Coelacanth

Coelacanth

Once, before the pandemics and the third world war and all the other stuff that happened afterwards, we lived very different lives. It seems like a dream world now, a place  of innocence before the collapse came.

I recall a vast flock of starlings coming back to the copse on the hilltop to roost each October evening.  Hundreds of them in perfect synchronicity. They swirled in the waning light  -  a spectacular avian wave, a murmuration that rolled and twisted like a shoal of silvery sardines in a blue ocean. Together as one while we just stood in awe. Watching.

It’s almost gone now. All of that – that beauty. Those pristine white beaches where coconuts were washed up, pushing down roots at the tideline. That rustling of the humble hedgehog amidst crinkly leaves, its elderberry eyes and snuffling snout seeking plump worms. That eagle that hovered majestically like a kite over yon purple valleys and noticed everything.

When you consider it, we had it all. We were honoured guardians, custodians but it was a role we carried too carelessly for we were almost blind. We could not see beyond the end of the week or the end of the year. Of course it is far too late now. We are way beyond the pale. Way beyond.

There were wildebeest and orang-utans and coelacanths and deep in jungles or faraway mountains other people lived. Quiet people with whom we had had no contact. It was their world too.

And a nightingale sang in Berkeley Square. Little did the lyricist  think that its song was in truth an alarm call. It sings no more, like the carrier pigeons and the cuckoos and the birds of paradise that danced with hope unseen in magical clearings when shafts of sunlight broke through. Golden and green.

Yes it’s misty now that happy ever after world where we once resided. We can never get it back no matter how hard we try. It’s lost between the container ports and the concrete towers, between emissions from plastics factories and the orange blue netting tangled in a young whale’s belly.

Listen and you can hear the finale with extended notes from a violin piercing  the night sky, sending a message to the outermost stars: “We were here. Long, long ago. We were here.”

Hulland

Friday's weather forecast promised sunshine and an absence of rain so guess what - another long walk in the countryside beckoned.. I programmed Clint's onboard computer and soon we were heading off to Hulland - a village between two pleasant Derbyshire towns - Ashbourne and Belper. It's a journey of an  hour and fifteen minutes.

By chance I met the landlord of "The Black Horse" in Hulland Ward. He kindly allowed me to park in his extensive car park for the duration of my walk which was to last five and a half hours. Where that time went I have no idea. I just kept plodding and only sat down once to drink water and eat my fruit in the village of Atlow.

I could easily flesh this blogpost out with accounts of two more unwelcome encounters with over-excited young cattle. One incident saw me lifting up a galvanised gate and blocking the gap between two fields as the galloping beasts sought to join me in the new pasture. The resulting diversion - away from the route of the public right of way was challenging to say the least but  I got through as this blogpost demonstrates.

It was six thirty in the evening when I got home feeling drained of energy but very peaceful too. I didn't sit down again until I had prepared our evening meal - roasted slices of loin pork with baked potatoes, broccoli,  fried onions. and apple sauce.

Bell on the west wall of Bradley parish church

Canada

Granddaughter Phoebe is nine months old today. There she is on the lakeside decking of the cabin she is currently staying in in the Algonquin Provincial Park in northern Ontario, Canada. It covers a lot of land - three thousand square miles and boasts over 2,400 lakes. The English Lake District is slightly smaller and contains fewer lakes - in fact there are only sixteen!

On Wednesday, Phoebe and her parents travelled to the place where Lake Erie drains into Lake Ontario. I am sure you can guess where they were. See below. I don't know if they rode on "The Maid of the Mist" - right up to the base of the falls. That's a thrilling experience for certain but I am not sure if the operators  allow nine month old babies on board.

And here the little family is/are  at the top of The CN Tower in Toronto. Phoebe doesn't look too happy does she?

TV

Our Ian was on television again today. He and Henry were doing a cooking slot within the Channel 4 chat show - "Steph's Packed Lunch". It is the third time they have been on there. 

Each time the pressure has been on to talk to the hostess - Steph McGovern while simultaneously demonstrating the preparation of a vegan dish. In my opinion they're not given quite enough time. Another minute would be a huge help, making the process less frenetic.

Today they were making pulled pork sandwiches with apple sauce and carrot crackling. Of course it's not really pork but roasted and shredded jackfruit which when suitably seasoned can take on the flavour and texture of pork. It seemed to go down a treat with Steph and her other studio guests.

By the way, the show is filmed in Leeds so Ian and Henry had to travel up from London early this morning. I have lost count of the number of times they have been on television now. With each TV experience they seem more relaxed and confident in front of the camera. 

Ian knew nothing of this particular job when we saw him last weekend. This coming weekend he is off to Dubai on an all expenses paid trip - partly to promote vegan cuisine and also to play a small part in encouraging holidays to Dubai. Incidentally, I have been there twelve times but never left the airport!

Smartphone

Being around our Ian for any length of time, you realise how important his smartphone is to him. It is like an extension of his being.

Let me tell you some of the things I witnessed this past weekend. He used the smartphone as an oven timer. He used it to take and send photographs. He used it to listen to music. He used it to pay for the parking of my car - The Clintmobile. He used it for online banking purposes and to check the weather. He used it to book and pay for theatre tickets. He used it as a spirit level. He used it to order a taxi. And would you believe it - he even used it as a telephone!

As I said on Monday, he has an electric Mini Cooper and as it will only cover 120 miles on a single charge, he needs to locate and use charging points quite regularly. The smartphone points him to where there are available charging points - not just their locations but whether or not other people are currently using them. Of course, he also uses the smartphone to pay for these charging sessions.

He is so adept with the phone, so comfortable with it and the services it can provide to facilitate and lubricate a busy modern life. In contrast, I have never possessed any sort of mobile phone and for example I have never sent a single text message in my life. If I go out into the world, I am happily uncontactable - be it on a country  walk or a car journey. If I go to the supermarket, Shirley cannot phone me up and tell me to get the soap powder or toilet rolls she forgot to mention.

In this sense, Ian and I are worlds apart. I  have just never felt a pressing need for a smartphone and think to myself - well I have got this far in my life without one, why bother now? I notice how obsessed millions of other people are with them. They are checking them all the time - no doubt looking at Facebook, Instagram or other social media. To me it all seems so alien and I just wouldn't wish to be hooked like that.

Nonetheless I recognise that for Ian and millions of other users, the smartphone is a vital tool both socially and for work purposes. If I felt I needed one then I would get one though I would have a lot to learn and I rather fear that my frankfurter fingers would be too big for the slippery touchscreen.

Increasingly, I notice that businesses and even governmental organisations will often assume that everybody is in possession of a smartphone. That wrong assumption will sometimes hinder or obstruct those of us who don't have them. It's a kind of discrimination born out of  ignorance and it can be pretty infuriating.

Culpability

There are lots of ways you could kill someone...

You could throttle them with your bare hands. You could lace their porridge with poison. You could stab them or shoot them. You could drive them off the road or push them over a cliff.

And there are other ways...

You could put pollutants in their rivers and reservoirs. You could clad their high rise buildings with flammable panels. You could instigate wars. You could simply neglect them. You could delay action at the start of a deadly pandemic, perhaps imagining that everything would be okay in the end, even when the signs from abroad suggested otherwise. In mitigation,  you could chant repeatedly "We're following The Science" even when "The Science" was never clear. You could transport infected hospital patients to care homes without proper safety provision or informed agreement.

Who knows how many British deaths might have been avoided if Johnson had been a wise political leader and not an unapologetic optimist and showman? His dithering and delay at the start of the pandemic caused thousands of avoidable deaths and this is the clear conclusion of parliament's Health and Social Care, and Science and Technology Committees. 

Will he ever appear in a court of law to answer to the charges that should by rights be ranged against him? Never. As sure as eggs are eggs, he will get away with this unintentional mass killing scot-free. There will be weasel words and the world will move on and one day Johnson will write a book about his years in office. It will sell like hotcakes but he won't give a penny of the profits to the grieving families of his coronavirus victims. No way will he do that. He will remain a killer on the loose just like Tony Blair.

London

By The Round Pond, Kensington Gardens

Down to London on Saturday morning then back today. We had a lovely time. We visited our Ian's flat in Shepherd's Bush for the first time. He was so pleased to have us there and the flat was most splendid. Mind you, at half a million pounds it needs to be.

Lovely Sarah was there too. They have been together for a full year now. It seems serious. Funny word to use that isn't it? "Serious" - to describe a relationship that is joyful and loving with much laughter and touch.  In finding each other, they feel less alone in the world and so in a sense less serious! More light-hearted.

We had lunch in "The Ship Inn" at Hammersmith by The River Thames and then we walked back to Ian's little flat before heading up to Camden to see one of his old school friends in a two man play called "Fritz and Matlock". Though the audience was small, the drama was excellent and afterwards we met the TV actor Mike Stevenson who plays a paramedic called Ian Dean in the long-running BBC medical drama - "Casualty". Co-incidentally, he also hails from Sheffield.

Pub on Goldhawk Road, Shepherd's Bush

On Sunday I drilled holes in Ian's walls in order to put up four framed pictures and a floating shelf. This mission was completed successfully without fuss. Then we went off to the nearby "Westfield" shopping centre - the biggest in Europe - where Shirley bought a new coat and we looked at some other items but didn't buy.

By now it was late  - a beautiful autumnal afternoon. We headed over to Kensington Gardens in Ian's electric car - a black and yellow Mini Cooper. After finding a free car parking space we wandered through Kensington Gardens and Hyde Park right over to The Albert Memorial.

This stone carving represents "America" and forms 

a corner of The Albert Memorial

It struck me that this gaudy rocket ship of a memorial with its stone carvings, mosaics and gilding was arguably the very pinnacle of The British Empire. A monument to a man but also a statement of imperial self-confidence, achievement and pride. Queen Victoria's German consort died of typhoid in 1861 but his memorial was not fully completed until 1876.

The Royal Albert Hall opposite The Albert Memorial

Back at the flat Ian prepared a delicious vegan stir fry and I made  an apple crumble for dessert using  windfall apples from our own garden.

After a lazy Monday morning we headed back  Up North, stopping briefly at the Northampton motorway services in order to inspect the lavatorial facilities and purchase refreshments kindly prepared by Ronald McDonald. Please don't tell Ian...

Ian with his mama by The Round Pond