DIARY OF A SEPTUAGENARIAN
- John Copeland -
Friday 18th May - Thursday 24th May, 2012
The full A4 file of documents, reports and letters , some of them marked "Strictly Private and Confidential", that I have received in connection with the Inquisition, which began on the 24th October, 2011 costing several hundreds of pounds to the council taxpayers, and all because I dared to criticise district councillors. This is the Council that has managed to get the agenda for a Hearing Panel wrong; that has so far sent me three copies of the 37-page Investigating Officer's Report; and who told me that my questions about the proceedings would not be answered because they were "too difficult" and "took up a lot of officer time." Readers will no doubt be able to make their own judgement.
"Meetings are indispensible when you don't want to decide anything"
J.J.Galbraith. A comment that would no doubt well describe our rambling Parish council
FRIDAY 18 MAY
I have received yet another letter from the Senior Democratic Officer of our District Council, adding to the full A4 file of papers, saying that a Standards Committee (Hearing Panel) will meet to determine the matter on Wednesday, 23 May, 2012 in the Council Chamber,.commencing at 4.00 p.m. I can attend the hearing, as can the two complainants who wrote the 12 pages of complaints about me. The officer ended the letter: "I look forward to seeing you on the 23 May".
I looked at the agenda that was enclosed with all the papers, seeing that the main item was listed as: "To determine in accordance with the Local Authorities (Code of Conduct) (Local Determination) Resolutions 2003 issued under Section 66 of the Local Government Act 2000 the reports of an Investigating Officer into allegations made against a Member of the Bardney Group Parish Council."
As the parish council I was on before resigning in December of last year, unable to stand the awful proceedings any longer, is not in the Bardney Group Parish Council, I assume that I have been sent the wrong agenda, and I will therefore be writing to say I will not be attending the gathering. In any event, I regard the recent High Court judgement in the case of Claver reported at EWHC/Admin/2012/1172, ruling that there was nothing wrong in lampooning councilors on-line, as effectively nullifying and overruling the single charge against me.
In my officer days in local government, such a mistake in an agenda would have been regarded as extremely serious, the officer responsible being in deep trouble and in all probability invalidating the meeting, but no doubt very different principles nowadays relate to the Alice-in-Wonderland world of Standards Committees and their Hearing Panels.
Significantly, the Hearing Panel consists of three members - an independent chairman who is paid £276 for the session, plus traveling expenses; a district council representative; and a parish council representative. In other words, the Panel is biased towards local authority members, and though I make no comment on the Panel hearing my heresy, there must surely be a fear that elected members will want to protect their own kind. For a Panel to be fair, independent members should predominate over the council representatives .
Although I realise some readers have found the seemingly endless pages about the Inquisition immensely boring, I nevertheless wanted to show, particularly to people abroad, what happens in this country if anybody dares to criticise a parish pump politician, especially district councillors, such criticism coming under headings of lack of respect, bullying and intimidation. A cynic might say that the long and biased proceedings make a kangaroo court seem respectable.
Fortunately, the recent High Court judgement, ruling that it is not an offence to lampoon local politicians on-line, will do a great deal to restore freedom of speech, effectively overruling many of the provisions of the iniquitous Code of Conduct that every councillor, even parish councillors, have to sign on taking up office, the Judge having ruled that politicians, nationally and locally, should be big enough to endure robust discussion.
With the recent abolition of the Standards Board for England, the days of Monitoring Officers and a multitude of Democratic Officers could mercifully soon be coming to an end. Consequently, my faith in British justice has been greatly restored, knowing that the Animal Farm tyranny we have had to endure in the past may soon be over..
Perhaps, though, when all is considered and looking back on the Inquisition, it is unkind to criticise district councillors, for they have a rotten job, having to attend all manner of dreary meetings, especially those worthless parish council assemblies, and this is not everybody's cup of tea, requiring as it does a high threshold of boredom.
They do a grand job for their £7,000+ a year, ensuring that our wheeled dustbins are regularly emptied - black (household refuse) and, blue (recycled items ) every fortnight, as well as the green bins (garden refuse). We would be in a fine pickle if this work was not undertaken, yet they are not appreciated.
The joiner came to put up some more bookshelves in the parlour and in the former bedroom that has now been made into what I grandly call the office. In the photograph below of the office, note Arthur on the left-hand wall - my talisman who protects me from district councillors, not that he has been doing a very good job lately, probably needing further Talisman Training.
The new shelving in the parlour should take about 150 books, representing book purchases for the next three years. Assuming I am still here at the age of 80, I dread to think the condition I will be in, probably riddled with arthritis, and having had another two Inquisitions for teasing district councillors. As for the country, possibly being bailed out by the IMF and Germany, maybe it is better not to think about.
I have now received the agenda for the Hearing Panel set up under the terms of the Inquisition on the 23rd May. The wrong Parish Council has been entered. The Parish Council from which I resigned is not, and never has been, a member of the Bardney Group. There is perhaps little wonder I sometines think of the authority as a Toytown Council that cannot even get an agenda right.
I went to Woodcocks to have a drink with a couple of friends at noon, greatly enjoying the session with highly intelligent companions. It is always a pleasant occasion, the beer nearly always good (though there was a problem today), spoilt only by the utterly horrible relayed musak that has women screeching and howling, not a tune amongst any of the items.
I have never been able to understand why publicans think this unpleasant noise is necessary, but the manager has told us that the musak is compulsory, coming in from a cental point relating to the chain of pubs. A great pity. I suppose publicans abhor a silence, rather like nature dislikes a vacuum.
Later in the afternoon I joined one of my neighbours in visiting our crippled neighbour; alas, having rather too much to drink, but never mind, for it made for an agreeable occasion. Somehow I do not think I would make a very good social worker.
While we were there t the wives of our little community had a strategy review meeting to consider the arrangements for a Jubilee Breakfast, which we are planning to have outside on Monday 4th June. Originally, we were thinking of asking some of the other villagers, but the women have decided that there would not be enough room if the weather was bad, which is more than likely.
SATURDAY 19 MAY
Mrs. Copeland went off on her own at 10 a.m. to drive down to Essex to spend until Monday teatime with her mother, meaning that I have been left to fend for myself. I take the view that it is a Good Thing for couples to be away from one another for short periods, but on the other hand it makes me realise how awful my life would be if Mrs. C. predeceases me. It seems that women manage on their own far better than men, whereas men have to find another partner as quickly as possible in order to avoid cooking.
Later in the morning Mrs. C sent me a text message saying that she had arrived safely after a good journey. I always worry about her travelling long distances on our appalling roads, few motorists taking any heed of the speed limits. To travel at just under 70 mph on a motorway means being overtaken by lorries, white vans and coaches, many of the drivers quite heedless of any consideration for other road users. Whenever we travel down the A1 we nearly always see a pile-up, and at other times there are diversions because of an accident. It amazes me that there are not more accidents.
Going down on her own will enable Mrs. Copeland to spend more time with her mother, doing shopping, visiting a sick relative and undertaking various duties. The worst part of her stay will be having to watch television on Sunday evening - an experience I have always loathed when I accompanied Mrs. C., confirming my view that the idiot's lantern is absolute rubbish, real panem et circenses.
This coming Sunday, for example, there is a "Death in Paradise" programme on BBC1, described as "A voodoo priestess who predicted her own murder is found dead" When so many wonderful books are now being published, I find it incredible that anybody of any intelligence, even very lazy people, can spend their time watching such nonsense.
As I cannot abide cooking for myself, I went out at 1 p.m. to purchase fish and chips, which I ate at home with a half bottle of wine. I had thought of going to a restaurant, but I think I will do that tomorrow, though Sundays at most pubs/restaurants sees a lot of screaming and badly behaved children, sessions that geriatric gentlefolk should avoid wherever possible, finding it vexatious to the spirit.
The weather, as always in this lousy climate of ours, was cloudy and cold with a northerly wind, and no a sign of the sun. Much as I hate foreign holidays, I begin to understand why so many people go abroad to see the sun, something they are unlikely to experience in this rain-soaked land where we have a terrible drought. However, today's "Daily Express" had a front-page headline saying that it was going to be a blazing hot summer, with a mini hot period this coming week, a real scorcher, which will make for a nice change.
The office, in which bookshelves were fitted today. Note "Arthur" on the left wall - my Talisman to keep away district councillors, not that he has been doing a very good job lately, probably needing Talisman training
A siesta in the afternoon after doing some housework, and in the evening I read some more of "Target Tirpitz". In one of the chapters there is an account of the midget submarines that were to be used against the battleship, involving loss of life in the trials, yet in the event they only inflicting comparatively little damage to the great ship.
The submariners were incredibly brave men, knowing that the chance of survival was not good. I think also of the incredibly brave young airmen who went on bombing raids to Germany, some 55,000 being killed. Presumably, too, we should applaud our military personnel in Afghanistan, who face terrible odds in dealing with an unknown enemy, as well as having to endure the treachery of the native police, knowing that the war can never be won.. Still, at least we are leaving the hellhole in 2014.
SUNDAY 20 MAY
Up at 6.45 a.m. to purchase "The Sunday Times" for ourselves and "The Sunday Telegraph" for friends in the village. I skimmed through the Business section and the main news section, but discarded the rest of the sections, never finding anything worth reading in them, with the possible exception of the Culture supplement to look at the book and film review, not that many of the films reviewed ever come to the Lincoln Odeon.
Although I have never partaken in Facebook, despite granddaughter Chloe having set one up for me several years ago, which I never look at, long since having forgotten the password, I was disappointed to see a news item saying that children as young as 13 years of age could become participants. On the other hand, I suppose the facility, which often causes a lot of trouble, is mainly for youngsters, not people of my advanced age.
With Mrs. Copeland away until late Monday afternoon, I decided to do some more work on painting out bedroom, doing some gloss-painting of various wood surfaces. Free to work on my own, I did not have to endure the "ongoing" quality control complaining about the paint going all over the pillows - something that is difficult to stop, even though the tin inaccurately refers to a non-drip arrangement.
To have a professional painter would probably have cost about £350, for it is a fairly large room (20 ft x 13 ft), with a lot of wood surfaces, so apart from a £20 tin of paint, there has been an enormous saving. Admittedly, a professional painter would not have got paint over Mrs. Copeland's pillows, but new ones can be easily replaced at a modest cost, still indicating a saving. There is an old saying: "Don't cry over spilt milk", and it seems to me that the same ruling should apply to errant paint.
This work took me up to lunchtime, when I decided not to face going out to eat, having to endure uncontrolled children in any pub or restaurant - something that I cannot abide, I therefore had a tin of soup and bread at home, plus wine, finishing off with a chocolate ice-cream that I have most days. Then, after a siesta following a good morning's work, using the turps to remove splashed paint, I went up to the Club after 4.15 p.m.
The Club inherited a large wall clock from the days when the premises were a school, but this, rather like the old grandfather clock of nursery rhyme fame, has stopped. Several people have tried to repair it, but without success. However, a keen horologist in the village has said that he could make it work for £200, giving his labour free.
Bearing in mind that the official Parish Council spends hardly any money in the village, I have written to the Chairman and Clerk to enquire whether this cost could be met from parish council funds. It would be a pleasant gesture, and we would see something for the £3,689 (2010/11) figure we pay for the Parish Council, representing £12.04 for a property on Band D.
Rhododendron in the garden, unusually a white one.
Back home I boiled an egg, which I enjoyed with bread and butter and cake, and a pot of tea. Not a very substantial intake of food for the day you might say, but it saved going out to a crowded and noisy pub, and saved quite a lot of money. Afterwards, following yet another cold and cloudy day, I read some more of "Target Tirpitz", finishing the excellent book by midnight, when it was time to consider retiring to bed.
I have been receiving several junk messages on my mobile. Today there was one saying: ""Win free laser eye surgery in May!", while last week there were others asking "Want the latest iphone or smart mobile but can't get a contract?" and "Our records indicate you are owed £2800 for mis-sold PPI from the last 10 years."
These worthless messages are easy to delete, but I gather that there is no way of preventing them. Presumably my mobile contractor gives my mobile telephone number to various firms, for how otherwise would they know it?
I had an e-mail today saying; "You sound unusually bitter this week - must be the effect of continuous pain. Good service is not dead. There are dozens of people out there in various shops and restaurants who fully understand service. Your commentary does them a grave dis-service. Don't join the nay-sayers; we need to talk ourselves up not drag ourselves down. One gets out of any transaction what one puts into it. A courteous smile and the willingness to recognize that they too are humans like oneself can turn the sourest assistant into a cheerful friend. We may be going down the tubes but let's do so cheerfully".
It is a fair point, and once I have got this silly Inquisition over I will try to be in a more cheerful mode. Certainly there are some good things that can be still be enjoyed in a country in a double-dipped recession with no water and no hope, especially the wonderful books that are being published at a time when the idiot's lantern becomes steadily worse. There is also Radio 3 to show that culture is not yet dead, serving as an oasis in the cheerful mediocrity of local radio.
Reading that our Home Secretary has brought in new powers whereby the police will have to take action when an individual complains on three occasions about the antisocial behaviour of yobs, having earlier cut police front-line services by 20%, I begin to wonder about the intelligence of politicians who supposedly rule over us. Presumably Mrs. May will have to go in the next Cabinet reshuffle, having been a disastrous Home Secretary, especially in terms of immigration.
MONDAY 21 MAY
Quite an early beginning t to the day, cutting the grass at 8.30 a.m. before having breakfast.
In this diary I have repeatedly pointed to the appalling economic condition of this country, arguing that it will descend into a 1930s-style depression with massive unemployment, the Government unable to finance its overwhelming debt. This soothsaying was obviously endorsed by an item in today's "i" saying that "The UK will lose its triple A credit rating next year according to Legal & General bond fund manager Richard Hodges. 'The question isn't will the UK be downgraded, but when' he said."
A friend came to have wine and a baguette with me at 1 p.m after I had earlier been to Waitrose to purchase the bread. A pleasant meeting, during which I was shown an article from "The Daily Mail" for the 15th May which reproduced items from a recent book written by Dr. Charles Clark, in which the learned doctor says that we should avoid low-fat foods; enjoy a juicy steak; and drink wine, not fruit juice, and that jogging was dangerous, building up future joint trouble.
Earlier, another doctor had pointed out that it was far healthier to have the main meal at lunchtime, rather than dinner at night. I have always maintained this, along with writing about the nonsense of the obsession with low-fat diets, arguing that a meal of steak is good for us. So you have first read it here once again. I remain convinced that much of the mumbo-jumbo about healthy eating, especially the edicts from the Food Standards Authority, should be avoided, having no substance in them.
My attention has been drawn to an item in the Local Government Act of 2000, which is the basis of the Inquisition I am now having to endure, in which it is said that complaints have to be dealt with within three months (Section 66 , Item 4 relating to Procedures). My Inquisition will have lasted seven months precisely on Thursday of this week, over twice the permitted time And this is the Toytown District council that cannot even get an agenda right, showing what I am up against in having to endure all this nonsense. I have sent an e-mail to the Monitoring Officer explaining the time schedule.
The wonders of nature.
Mrs. Copeland arrived home about 5.30 p.m., having had a relatively good journey, though she finds it very disconcerting that cars now overtake on the inside, but this seems to have become quite normal practice in the free-for-all behaviour on our roads, no regard being had to the speed limits and certainly not to the Highway Code.
At 6.30 p.m. we went to have a meal at Prezzos, an Italian restaurant, currently my favourite eating place in Lincoln, We had intended going to our local pub/restaurant - "Woodcocks", but the road to the pub is closed for bridge repairs for four weeks. In Germany or America such work would be done in a week, but this is Lax Britannica, explaining why we are in recession because we do not work hard enough. In Lincoln recently, a road alteration involving a traffic island and some new traffic lights, took an incredible seven weeks. Still, local authorities have never had to worry about value-for-money or cost efficiency.
As the weather had turned reasonably warm for a delightful change, we sat outside, overlooking the Brayford Pool. The food, wine and service were first-rate, being served by a pleasant young man who told me he was from Poland.
I have always found these Polish employees extremely hardworking and courteous, very willing to serve, in marked contrast to their English equivalent. In Lincoln there is a discount store in which the female staff are always surly, never a word of greeting, even though I am a regular customer. Although I worry about all the immigrants coming into this country, at least they are prepared to work. Without them this country would probably fall completely apart.
As I do not much care for foreign food, I had chicken legs, which were delicious, going down well with white wine and subsequently vanilla ice-cream. From our outside table we could see young ladies hobbling by in their high heels resembling stilts, their trousers tight around their posterior.
I suppose to young men they look erotic, but I was reminded of Dr. Johnson's comment about "wretched unidea'd girls". Give me a woman in a long dress or skirt any time, but I suppose this reflects maturity in which you are more interested in what is between their ears.
Back home, I read some more of "Target Turpitz" - a splendid book.
TUESDAY 22 MAY
I have finished reading "Pure" - my "Morning Book", having quite enjoyed it, though I found the ending somewhat disappointing. I have now started on "Salmon Fishing in the Yemen" by Paul Torday. A month or so ago I saw the film at the Lincoln Odeon with Mrs. Copeland, and I have been advised to read the book, said to be much better.
I certainly agree with this verdict, already a third of the way through, finding it a splendid novel. As one review on the cover pointed out: "A wonderful novel - a cry for humanity in our target-driven, spin-riddled world". I particularly liked the comment on a talk to the local humanist society: "My theme was that if we believed in God, we immediately created an excuse for tolerating injustice, natural disasters, pain and loss...All disasters, all loss, all suffering, demonstrate that there cannot possibly be a God, for why would a deity who is omnipotent create a universe so prone to disaster and accident?"
Although a believer, I tend to agree with such an analysis, taking the view that God gave us freewill and let us get on with our own affairs, not wanting us to bother Him. Consequently, in such a context, it could be argued that prayer, appealing to God when things go wrong, is a negation of that free will.
I heard on the 8 a.m. news summary on the Third Programme that Marks and Spencer, that bellwether of retail sales, had seen its latest profits suffering a sharp fall, blamed on the lack of consumer confidence as the recession steadily develops.
At 9.30 a.m. I went to have my hair cut, going to the usual barber's shop run by a delightful shapely young lady. On this occasion I saw one of her equally attractive female assistants, but the conversation was somewhat strained. Even so, the service is excellent, spoilt only by the unbelievably horrible music relayed on Radio 1, much of the musak seeming to involve primitive African music in which drums are extensively featured.
I suggested that the station could be changed to a Lincoln station presenting melodious tunes, but this suggestion did not seem to go down too well. Why, oh why, must we have music wherever we go these days? primarily intended for youngsters, some of whom even like that deadly boring rapper musak that involves a tedious moronic chanting.
We saw the sunshine at last today after so many dreary days of cold and relentlessly cloudy weather. It was therefore a delight riding the scooter into town, having no problems in parking now that the City Council in its dubious wisdom is building on more and more carparks. I suppose the day will soon come when I am too old to be on two wheels, but meanwhile I greatly enjoy the freedom and cheapness of using a 125 cc scooter, overtaking the lines of gridlocked traffic in the city.
We have had trouble with the electricity bill for one of Mrs. Copeland's rented out houses following the departure of a tenant and the arrival of a new one. This morning I tried to contact Southern Electric to sort things out, but after going through several menus I ended up listening to music. After a wait of 7 minutes with no response, I gave up, and will write to the firm instead. These days I find that telephoning a company is quite impossible, it being far quicker and certainly less frustrating to send a letter - and a lot cheaper as many companies use the expensive 0845 connection, presumably deliberately making you hold on.
Our local Club has asked for village photographs to mount in the recently refurbished premises. I am giving this one, on canvas, showing cows last year in the avenue of oaks.
At noon I attended a meeting of the village Retired Gentlemen's Club, having lunch in a well-known Club in Lincoln for professional people, no riffraff admitted. There was a set meal - sausages and mash, which is my favourite meal, and it was excellent, going down well with some Directors ale.
One of the members, referring to my Inquisition, said that there was an exhibition of Medieval torture in the "Collection Museum" in Lincoln, which might give me some idea of the punishment in store for me.
Taking one of the members home with another village resident, we were invited - or rather invited ourselves - in for wine in the garden, sitting in the wonderful sunshine with his attractive wife,, the temperature having reached 26 C. What a wonderful change!
There was the Annual Meeting of the Parish Council this evening, but I could not face going, knowing that it was all a waste of time. Had I attended I would probably have asked: "What has the Council ever done for us?" Putting this question to two of my friends who are on the Council, they told me that dog-bins had been put up in the older part of the village in which I live and on the large housing estate. What else?...............Er.
Instead of wasting two hours, I spent the evening finishing reading "Target Tirpitz", a book that I enjoyed immensely. I have now made a start on "Arnhem - The Battle for Survival" by John Nichol and Tony Rennell, published this year by Penguin Viking at £20. Arnhem was one of the supposedly bright ideas of Montgomery, of whom historians have since been very critical, saying that he lacked the verve and determination of the German generals.
Late this afternoon I sent an e-mail to the Monitoring Officer and the Senior Democratic Officer of our District Council, saying that as I regarded tomorrow's agenda for the Hearing Panel as illegal, not having indicated the correct Parish Council, I would not be attending the meeting.
Furthermore, I pointed out that any appeal that I may make will be based on the High Court ruling; the failure of your authority to complete the proceedings within the stipulated three month period (Section 66 of the Local Government Act of 2000, item 4 Procedures); and your refusal to answer my questions about the proceedings - Letter 31 January, 2012 on the grounds that my letters and e-mails were "long and complicated" and had "taken up a lot of officer time."
As my old grandfather would have said: Let them put that in their pipe and smoke it.
WEDNESDAY 23 MAY
After a morning spent mainly on the computer, I had an annual dental check-up - something I worried about far more than the result of the Inquisition. I had a lump on my palate, and on looking at Internet medical sites I was worried that it could be cancer. However, much to my relief the very pleasant young female Indian dentist told me that it was an infection from one of my teeth, prescribing Metronidazole tablets to clear up the trouble. Unfortunately, I cannot drink for the next five days whilst taking the medication, but that is no great hardship.
There is no doubt in my mind that medical sites on the Internet should be banned, doing more harm and being even more dangerous than the pornography. More often that not, the sites are trying to sell you something, and are quite worthless. The Internet has much to offer, but not medical diagnosis.
Presumably despite my objections to there being an illegal agenda, the scheduled meeting of the Hearing Panel of the Standards Committee of our District Council went ahead as scheduled to punish my heresy, but then I suppose such niceties at this minor level of local government are not regarded as being all that important. Throughout there has been a determination to find me guilty.
When looking up the agenda of today's Hearing Panel on the District Council's website, I saw that they had changed the parish council to the correct one. The point is, though, that the agenda was circulated with the wrong one, and this remains a serious fault, though probably not in the Toytown world of these little authorities.
Assuming that the meeting was held, all the documents, the 12 pages of complaints and the Investigating Officer's 37-page report will be in the public domain, so in next week's diary I will be able, if I so wish, to report them, enabling readers to see what I was up against and the petty nature of the complaints. Some of the outrageous and highly offensive criticisms, from which I was cleared by the police, are well worth reading, though let me once again emphasise that I can not accept any responsibility if readers fall about and hurt themselves in helpless laughter.
The Scorpio - still going strong, in splendid condition, having done only 33,000 miles. The vehicle should see me out
A relaxed afternoon, feeling so thankful that I did not face the indignity of attending the Hearing Panel, assuming it took place. I had thought of appealing against the verdict, but Mrs. Copeland has said that it is better to forget the whole silly business. Presumably there will be a pathetic censure notice in the local press, saying I have been very naughty in criticising district councillors at a time when a Code of Conduct says they must be respected at all times.
If there is such a notice, I expect I will receive many letters of congratulation, saying well done for having stood up against a Council which apparently had nothing better to do than take seven months examining my criticism of its councillors, serving a judge and jury in its own court, and spending many hundreds of pounds of council taxpayers' money in the overextended and petty process.
I suppose I will have to set up a standard letter of thanks, finding it difficult to write personally to everybody. I will, however, thank all those who have helped me during the proceedings - assistance and support that I have greatly appreciated. I owe a particular debt to several Americans who have expressed amazement that such unfair proceedings can exist in this country, saying that such bias would never be permitted in their country.
The evening was spent reading some more of "Arnhem", which ended up in disaster for the brave soldiers and airmen who undertook this poorly planned and prepared episode that will always be associated with the failures of the arrogant Montgomery - not that he would ever admit that he was wrong. A man who was loathed by Eisenhower and all of the American generals, especially Patton.
I was immensely saddened to hear that one of our local authority members, a fellow whom I greatly respected and liked, is terminally ill with cancer. Why is it that the good people always seem to suffer in this way, the first to go, whereas some of the nasty Little People with their spitefulness and vindictiveness seem to live on, nothing ever going wrong with them?
It seems so unfair.
THURSDAY 24 MAY - Empire Day
I am greatly enjoying "Salmon Fishing in the Yemen", having bought a hardback copy from the excellent firm of Amazon. (How I wish that English firms could be as efficient with such a first-rate service, confirming orders and sending an e-mail when the item has been despatched).
I liked the passage in which Dr. Jones sadly records in his diary that his marriage is failing: "And then, as slowly as the light fades on a calm winter evening, something went out of our relationship. I say that selfishly. Perhaps I started to look for something which had never been there in the first place: passion, romance." He goes on to say: "As I write this entry in my diary, I myself feel like a diary, which has been left out in the rain, from which the moisture has washed away the cramped inky writing, leaving only a blank and sodden page".
Today is - or was - Empire Day. The late Widow Nell used to tell me that when she was a pupil in a village school there would be patriotic songs and hymns to commemorate an empire upon which the sun never set. Today, we can just about hold onto the Isle of Wight, the empire almost gone. It could be argued that President Roosevelt, never keen on Britain's imperialistic aspirations, was partly responsible for the demise of the empire.
Like the decline and fall of the Roman Empire, with which we now have much in common as we remain deeply mired in double-dipped recession, owing a trillion pounds, we could never financially maintain the upkeep, while today we can hardly support ourselves. A sad ending, indeed .
I heard today that there was a very poor attendance at yesterday evening's Parish Council Meeting, with only one person present from the old part of the village - the stewardess of the Club - and just three from the large housing estate. Presumably this represents the total lack of interest in the Council, making me thankful that I run the Alternative to the Parish Council.
Maybe I ought to have an Annual Parish Meeting, holding it in the Club so that we can all drink heavily during the 10-minute proceedings. Mercifully, there is no Code of Conduct in the Alternative to the Parish Council, so villagers can criticise me and lampoon me to their heart's content, all of which I will greatly enjoy in the now permitted robust debate.
I also heard that one of the parish councillors left the meeting early, unable to stand the proceedings any longer. During the last meeting I attended I left halfway through, finding that it was a complete waste of time, upsetting me so much when I saw a district councillor tapping away on a laptop, something that I would regard as being very rude indeed were I still chairman. Why laptops are needed for such unimportant occasions is something I will never understand. Subsequently I resigned from the Council,, knowing that I could never endure another meeting.
I gathered that at the Parish Meeting one of the district councillors was conerned, probably rightly so, about the standard of driving on one of the roads passing through our village, which is hardly a parish council item, but then this probably reflects the lack of functions of a district council. If anything, it is a matter for the County Council as the senior partner, but then what ever could be done to improve driving? It was this kind of hopeless debate that made me leave the Parish council, believing I was wasting my time.
The chairman should have ruled the item "out of order", moving on to item 17 (a) (1) "Takeup of recently installed dog bins", for it is Toytown stuff in which Noddy has been driving his little car very badly indeed, obviously needing a talking to from Mr. Plod the policeman, always assuming the police force has not been cut back in Enid Blyton land.
To my horror, I noticed that the spell checker I use changes e-mails to "e-mail's, indicating that I am guilty of using the grocer's apostrophe. I really must watch that, but it is difficult to spot.Maybe it is betgter not to use these spellcheckers at all
I have had no response to the e-mail that I sent on Monday to the Monitoring Officer to point out that the proceedings of Standards Committees were legally required to be completed within three months, whereas my Inquisition has taken seven months, over twice the permitted time, not that I expected any reply. Nevertheless, it is yet another example of the nonsense that I have had to endure over this extended period while the Council searches around for a suitable punishment in its Alice-in-Wonderland proceedings: "Sentence first - verdict afterwards"..
No doubt the officers will be busily writing out the censure notice this morning to send to the press, saying that I am "Not the Messiah, but a very naughty heretic who has criticised nice district councillors who earn every penny of their £7,000+ remuneration". How you have to laugh.
In all probability I will receive many letters of congratulation, saying that it is a pity more people do not stand up against the nonsense of local councils that have puffed themselves up to become enormous empires, our own having moved from a small house in Gainsborough in the early days to massively expensive modern premises, full of Monitoring Officers and Senior Democratic Officers.
As I have remarked before, the most effective punishment would be for me to be made to attend three consecutive monthly meetings of the full District Council. Seeing the members tapping away on their freebie laptops in dealing with dustbin emptying and a bit of planning, would have me in tears and despair, being truly penitent and promising never again to tease district councillors.
Today was formerly known as Empire Day, now no longer celebrated as a result of having lost an empire upon which the sun never set.
To the market in Lincoln on a wonderfully warm and sunny morning. It is sad to see all the closed shops around the market, while elsewhere in the city there are shuttered up pubs and gangs of youths with nothing to do all day, congregating in their boredom and unemployment in the city squares, outcasts of society who will probably never work.
Yet a wonderfully produced advertising magazine circulated to all homes in Lincoln and district, including our village, is a delight to read, saying that everything is picking up in Lincolnshire. Indeed, according to one recent survey: "Almost two-thirds of businesses in Lincolnshire expect their turnover to rise in the next 12 months", while the editorial comments: "It's amazing, that we as a nation, have the ability to talk ourselves into recession. Thankfully we seem to be more optimistic in Lincolnshire."
Cloud cuckoo land, the cynics will say on the day HP announced 27,000 jobs were to go, and when every month the forecast for economic growth in the UK is lowered. However, there is nothing like a bit of optimism, even if it is misplaced, for at least it helps to cheer us up. I fully realise that I should be more cheerful and optimistic in this diary, whereas I tend to be rather like Mona in "ITMA" - "it's being so miserable that keeps me going!" (Not many people probably remember ITMA, not that I ever liked it all that much).
This month's food frightener is calcium supplements, which can cause heart disease, making you feel as if you have just come out of a Parish Council meeting. Mind you, I have never believed in these supplements. For many years I took glucosamine sulphate tablets to ease my arthritis, but for all the good they did I might as well have swallowed Smarties.
Today's "i" had a report that the Cameroons were going to stop austerity and go in for growth instead - in other words, this Laurel & Hardy Government of ours cannot maitain a consistent policy line for more than four uesdays. This, though, is the problem in a democracy, whch never wants to take its medicine. Cutting back the deficit, however painful it was going to be, is the only option, Governments having little impact in a global economy on promoting growth.
The IMF has suggested that the Government should lower interest rates, which presumably means taking them down close to or on zero, but this will have no effect at all, as was shown in Japan when a similar course was adopted, ending in total failure..
To enjoy the wonderful day of weather, I sat out in the garden later in the morning and again after lunch, feet up, a bottle of wine to hand and reading a book about "Arnhem" - surely the height of all earthly felicity, except for the "Red Arrows Flying Circus" roaring overhead. This evening my two sons-in-law and a neighbour will be coming here to watch the DVD of "The Girl With the Dragon Tattoo".
A toast to the Freedom of Speech, recently greatly restored by the High Court ruling .
E-mail: johncopeland@clara.net
Lincolnshire, 24th May 2012
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No. 743
Diary of a Septuagenarian<BR>
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