Wednesday, 4 July 2012
Thursday, 14 June 2012
Crazy Diamond visit...
Thank heavens , I am home again... the four day expedition to Wales and back was an eye opener, I wish I had slept through it. Diesel prices one third higher than in France. Five pounds for two cups of tea. We had the for thought to bring our own food. A cooked meal each day would have cost us upwards of ten pounds a plate for the equivalent quality. Near enough Thirteen pounds to cross into Wales on the Toll road, it's free to leave. I am still in a state of shock. We had budgeted for our return trip, heartened to hear that we wouldn't have to pay to cross the severn, we chanced to eat a low priced,"workman's breakfast" . A cold plate didn't enhance the quality of the food. It was for the most part under cooked. I didn't have the energy to make complaint. We didn't have enough time to wait for a replacement. My digestion spent the rest of the day complaining. Beware of "cheap" food.
Early morning in Neath was an ordeal I will try not to repeat. Waited till eight a.m. for the toilets to be opened in the railway station. The door displays a sign which states that the facilities are only available to holders of a valid ticket. Be well warned anyone foolish or naive enough to purchase even a platform ticket for the privileged use. Filthy , sticky, one of the two w.c. units near to over flowing with paper and poo. I was glad to have brought my own paper to the one remaining. My pressing burden over rode my reluctance to use the toilet. A truly repulsive experience. Anne-So has her own tale to tell, it is sufficient to say that her instinctive biological mechanism refused to relax enough, for her to gain relief. A health hazard for sure, not something one would wish to pay good money for.
It wasn't all bad. The tree planting programme is maturing well. Lush mixed woodland was a soothing sight. Farmers with fields adjacent to the roads appear to be investing in the long term future. The down side of that , given the rising cost of fuel, tree poaching is becoming a popular sport.
Our friend and one time neighbour is battling heroically on in spite of cancer. An indomitable Super Mam of the old school mining community. It was good to share some time with tea and smiles with Pat,she is blessed to have her close caring family nearby in support. We hope she has the strength to join us on this side of the moat for a short holiday sometime soon.
Peter the builder, struggles on with his old house, a forever project that always seems to take second place to the demands of outside work. Keep the faith bhai, don't give up.
Wales is lucky to have you.
A damaged gearbox in the lashing rain caused us to not be attentive to the road signs , bringing us to within seventeen miles from Oxford. It was late. We were dog tired.A good opportunity to make a surprise visit to Oliver's home. Slept in the van overnight, and invited ourselves to his breakfast table. I was happy to see him and meet his family. must be twenty years since we sat at the same table. Here's hoping he braves a journey to France to dip into our hospitality sometime soonish. Long journeys ahead we are both a long way from dead. Thanks for the spiked toad flax, and not least for the well met smiling handshake on our departure.
The ferry crossing was calm enough.too expensive to "treat" ourselves to the delights of the cafeteria or the restaurant. Our cooler box had plenty of homemade goodies. A box of tea bags milk and sugar made good use of the free hot water. A cold night in the reclining chairs, we regretted not bringing our blankets from the van, couldn't afford the five pound tariff on the ferry and had no warning that there would be a charge.
I met two individuals happy in their cups on the boat. Both independently of each other confided that they had breakdowns which had caused them to stop work. Both were in receipt of sickness benefit and were taking prescribed medication for their conditions. Neither seemed put out by the high prices on the ferry, nor did their illness prevent them from swallowing many pints of beer. "Why bother working, I get twelve thousand pounds a year off the state," sez one.
"There is summat sadly wrong wi'that." Sez I. Seems G.P.'s and psychiatrists both are easily misled by their able bodied patients. The country is not too sick to party. But it's too sick to work efficiently. Thanks for the intelligence lads. I wont be joining you in your new found habits. I would rather be a good example of an austere Englishman living abroad than a philosophically adjusted lunch out pulling the tits off a dried up state welfare system.
I am due to make another visit to Britain soon. Not a joyous prospect on the whole. Pressing legal business needs attention that will drag me screaming and kicking from my much loved garden home. I am bound to be hypercritical. I will save my sackful of grumbles for another time. Iznibz Wazir.
Early morning in Neath was an ordeal I will try not to repeat. Waited till eight a.m. for the toilets to be opened in the railway station. The door displays a sign which states that the facilities are only available to holders of a valid ticket. Be well warned anyone foolish or naive enough to purchase even a platform ticket for the privileged use. Filthy , sticky, one of the two w.c. units near to over flowing with paper and poo. I was glad to have brought my own paper to the one remaining. My pressing burden over rode my reluctance to use the toilet. A truly repulsive experience. Anne-So has her own tale to tell, it is sufficient to say that her instinctive biological mechanism refused to relax enough, for her to gain relief. A health hazard for sure, not something one would wish to pay good money for.
It wasn't all bad. The tree planting programme is maturing well. Lush mixed woodland was a soothing sight. Farmers with fields adjacent to the roads appear to be investing in the long term future. The down side of that , given the rising cost of fuel, tree poaching is becoming a popular sport.
Our friend and one time neighbour is battling heroically on in spite of cancer. An indomitable Super Mam of the old school mining community. It was good to share some time with tea and smiles with Pat,she is blessed to have her close caring family nearby in support. We hope she has the strength to join us on this side of the moat for a short holiday sometime soon.
Peter the builder, struggles on with his old house, a forever project that always seems to take second place to the demands of outside work. Keep the faith bhai, don't give up.
Wales is lucky to have you.
A damaged gearbox in the lashing rain caused us to not be attentive to the road signs , bringing us to within seventeen miles from Oxford. It was late. We were dog tired.A good opportunity to make a surprise visit to Oliver's home. Slept in the van overnight, and invited ourselves to his breakfast table. I was happy to see him and meet his family. must be twenty years since we sat at the same table. Here's hoping he braves a journey to France to dip into our hospitality sometime soonish. Long journeys ahead we are both a long way from dead. Thanks for the spiked toad flax, and not least for the well met smiling handshake on our departure.
The ferry crossing was calm enough.too expensive to "treat" ourselves to the delights of the cafeteria or the restaurant. Our cooler box had plenty of homemade goodies. A box of tea bags milk and sugar made good use of the free hot water. A cold night in the reclining chairs, we regretted not bringing our blankets from the van, couldn't afford the five pound tariff on the ferry and had no warning that there would be a charge.
I met two individuals happy in their cups on the boat. Both independently of each other confided that they had breakdowns which had caused them to stop work. Both were in receipt of sickness benefit and were taking prescribed medication for their conditions. Neither seemed put out by the high prices on the ferry, nor did their illness prevent them from swallowing many pints of beer. "Why bother working, I get twelve thousand pounds a year off the state," sez one.
"There is summat sadly wrong wi'that." Sez I. Seems G.P.'s and psychiatrists both are easily misled by their able bodied patients. The country is not too sick to party. But it's too sick to work efficiently. Thanks for the intelligence lads. I wont be joining you in your new found habits. I would rather be a good example of an austere Englishman living abroad than a philosophically adjusted lunch out pulling the tits off a dried up state welfare system.
I am due to make another visit to Britain soon. Not a joyous prospect on the whole. Pressing legal business needs attention that will drag me screaming and kicking from my much loved garden home. I am bound to be hypercritical. I will save my sackful of grumbles for another time. Iznibz Wazir.
Friday, 8 June 2012
Hello Max, I'm glad you got this far...
The damp corner (above), marsh valerian, foxgloves, golden osier, the most prominent in the photo. Dog rose, Eglantine they call it here (below), now in flower, overlooks the tomato plants. Clumps of pansies shade the ground , useful cover conserves moisture.
Sunday, 3 June 2012
Small World, it's all a matter of perspective...
The closer you get the bigger they look. Iz picks iz own.
Small World???You are festifoolin yourselves...
Do you really think so? Happen you’ve got “Big ways”, The inhabitants of St. Helena would know what I mean. Ideas above yer rightful place.If your image of the planet has been conditioned by the media overview, you have been looking at the screen for too long. That little one eyed spaceman’s view of a blue green world is a clever programming trick for sure.
Someone told me recently that one grant aided cow needs three hectares of land for feed winter and summer. I thought it was three acres, no matter, the logic is the same.Stand in the middle of a field armed with a hoe and a spade and tell me its small. The world is big enough. Don’t distort the practical real image.Measure yourself against a tree, a fully grown mature one, rare enough in Europe , plenty of youngsters. Arm yourself with only hand tools. Convert it into timber for construction the old fashioned way. With a froe, wedges and a beetle an axe and an adze.. So you don’t think you had big ways?
You have got a big shock coming and no mistake. Sustainable forward is reliant on getting the real world into proper perspective. My world is continually expanding..not only in size but in it’s intrinsic value. If yours isn’t doing that happen you are spending and wasting more than you ought to be investing. Dedication to the work will give you strength, the profit is the life. Come back to earth you deluded urbanites and leave your media reinforced views behind. You have nothing to celebrate till you have done the work. Head for home then hit the ground running and make it better. Return it to a state of grace. The festival field had its hedges grubbed up.
Solar power isn’t going to reinstate them. Manual energy is better invested in the choiceless healthy option. eighty five pounds ticket in advance if you have a job, sixty five if you are on a low income. After all expenses you coud have paid one months mortgage on a home field site of your own.
I guess the plan is wait for the parents to die and buy a bit of your own.the “wrinklies” are living longer, blessem,so they should. Vulture culture is far from glamourous. The charm of youth will soon wear out.
How did the promotional blurb go?... “a place where butterflies can find their wings” Well how romantic. Doesn’t quite do it as metaphors go.
“Intoxicating atmosphere”, the air is more oxygen enriched than the monoxide saturation at ground level in the urban quarter. A buzz for sure if you are used to being driven by adrenilised stress panic from O deficiency.
A bit of aerobic dancing in the fresh air would set your head a spinning and no mistake. If you can’t get that buzz at home you are living in the wrong place. The popular delusion cultivated in the festibusiness culture is no alternative to real life. We don’t need a ticket to get in, The overall returns on our investment of work grows exponentially by each season. Come back to the independent peasant life youth.Share the labour of the long journey forward.
My darling belle maman brought me some early spuds yesterday and invited me to get a lettuce. She is well ahead of the season. She has been practicing what she wants to know best all her life.Life support Adding to knowledge and wisdom handed down for generations. We smile to each other when we look up from our work .Small people in the Big world.Doing the Big work The Last world reality. In the faded glory of decade Empire The Small world vision will soon reduce to a no world fit to live in nightmare. Doing the do iz all. Dancing and singing we can do once the work is done, at home.
IZNIBZ WAZIR
Someone told me recently that one grant aided cow needs three hectares of land for feed winter and summer. I thought it was three acres, no matter, the logic is the same.Stand in the middle of a field armed with a hoe and a spade and tell me its small. The world is big enough. Don’t distort the practical real image.Measure yourself against a tree, a fully grown mature one, rare enough in Europe , plenty of youngsters. Arm yourself with only hand tools. Convert it into timber for construction the old fashioned way. With a froe, wedges and a beetle an axe and an adze.. So you don’t think you had big ways?
You have got a big shock coming and no mistake. Sustainable forward is reliant on getting the real world into proper perspective. My world is continually expanding..not only in size but in it’s intrinsic value. If yours isn’t doing that happen you are spending and wasting more than you ought to be investing. Dedication to the work will give you strength, the profit is the life. Come back to earth you deluded urbanites and leave your media reinforced views behind. You have nothing to celebrate till you have done the work. Head for home then hit the ground running and make it better. Return it to a state of grace. The festival field had its hedges grubbed up.
Solar power isn’t going to reinstate them. Manual energy is better invested in the choiceless healthy option. eighty five pounds ticket in advance if you have a job, sixty five if you are on a low income. After all expenses you coud have paid one months mortgage on a home field site of your own.
I guess the plan is wait for the parents to die and buy a bit of your own.the “wrinklies” are living longer, blessem,so they should. Vulture culture is far from glamourous. The charm of youth will soon wear out.
How did the promotional blurb go?... “a place where butterflies can find their wings” Well how romantic. Doesn’t quite do it as metaphors go.
“Intoxicating atmosphere”, the air is more oxygen enriched than the monoxide saturation at ground level in the urban quarter. A buzz for sure if you are used to being driven by adrenilised stress panic from O deficiency.
A bit of aerobic dancing in the fresh air would set your head a spinning and no mistake. If you can’t get that buzz at home you are living in the wrong place. The popular delusion cultivated in the festibusiness culture is no alternative to real life. We don’t need a ticket to get in, The overall returns on our investment of work grows exponentially by each season. Come back to the independent peasant life youth.Share the labour of the long journey forward.
My darling belle maman brought me some early spuds yesterday and invited me to get a lettuce. She is well ahead of the season. She has been practicing what she wants to know best all her life.Life support Adding to knowledge and wisdom handed down for generations. We smile to each other when we look up from our work .Small people in the Big world.Doing the Big work The Last world reality. In the faded glory of decade Empire The Small world vision will soon reduce to a no world fit to live in nightmare. Doing the do iz all. Dancing and singing we can do once the work is done, at home.
IZNIBZ WAZIR
Our little green friend...
The wildlife seem to like it here. birds, mammals and an abundance of lizards. I will make a list some other time. It's a long one.
Corrosion...
Limestone window in an ancient building in Rennes, The etched rock is the result of acid rain from the "age of coal", thankfully those days are over . the stone would have looked black in the bad old days, not quite what the architect had planned.
The sun illuminates the emerging fireplace...
Grateful for more stone. Anne-So delivered a pile or two with the help of Emile's tractor. Lorry loads of mixed rubble and soil are being dumped in the site of a now redundant silage clamp. We will salvage as much useful stone as we can. I have been nailed to the keyboard for a week or so , it has laid waste to my good working man. This session will be the last of it for a while. The hard stuff will revive me.Manu'll work. Om sweet Om.
Wednesday, 30 May 2012
The rising moon...Open letter to Emma Grace Godden @The Bodyshop, LIVERPOOL...
Yeah, right what's he on about now? It'll probably be out of date
before you condescend to reply to your mail. If you ever do as a
matter of dutiful politness as a habit. I do.
I thought I would just drop you a line to let you know that your
brother will be playing and bimbling around the SMALL WORLD FESTIVAL
from the 4th of June. Three day "Spring Festival", great if you have
a three day spring to celebrate. You are in luck, I wont be going. Our
spring festival is an At Home event Starts from March. is really busy
now and merges with our Summer festival. and continues till the
outdoor work is done, The late autumn winter. To go to the Spring
festival It will cost as a single visitor more than we pay per current
month for our small mortgage overall, if the travelling and food were
costed inclusively. Home is the place for all the progressive
development folk like to think they are part of. I am glad I have one
now.(I bet you are thrilled to bits???). A blessed piece of luck that
I took my civilisation with me when I left Abercrave. I would never
have survived to get this far.
I am still broke by the current common measure.A raggedy man for
sure. Meks no odds to me, I don't dress up even to go home why should
we waste good money fancy dressing to promenade in the dogshit town.
I hope you are in healthy form. No news as yet that would appease my
concern about you. You would have to confirm any positive reportage in
person. , Means you have to be a brave enough woman to tell me and
show me in person. It also means dumping all cover stories that you
have put out up to date. I will be no more explicit than that, for now
at least.
Toby is on the up, how sustainable his progress really is in the
Blighted Isle is anyone's guess.
He has had to go through a lot of scary stuff to arrive at even the
lowly modest status he now enjoys. Talk to your brother Emma you may
be glad you did. Sulky silences dragged on for years garnished with
sporadic hyperbullshit is hardly a positive way forward.The
conspiratorial plan is busted Emma.
The chances of seeing you here in Le Breil are fairly slim if past
attitudes are anything to go by. There is a lot of it about. It would
be a pivotal, a turning point in your personal progress if you came
to terms.
There is always the Summer solstice or the October celebration, as
well as every other blessed day in the calender. It will be special if
and when you turn up. The motto of your grandad's old regiment was
"Fortune Favours the Brave". Bout time you got a slice or two of that
together.
Our economic miracle prospers in austerity. The hope for my family ,
was beyond realisation as an empoverished homeless displaced person.
The profit of twenty three years work squandered in my absence. Missed
the point of me completely. Nothing your mam's side of the family
could ever demonstrate. As I say, there is a lot of it about. She may
be having difficulties,be a good daughter and provide a bit of moral
support. I mean MORAL SUPPORT, Emma.
Making contact Uncle Eddie was a bit of a shock. He too will have to
learn how to relate without his preconceived ill founded fantasies
getting in the way. A start has been made. I am proud he got that far.
I have never been anyone's enemy.Those who have perpetrated the myth
will just have to swallow their spit and recant. As I say, "Never kick
a man when he is down, he might stand up...". It is all water under
the bridge now, hopefully never to be repeated or practiced elsewhere.
So onward with my plan. Some one out there in Liverpool can give you a
friendly nudge, Happen.
I am guessing that the Bodyshop near Lime Street is the one you are
working in if the little information I have is true. The other two
shops were helpful without breaching personal confidentiality.. The
other refused to talk about it. Harmless stuff. Not magic. What's to
lose.
Number to phone, the only clue, is 0151 709 6992. That is my favoured guess.
<thebodyshop.co.uk> If anyone can help via another medium It would be
welcome. It is a thin hope I'll admit. Benign enough.
It might seem like incitement but an act of caring parental desperation is all.
In the event that someone gets through to her, yes this really is her
dad, She may make a million excuses why she is staying hidden. I can't
account for her action. (A friendly nudge ,O.K.). I will take the
number and web link down when I have face to face meeting in person.
In the meantime Emma I hope it doesn't get you dismissed, if the
firms site is flooded with encouragement to reunite with your family.
It will be one thing you could rightly blame on me. I don't mind.
What's ado now. I am home alone, Boiling eggs to go with my salad and
wholemeal bread. Then I will water the garden as it is cooling down,
Finish todays outside "chores" with picking the ripe strawberries. I
will then practice my fluting , "Blues for Emma". Early night . Wish
you were here my daughter. I close with Love. Dad.
before you condescend to reply to your mail. If you ever do as a
matter of dutiful politness as a habit. I do.
I thought I would just drop you a line to let you know that your
brother will be playing and bimbling around the SMALL WORLD FESTIVAL
from the 4th of June. Three day "Spring Festival", great if you have
a three day spring to celebrate. You are in luck, I wont be going. Our
spring festival is an At Home event Starts from March. is really busy
now and merges with our Summer festival. and continues till the
outdoor work is done, The late autumn winter. To go to the Spring
festival It will cost as a single visitor more than we pay per current
month for our small mortgage overall, if the travelling and food were
costed inclusively. Home is the place for all the progressive
development folk like to think they are part of. I am glad I have one
now.(I bet you are thrilled to bits???). A blessed piece of luck that
I took my civilisation with me when I left Abercrave. I would never
have survived to get this far.
I am still broke by the current common measure.A raggedy man for
sure. Meks no odds to me, I don't dress up even to go home why should
we waste good money fancy dressing to promenade in the dogshit town.
I hope you are in healthy form. No news as yet that would appease my
concern about you. You would have to confirm any positive reportage in
person. , Means you have to be a brave enough woman to tell me and
show me in person. It also means dumping all cover stories that you
have put out up to date. I will be no more explicit than that, for now
at least.
Toby is on the up, how sustainable his progress really is in the
Blighted Isle is anyone's guess.
He has had to go through a lot of scary stuff to arrive at even the
lowly modest status he now enjoys. Talk to your brother Emma you may
be glad you did. Sulky silences dragged on for years garnished with
sporadic hyperbullshit is hardly a positive way forward.The
conspiratorial plan is busted Emma.
The chances of seeing you here in Le Breil are fairly slim if past
attitudes are anything to go by. There is a lot of it about. It would
be a pivotal, a turning point in your personal progress if you came
to terms.
There is always the Summer solstice or the October celebration, as
well as every other blessed day in the calender. It will be special if
and when you turn up. The motto of your grandad's old regiment was
"Fortune Favours the Brave". Bout time you got a slice or two of that
together.
Our economic miracle prospers in austerity. The hope for my family ,
was beyond realisation as an empoverished homeless displaced person.
The profit of twenty three years work squandered in my absence. Missed
the point of me completely. Nothing your mam's side of the family
could ever demonstrate. As I say, there is a lot of it about. She may
be having difficulties,be a good daughter and provide a bit of moral
support. I mean MORAL SUPPORT, Emma.
Making contact Uncle Eddie was a bit of a shock. He too will have to
learn how to relate without his preconceived ill founded fantasies
getting in the way. A start has been made. I am proud he got that far.
I have never been anyone's enemy.Those who have perpetrated the myth
will just have to swallow their spit and recant. As I say, "Never kick
a man when he is down, he might stand up...". It is all water under
the bridge now, hopefully never to be repeated or practiced elsewhere.
So onward with my plan. Some one out there in Liverpool can give you a
friendly nudge, Happen.
I am guessing that the Bodyshop near Lime Street is the one you are
working in if the little information I have is true. The other two
shops were helpful without breaching personal confidentiality.. The
other refused to talk about it. Harmless stuff. Not magic. What's to
lose.
Number to phone, the only clue, is 0151 709 6992. That is my favoured guess.
<thebodyshop.co.uk> If anyone can help via another medium It would be
welcome. It is a thin hope I'll admit. Benign enough.
It might seem like incitement but an act of caring parental desperation is all.
In the event that someone gets through to her, yes this really is her
dad, She may make a million excuses why she is staying hidden. I can't
account for her action. (A friendly nudge ,O.K.). I will take the
number and web link down when I have face to face meeting in person.
In the meantime Emma I hope it doesn't get you dismissed, if the
firms site is flooded with encouragement to reunite with your family.
It will be one thing you could rightly blame on me. I don't mind.
What's ado now. I am home alone, Boiling eggs to go with my salad and
wholemeal bread. Then I will water the garden as it is cooling down,
Finish todays outside "chores" with picking the ripe strawberries. I
will then practice my fluting , "Blues for Emma". Early night . Wish
you were here my daughter. I close with Love. Dad.
Monday, 28 May 2012
Austerity, don't you just love it???...
Left right and centre, I'm laughing at you all. What an old fashioned idea. The people are easily manipulated by the media's sociopathic word play. Labour party we are told plays down the need for austerity measures. There isn't a socialist party any more folks! New Labour is just the resurgence of old unreconstructed pre war Liberalism. Looks like it from here. Blair was promising that every one would become middle class. By a lot of working peoples perceptions that meant more spending money. They wuz trooly suckered. Thatcher gibbered monotonously on about back to Victorian values I think they have slithered a little bit too far backwards. The tricorn coalition is really a variant of Whigs and Tories divided by three. That will confuse the dumbed down captive electorate, keep them quiet whilst they figure out the maths. Britain doesn't offer it's people a promise of a sustainable generic "way of living". who iz leading the way with example of how to live better on less money. Doing it is the first step towards showing . As an idealistic youth"Utopian dreamer" they called me I would talk with working folk about moving away from a cash dependent economy and conditional wage slavery. Talked a blue streak about "green man rising". Listened to working people's reasoning why they couldn't change . "Better the Devil we Know".
Very few experienced intelligent working people seemed to be in a position to recommend what they had done or were doing, to their children. "Show us A model of a better way forward that starts from poverty and moves forward to a sustainable none competitive prosperity." .No one wanted to lose what they regarded as a competitive advantage. We would want to know that it will work before subscribing to a "new" way of life. No one dared to take the risk. Not on the strength of some spurious sounding untested theory. I couldn't blame them.
80% of "western style modern living is contained within cities towns and urban clusters. The landless labour force of the industrial revolution moved into the industrial ghettos there they stayed for the most part for generations. Importing nigh on every vital commodity now. It will get worse. The means to escape from panned out asset stripped polluted regions is not accessible.
Few folk enjoy being preached too from the pulpit , by a body that doesn't share the common burden. Do as I say, (even if you include an "or else" ) doesn't work.
Besides the intelligent educated working man is unlikely to revert back to "the master knows best" Bloody obvious, proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that master doesn't really have a clue that would work on the ground.
I have said it before, I am not completely clueless. I figured that working on and testing my untried "academic" theories to destruction , taking the risk upon myself was the only way forward.
All that"primitive hippy shite" as Dave E. was once prone to call it gradually evolved by trial and error and testing of current perceived wisdom, to become a working hypothesis. Every time I thought I was winning sad to say the goal posts got moved.
"Shifty little yokies them they paradigms", thinks I. To sum up in a small space what caused the continual sabotage and obstruction, precised, if you like ; I was married to a person with an unholy addiction to spending money.The sort of person who would go on holiday abroad rather than pay her creditors. More to it than that, she knows well enough. Covering up with lying cheating stealing, from her own family, without account.
My darling little hypotheses were in danger of contracting what I had come to call Moses Syndrome. Leading the family to a promised land against impossible odds only to die before I got there myself.
I was by every legal definition ,a slave. and a naive fool for love. I didn't want to lose my children , but as a parent I couldn't offer a way forward. Worked till I lost 28 kilos of my body. Nobody noticed, they were to busy with self indulgent treats. Love I felt was totally unrequited.
I was dying.
I got out before I resorted to violence. A man can only take so much.
What did I have to go with but my wonderful vision of a better way of living, Half a carrier bag of ragged clothes my flute and drum. A whole bunch of survival instinct. and not a small portion of painful work a day memories. No family,shelter no friends in my community I could trust, no money and one sick body supported by a stick.
Long journey so far.
What did I learn? I had first hand experience in the microcosm of my home life of the popular "normalcy". Didn't anyone teach them that you can't prosper and thrive by just spending money? Not as a family, as an individual, nor as a nation. "Infill Britain" I call It.
I am not making much of a good fist explaining the mysterious "secret", I know that. The How To... factor. There is one, It remains thus a secret until an individual has achieved the initiation that would bring them back to a state of grace. Creating the infrastructure to sustainable self reliance . This time around my miniature none theoretical model looks like becoming a manifest reality. Gradually expanding to accommodate other people desperate to escape the ravages of the post colonial decline. The poorest working families. Inclusively not just women and children first.
We are duty bound not to perpetrate the "Big Mistake".
Results are quantifiable now. Our efforts to realize a route to a working example that is within the reach of most families has since we hit the ground running five years ago, on less cash than the average U.K. social security hand out, are paying off.
Quantum progress. (I'm just writing, figure out what I mean yourself).It is "happening" here. Most folk can't see for looking. There are no sides to this , no left right nor centre . the head work is done the way forward is a "showable" rather than a "sayable" reality. some one clever called what we are doing "squaring the circle" (don’t ask me ).
“You used to come out with some stuff in those days”, Sed Pete.
Mine wasn’t the cliché ridden regurgitated crambo, my long lost friend reunited after 40 years was dipping into his personal pool of nostalgia. He had given me the hospitality of his sofa during a homeless period in the early seventies. “Can you remember what I was on about Pete?” He couldn’t. I laughed. “Good job I was there then.” I remember.
Building an “underground railway”, a “freedom train”,is all very well, but where is the train heading, and where do we go from there??? Looks from this vantage point like the slaves of old have just been guided towards a funnel trap lured by a hopê and a dream, only to be recycled and sold down the river. The Abolition Act , what 1833, is a great idea, who’s arguing against it. It took a while and a bit before we realised It was just a self appeasing make over.
Socialism was as I understand from old international brigade survivors and union school mentors is meant to free us from the bondage of our own ignorance. WE the slaves. Lest we forget. I am not referring to National Socialism. There’s as many kinds as there are people on this earth.
In essence it is a philosophical practice; not identifiable by dress code, an unspoken principled creed by conduct seen. That is if anyone cared enough to notice. A practice common to all . Thatcher promised that she would “wipe socialism off the face of the earth”. God only knows who wrote her script,she was only the mouth piece of an antideluvian way of thinking.
A wholly owned corporate commodity. A formidable woman for sure, but she was only the most acceptable face of a much more sinister many headed beast. a proxy cypher in effect with little empathy with the real needs of our common humanity rich or poor.
I believe we are seeing the last days of the Elizabethan era. From Lizzie 1 to Lizzie2.
There is no Left, Right or Centre in reality. That is just chess board logic. Those days are over in the progressive mainstream. subscription to that school will only lead to cyclical repeat of historic mistakes. Collateral damage, to what the corporate lobby may regard as an expoitable commodity , the common population is unacceptable. Party politics divides people against each other. The inevitable consequence is human sacrifice.
Hardly what anyone could justly call representative of a civilised standard.
Out dated flat earth thinking is at a tangent to the curved space reality . It may not see things in the round in overview. That way madness lies.
We practice austerity at home. a voluntary act This way works.. Hey guys it makes the little cash we may morally earn worth more. To us at least. We work to provide a route to a better future. modest durable ethical . At zero percent commission. No losers no unjust or illicit profiteering. Humane and dignified.Sustainable development as Charlie once broadcast it.
“One wonders if one understands ones own language “,Iznibz toys with a notion.
God bless Tom Paine for the inspiration of Iz ranting.
I will give you a rest for now. It is a sunny day.
Very few experienced intelligent working people seemed to be in a position to recommend what they had done or were doing, to their children. "Show us A model of a better way forward that starts from poverty and moves forward to a sustainable none competitive prosperity." .No one wanted to lose what they regarded as a competitive advantage. We would want to know that it will work before subscribing to a "new" way of life. No one dared to take the risk. Not on the strength of some spurious sounding untested theory. I couldn't blame them.
80% of "western style modern living is contained within cities towns and urban clusters. The landless labour force of the industrial revolution moved into the industrial ghettos there they stayed for the most part for generations. Importing nigh on every vital commodity now. It will get worse. The means to escape from panned out asset stripped polluted regions is not accessible.
Few folk enjoy being preached too from the pulpit , by a body that doesn't share the common burden. Do as I say, (even if you include an "or else" ) doesn't work.
Besides the intelligent educated working man is unlikely to revert back to "the master knows best" Bloody obvious, proven beyond a shadow of a doubt that master doesn't really have a clue that would work on the ground.
I have said it before, I am not completely clueless. I figured that working on and testing my untried "academic" theories to destruction , taking the risk upon myself was the only way forward.
All that"primitive hippy shite" as Dave E. was once prone to call it gradually evolved by trial and error and testing of current perceived wisdom, to become a working hypothesis. Every time I thought I was winning sad to say the goal posts got moved.
"Shifty little yokies them they paradigms", thinks I. To sum up in a small space what caused the continual sabotage and obstruction, precised, if you like ; I was married to a person with an unholy addiction to spending money.The sort of person who would go on holiday abroad rather than pay her creditors. More to it than that, she knows well enough. Covering up with lying cheating stealing, from her own family, without account.
My darling little hypotheses were in danger of contracting what I had come to call Moses Syndrome. Leading the family to a promised land against impossible odds only to die before I got there myself.
I was by every legal definition ,a slave. and a naive fool for love. I didn't want to lose my children , but as a parent I couldn't offer a way forward. Worked till I lost 28 kilos of my body. Nobody noticed, they were to busy with self indulgent treats. Love I felt was totally unrequited.
I was dying.
I got out before I resorted to violence. A man can only take so much.
What did I have to go with but my wonderful vision of a better way of living, Half a carrier bag of ragged clothes my flute and drum. A whole bunch of survival instinct. and not a small portion of painful work a day memories. No family,shelter no friends in my community I could trust, no money and one sick body supported by a stick.
Long journey so far.
What did I learn? I had first hand experience in the microcosm of my home life of the popular "normalcy". Didn't anyone teach them that you can't prosper and thrive by just spending money? Not as a family, as an individual, nor as a nation. "Infill Britain" I call It.
I am not making much of a good fist explaining the mysterious "secret", I know that. The How To... factor. There is one, It remains thus a secret until an individual has achieved the initiation that would bring them back to a state of grace. Creating the infrastructure to sustainable self reliance . This time around my miniature none theoretical model looks like becoming a manifest reality. Gradually expanding to accommodate other people desperate to escape the ravages of the post colonial decline. The poorest working families. Inclusively not just women and children first.
We are duty bound not to perpetrate the "Big Mistake".
Results are quantifiable now. Our efforts to realize a route to a working example that is within the reach of most families has since we hit the ground running five years ago, on less cash than the average U.K. social security hand out, are paying off.
Quantum progress. (I'm just writing, figure out what I mean yourself).It is "happening" here. Most folk can't see for looking. There are no sides to this , no left right nor centre . the head work is done the way forward is a "showable" rather than a "sayable" reality. some one clever called what we are doing "squaring the circle" (don’t ask me ).
“You used to come out with some stuff in those days”, Sed Pete.
Mine wasn’t the cliché ridden regurgitated crambo, my long lost friend reunited after 40 years was dipping into his personal pool of nostalgia. He had given me the hospitality of his sofa during a homeless period in the early seventies. “Can you remember what I was on about Pete?” He couldn’t. I laughed. “Good job I was there then.” I remember.
Building an “underground railway”, a “freedom train”,is all very well, but where is the train heading, and where do we go from there??? Looks from this vantage point like the slaves of old have just been guided towards a funnel trap lured by a hopê and a dream, only to be recycled and sold down the river. The Abolition Act , what 1833, is a great idea, who’s arguing against it. It took a while and a bit before we realised It was just a self appeasing make over.
Socialism was as I understand from old international brigade survivors and union school mentors is meant to free us from the bondage of our own ignorance. WE the slaves. Lest we forget. I am not referring to National Socialism. There’s as many kinds as there are people on this earth.
In essence it is a philosophical practice; not identifiable by dress code, an unspoken principled creed by conduct seen. That is if anyone cared enough to notice. A practice common to all . Thatcher promised that she would “wipe socialism off the face of the earth”. God only knows who wrote her script,she was only the mouth piece of an antideluvian way of thinking.
A wholly owned corporate commodity. A formidable woman for sure, but she was only the most acceptable face of a much more sinister many headed beast. a proxy cypher in effect with little empathy with the real needs of our common humanity rich or poor.
I believe we are seeing the last days of the Elizabethan era. From Lizzie 1 to Lizzie2.
There is no Left, Right or Centre in reality. That is just chess board logic. Those days are over in the progressive mainstream. subscription to that school will only lead to cyclical repeat of historic mistakes. Collateral damage, to what the corporate lobby may regard as an expoitable commodity , the common population is unacceptable. Party politics divides people against each other. The inevitable consequence is human sacrifice.
Hardly what anyone could justly call representative of a civilised standard.
Out dated flat earth thinking is at a tangent to the curved space reality . It may not see things in the round in overview. That way madness lies.
We practice austerity at home. a voluntary act This way works.. Hey guys it makes the little cash we may morally earn worth more. To us at least. We work to provide a route to a better future. modest durable ethical . At zero percent commission. No losers no unjust or illicit profiteering. Humane and dignified.Sustainable development as Charlie once broadcast it.
“One wonders if one understands ones own language “,Iznibz toys with a notion.
God bless Tom Paine for the inspiration of Iz ranting.
I will give you a rest for now. It is a sunny day.
The green track...
Keep on the grass...
Marsh valerian and Golden osier...
Walnut...
The earth is not flat...
Lupins in the hazels...
Sunday, 27 May 2012
The message is the medium, the lesson is the guru. The work is the Yoga.
Learn to dance with a hoe beat time to the rhythm of the thirteen moon cycle. Transcend the prison of Gregorian circularity. Return to the meaning of your terrestrial identity. Elemental none vocal,learn to breath again for the first tme. Verbal Literal vocalization is merely poetic Allusion it is not truth.Work silently in willing service manually, manfully. Manu returned to the place of his dominion. Be guided by the light that casts no shadow, The good Earth aches for our caring attention. Eternal Principle endures.Existing in service before the first word was uttered. Existing in service long after our mortal coil is turned to dust.
We may play, eat, laugh and sing together, once each seasons work is done.In returning the Earth to it's former glory,we may earn our Redemption. Grace. Peace. Giving thanks and praise and all honour to the Great Divinity, lest we become immodest.Thus we are returned to the Place of our true Belonging. Walk the Green Track In joyful contrition to the crossroad of our mutual Destiny.
The Earth needs to grow, a context wherein Love may safely dwell,
Home , the place of our neglected duty. The work never ending,
Now and Forever, Life without Fear. Amen.
IZNIBZ WAZIR
We may play, eat, laugh and sing together, once each seasons work is done.In returning the Earth to it's former glory,we may earn our Redemption. Grace. Peace. Giving thanks and praise and all honour to the Great Divinity, lest we become immodest.Thus we are returned to the Place of our true Belonging. Walk the Green Track In joyful contrition to the crossroad of our mutual Destiny.
The Earth needs to grow, a context wherein Love may safely dwell,
Home , the place of our neglected duty. The work never ending,
Now and Forever, Life without Fear. Amen.
IZNIBZ WAZIR
Saturday, 26 May 2012
Nooz from the Izdom of Iz...Prosper in austerity.
Not always about petit moi or doinz here. A mix of all and more besides, all gets bigger as we progress together. The last few days I have been cornered by what Churchill called the "Black dog of despair". Caring about others can be nigh on mortifying. The problem I address at present is sad to say now referred to at home as the "British Disease". A tootle on me little bansuri, variations on a theme of "Study war no more", didn't cheer me up much, nor did it assure me that folk back in the Blighted Isle have any kind of handle on the other stuff... whatyoucallit... Y'know, a life without fear and abject hopelessness... the word'll come, work it out. I see a lot of comment from U.K. on why house prices go down. None have really taken on board a small but basic home truth that prices go down when folk don't want to live there and are desperate to leave in a hurry.
There are less people willing to buy in as a lifetime investment in good faith than folk who wish they could leave. The Folly of families regarding real estate , their domestic homes, as a strictly financial investment will become obvious in time.
"They backed the wrong horse there," sez I.
"You've got to speculate to accumulate..."
"Clichéd , regurgitated self deceiving carambis" Never gamble with your luck.
If you borrow against it you will be taken from all sides. The Gombeen man has got you surrounded. He can see you coming.
A business that is sponsored by borrowings against the house is a business that is more likely to fail with virtually no risk to the lender. Be warned.
A small business that has to bear the familial burden of greater domestic insecurity is hardly going to be performing at optimum efficiency. Home is where we recharge. With yer batteries being drained you will doubtless be charged a higher interest rate ostensibly to cover the lender's risk.
Home is our security against all adversity. Our personal collateral base. The non- fiscal reserve. The intrinsic value is priceless.
A lesson from Thatcher's time Second chance businesses set up with redundancy money ,Many borrowed to bolster the hopeful enterprise using homes as security, it was a receding market, a growing recession.Double disaster the hard won redundancy money was tied to a business underfunded. As the goal posts were moved back,the working lifetime of investing in the home was then put at risk. The market didn't stop receding. Interest had to be paid on loans, conditional grants clawed back when workforces were rationalised. Profit margins shrinking overheads rising the hopeful invested assets become a static liability. Lenders called in loans withdrawing the confidence of the bank. Local friendly helpful get to know you bank managers were overridden by centralised dictat.
30,000 homes a year are said to have been repossessed at the height of Thatchers era. Banks can't hang around waiting for sales to improve they have there own businesses to run. Vultures stripped the bankrupt stock. Homeless jobless families without even the consoling benefit of the redundancy money they had earned from previous long service. House prices plummeted bought up by speculators .Rented out for social security checks,housing benefit. The new ever growing market leader . The Gombeen man is ahead of the market. He will buy your discount house with the interest payments ? you will then be able to rent your old home at greatly increased cost and subsidise the domestic resource with social security, poor prospect in a shrinking job market.
If this is meant to be offered as advice I have little faith that anyone would take a blind bit of notice. Happen I may be telling it badly, they'd best squeeze their heads a little harder.
" We can't lose " start up hopefuls, be warned, your business won't thrive on borrowings and pumped up "selfish steam".
An old aquaintance sought ot appease curiosity of this region by asking," How come folk round here live in houses that by British standards are worth millions(?? his words) But they wear shabby clothes and look poor?" I was dismayed at such a myopic observation.
Familial resources are kept close to where they are needed most, in the family home.
Beautiful mature chaumières with potagers, successive generations contributing stone by stone and cultivating inch by inch, deep, rich qualified life supporting.
Whether there is money in the bank or not "jobless" or fully employed. They are not selling. We prosper in austerity. Our existence is not solely dependent on outside monies. The generic common base. Folk may dress up to go to church or club social but working clothes are no indication of status or richesse. Folk can prosper without the indignity of raffling the home off to the vagaries of maket forces.. Our future generations depend on an assurance of their own permanent tenure. All liabilities as well as assets are passed on. The benefit is the profit of a labour of love, the collective familial treasure trove. It is the future , when all else fails. A stronghold against enslavement and famine. There will be more seeking to pioneer a little austere peace in paradise is my uncultivated notion,than would wish to gamble their inheritance and family legacies.
Count your blessings and make home the first the last the only resort. Families invest more than money. Little or none would often be the original investment. The profit passed on and so on in perpetuity..Homefield house investment trust.
We cultivate an abundance in our shabby rags, enough to share.
Why stop now? "I would rather go bankrupt than lose the love of my family and the security of our home in sacrifice to a business". Sez I.
Oh well, some people never learn.
There are less people willing to buy in as a lifetime investment in good faith than folk who wish they could leave. The Folly of families regarding real estate , their domestic homes, as a strictly financial investment will become obvious in time.
"They backed the wrong horse there," sez I.
"You've got to speculate to accumulate..."
"Clichéd , regurgitated self deceiving carambis" Never gamble with your luck.
If you borrow against it you will be taken from all sides. The Gombeen man has got you surrounded. He can see you coming.
A business that is sponsored by borrowings against the house is a business that is more likely to fail with virtually no risk to the lender. Be warned.
A small business that has to bear the familial burden of greater domestic insecurity is hardly going to be performing at optimum efficiency. Home is where we recharge. With yer batteries being drained you will doubtless be charged a higher interest rate ostensibly to cover the lender's risk.
Home is our security against all adversity. Our personal collateral base. The non- fiscal reserve. The intrinsic value is priceless.
A lesson from Thatcher's time Second chance businesses set up with redundancy money ,Many borrowed to bolster the hopeful enterprise using homes as security, it was a receding market, a growing recession.Double disaster the hard won redundancy money was tied to a business underfunded. As the goal posts were moved back,the working lifetime of investing in the home was then put at risk. The market didn't stop receding. Interest had to be paid on loans, conditional grants clawed back when workforces were rationalised. Profit margins shrinking overheads rising the hopeful invested assets become a static liability. Lenders called in loans withdrawing the confidence of the bank. Local friendly helpful get to know you bank managers were overridden by centralised dictat.
30,000 homes a year are said to have been repossessed at the height of Thatchers era. Banks can't hang around waiting for sales to improve they have there own businesses to run. Vultures stripped the bankrupt stock. Homeless jobless families without even the consoling benefit of the redundancy money they had earned from previous long service. House prices plummeted bought up by speculators .Rented out for social security checks,housing benefit. The new ever growing market leader . The Gombeen man is ahead of the market. He will buy your discount house with the interest payments ? you will then be able to rent your old home at greatly increased cost and subsidise the domestic resource with social security, poor prospect in a shrinking job market.
If this is meant to be offered as advice I have little faith that anyone would take a blind bit of notice. Happen I may be telling it badly, they'd best squeeze their heads a little harder.
" We can't lose " start up hopefuls, be warned, your business won't thrive on borrowings and pumped up "selfish steam".
An old aquaintance sought ot appease curiosity of this region by asking," How come folk round here live in houses that by British standards are worth millions(?? his words) But they wear shabby clothes and look poor?" I was dismayed at such a myopic observation.
Familial resources are kept close to where they are needed most, in the family home.
Beautiful mature chaumières with potagers, successive generations contributing stone by stone and cultivating inch by inch, deep, rich qualified life supporting.
Whether there is money in the bank or not "jobless" or fully employed. They are not selling. We prosper in austerity. Our existence is not solely dependent on outside monies. The generic common base. Folk may dress up to go to church or club social but working clothes are no indication of status or richesse. Folk can prosper without the indignity of raffling the home off to the vagaries of maket forces.. Our future generations depend on an assurance of their own permanent tenure. All liabilities as well as assets are passed on. The benefit is the profit of a labour of love, the collective familial treasure trove. It is the future , when all else fails. A stronghold against enslavement and famine. There will be more seeking to pioneer a little austere peace in paradise is my uncultivated notion,than would wish to gamble their inheritance and family legacies.
Count your blessings and make home the first the last the only resort. Families invest more than money. Little or none would often be the original investment. The profit passed on and so on in perpetuity..Homefield house investment trust.
We cultivate an abundance in our shabby rags, enough to share.
Why stop now? "I would rather go bankrupt than lose the love of my family and the security of our home in sacrifice to a business". Sez I.
Oh well, some people never learn.
Underground railway...escape route to freedom
Part of the frieze around the base of a statue in St. Pancras station. A great piece of work regardless of one's taste in art.
Thursday, 24 May 2012
Monday, 21 May 2012
The shock is in the post...
Ayup Brother. I hope you are getting the forwarded messages Eddie. Be warned our kid, if you don't follow through now that you have initiated an introduction it could become a tad embarrassing . Hors- d'oeuvre was tantalizing enough. You might be happy waiting.This starving man is in desperate need of the main course. Le plat de resistance.
It is rude to mock another mans hunger. Get a blessed move on.
Anne-So Planted a load of cherry tomatoes today and sowed a row of "Coco" beans.
Everything in the garden is looking lush. This year looks like being a great one for Blackcurrants raspberries and peaches. The peas have reached a height of four feet or more and are just starting their first flowers. all our little trees are thriving well.Walnut, hazels, a small beech hedge, pear, plum, my silver birch tree in memory of an old home by Shaw wood. In the top right hand corner of the garden just like in Basil Avenue. Enough time to make good in all directions enough space, and peace(we can't grow enough of it), plenty to spare. We meet our bills with our meagre income, but I can't complain. We have no debts.
Get back to me soon Eddie. or you may find my blog shouting messages over the world web. I am sure you must have friends locally who would give you a nudge on my behalf.
A Mistlethrush has just passed by on it daily round looking for snails., Saw a Jay being harassed and sent packing by a crowd of house sparrows earlier. Watch this space for more nooz from the Izdom of Iz. I wish you were here.
It is rude to mock another mans hunger. Get a blessed move on.
Anne-So Planted a load of cherry tomatoes today and sowed a row of "Coco" beans.
Everything in the garden is looking lush. This year looks like being a great one for Blackcurrants raspberries and peaches. The peas have reached a height of four feet or more and are just starting their first flowers. all our little trees are thriving well.Walnut, hazels, a small beech hedge, pear, plum, my silver birch tree in memory of an old home by Shaw wood. In the top right hand corner of the garden just like in Basil Avenue. Enough time to make good in all directions enough space, and peace(we can't grow enough of it), plenty to spare. We meet our bills with our meagre income, but I can't complain. We have no debts.
Get back to me soon Eddie. or you may find my blog shouting messages over the world web. I am sure you must have friends locally who would give you a nudge on my behalf.
A Mistlethrush has just passed by on it daily round looking for snails., Saw a Jay being harassed and sent packing by a crowd of house sparrows earlier. Watch this space for more nooz from the Izdom of Iz. I wish you were here.
Monday, 14 May 2012
Saturday, 12 May 2012
Beware of the "new"sixties...
(continued), If I can't have my bit of unconditional peace, I plan to give them hell. An original member of what was once thought of as the smiling revolution, "The best little coup that the world has ever seen."
I just had a rant at my son. Not for pleasure I assure.When I speak to him I feel as though I am speaking to a whole generation worldwide. God only knows if he gets me, it has to be by conduct seen, not as is currently favoured , by a solely academic grasp of the working mans lexicon.I am calming down a bit now. I don't like getting so angry. It's a caring loving thing you know.He tells me in agreement to my observation that we are witnessing an entropy of the common language , a mutation if you will. I play around with words a bit saves the reader from getting too dried out. It is rare that I deform my syntax to the point where intended meaning is obscured. I write for want of a platform from where I may speak and be comfortably received. I use a different narrative strategy in the written word on the internet. I would prefer to speak. Moreso, I would prefer to relate through the medium of my music. With pictures, won't you all be thrilled and delighted.
One hopes folk wont get too bored with my offerings. Last World Music Tour, looks like It may become a manifest reality. I hope so. It will be a real shame if I am the only one playing. I have been waiting to meet with compatible ensemble for 46years.I would be recording solo by now flute and drum together had I not been smacked out
by bad policing in the U.K. I feel blessed by the sanctuary I have found in France. Toxic poison in over dose against all medical need has destroyed my good bodhran tunes. Since the unprovoked attack, my stamina has been shot to shit and my body goes into involuntary spasms, tardive dyskensia I heard tell it is called. So now I need a percussionist would be the right kind of calling. I have a stack of unresolved issues I would like to shove under the noses of the dominant U.K. institutional management. The music would help to make the bitter pill go down easier. Something to enjoy whilst they make a move to fix some very real problems. I can't afford to bear any more damage. So I wont be seen speaking on the streets in the Blighted Isle. To be told by a scumbag of a Swansea magistrate that my appearence and my voice constituted a crime. I have a lot of justifiably derogatory obsevations of The British System. They can blow their own trumpet now inP.C.triumphalism about what's so great about the place. So they do.No one is saying their face isn't clean. Well meaning is not well enough to be rated as healthy. The stink is coming from the most neglected parts. No, not Denmark.
Misuse of police sectioning powers under the mental health act is by the neglect of the offices of the crown a crime against humanity. It has been used "on the nod" for years without legal mandate. The permanent damage endured after Six unrelated instances of abuse will not be forgiven.
Teresa May , Take notice. Some one stick the issue of Human Rights abuse in front of her face and don't stop shoving till she has pulled her finger out to do something practical and humane about it or until she stands down from politics altogether.
I would be glad to help. Many others more vulnerable than I have ever been are now at risk. It is her department, innit, Home Sec. The stink that comes from her pants is clearly identifiable from here on the other side of the Quarantine moat. She wants to do away with the Human Rights Act.
Then may we defend our lives and fundamental freedoms by all legitimate means , including resorting in extremis to violence in opposition to the tyranny of the state? I know what I am saying, I pose the Question. I guess she would love to watch that on the telly.
As a victim of said abuse I have been put in a position where first hand evidence was collected. I passed up the opportunity to bring a case to court on the grounds of Medical Negligence , because the issue at hand was not a medical problem. I wasn't sick.Racially specific toxic medicine was misused in unmitigated prejudice to my natural rights and against the best interest of my health and peace of mind. When Institutions act without legal mandate. Turning a blind eye and covering up for wrong doers within them, (not wishing to denegrate their self promoting propaganda, of course).
In the incident of which I write. the big players , the criminals for want of a more accurate description are the Pembrokeshire and Derwen N.H.S.Trust and the Haverfordwest police in concert. Others need to be alerted to the risks that they as a collective pose . For the record, I am "Other". Just one of many potentially vulnerable thousands at the very least. The effort has to be applied from the top down if beneficial lasting progress is to be made. The moribund dynasty has acted as though it was beyond reproach, objection to discredited and unmandatible unreconstructed attitudes since Empire's fading days of glory. I am not blaming Lizzie. I am blaming her loyal subjects. Moreover specifically I blame the Offices of her government.
The degree of their neglect of Duty of Care amounts to Incitement to treason.
I will leave you with that for now. More later.
I just had a rant at my son. Not for pleasure I assure.When I speak to him I feel as though I am speaking to a whole generation worldwide. God only knows if he gets me, it has to be by conduct seen, not as is currently favoured , by a solely academic grasp of the working mans lexicon.I am calming down a bit now. I don't like getting so angry. It's a caring loving thing you know.He tells me in agreement to my observation that we are witnessing an entropy of the common language , a mutation if you will. I play around with words a bit saves the reader from getting too dried out. It is rare that I deform my syntax to the point where intended meaning is obscured. I write for want of a platform from where I may speak and be comfortably received. I use a different narrative strategy in the written word on the internet. I would prefer to speak. Moreso, I would prefer to relate through the medium of my music. With pictures, won't you all be thrilled and delighted.
One hopes folk wont get too bored with my offerings. Last World Music Tour, looks like It may become a manifest reality. I hope so. It will be a real shame if I am the only one playing. I have been waiting to meet with compatible ensemble for 46years.I would be recording solo by now flute and drum together had I not been smacked out
by bad policing in the U.K. I feel blessed by the sanctuary I have found in France. Toxic poison in over dose against all medical need has destroyed my good bodhran tunes. Since the unprovoked attack, my stamina has been shot to shit and my body goes into involuntary spasms, tardive dyskensia I heard tell it is called. So now I need a percussionist would be the right kind of calling. I have a stack of unresolved issues I would like to shove under the noses of the dominant U.K. institutional management. The music would help to make the bitter pill go down easier. Something to enjoy whilst they make a move to fix some very real problems. I can't afford to bear any more damage. So I wont be seen speaking on the streets in the Blighted Isle. To be told by a scumbag of a Swansea magistrate that my appearence and my voice constituted a crime. I have a lot of justifiably derogatory obsevations of The British System. They can blow their own trumpet now inP.C.triumphalism about what's so great about the place. So they do.No one is saying their face isn't clean. Well meaning is not well enough to be rated as healthy. The stink is coming from the most neglected parts. No, not Denmark.
Misuse of police sectioning powers under the mental health act is by the neglect of the offices of the crown a crime against humanity. It has been used "on the nod" for years without legal mandate. The permanent damage endured after Six unrelated instances of abuse will not be forgiven.
Teresa May , Take notice. Some one stick the issue of Human Rights abuse in front of her face and don't stop shoving till she has pulled her finger out to do something practical and humane about it or until she stands down from politics altogether.
I would be glad to help. Many others more vulnerable than I have ever been are now at risk. It is her department, innit, Home Sec. The stink that comes from her pants is clearly identifiable from here on the other side of the Quarantine moat. She wants to do away with the Human Rights Act.
Then may we defend our lives and fundamental freedoms by all legitimate means , including resorting in extremis to violence in opposition to the tyranny of the state? I know what I am saying, I pose the Question. I guess she would love to watch that on the telly.
As a victim of said abuse I have been put in a position where first hand evidence was collected. I passed up the opportunity to bring a case to court on the grounds of Medical Negligence , because the issue at hand was not a medical problem. I wasn't sick.Racially specific toxic medicine was misused in unmitigated prejudice to my natural rights and against the best interest of my health and peace of mind. When Institutions act without legal mandate. Turning a blind eye and covering up for wrong doers within them, (not wishing to denegrate their self promoting propaganda, of course).
In the incident of which I write. the big players , the criminals for want of a more accurate description are the Pembrokeshire and Derwen N.H.S.Trust and the Haverfordwest police in concert. Others need to be alerted to the risks that they as a collective pose . For the record, I am "Other". Just one of many potentially vulnerable thousands at the very least. The effort has to be applied from the top down if beneficial lasting progress is to be made. The moribund dynasty has acted as though it was beyond reproach, objection to discredited and unmandatible unreconstructed attitudes since Empire's fading days of glory. I am not blaming Lizzie. I am blaming her loyal subjects. Moreover specifically I blame the Offices of her government.
The degree of their neglect of Duty of Care amounts to Incitement to treason.
I will leave you with that for now. More later.
Friday, 11 May 2012
The yard is looking tidy...
The project is a far cry from completion. Don't be too critical of the levelness of the walls they are still going up. The edifice will be less obvious once shrubs trees and flowers are integrated into the structure.. Camera images will just have to do ya till you get here in person. I don't expect anyone to see things my way , I'll reserve that privelege for meself.
Panic over, I have found it...
Put my flute down for a minute. It disappeared from mind. I had already gone through my litany of what or who could have "lost it for me". Waz getting into sulky reveries about what the omen may mean. Luck was with me, Anne-Sophie found it. There will be a few more tunes to come before the tube cracks up completely, in the mean time I have a rake of sticky tape at the ready.
Protection for the tomato plants...
Against the inevitable deluge of rain or hale. When the weather is good the covers are lifted up . the bags are held taut by strong stakes to prevent the wind from battering the plastic against the plants. The plants will outgrow the covers soon enough by then they will be robust enough to cope with the changeable weather. I can't say I like the look, but the results are good.
Tuesday, 8 May 2012
The Institute of Imagination...
Do I want to "buy" in to the institute of imagination? A "think tank"? Using Blake as their iconic spiritual guru (he's dead you know) he may be used to serve anyones vested interest, his poetry is personal and thus open in review to diverse interpretation.I am not slithering back to the old european enlightenment; Nor do I think that Blake himself would wish me to. I am both plagued and blessed by the burden of my own personal vision. Investing in an institution which I may not call home . I would doubt any member would duly profit from the expenditure of investing in the corporate leasehold or freehold of one floor of a house that Blake just happened to reside in once upon a time. The old Enlightenment gave Blake the luxury of a subject matter upon which he could muse paint and wax lyrical in print and spoken word in abhorrence but as an act of decadent self indulgence. My own little sack of inspired musings I keep stashed in the Department of Brilliant Ideas. Our Zero disposable income is invested in building at home that would accomodate and facilitate our own modest gifted talents. Forgive me , but from the moment of exposure to the link the notion of a real estate venture came to mind. I have one of those in my yard. Building the archeological mysteries of the future. Part one, Establishing firm foundation. The ongoing iz good. The initiation of a membership fee for fellowship of a thousand pounds , would if I had it to hand be better spent towards the acceleration of my own predictable advantage. Here I hold the serving ladle. The soup of me own wholesome devising. We control the means to keep that pot full by our own sustainable efforts and ensure equitable and humane distribution.
Subscription may come in time that is not my prime objective. What may be achieved with the lack of it first is where the hypotheses are proven. Principle is proven by Praxis. I am busy organising on getting the world surrounded. The Last World Tour being currently in favour. The threshold step has almost come to it's resting place.
Anne-Sophie has just completed her planning for this years vegetable garden. A scale Faeriel view no less. Feeling like we are architects of the Last World.They'll never have heard of us son, the only fellowship we need extends to our home table. That is the hub. The turning centre. Our work carries us to the best of all sustainable futures. Stones are just slithering into place. It's only Rock and Roll. Had some good tunes of late. .
All's well in the Izdom of Iz. The answer was "No".I got side tracked...
Subscription may come in time that is not my prime objective. What may be achieved with the lack of it first is where the hypotheses are proven. Principle is proven by Praxis. I am busy organising on getting the world surrounded. The Last World Tour being currently in favour. The threshold step has almost come to it's resting place.
Anne-Sophie has just completed her planning for this years vegetable garden. A scale Faeriel view no less. Feeling like we are architects of the Last World.They'll never have heard of us son, the only fellowship we need extends to our home table. That is the hub. The turning centre. Our work carries us to the best of all sustainable futures. Stones are just slithering into place. It's only Rock and Roll. Had some good tunes of late. .
All's well in the Izdom of Iz. The answer was "No".I got side tracked...
Monday, 7 May 2012
Iz zone, Izome...
It only looks like this in the photograph.
A small silver birch sapling will thrive beside the new compost bin.
Izart...
Cap it all...
This means this and that means that.
Thursday, 3 May 2012
A short lived moment of grace... Playing for the craic...
There were few people promenading the city streets , First of May is a public holiday.Those folk who only have a photo of the moment may be forgiven for thinking it is a picture of some crack head having a quiet pipe. Disabuse your mind, I don't fit into any of the commonly nurtured stereotype categories. Nice clean venue. No rubbish, no dogshit. Beautiful flute acoustics. The air was not contaminated by petrol fumes. The short lived epic blast from my little basuri would have benefited from a little more sensitive liberal tolerance. I wish that I had found it earlier, I may not have seemed so grumpy. Sad to say it was short lived as pleasures go the fires of creation once more pissed on from a great height."C'mon, we're going", That was the end of that.
Moroniz muzic another time.
"May the First be with us"...
I am glad I found a chair.We must have got to the street too early or the band had forgotten to set their alarm clocks. Folk kept stopping when they came to the place where the noise of the sound check was coming from. I guess it was a booze promotional. The small tent covering for the equipment had logos on it for a brand I had never heard of. After the event, only a couple of days later I can't for the life of me recall what the brand name was. I wasn't planning on playing, but after 40 minutes ofwaiting I was getting a little impatient for action. The uniform black outfitted "Professionals " weren't doing the do. I played a couple of ooblee dooblee tunes , you know , my own modest rubbish, on my pipsqueak whistle. We hadn't come prepared with the amp, I regretted not having the foresight. Mine is battery powered. The sound check usually takes about 30 seconds.The "pipsqueak " carries well above all but the most deafening racket. I tried to converse with a few people, difficult , they appeared to have been drinking for most of the day. I felt like a temperence preacher at a "Legalise Canabuse" rally. Me tunes took my mind off being grumpy for a while. Saw a few feet tapping away, I was happy to receive some warm smiles from passers by.
As far as I could hear there wasn't a lot I could criticise about the technical musician ship. But a pile of cover versions didn't inspire me to want to stay for long. I couldn't see the band from my vantage point I was listening . Something about the vocalist was bugging me. Amidst the funky blues and dexterous jazz riffs A Frenchman was imitating a deep south American accent. A clichéd caricature in style and content. I felt that the priveleged wunderkind on the mike was really taking the piss. "Trying to sound black" doesn't do it for me. Happier by far I would have been to hear a black French singer chanting away in their own first language. Perhaps I am too critical, the audience didn't seem to mind. I felt pinned to the wall behind me by the volume of sound., took my mind off the dominant discomfort for a while by having a quiet acoustic jam on my own. I was having to blow too hard to hear myself at all, I soon became hypercritical of the noise I was making and decided in short order to stop playing altogether. Someone standing close by said my tootling sounded good. Small mercy. The total of one and a half hours of waiting for the band to play didn't quite pay off. I bimbled off to find some uncrowded quietude. A bit of peace from the nuclear powered cover up culture. The bits of the occasion I enjoyed , the chair and the few tuneful scraps of my music. I wasn't drinking , I rarely do and never whilst I am playing, as a rule. This isn't intended to be a music critique. If you think so you are reading it wrongly. I was on the opposite side of the dogshit covered street. It just wasn't my idea of a nice day out.
Our little group eventually amassed itself to get a lift home, Anne-Sophie was driving. There was further delay as some folk wanted to buy some groceries. There was a queue. More waiting , I found an entrance to a Metro, in Place St.Anne. The holiday left the entrance clean and uncrowded. Through the bars across the entrance I could see an opportunity of playing in a space compatible with my kind of music. "A better buzz than waiting ", thinks I. There was nothing of note to see but the sound was excellent. Worth playing without a crowd, I had been waiting most part of the afternoon for one thing or another. I was making the most of the acoustic moment..
I didn't know that up above me I was being hussled to stop playing, "We are going now, come on," as though I were a child on a parental shopping trip. It damped down a little of the pleasure I had gained from the few moments of grace. As though someone had pulled the plug before I had completed the tune. I put my flute back inmy pocket and joined the others for the journey home.
I don't play the bars or the terraces, I play my flute. The interminable convoy of Pizza bikes in the street party gig ruined the breathable atmosphere for me. I was grateful for the moment's respite in the Metro entrance. Toby took a couple of photos. The one above is in the Street. The photograph in the next posting is of me playing in the sound space of the closed station. It is a real pity so few heard it. I hope there is a next time.
Tuesday, 1 May 2012
Stones to support Iznibz Last World Tour...
Ragged Man Promotions is proud to present Oblivionz own Iznibz Wazir in collaboration with Not the Final Vinyl Recording Company, details of the tour have yet to be fully confirmed , I will keep you posted as news emerges.
Sunday, 29 April 2012
Beware of the "new"sixties...
"An era of deluded self indulgent toxic liberalism". Sez I. I have little pleasure in remembering those times. Remember them I truly do. Folk talk a lot about the "sex, drugs rock and roll", side of the new freedom that pervaded post war Britain. Few took the promotion of a national austerity program seriously. When rationing ended I was deliberately conceived as a little bit of affordable extra. Britain had signed the European convention of the Declaration of Human Rights and Fundemental freedom. I was born in 1951. The signing was a signal that it was safe to bring kids into the world without the risk of war ruining all familial progress. Theresa May wants to abandon the Human Rights Act, a very recent confirmation that Britain actually believed in the Declaration at all. "I didn't think they meant human rights for them as well as us sarg," the point doesn't seem to have percolated down to the dominant home team .
the high table P.C. front men did a wonderful job of promoting Britain's post colonial image. the mistakes of Empire were foolishly ignored, whilst the survivors of the "Winning side" dipped their bread in as many of the licentious excesses that the new found "disposable incomes" could buy. Most of Britain is now in the grip of the hangover residual from those times. Being surrounded by the New Age of First World compulsive consumerism , did next to nothing to improve my last worlder reality. As a child of first generation immigrants I got a chance to taste and try but without the opportunity to buy into the new prosperity. For now I will keep my own counsel as to why that should be so.
The new Era of which Gandhi spoke is a global reality but the media promotion of the concept of the "New World Order" seems to have displaced the bourgeoning hope that that his vision embued. Gandhi is dead, so too Martin Luther King, John Lennon is an airport now,(I don't know how he did it). The wet knickered hysteria of the age of Beatle mania did nothing for me the first time round. The regurgitated carambis of nostalgia for what in retrospect may be regarded as a popular psychosis, a mental illness in fact.
My journey away from what I regard as "the big mistake" has been a difficult one. I am Sixty now. My sixties will be utilised in a way that have a greater chance for lasting success than any of the popular promotions to date. The children of the last Babylonian Empire are in desperate need of guidance away from the funnel traps that lead to cyclical repeat of the historic folly.
the high table P.C. front men did a wonderful job of promoting Britain's post colonial image. the mistakes of Empire were foolishly ignored, whilst the survivors of the "Winning side" dipped their bread in as many of the licentious excesses that the new found "disposable incomes" could buy. Most of Britain is now in the grip of the hangover residual from those times. Being surrounded by the New Age of First World compulsive consumerism , did next to nothing to improve my last worlder reality. As a child of first generation immigrants I got a chance to taste and try but without the opportunity to buy into the new prosperity. For now I will keep my own counsel as to why that should be so.
The new Era of which Gandhi spoke is a global reality but the media promotion of the concept of the "New World Order" seems to have displaced the bourgeoning hope that that his vision embued. Gandhi is dead, so too Martin Luther King, John Lennon is an airport now,(I don't know how he did it). The wet knickered hysteria of the age of Beatle mania did nothing for me the first time round. The regurgitated carambis of nostalgia for what in retrospect may be regarded as a popular psychosis, a mental illness in fact.
My journey away from what I regard as "the big mistake" has been a difficult one. I am Sixty now. My sixties will be utilised in a way that have a greater chance for lasting success than any of the popular promotions to date. The children of the last Babylonian Empire are in desperate need of guidance away from the funnel traps that lead to cyclical repeat of the historic folly.
Thursday, 26 April 2012
The journeyman's pen...
With tales that may not yet be told until the noble cause is won,whilst juggernauts leave deserts in their wake. The pen describes a word unsoiled by mortal tongue. The hoe, now guides us on the path that we must take.
A tick, a sign confirming all correct.It steers a course away from certain doom,the price of Man's neglect. A key, a note. transcending symphony, aspires to sainted harmony and opens gates to our true destiny.
Saturday, 21 April 2012
To St. Malo Ferry Terminal Port Police...
We arrived early, some fifteen minutes or so before our expected visitor was due to disembark. Preoccupied, excited in anticipation. Not on the look out for entertainment,I couldn't help but notice a tired looking young couple fumbling with each others buttons. Both parties being oblivious of anything but each other without consideration of the effect their display may have on the sensibilities of others. We were in a public place. The witnessed action was not what I regarded as discrete .
I made a comment , "I hope they don't start breeding." Within earshot of the couple, at which the young woman volunteered to ask me how I dared to say such a thing. Given that the subject matter of our mutual interest had been diverted to something more acceptable in a public forum I was happy to discuss how I, anyone in fact ought to be able to dare to speak without inhibition. The couple lost interest in the conversation ? their behaviour modified , perhaps their spirits somewhat dampened. I was content to pace around a while longer,unaware of the consequences my brief encounter may have had. My choice of words may have been more acceptable if I had suggested they got a room.
Without warning I found myself surrounded by five police persons one woman and four men. The sergeant of the group seemed a little agitated. He asked for I.D. I complied as politely as one may , in looking for my passport I exposed a flute which I habitually carry in my inside pocket. The sergeant asked me what it was. I told him , little satisfied he told me to take it out "Slowly". I took out the instrument explaining once more that it was a flute and proceeded to play a short bar of music , a mere three second burst of not unpleasant sound. The sergeant seemed incensed that I should play. I wasn't aware that there was any reason to be agressive or too serious.
The policeman engaged with Anne-Sophie making an issue of the fact that I am English. Intimating that I could be sent back to Britain. Anne-Sophie an articulate woman informed the sergeant that I was her husband and a permanent resident of France. That I was acting within my constitutional rights. Taking issue with the sergeant assuming wrongly that I had commited any offence at all. whether I was native to France or a foreign national I was acting within my rights. No right at all for the police sergeant , a man of some North African lineage,if I am not mistakened to suggest , imply at least that I would be sent back to the place from whence I came. In retrospect I hope the irony doesn't escape him. A hollow threat with no right in law to implement. The sergeant made a big play of not wanting to be delayed from going home to his family, as though my action was causing him the inconvenience. We asked all the police present what was the nature of the complaint and who if anyone had made it.
None of the officers knew what complaint had been and were unable even if they wanted to identify. Prepared to deport me against my rights as a citizen and against interntional law without legitimate cause to a country which for several years has not been my home, without charge and without trial??? The sergeant was making himself and his colleagues look foolish. The sergeant complained to Anne-Sophie that I had played my flute,(the three second burst) and that HE was a policeman. He did need to be told twice after request what the object was.
All but sergeant appeared to want a swift end to a minor but growing embarrasment. He then asked who was I waiting for, I told him, "My son."
Sergeant of port police then asked me if he was English. Not seeing the point , I volunteered that he is. "Good then we can send him back instead".
One wonders what problems the sergeant hoped to solve by his provocative posturing. I indicated to the policeman That for all his officious , none productive and ill conceived bluster it was I who was being tolerant. His colleagues were nearer by their manner to having views more closely in accord with mine. A point worthy of note is that in my passport there is no address. The only verification was Anne-Sophies verbal confirmation that I was telling the truth. She was not asked for identification. How could they know that she wasn't lying. There was no objective investigation of any complaint, neither civil nor criminal. The younger policemen behaved well enough, standing "at ease" in a state of readiness but still sociably responsive and rightfully non partisan. My passport was taken away by the policewoman to be photocopied and presumably for security checks to be made. The sergeant then made the "offer", that we should be taken into a backroom. and for formal charges to be drawn up. Still no indication of what if any offence had given cause for complaint. We declined the"offer" to be interviewed in private, prefering to have all procedure publicly transparent. We had up to this point been co-operative and civil. I did comment on the Sergeants grossly uneconomic use of resources was not justified by effective result. Five police personnel deployed without cause. overmanning to say the least , but a distraction from observing any real potential security risk. The sergeant was insistant that matters should be taken further (What matters?) blessed we were that the plain clothes policeman had the initiative to calm the sergeant and insisted that due proceedures had been followed ,no legitimate reason to escalate the incident. The police sergeant lends the lie that he wanted to get home early to his family. A spot security check in the full public view of the open lounge was acceptable, further action unwarranted , had we been coerced further, to the backroom, the police action would be considered an unlawful detention.
The police sergeant appeared to be motivated by personal prejudice alone. He presents the the port with an unacceptable risk. His attitudes were observed to be overtly xenophobic. the sergeant was attempting to incite acts against the Public Order, by insiduously implied threats citing immediate deportation and / or my visitor may be harassed, beyond the lawful authourity of his office. Given the passive circumstance the presence of five police officers may be considered a bullying threat. Grateful I am for my own objective self control. Grateful too for the presence of Madame Godden to bear witness. An international ferry terminal is hardly the best placement for a person of the sergeant's irrational xenophobic disposition. There are over 50 thousand families resident in northern France with legitimate interests on both sides of the channel, European citizens. Why should ones nationality be considered grounds for suspicion or targeted persecution. Would the sergeant consider it to be just if on the grounds of his own cultural origin to be subject to the same unmandated treatment. If the boot were on the other foot,sergeant, how comfortably would you stand?
A review is in order, an audit if you will, of the aproprietness of,and the effectiveness of police security procedures. Views implicitly expressed by the sergeant need to be addressed as an issue of some international concern. Not in the public interest to ignore. The integrity of the other officers is put at risk, the hard won good will enjoyed by the Police force is compromised.
Whilst hoping that a response would be civilly volunteered by the police sergeant, publicly or privately however as he may, I have no wish to go further with formal complaint. My open communication is by way of feedback, that some practical intelligence be gleaned that would in some way justify the otherwise extreme waste of public resources. I.Wazir.
I made a comment , "I hope they don't start breeding." Within earshot of the couple, at which the young woman volunteered to ask me how I dared to say such a thing. Given that the subject matter of our mutual interest had been diverted to something more acceptable in a public forum I was happy to discuss how I, anyone in fact ought to be able to dare to speak without inhibition. The couple lost interest in the conversation ? their behaviour modified , perhaps their spirits somewhat dampened. I was content to pace around a while longer,unaware of the consequences my brief encounter may have had. My choice of words may have been more acceptable if I had suggested they got a room.
Without warning I found myself surrounded by five police persons one woman and four men. The sergeant of the group seemed a little agitated. He asked for I.D. I complied as politely as one may , in looking for my passport I exposed a flute which I habitually carry in my inside pocket. The sergeant asked me what it was. I told him , little satisfied he told me to take it out "Slowly". I took out the instrument explaining once more that it was a flute and proceeded to play a short bar of music , a mere three second burst of not unpleasant sound. The sergeant seemed incensed that I should play. I wasn't aware that there was any reason to be agressive or too serious.
The policeman engaged with Anne-Sophie making an issue of the fact that I am English. Intimating that I could be sent back to Britain. Anne-Sophie an articulate woman informed the sergeant that I was her husband and a permanent resident of France. That I was acting within my constitutional rights. Taking issue with the sergeant assuming wrongly that I had commited any offence at all. whether I was native to France or a foreign national I was acting within my rights. No right at all for the police sergeant , a man of some North African lineage,if I am not mistakened to suggest , imply at least that I would be sent back to the place from whence I came. In retrospect I hope the irony doesn't escape him. A hollow threat with no right in law to implement. The sergeant made a big play of not wanting to be delayed from going home to his family, as though my action was causing him the inconvenience. We asked all the police present what was the nature of the complaint and who if anyone had made it.
None of the officers knew what complaint had been and were unable even if they wanted to identify. Prepared to deport me against my rights as a citizen and against interntional law without legitimate cause to a country which for several years has not been my home, without charge and without trial??? The sergeant was making himself and his colleagues look foolish. The sergeant complained to Anne-Sophie that I had played my flute,(the three second burst) and that HE was a policeman. He did need to be told twice after request what the object was.
All but sergeant appeared to want a swift end to a minor but growing embarrasment. He then asked who was I waiting for, I told him, "My son."
Sergeant of port police then asked me if he was English. Not seeing the point , I volunteered that he is. "Good then we can send him back instead".
One wonders what problems the sergeant hoped to solve by his provocative posturing. I indicated to the policeman That for all his officious , none productive and ill conceived bluster it was I who was being tolerant. His colleagues were nearer by their manner to having views more closely in accord with mine. A point worthy of note is that in my passport there is no address. The only verification was Anne-Sophies verbal confirmation that I was telling the truth. She was not asked for identification. How could they know that she wasn't lying. There was no objective investigation of any complaint, neither civil nor criminal. The younger policemen behaved well enough, standing "at ease" in a state of readiness but still sociably responsive and rightfully non partisan. My passport was taken away by the policewoman to be photocopied and presumably for security checks to be made. The sergeant then made the "offer", that we should be taken into a backroom. and for formal charges to be drawn up. Still no indication of what if any offence had given cause for complaint. We declined the"offer" to be interviewed in private, prefering to have all procedure publicly transparent. We had up to this point been co-operative and civil. I did comment on the Sergeants grossly uneconomic use of resources was not justified by effective result. Five police personnel deployed without cause. overmanning to say the least , but a distraction from observing any real potential security risk. The sergeant was insistant that matters should be taken further (What matters?) blessed we were that the plain clothes policeman had the initiative to calm the sergeant and insisted that due proceedures had been followed ,no legitimate reason to escalate the incident. The police sergeant lends the lie that he wanted to get home early to his family. A spot security check in the full public view of the open lounge was acceptable, further action unwarranted , had we been coerced further, to the backroom, the police action would be considered an unlawful detention.
The police sergeant appeared to be motivated by personal prejudice alone. He presents the the port with an unacceptable risk. His attitudes were observed to be overtly xenophobic. the sergeant was attempting to incite acts against the Public Order, by insiduously implied threats citing immediate deportation and / or my visitor may be harassed, beyond the lawful authourity of his office. Given the passive circumstance the presence of five police officers may be considered a bullying threat. Grateful I am for my own objective self control. Grateful too for the presence of Madame Godden to bear witness. An international ferry terminal is hardly the best placement for a person of the sergeant's irrational xenophobic disposition. There are over 50 thousand families resident in northern France with legitimate interests on both sides of the channel, European citizens. Why should ones nationality be considered grounds for suspicion or targeted persecution. Would the sergeant consider it to be just if on the grounds of his own cultural origin to be subject to the same unmandated treatment. If the boot were on the other foot,sergeant, how comfortably would you stand?
A review is in order, an audit if you will, of the aproprietness of,and the effectiveness of police security procedures. Views implicitly expressed by the sergeant need to be addressed as an issue of some international concern. Not in the public interest to ignore. The integrity of the other officers is put at risk, the hard won good will enjoyed by the Police force is compromised.
Whilst hoping that a response would be civilly volunteered by the police sergeant, publicly or privately however as he may, I have no wish to go further with formal complaint. My open communication is by way of feedback, that some practical intelligence be gleaned that would in some way justify the otherwise extreme waste of public resources. I.Wazir.
Sunday, 15 April 2012
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