine hail?  Another quest to get moving.  Must speak to The Genealogist.  Meantime on sports let’s see how the Indian batsmen are getting on.

For this afternoon I may eschew the angst of watching the latest performance from our professional rugby players.  The Urchins have yet to be introduced to the delights of model railways, and the annual exhibition closes today at the SECC.  Might be fun , could be expensive in the long run.  Whoo-whoo.  Chores first though, with bread to get through the oven, lunch to think about, and a certain bike needing some tlc, and lubrication.

Labour and Slurry

There’s absolutely no surprise to find an article in which a Labour politician, my MP, one Michael McCann, newly elected to Westminster last May, appears to be minging just as much as the slurry being spread on the fields in these parts.  What is surprising is that the story is being led by the BBC of all people, with a lengthy piece on the website,a nd a feature on Newsnicht last night.  It seems that the written press, in the forms of The Herald, Scotsman and Record, have not followed it up.  There are encouraging signs that the BBC worm may slowly be turning, following good work by Derek Bateman and Isobel Fraser.

There is more to come from the McCann tale, and I will rely mainly on Newsnet Scotland for developments.  But the involvement of the BBC is interesting; it is not like them to brief against The Party in these parts.

The first hints of murky goings on between South Lanarkshire planning committee, councillors and the new MP (promoted from his cooncil post), and EK developer Kean, began to be aired in the run up to the election last year.  Not unexpectedly allegations were supressed by the MSM, going as far as to edit Messrs McCann and Ingram from a photograph, the exact same one on the BBC website today, which now includes the two politicians – wonder why it didn’t last April?

I might even have to buy the EK News this week.  McCann does not discuss his constituents interests with their local paper, mainly it seems as he rents his office from, and had his campaign office supplied by, Kean, who just happens to own the rival paper in the town.  The ongoing issue relates to a plannign battle between two supermarket giants, Asda and Tesco, both intent on opening a new store (especially now that the unionist parties have vetoed the additional rates burden), with Tesco’s proposed site being on land owned by a certain Mr Kean.

The two are also battling for consent in another South Lanarkshire Labour fiefdom, Larkhall.  Personally I’d like to see Asda win that one, if only to bring their corporate branding, and colour schemes, to that rather quaint little place.  I suspect that neither McCann nor Kean are too interested in Larkhall.

Impartiality and the BBC

This has been a source of great angst for far too long, and not just with me.  However, and the only reason for even mentioning the subject now, is the possibility that we might just be seeing a loosening of the reins of late.

In the last two weeks there have been excellent interviews and discussions, on both BBC Scotland and Radio Scotland, which might start to restore a tiny bit of the faith that has disintegrated over the years [of Labour rule, north and south].  I refer to Derek Bateman and to Isobel Fraser.

Derek has a weekly review slot aired at 8.00 on Saturday mornings on the wireless.  It is accompanied by his blog on the Radio Scotland website.  Unlike other blogs hosted by the BBC, and in particular Brian Taylor’s, this appears to be free of both censorship and moderation.  Derek airs his views and allows others a like facility.  It is a breath of fresh air.

Over on the television we have seen Isobel Fraser given slots on both Newsnight Scotland and The Politics Show where she has been able to give a rather robust quizzing to two members of the Shadow front bench team.  Firstly Master Baker got a thorough kneading as the duplicity of Labour on Megrahi became known, and then more recently she has managed to get Elmer Fudd himself to crawl out from the stone under which he has been hiding since the Megrahi information became public, to subject the Labour leader [of the group in the Scottish parliament] to a grilling on the same subject.  Dour Iain Gray’s squirming is of Looney Tunes proportions and well worth a viewing.  If it is withdrawn from the iPlayer then it can be found on YouTube, or via Moridura (linked through the blogroll aside).

Now I can’t imagine say Glenn Campbell or Gordon Brewer, to name but two of the BBC’s politicos in these parts, even thinking about interviews of that type; but it does give me some hope that things may be changing.  There is a growing clamour for an election leaders’ debate to be hosted as May 5 draws nigh.  Will the BBC give Iain Gray the exposure he so richly deserves?  Will Blether with Brian be the subject of more relaxed moderation?  Oops, another flying pig.

And just as the BBC shows a new line, so to The Herald, a paper I used to read daily but now would not touch with tongs, save for Saturday but only for the book reviews and travel articles in the magazine.  Forgive me.  However one of The Herald’s columnists has always had his own voice, and Iain too seems to have seen right through the charade that is Labour in Scotland, with some excellent pieces of late.  I’ve added Iain McWhirter’s Now and Then to the blogroll; it’s well worth a visit. 

The demise of The Herald was showcased recently with half the front page and also page three dedicated to some tale of an ex-footballer having a recurrence of a heart problem.  Other than recognising the background of the current editor, coming as he did from the Daily Record, I fail to see the justification in either the prominence or length given to such a piece – surely a single sentence paragraph in an inside page would have more than sufficed, if The Herald claims to be a quality newspaper.  The paper today is simply a tragedy, a travesty of its past, and seemingly intent on imploding like so much of the written media at present – and they wonder why sales are plummeting with each passing month.

Exercise – of mind and body

Gradually The Grasshopper has been getting into some routine.  We had the first run of the year round my middle loop yesterday, more exercise than taken for several months.  It did me good and I slept well on it, well on the settee actually, from early evening, a nap totally unconnected to any large dram at the farm whilst watching football, The Urchins joing various assembled grand-weans in causing chaos and noise throughout the house and policies.

The exercise has been good, though only a short run this morning.  I had intended taking the bike out but the electricity going off at 8.00 rendered it impossible to consider any alternative such as sitting at keyboard, answering calls, or hanging up washing.  So off we went.  By the first incline I realised I had left my filled water-bottle behind.  My usual routine is to have a walk and a drink by the time I get to Anne-Marie’s Hill, it’s a bit of a beast and a struggle to walk up at times.  Today I would be doing so dry, without any quenching of thirst whilst gasping in lungfuls of air.

Those lungfuls, I realised, had, for some days, been unassisted by my little inhaler.  Perhaps the exercise was a factor in whatever virus was periodically inflicting my chest, but it was certainly feeling better of late.  All going well The Grasshopper will continue her good work.  To do so however, as I have discovered to my cost, needs regular maintenance, and the longer run yesterday was spent with an equal amount of time cleaning and lubricating.  The recently acquired workstand, which allows me to work at a height that does not cripple my ageing back, is proving to be a real boon.

That air was very crisp today, under a sky of intense gloaming.  By that hill the weather was changing and the first snow flakes soaked into the winter-weight lycra.  The signs were ominous, but there was little wind, often the scourge of my homeward run.  M my arrival back at base coincided with the electricity returning, lights piercing the gloom, cheering with the prospects of a hot shower, once I had reset all the time settings on the Rayburn.

On the rounds the mind was exercised by the latest revelations on the Labour Party, it’s members in Scotland, and their antics.  Fresh from the shenanigans with ‘friendly printers’, not unconnected with party members, in Devine’s criminal prosecution, we now have word of another debacle involving printing of literature, or not perhaps.  Seemingly a printing company was formed, one day after the director/shareholder announced that new sources of public funding would be needed to meet overheads; that company provided services, allegedly, to two separate MSPs one of whom is the wife of a member of the shadow front bench – what is it about political spouses – there are several examples, usually involving distate, and there should perhaps be restrictions here – anyway two elected members had work done by said company which was paid from the public purse.  It transpires that the company has been struck off by Companies House, without ever having filed accounts.  Presumably no accounts were submitted to HMRC either, no corpration tax paid, and one wonders about payroll obligations.  This really has to stop.  We are talking here of public funds paid for by all of us, being used and abused without even scant regard for red tape.  I can think of several bodies that should be looking closer at these things, though it remains to be seen if any of our dear MSM will ever give it the light of day.  Thank you Newsnet Scotland; more power to your website.

Politics and the Rumour Mill

And so we learn that a former leader [of the Labour group in the Scottish parliament], is to leave the scene, not to seek election in May.  Wendy Alexander is to step down, taking the ‘time with the family route’.  Ah now, that’s how rumours start.

I suspect that more may evolve, for a variety of reasons.

Firstly the family issue.  Her young twins are about to start school.  The time to have been spent with them, the most needy and most rewarding, is undoubtedly the pre-school years.  My own experience of nappy-changing, toddling and developing, of nursery, feeding and growing, is irreplaceable.  It was a time with The Urchins which is irreplaceable, and, now that they are at school, is valued even higher.  It is only now that I have the time and flexibility to address my own directions, in work and play, so long as I am available for the return of the school bus.  So is Wendy simply going to do the school run and make the packed lunches, or is there more to it?

Well there’s the ongoing saga of her expenses, the one which forced her into stepping down from leadership after a few short months, after being exposed in knowingly accepting illegal donations to her campaign fund.  There may be more to come from that one.

Then there is the direction of the party after four years of denial, blatant obstruction, oppositionism and frankly childish behaviour.  The party has been exposed on the Megrahi situation, the leader lies low, and the front bench spouts bile.  The party in Scotland has been found to be acting against the interests of the national leadership and policy, on a variety of areas including minimum unit pricing, purely to oppose the government in Scotland and to hve ‘success’ in voting down proposals.  The latest poll indicates that the election may not be the foregone conclusion which is the devine right of the labour party in Scotland.  Perhaps she simply objects to the voting against their own budget amendments; or cannot put her weight behind the inept leadership that has taken her place.

Ongoing is the committe which she chairs as the part of the combined unionist parties enforcement of the Calman Committee recomendations, through the Scotland Bill.  Wendy’s treatment of expert witnesses invited to her committee table has been appalling, in particular that dished out to Drew Scott and Andrew Hughes-Hallett.  Others have declined the invitation in the face of such hostility and derision.  That is no way to run this country.  Experts are essential guidance in so many fields, as Wendy’s husband, like Scott and Hughes-Hallett, an economist with valuable input, is sure to know.

Ah the rmour mill, what will it through up next?

Heads and Brains:Hunters and Washing

My journeys through Siberia under the tutelage of Ian Frazier, along with Sergei and Volodya, have come to an end.  The bedside table groans with additional works on Russia and I will return shortly, probably transported back nearly 100 years to that revolution.  For now however I have swapped Frazier’s mosquitos from the taiga and those massive rivers, to the mosquitos of the rain-forest, as Erik Jensen revisits his time with the Iban, the headhunters of Borneo, in Where Hornbills Fly.  What is clear at this stage is that Jensen can write, beautifully.

My one concern is that his time in Borneo was under the guise of missionary work, though I suspect that may remain in the background as he introduces me to the tribes and beasts as he works in the heart of Borneo.  I am reminded too of the words of Redmond O’Hanlon, his mission statement of travel writing, from his own Borneo work.

I despair of the effect that Christian missionaries have impacted as they ramapaged the globe in the name of their god.  Indigenous peoples the world over have been suppressed and succumbed to the teachings and ministrations forced upon them.  That clock cannot be turned back, despite long overdue efforts at recompense.  Native Americans, Aborigines, Maoris and others cannot know how there lives would have evolved without the white man’s diseases and addictions; cannot know how their peoples would have progressed at their own pace and with their own beliefs.  We are shamed.

I was reminded too of brainwashing as recently as the weekend.  We had a visit from a young lady friend, celebrating her tenth birthday.  I recall all too vividly the occasion of her baptism, the first of two successive such ceremonies under the episcopalian rafters of the north-east.  By the second I vowed that there would never be a third, and thus a few years later I remained in the kitchen to prepare the purvey for the blessed nephew.  Today I watch as The Urchins undergo their regular session; watch and await eagerly the day when their own minds begin the decision making process.

I was heartened though by our birthday guest.  She had advised her mother, after coming to her own conclusion, that ‘I wish you hadn’t had me christened.  There isn’t a god.  Why did you put me through that?’  I fervently believe that baptism is something that one can only decide for oneself, at an age when in a position to make a rational decision, after all the teachings we can provide and considering all the guidance available, from whatever sources.  For instance there is no such thing as, say, a catholic child, simply children of catholic parents.  That child then makes his own decision of his life’s direction.  Eventually I decided on Humanism, though in childhood I too suffered the brainwashing sessions.  Eventually I learned of the discoveries of Darwin, himself embarking on a gap year type voyage before intending entering the priesthood.  How his life changed. and thankfullt mine and many others.  We have a census in a few weeks time, with, finally, an option that eschews religous preference.  It is a box I will tick with relish, and just maybe will provide an indication that my beliefs are in the majority and that practising religion is becoming a thing of the past.  Man Created God.

Polls and Sunshine

The day dawns brightly; the glass is half full.  Publication today of a poll by Ipsos-Mori in The Times, indicating that the SNP have over-turned the 10 point lead given to Labour less than three months ago, and now set the pace as the May election approaches.  This is superb news, especially against a background of a compliant media skewing everything in favour of The Party, as I tend to think they view those bearing the red rosette with apparently a divine right to keep their people in Scotland in their place.  With Brian Souter pledging to match donations to the SNP there could be positive funding on the back of this news.  That said no doubt the media will begin to spin against it, to restore the rightful balance and put four years of good governance behind us, in the drive back to the Westminster fold even before Calman calls us to heel, and clips our wings with funding issues from its flawed prospectus.

However it is the best news, independently sourced, on the political front for some time.  Just maybe there is a waking up to the dire ineptitude of Elmer and his cohorts.  There have been reports of late of concerns from above at stances taken against party policy, of ‘immature voices’ in the shadow cabinet leading the vote against their own amendments in the continuation of oppositionism which has marked Labour’s denial since 2007.  Scotland is their’s by right, isn’t it?  Is it too much to hope that they are finally being found out, and that even their chums in the written and broadcast press have had enough?  I suspect not, but the sun is shining, and everywhere loooks nicer under the sun, even Holyrood.

Dear Cherubs

The innocence of youth knows no bounds.  The other day Urchin the Younger handed me a console to his games box.  Santa had kindly introduced one of those Sports resort things to the household a few weeks earlier, a household that had hitherto been devoid of any such activity or any experience in handling gizmos of this type, though The Urchins had been finding them everywhere they went, including in school as a teaching guide, and the inevitable could be delayed no longer.  Thanks Santa.

Anyhows, I was advised that we were going to play table tennis, a two player game.  I had dipped in and out of the facility, but was now up against an expert.  After a thrashing in mere minutes he told me that Ten Pin was to be our next task.  Same result.  Humiliated, by a five year old.  I can do without the jumping up and down and fist pumping, at that age.  Then there’s the aeroplane thing, flying round an island finding targets.  No contest, as my pilot spent most of his time hanging from a parachute.  Clearly this concept of spacial awareness, manual dexterity, and so forth is best learnt young.

Meanwhile, The Urchiness, one year to the senior, takes somewhat less interest in said console, mainly because it’s always in use.  She spent her time surrounded in pink and Barbies, and all that paraphenalia; little tiny bits of things that always need help being put together, or forcing shoes on; girlie things.  It was a delight to eavesdrop.  Then the realistion hits.  The Urchiness has the ability to chunter incessantly, without stopping, about anything and nothing.  Life for her comes with a running commentary.  Clearly it is a natural in-built chip, working well, as she trains to be a woman

On the bedside table

Currently thoroughly enjoying Ian Frazier’s Travels in Siberia. which had been awaiting my attention for some months.  Having spent some time in Moscow, then Alaska, Diomede Islands and the Siberian coast, Frazier planned a trip from St Petersburg to the far east, by unreliable Renault van, in the company of Sergei & Volodya.  His trip to Peterhof palace brought back memories of a frozen weekend some years ago.  Thus far he has taken me beyond Ekaterinburg, stopping to locate the site of the infamous Ipatiev House.  The 100th anniversary of the dreadul events in that house is fast approaching; its really not that long ago.  Sadly some may equate the terms Romanov and Dynasty with ownership of a football club in Edinburgh.  Ahead lies the depths of the Siberian wastes.

There will have to be some splendid reading ahead if this one is to escape my favourite reads of the year list for 2011.  Often a sign of a good read is the direction I take in selecting the next volume to reach the bedside table.  Perhaps more writings on the same subject, another piece from the same pen, or something from the author’s researches.  I am currently awaiting imminent delivery, from our leading online retailer, of a couple of works from Frazier’s readings into past travellers through Siberia, and will probably seek out one of his own earlier works.

Depressing it is to learn that not only do Amazon now sell more downloads than hardbacks, but that download sales even exceeeded paperbacks in the final quarter of 2010.  I do worry about the future of book publishing, and the outlook for authors seeking publication.  As a collector of books, old and new, I despair at the advance of the e-reader, the only advantage for which that I can see is when on the road and keeping baggage down.  There is nothing quite like seeing how far through the book the marker is protruding, the feel and smell of the pages, and no electronic gizmo can come close to that.  Then there’s the booklined shelves and stacks…….

Also on the bedside table last night was a 12 year old, a single one.  Now, now it’s malt whisky, medicinal of course.  I savoured The Singleton of Dufftown, 12yo, beautifully smooth, with the rich aftertaste of Speyside (this is beginning to remind me of The Genealogist) but I’ll spare you the ‘almonds on the nose’ type guff.  It’s a nice one.

Ahead today lies lunch with The Accountant, a chance to put direction into our respective paths through life; and then an overdue with meeting Archie, who deserves more time than I spare him.  Looking forawrd to that, being absolved of responsibility for The Urchins until bedtime stories, which takes me back to where I started.

The sun shines on the righteous

The early frost burned off to leave a sky unencumbered by cloud.  The Grasshopper yearned for an outing after a long frozen winter during which muscles turned to mush.  However I had to delay the first crank of the pedals until after the weekly dose of FMQs.  In an interesting week during which the hypocracy of the monkeys in the red rossettes has been well and truly found out over matters as diverse as the Megrahi release and the Scottish Budget, it promised to be an interesting session.  To top it all we have the verdict in the Jim Devine trial, and the sentencing of his former party comrade Eric Illsley to look forward to.  Cycling would have to wait.

Before the start of FMQs I caught an article on Better Nation about the lack of quality of our weekly session at Holyrood.  Personally I think that quality all lies with those we chose to send to the parliament to be our representatives.  Scotland has a long tradition of good parliamentarians.  Unfortunately we have, until recently, sent them all to Westminster.  Now if we could get that same level in Edinburgh then the quality of debate, and possibly even the behaviour, may just improve.  In the person of the First Minister we undoubtedly have one of the best debaters, but he has little opposition, though Auntie Bella does occasionally rise to the challenge.

With an election less than three months hence we have to look at the front benches of the two contenders to form the next government, either in minority or otherwise.  On one hand we have Salmond, Sturgeon, Swinney and McAskill; and against them we have Elmer Fudd, PFI Kerr, Master Baker and then anchoring them it’s Jackie Baillie.  Really there’s only one winner, but the fight has to be pitched against a compliant media machine intent on re-instating The Party, including a broadcaster intent on preserving the union so beloved by it’s political wing.  We also have a society with a decades and generations long record of electing the red rosette bearers purely as they have always so done, like their fathers and grandfathers before them, to keep the downtrodden just where Labour like them having done them no good during all their years in office.  It is time to vote now for the best interests of Scotland, and to vote for your children and grandchildren, not because it was what your father and grandfather always did.

Catching the session live on Democracy Now was no disappointment.  Elmer Fudd lived down to expectations and the cackling hordes behind him played their usual part.  Eventually it became possible for an answer to get back to the debacle of earlier in the week, to the hypocrisy of the positions taken by the Labour party in both houses on the Megrahi release, and to Master Baker’s dire interview on Newsnicht.  It was worth the wait.

In good spirits I took The Grasshopper, very slowly, round our short route as I begin the long haul to restoring fitness levels to their paltry state before breakdowns, injury and winter weather put cycling on hold for far too long.  It was a glorious ride with sunglare replacing headwind as the only weather related concern.  Buzzards soared aloft; blue tits sang.  As usual the only risk came in crossing the main road, twice, but I remain alive this time.  Uplifting it was, exercising muscles at last, breathing crisp freash air, albeit wheezily, and making it home in time for a mug of hot home-made soup and a quick update of news bulletins before some client interruptions ahead of The Urchins returning on the school bus.  Now, to chase them out into the sun.

And so we find the former Labour member for Livingstone guilty, theft of public funds, sentencing next month.  The only sad part is that he is merely a patsy, and clearly hung out to dry by his former colleagues in The Party.  Where he goes, so many others should be treading.  Interesting to see what our publicly funded state broadcaster makes of it.  As usual they’ll probably miss out the word ‘labour’ from all bulletins, as they continue to fail in their role of impartiality and their quest to preserve the union and the right to license fees from this parish.