Money

The Blogland Development Commitee have asked me to seek prospective residents' views about Proposal 17b, namely:-

• 17b In principle, money will be outlawed in favour of a communal system of exchange in which hours of work and acts of kindness towards others will earn credit notes - though the age, fitness and skill-levels of residents will be factored into reward calculations. Electricity will be produced free of charge by strategically placed hydro-electric generators and a small "farm" of wind generators. Regarding food provision, the country aims to be 90% self-sufficient by 2013. Other necessary products, including imported Tetley's bitter, "Vosene" 2in1 shampoo and "Marmite", will be available free of charge from the co-operative store. It is hoped and expected that residents will quickly develop a more communal way of living with open doors and minds, leaving behind the isolationism of western living in which financial wealth has been key to determining social status and indeed social division.

Any thoughts about the presence or absence of money in Blogland will be much appreciated before the Development Committee's proposals reach the ratification stage. It should be pointed out that any servants with dependent families living on the Burmese mainland will have their salaries paid directly into foreign bank or post office accounts.

Ashamed

I am ashamed to admit that Jeremy Clarkson is a Yorkshireman. Yesterday, live on BBC's early evening "One Show", he said of public sector strikers: "I'd have them all shot. I would take them outside and execute them in front of their families." This may have been Clarkson's Gerald Ratner moment. I sincerely hope so.

Remember Ratner, owner of a chain of successful high street jewellers? It was at a meeting of the Institute of Managers in 1991 that he said of the stock in his shops: "People say 'How can you sell it for such a low price?' I say, 'Because it's total crap!' ".

In that moment his business was lost. Sales figures plummeted. Ordinary people with humble aspirations felt somehow insulted by Ratner's arrogant assertion, as if they were just pawns in his money-making enterprise. They voted with their feet and within a few short months Ratner's Jewellers disappeared from our high streets.

Opinionated and insensitive Clarkson has been making a comfortable living courtesy of the BBC which is of course funded by the British people. I have never liked him and never watch his inane "Top Gear" programme which glorifies the car industry, speed and schoolboy prankery. For some reason, the boorish presenter has developed a cult following - mainly of other men who similarly dislike playing by the rules even as they live their nine-to-five lives in obscure suburbia.

No. Clarkson's not for me and yesterday he may have gone a bridge too far in deriding working people who form the backbone of this great country - people who work for the public good - school cleaners, environmental health officers, nursing auxiliaries, care workers, firemen, police officers and the like. Unsung people who work hard week after week, often in trying circumstances while Clarkson okays his latest Christmas DVD or test drives the latest Ferrari. Why the hell shouldn't they, in a democratic society, tell the government where to stick their unfair proposals for the public sector?

I wish there was some way that Clarkson could have his Yorkshireman status rescinded. He looks and sounds like a southern old Etonian softie. People like him reveal the true character of hardened Tory voters, behind their masks and weasel words. He doesn't deserve his job with the BBC. Let him go elsewhere - perhaps to News International or better still to downtown Tehran. You've gone too far this time Jezza!

LATEST: Apparently Clarkson has this evening made a grudging apology for his reprehensible remark - no doubt seeking to avoid being sacked whilst privately defending his ignorant point of view.

Protest

All across Great Britain and Northern Ireland, public service workers are on strike today. About two million of them - from police officers to nursery nurses and from refuse collectors to court officials. They are protesting about government attacks on their conditions of service, including plans to fiddle with agreed pension arrangements. Essentially, the government want to make public service workers work longer, pay more in contributions and receive smaller pensions than promised. Should the workers just lie down and allow themselves to be trampled upon? I think not.

Of course, as a former public service worker myself, I took early retirement and opted for an actuarially reduced pension and a lump sum. The package is pretty meagre and with rising prices it has already suffered erosion but when I add it to Shirley's income, we are still okay compared with most people. What many folk don't seem to realise is that public workers pay for their pensions throughout their working lives. Looking back on my last full-time salary slips I note that in August 2009, £239 was deducted as a pension payment and that was in addition to tax and national insurance payments. Making allowance for inflation, over thirty two years I paid in the equivalent of £92,000 and this overlooks any interest gained through investment. The idea that teachers and other public service workers currently enjoy lucrative pension handouts at the nation's expense is as offensive as it is ludicrous.

I was motivated to join today's huge rally in Barkers Pool, on the steps of Sheffield City Hall. There were striking firemen there, police officers, administrators, refuse workers, teachers, nursery nurses, doctors, social workers, road repairmen, dinner ladies - united against the unfairness of government proposals. Some might say: "What's the point? What will it achieve?" but there were probably similar voices when William Wilberforce pushed through anti-slavery laws or when Chartists like Samuel Holberry first petitioned and fought with their lives for employment rights that are now taken for granted.

Samuel Holberry's grave, Sheffield General Cemetery

Windy

No - not windy in the sense that I had eaten a brussel sprout and baked bean curry, but windy in the other sense where an invisible force buffets you to a point where it nearly knocks you off your feet. That is how it was this afternoon as I rambled up on Derwent Edge in the Peak District.

Parking near Cutthroat Bridge, I followed the public right of way for a mile across heather clad moorland up to Whinstone Lee Fields. Here the wind was channelled and intensified to a point where I couldn't even hold my camera steady as my woollen Hull City AFC ski hat was whipped off my head. However, the view down to Ladybower reservoir was gorgeous:-

On Derwent Edge, the wind was piercing my ear cavities. Though the weatherman had promised a blue sky day with strong winds, there were grey clouds about - hurrying ever eastwards. One moment the millstone outcrop known as The Wheel Stones was in shadow and the next moment it was highlighted theatrically by late November sunshine:-

Onwards I strode along the windswept edge until I found my main goal: The Salt Cellar. Such a curious natural carving in millstone grit - shaped by millennia of strong winds and bitter winters. My picture fails to make it clear that The Salt Cellar is about twelve feet tall:

When walking on the moors of Derbyshire and South Yorkshire, ramblers will often disturb resting grouse. With their curious intermittent cries, they rise in panic from the heather and I have never managed to photograph that wing-flapping moment but today, before I returned to the car, I spotted this bold red grouse up wind of me:-

But all too soon he was gone like a feathered kite, riding the invisible gale.

Identity

Any infant nation needs to quickly define its identity. Blogland already has its own distinctive flag and yesterday afternoon the Executive met to decide upon a national anthem. We hit upon "Island of Dreams" which was a hit for The Springfields in 1963. You may have heard of their famous girl singer - Dusty Springfield - otherwise known as Mary O'Brien.

Our happy anthem will be sung at formal gatherings in Blogland. I suspect that the first line will have special resonance for Welsh poultry farmers. To remind yourself of how it goes, please click on the YouTube clip and sing along with Dusty. Soon you'll be singing it round a campfire on the beach as moonlight sparkles upon silvered Andaman waves where Thuza's fishing boat will glide like a shadow puppet to the bobbing jetty in Keith Bay.

I wandered the streets and the gay crowded places
Trying to forget you but somehow it seems
My thoughts ever stray to our last sweet embraces
Over the sea on the Island of Dreams

High in the sky is the bird on the wing
Please carry me with you
Far far away from the mad rushing crowd
Please carry me with you

Again I would wander where memories enfold me
There on the beautiful Island of Dreams
Far far away on the Island of Dreams

Servants

Thuza - allocated to Jan (Cosumne Gal)

In Blogland, our agents are beginning to recruit servants in preparation for the first influx of bloggers next year. Mostly they are Mergui islanders. Obviously, there will be several general servants who will be engaged in basic maintenance tasks such as clearing the bush, meeting boats at the new jetty in Keith Bay, shinning up coconut palms to gather fresh nuts and running the national laundry.

However, in addition to the general servants, residents will be entitled to their own personal servant allocation. Mostly these servants will reside beneath the cabins and chalets that are currently under construction. Personally, I shall not require my own servant as I plan to be self-sufficient but I guess some bloggers will require support. Here's a list of typical tasks that servants may perform:

• Cooking
• Cleaning
• Fishing
• Massage
• Bed Making
• Fanning
• Driving golf buggy
• Re-thatching roofs
• Washing Up
• Cutting toenails
• Bowling cricket balls
• Application of sun protection cream and after-sun cream
• Emptying commodes
• Annihilation of spiders, rodents and stinging insects
• Campfire song and dance

Residents in waiting need to state their servant requirements - age, male or female, and number. Note that no resident will be allowed more than three servants and all servants must be treated with the utmost kindness, respect and good humour. They may be servants but they are still our equals.

Nanda - allocated to Ian - Shooting Parrots

Graduation

A blog is literally a "web log". That's where we got the term "blog" from. In the paper-only world which we all recall, people wrote diaries or "logs" that they kept in drawers. They were mainly private records - reflecting the progression of a life. Sometimes that's how I feel about this blog. Though it is in the public domain, I sometimes use it like those private diaries of the past - to capture significant moments in my life and the lives of my nearest and dearest. And yesterday certainly was a "significant moment".

On The City Hall stage stood Lord Professor Robert Winston - Chancellor of Sheffield Hallam University - and scientist of international repute - waiting to shake the hands of graduates in the field of Health and Well Being. And one of them was my Shirley - from good Lincolnshire farming stock. She grew up in a home that was rich in kindness and common sense but absent of books. Historically, no one in her family had ever achieved anything of note in the world of academia. There was a sense that school was something you tolerated before real life began.

But yesterday, her academic achievement was recognised - Master of Science in Advanced Professional Development - a hard won victory after six years of intermittent study whilst still working full-time. It culminated in a hefty dissertation in which she reflected on what is known about how young adults with diabetes deal with their condition. This dovetailed with her own experience of supporting young diabetes sufferers in the health centre where she works.

It was great that our hard-working children could be there in the city hall to witness the ceremony. We had a great curry together afterwards in "The House of Spice" and later a get-together with friends and colleagues in "The Three Cranes" public house in the city centre.

As we drove home, Shirley received a text message in which our Frances said how much she had enjoyed the day and how proud she was of her mum. That brought tears to Shirley's eyes and for a minute or two she couldn't speak - I had to wait till we got home to read the message. Days come and days go but some days live forever in your memory. Yesterday was one of those... Now back to the tiles.