Today I thought I’d bring you a few articles that caught my eye. Yes I know it’s lazy and you may have found them elsewhere, but it’s been a stormy night, and, and…….
First up is an excellent piece on music tuition in our schools, and the wider implications of providing facilities for adults whilst ignoring those who are our future. The provision of music tuition through primary schools, and the payment required, has yet to be raised in Grasshopper Towers, but it will be soon. And as Mrs Grasshopper is musical, or once was, back in the days when the flute was magical and choir stalls meant trips to cathedrals and concert blacks, then you can be assured it is a subject that will be encouraged, if the facility is available hereabouts. There’s an excellent summary, and links to a campaign, over at BurdzEyeView.
Much has been said this week, and clearly much remains to be said, over the disaster we all saw unfold in Sheffield 23 years ago. Of late we’ve come to realise that corruption in our society knows no bounds, with those pillars of our communities, bankers and politicians, leading the way. Then there’s the press, and those cosy relationships with those same politicians and with the police. And that pair come to the fore again as the cover up we all suspected over Hillsborough is unravelled. Anyway Munguin says it much better than I ever could, and as always there’s a good discussion developing.
I’m not going to bring you anything on the Royals, possible offspring, exposed breasts or whatever. I just don’t care, other than to give one of those exasperated will-they-ever-learn looks skyward. It’s all a load of (Harry’s) balls – makes you want to hewitt…..
Anyway, books, as you may know, are more up my street. Yesterday I read that 217 volumes were published on a single day; and that even more, 231, appear on the shelves a fortnight later. I guess in these days of e-publishing we should be thankful that more paper volumes are available at all, but it seems that most of these are, cycnically, rushed out for the festive coffee table and, shock, horror, some are biogs of olympic glory. Now I know that Mr Beckham and Mr Rooney think it fine to
publish have written in their name an almost annual volume of memoirs and scandals, but a biography is something that should come in the twilight years, the same time that Honours should be awarded, if at all, perhaps, not at the snap of the marketing fingers. Anyway, good piece in The Guardian. I don’t drop in there often, and it was probably only the subject matter that caught my eye.
But one book I am looking forward to reading, one I think we can all learn from and look back, look inwards, and find yourself nodding in agreement – and that’s before I’ve even turned a page – is this one, just out from Mark Charlton. Already I can think of a few for whom it may make a fine festive offering, blanking out Mark’s name for my own. Now as it happens I’ll be meeting up with the author himself in a few weeks time. Thereafter if you see no improvement in the fare on offer on these pages then ’tis he you should blame. The link to Mark’s Views from the Bike Shed will remain on the sidebar just in case you feel you have to complain.
And finally, there’s a ditty on the wireless, and countless ads on the TV channel that doesn’t do ads, reminding me endlessly that that damned dancing show is about to be inflicted on us again for months. So Saturday nights will be for lying down in a darkened room. I’m away to get some practice now, for bloody Forsyth is on the radio right now and I’ve yet to understand what he brings to that show, a bit like the Perkins woman on the baking programme. Waste of energy, waste of my money. Nurse, nurse…….