The Moot House Restaurant, Castle Hedingham. Castle Hedingham is, without any doubt, the most attractive village in Essex, totally unspoilt as yet by the developers and planners.
"Hillary Clinton now seems more likely than Mr. Obama to become the next president of the United States."
Anatole Kaletsky, "The Times", 6th March, 2008
FRIDAY 22 AUGUST
Granddaughter Chloe was telling me that she does not like the Vista operating system on her new laptop computer, finding it far inferior and not nearly as reliable as XP. Fortunately she has a friend who can change it to XP, so that is a good thing. A computer engineer I know was telling me recently that the best operating system of all time was Windows 98, which I have on my ageing laptop computer, so that is a good thing, too.
Displaying what would appear to be his very obvious Republican sympathies, Gerard Baker can hardly conceal his delight in his article in "The Times" this morning in telling us that McCain is now ahead of Obama in the polls. According to our Gerry, McCain's lead is due to three factors: 1. That the "47-year-old Democrat, less than four years in the Senate, is still largely a blank page for American voters"; 2. Obama is having difficulty with Democrat voters, "still regarded with mistrust and dislike by large numbers of Hillary Clinton's supporters"; and 3. "That the war in Georgia has emphasised that the world is a dangerous place, and that simply being willing to talk to your enemies, as Senator Obama sometimes seems to suggest, isn't going to keep your people safe."
One of my American correspondents, whose comments I value, has said in an e-mail: "So, if Obama and McCain are deadlocked, why a 'rush to McCain?' The one thing that the polls show consistently is that people feel that McCain is best prepared to be president. If he does not hurt himself by his recent shift to negative campaigning against Obama, and if his 'original maverick' image resonates with the man in the unemployment line, we could well see a surge to McCain's side in the late days of this campaign.
"That would be too bad, in my opinion. Few people have looked hard enough at his record in the Senate (staunchly right wing), his emotional behavior (hair trigger temper) and his lack of attention to policy details. If he is undone in the end, I think that the cause will be a perception that a McCain presidency will be four more years of the Bushmen"
That, surely, sums up the differences between the two men - one a belligerent and ageing, trigger-happy cowboy, and the other an intelligent, albeit rather inexperienced man who realises that negotiating rather than bombing and bullying brings more success, as we found in Northern Ireland and are now realising to our bitter cost in money and lives in Iraq and Afghanistan. I am therefore convinced that it would be a disaster of the greatest magnitude if the old, trigger-happy cowboy with a grudge against the Russians were to win, making the world an even more dangerous place.
As I have said before, though, I fear McCain will win, the Americans having a quite remarkable record of having voted for dreadful presidents. Since 1945 the only one that was any good was the Democrat Harry S. Truman of "the buck stops here" fame. He is also quoted for saying: "It's a recession when your neighbour loses his job; it's a depression when you lose yours" - a remark well suited to our own times, as is his question: "Can't somebody bring me a one-handed economist?" He also said that people who could not stand the heat should get out of the kitchen.
Piece of pottery found with metal detector in nearby field - probably Victorian.
When switching on the idiot's lantern today to see how the markets and the pound were progressing, I briefly saw a programme in which a meteorologist was forecasting that by the end of the century this country could be having temperatures of 40 C in the summer, only going down to about 20 C in the winter. Obviously there is not much good putting that in my Scrapbook of Predictions, for I will long since be gone, pushing up daisies in the burial ground of the village mosque, but I would wager a £100 that the summers are still bloody miserable in 2100, the world having entered a new Ice Age that has recently been predicted by German scientists. There could, however, be a Conservative Government by then.
At least there was a headline in "The Times": "Boom years are over as economy skids to a halt. Analysts believe Britain is already in recession" - the point I have been making for the past few months in this diary, proving yet again that you read it here first. It makes me wonder what David Smith and Anatole Kaletsky, always so optimistic about our economy, will have to say after they have wiped the egg from their faces?
What an incredible muddle, and how will we ever get out of it? Yet a weary sounding little woman from the Treasury said today that we would quickly recover. This government statement is known as "The Dead Parrot Syndrome", in which politicians try to pretend that the economy is alive and well. We even had Bunker Brown quoted in "The Guardian" for the 4th of last month as saying that the "Economy still in good shape". Oh, the porkies they tell us, and how we laugh.
During the afternoon, the former chairman of the Parish Council brought down the minutes of the latest meeting for me to put up on the Parish Council notice board. I am now in charge of the board, which is a highly responsible post, ensuring that no charity notices ever go up. We took wine together for an hour or so, Mrs. Copeland being out at the cinema with granddaughter Chloe.
Later in the afternoon, the joiner who is going to put up some more bookshelves for me arrived to measure up, making provision for another 100 or so books (my total number of hardback books is currently 1,687). He is a keen metal-detector enthusiast, and after the measurements had been taken we went out into the field behind my house to look for treasure. Unfortunately, although there was a Roman settlement in these parts, we only found some old green grass; a piece from a coloured vase, probably Victorian, and a threepenny piece dated 1945.
The evening was spent at home, finishing "Bandit Roads" and making a start on ""On the Other Side: Letters to My Children from Germany 1940-46" by Mathilde Wolff-Monckeberg. The author, marooned in Germany during the war, expressed contempt for Hitler and his cronies, saying even in 1940 that the war was a disaster for Germany, likely to end in ignominious defeat, and so it proved.
Another ghastly day of weather, though there were a few sunny interludes during the afternoon, with yet more rain and a cold northerly wind. At 5 p.m. the temperature was down to 13.5 C. I gather it is the worst summer measured in terms of the lack of sunshine for over a decade. So much for global warming, presumably yet to reach this country.
SATURDAY 23 AUGUST
Mrs. Copeland, at my request, put her car through a carwash at a garage in Lincoln yesterday. Today I discovered that the vehicle's bodywork was covered in white blotches, which needed wetting and then polishing before I eventually managed to get the marks out. I noticed, too, that the roof of the car had scratches on it, obviously from grit having been caught up in the brushes.
It is the first time that we have used a carwash for many years, and we have resolved that we will never again use one of these terrible appliances. Bearing in mind that we are supposedly short of water, they ought to be banned.
There was, as I discovered later, a warning about using carwashes in the manual of the Peugeot, saying that they could be poorly maintained, as was the one that Mrs. Copeland used. However, we have learnt our lesson. As Oscar Wilde said: "Experience - the name men give to their mistakes".
Whilst I was trying to remedy the carwash, two Jehovah Witnesses, a genial looking man probably in his 60s accompanied by a young lad, came to talk to me. I always enjoy talking to these people, and today I had a discussion with the man about my belief that prayer was a negation of the free will that God had supposedly given us, quoting the reference in the latest issue of our village church newsletter in which we are asked to pray for the people of Zimbabwe at 8 a.m., 1. p.m., and again at 8 p.m. What, I asked, was God supposed to do to answer our prayers - strike Mugabe dead, or wake up the United Nations?
What I did find interesting was his unshaken belief in the Bible, and his comment that God allowed Man to make a mess of everything by way of proving that divine guidance was necessary at all times. It must be wonderful to have such faith, and as I said to him, "You will need it if the Conservatives get back." He even laughed, though I felt tempted to add "Just joking - there's no fear they will return." It is unwise to joke about such things, people being very frightened of the Conservatives.
Later in the morning I was looking through the Books supplement of today's "Times" - not the best of reviews. There was a brief review of the latest book by Polly Toynbee, whose writings in "The Guardian" made me give up the newspaper as I could no longer stand all the left-wing drivel. In the book "Unjust Rewards - Exposing Greed and Inequality in Britain today" she argues, as might be expected, that inequalities threaten society's stability. The point seems to be lost on Mrs. Toynbee that even if the lower orders were given an income of £50,000 a year, they would still be in a financial muddle, still begging for more. Neither does she realise that the wealthy pay for all the handouts to the indolent and incompetent.
I find it very upsetting that the recently released films "Somers Town" and "Elegy" are not appearing at the Lincoln Odeon this week. It really has become a hopeless cinema, showing only American Hollywooden blockbusters, despite having nine screens. In a way I suppose it is commercially understandable, for Lincoln is far too small to warrant the more intelligent and esoteric films - one of the penalties we pay for living in a backwater that thankfully nobody has ever heard of. On the other hand it might have been thought that the relatively new university would have improved the cultural life of the city, but this has not been the case, only the pubs and the landlords benefiting, and even the rooms to let have been over-egged.
Protest in the village of Pampisford in Cambridgeshire against proposed eco-village that would totally spoil the area. With the crash in the housing market and when builders are losing so much money, it is unlikely that it will be built, thank heavens.
One of my correspondents sent me a cutting from "The Independent" saying: "A state school has recorded the best A-level results in the country, beating hundreds of prestigious private schools which charge fees of up to £27,000 a year. King Edward VI Grammar School in Chelmsford, Essex, is on course to be ranked as the top performing school in the Government's performance tables, having achieved the equivalent of nearly five A-grades for every pupil. The school, which was founded in 1551, beat the top-ranked independent school, King's College School Wimbledon, an all-boys' school that charges up to £14,325 a year".
Although grammar schools nearly always outshine the private sector, especially those dreary little academies in small cities, the problem is that many of the loony leftwing authorities have abolished grammar schools, finding that they were an embarrassment, making their bog-standard comprehensive schools look so awful. In such nasty authorities, the social engineering espoused in "The Guardian" must always take preference over educational needs, elitism and excellence being branded as dirty and unacceptable words in the Socialist catechism.
During the morning I put up the Parish Council minutes on the village notice board. I was amazed at the steady stream of traffic going through the village, obviously using it as a short cut, making me thankful that we do not live on this road, not having to endure all the noise and pollution. Apparently there are some motorists who complain about the cows blocking the road when they are off to milking. I find this incredible, though it has to be realised that the drivers who are in the greatest hurry are the people who have no need to be in a hurry, and that there is a direct ratio between speeding motorists and poor intelligence.
After lunch we set off in the Peugeot 207 to spend the weekend with mother-in-law down in Essex. Although I loathe being away from home these days, enjoying my immediate environment so much (apart from those blasted "Red Arrows"), I like these brief monthly visits to the homeland, for they make me realise how glad I am that I left that ghastly overcrowded and materialistic county many years ago.
The journey down to Essex went smoothly, there being no hold-ups on this Bank Holiday of miserable weather. We used to have a stop at Fenstanton at the "King William IV", but now that pub, under new management, plays loud pop music we give the place a miss, going on instead to "The Chequers" in the village of Pampisford, now trying to prevent the building of a massive eco-town nearby that would totally destroy the environment.
Just how successful the villagers will be in resisting this unwelcome development remains to be seen, though where big business and lots of money are involved the odds are not in their favour, as we saw in our own village in which the building of an estate, likely to ultimately reach 400 properties, went against ever principle of the Local Plan.
In the evening we joined Mrs. Copeland's elder brother and his wife for a meal at Fowlers Farm, where I had some excellent fish and chips and enjoyed a few pints of Abbot Ale. Much to my surprise, the "family pub" was not all that busy, and we were easily able to obtain a table for the five of us. Either people are away on holiday, escaping our miserable climate by going abroad for the sunshine, or the recession is really starting to bit. Possibly a mixture of both, for there is no doubt that the pub and restaurant trade is suffering.
SUNDAY 24 AUGUST
Before breakfast I went to the local shop to buy a copy of "The Sunday Times". In his "Economic Agenda" column that always makes me laugh, David Smith was saying that in the "sharp downturn" (we must not call it a recession, even though we are now officially in one), "The Tories have gained public trust". I take the view that this is totally and utterly wrong; that the electorate still do not trust the Tories, fearing that even in the midst of a recession they will slash public expenditure in order to make way for tax cuts for the wealthy.
Much as I disapprove of Brown's early months of his Premiership, showing that he can be so dreadfully indecisive (he still cannot make up his mind about taxing the energy companies, now making super-normal profits, with a windfall tax), he can at least be credited with having held his nerve, not buckling under when coming under attack from such disloyal colleagues as Miliband, taking no notice of all the clamouring in the press for his removal. My view is that in the coming months, when the recession will become increasingly severe, Brown will steadily improve as the Conservatives, having offered absolutely nothing to the electors other than the promise of tax cuts as soon as possible, go steadily down in the polls.
Indeed, I now feel so confident of a Labour victory, always providing Brown can dismiss incompetents like the disloyal Miliband and the useless Home Secretary, Mrs. Smith who gives the impression that she does not know which day of the week it is, that I think I shall put a £100 bet with the bookies that Brown will win the election in 2012 with an overall majority between 10-20.
It will, admittedly, be a close run thing, in all probability dominated by the electorate's distrust of the Tories, especially under an undignified leader who stupidly goes round on a bicycle, giving the impression that he does not have the gravitas or experience for high office. Seeing a photograph of him in today's "Sunday Times" made me realise just how gormless he is: a bicycling busker with no act, surely reminding us that the Devil that you know, even if he is dour and unimpressive and you do not much care for him, is better than a boy on a bike who has about as much experience of high office as a playgroup leader.
I was pleased to see that one economist, Terry Smith, chief executive of the broker Tullett Prebon, takes the same view of the economy as I have done for the past year: "People say we are in a downturn like the early 1990s. I think it's going to be worse than that. We're in for something like the 1970s or even the 1930s." Mr. Smith traces the roots of the financial crisis to "cheap money flooding the financial system between 1998 and 2007. People lent and invested stupidly"
Adding that Alan Greenspan's cheap money and refusal to raise interest rates "violated the integrity of his predecessor," Terry Smith points out that Gordon Brown stirred his pride into the pot of rotten political culture, positioning Britain in the slipstream of the American bubble economy, then attributed the debt fuelled prosperity to his economic policies.
A fund manager is also quoted, saying: "How you deal with the coming changes - say half the General Motors assembly line moving to China - will determine where the downturn comes out. The US election is the most important thing happening this Autumn. A Barak Obama victory would signal a new beginning in the world", obviously making a break from the bombing and bullying of a third term of the Bushmen, wasting even more money than the three trillion dollars already thrown away in Iraq in the forlorn pursuit of bringing democracy to a land that has no liking or heed of such a form of government.
Now that we are in a recession, the question is surely what can ever take us out of it now that the era of cheap credit, on which our supposed economic growth of the past ten years was based, has probably departed for at least a decade, and when our manufacturing industries are nearly all gone, closed down or sold off to foreigners? No doubt America, France and Germany with their powerful manufacturing industries will recover, while we steadily go down as the poor relation of Europe. It is a grim prospect.
On the other hand, being in a rare spirit of optimism, I believe, as I have tediously mentioned before, that a prolonged recession will do this country a great deal of good. We will no longer see those indecent salaries in the City; newly married couples will be able to afford the cheap houses, always supposing they can obtain a mortgage; family life may return as unemployment forces more mothers to stay at home; and as the economy steadily declines more and more immigrants will return home to the better conditions in their homeland, few being attracted to come here to a rundown country.
According to EU Observer - an Internet site for the European HQ in Brussels - "The number of job seekers from central and eastern Europe in Britain has fallen to its lowest level since post-communist countries joined the European Union in May 2004, according to fresh figures published by the UK's Home Office on Thursday (21 August)...... The erosion of the pound's value has had direct consequences for foreign workers' pay. Polish migrants used to get 3,565 zlotys for the £500 they typically needed to send home to justify working in the UK.
"Now this is worth 40 percent less at just over 2,100 zlotys, according to experts quoted by the Financial Times. But workers from countries such as Poland, Slovakia or the Baltic states have also been put off by the reduction in jobs in sectors such as construction which registered a drop in vacancies of almost 13 percent between May and July. Similarly, vacancies in restaurants, hotels and shops fell by 9 percent over the same period, according to the government report".
We will not need any extra runways at polluting airports as a result of a marked downturn in holidays abroad, husbands being able to avoid those ghastly foreign holidays by pleading financial pressures, no longer having to travel in aeroplanes with poorly dressed passengers, the men not wearing ties; the countryside will be freed from the prospect of millions more of unwanted additional homes; those charlatans called management consultants will go to the wall; local authorities will be forced to concentrate on essential provision instead of daft schemes like cycle tracks that nobody uses; and we will no longer be shopping until we drop, there being no money for such wasteful consumption. Even Christmas could be less of a materialistic charade.
Another great advantage for this country, though not connected with the recession, is that there are now one million fewer teenagers in the population than in 1981, their numbers being overtaken by the elderly. As the number of youngsters declines, we will be able to go out onto the streets in the evening without being stabbed or being set upon by drunken youths, and the pubs at weekends could return to becoming civilised. Even those ghastly mobile telephones may not be heard to frequently and so obtrusively.
It will also mean that ultimately the population will fall substantially, especially if the immigrants go home, enabling us to move around again and even have treatment at the hospital. Additionally, an ageing population, even if it means further troubles for the economy, will lead to a far more stable society, possibly marking the demise of the hateful nuclear society as grandparents replace those terrible nannies and unknown and not very bright childminders.
Indeed, all this could mean a very much happier country, always providing we can accept that we are not a leading nation, no longer capable of fighting forlorn wars abroad, and with the further proviso that we keep well clear of trigger-happy President McCain who does not even know how many homes he owns, always assuming the old cowboy is still alive a few years from now.
At least today there was the splendid news that, "The schools minister has signalled a huge expansion of the government's academies programme beyond the target of 400," the aim being to take more schools away from the deadhand of local authorities. As might be expected, the teachers' unions are bitterly opposed to these new institutions, fearing that there could be a return to excellence in our schools. Having worked in a local authority, I am very much aware how dreadful their control is, and I therefore welcome the transfer, seeing it as the best hope for education in our country.
Ideally I would like to see the police taken out of local control, transferring the multitude of uncoordinated authority-run forces to a national service. Anything a local authority does, run by dim-witted councillors, is done badly, as all history shows. The main hope for any improvement is to have regional authorities, but there are too many vested interests, too many pigs having their mouths in the troughs, for that ever to happen in this corrupt little land
"The Bell" at Castle Hedingham, where we had lunch today. Unfortunately I did not dare get a close-up picture of the gorgeous barmaid. I merely asked whether I could take a photograph of her barrels.
This being a Bank Holiday weekend, we could be sure that the weather would be foul, and so it was, with drizzle for much of the morning and not a sign of the sun for the rest of the day. I condemn foreign holidays, but maybe I am beginning to understand why people fly away to see the sun for a fortnight, getting away from our rain-soaked, sunless summers. It must be wonderful to feel the warm sun on your back, if only for a fortnight. Oh for some climate change!
Braving the weather, we went out in the car to take some of mother-in-law's discarded items to the council refuse tip at the village of Shalford, some five miles away. Afterwards, we went to have lunch and a drink at "The Bell" at Castle Hedingham, without any doubt the most attractive village in Essex, as yet completely unspoilt by the planners or developers.
We were served by a barmaid wearing a low-cut dress, displaying the most gorgeous firm and rounded breasts that I have seen in many a long year. I would dearly have liked to have taken a photograph of them - I mean of her - but I was fearful of being labelled as "a dirty old man" - an appellation that would hurt me immensely, even if Bernard Shaw said that a dirty mind was an eternal feast. I therefore had to be content with taking a photograph of the bar with her standing near the barrels, my lack of courage not permitting anything else.
There are times when I feel sad when I see these attractive young girls, knowing that I must seem like Methuselah to them, a real old man. This feeling was enhanced later in the day when Mrs. Copeland's sister came to afternoon tea at mother-in-law's, bringing her most attractive daughter who has just finished her first year at Nottingham University and who was expressing all the excitement and enthusiasm of youth, never again to be seen after the age of about 50.
I can feel happy with people in their 50s and 60s, for they are basically on the same track as myself, albeit at a somewhat earlier stage, their days of youth having also gone. It is when I see the youngsters, full of the joys of spring and their lives all before them, that I feel so old, bearing out that quotation that you are not as old as you feel, but as old as other people think you are. Hence the youth of policemen. Sadly, it is a reminder that my own days our nearly done, henceforth to be riddled with infirmities and worries. As Shakespeare said: "The bright days are done, and we are for the dark", while Dylan Thomas advised us to rage against the dying of the light, and a fat lot of good that does.
In our old age we try to convince ourselves that we saw the best of times, enjoying security of employment, stable marriages; our children decently educated; ending up with good pensions; and not having suffered too much under the Conservatives, but we know deep down that we are only trying to kid ourselves, and that when we decry the irresponsibilities of youth, as we so often do, we are only mourning our own years lost long ago.
In the evening, while Mrs. Copeland and her mother read the paper and did crosswords, I read some more of "On the Other Side: Letters to My Children from Germany 1940-46". The letters, written at the time, paint a grim picture of the bombing of Hamburg in which the author lived during the early years of the 1939-45 war, every evening being spent in crowded, evil-smelling shelters as the bombs rained down, destroying everything in their path. The author explains the underlying despair and feeling of hopelessness beneath the banners and the official championing on the war, such feelings turning to resentment as it became apparent after the beginning of 1943 that there was no chance of Hitler succeeding.
Describing a raid on Hamburg in a letter dated 14 August, 1943, there is the entry: "We sat with wet towels over nose and mouth and the noise from one direct hit after another was such that the entire house shook and rattled, plaster spilling from the walls and glass splintering from the windows Frau Leiser fainted and lay on the floor, her sweet baby was frozen with fear, nobody uttered a sound , and families grabbed each other by the hands and made for the exit. Never have I felt the nearness of death so intensely, never was I so petrified with fear."
I suppose it is difficult for us to imagine what it is like for somebody, in this instance an unseen enemy high in the sky, actually trying to kill you, showing no remorse or shame in the ignominy of war. What is surprising, however, is that the diarist condemns the harsh attitude of the British troops entering Hamburg, complaining that they branded all the Germans as evil. How, I wonder, were the troops to separate Nazis sympathisers from the anti-Hitler contingent, bearing in mind that all Germans shed crocodile tears of regret at the end of the war when they belatedly realised they had backed a loser in Hitler?
What I found surprising in the book was that, even in midst of the war, the postal service still ran and the telephones still rang, and that it was still possible to go to the theatre and the concert halls.
MONDAY 25 AUGUST
Mrs. Copeland's mother has a solar powered system for heating and hot water, and it is quite useless, such appliances obviously being totally unsuitable for the chilly and sunless climate here in Lax Britannica. It meant that I had to have a cold shower this morning, not unlike being at a public school, not that I have ever been to one of those bootcamps, having been educated in the more civilised and comfortable environment of a grammar school with its higher educational standards.
On the news this morning the Governor of the Bank of England was saying, to nobody's surprise, that the recession in this country was likely to go on for far longer than had originally been supposed. Consequently, with ever rising inflation and the plummeting pound that has fallen 7% against the dollar over the past few months, there appears to be no chance that interest rates can be lowered this side of Christmas. All this you have read here first.
We were talking about this over breakfast, Mrs. Copeland's mother saying that she believed this country would never be the same again, there being nothing left to take us out of recession. It is certainly a view I share, especially when I thought of the clothes I was wearing today. The shirt was made in Germany; the shoes in Rumania the chinos came from Morocco; the pants were American; but at least the Lincolnshire county tie was made in this country. There is no doubt that our imports, with goods flooding in from all over the world, provide a wonderful geography lesson for young children.
I was even amazed to see that the two books we gave Mrs. Copeland's mother for her birthday earlier this month were both printed abroad - "Brewer's Dictionary of Phrase & Fable" printed in Finland, and "The Oxford Dictionary of Quotations" printed in India. A gardening book given by one of her sons was also printed and bound in India. It really is remarkable how this country keeps going, spiralled as it is in debt and decline, hardly anything being made here any more - and all history shows that a country cannot live by vulnerable service industries alone, their vulnerability having been cruelly exposed in the current distress in our financial sector.
I gather from the newspaper this morning that the Olympic Games in China have come to an end.. As one correspondent says in today's "Guardian": "Is it over? Can I come out now?" One of the many joys of never watching the idiot's lantern, only switching it on for the financial and news pages of Ceefax - an excellent service - is that I have been able to escape the coverage of the Games completely, only seeing brief snippets in the press that Lax Britannica has done well in the Games, if only because of our coloured competitors, presumably representing one of the few advantages in being what our Stasi, the loathsome Commission for Equality & Human Rights, believes is a happy and harmonious multicultural society.
I hope I am still alive when the Games come to London in 2012, for it should be great fun, a complete and utter farce. The long-jump competitors will be landing in builders' sand; the stadium will probably not be ready; and the band of the Grenadier Guards will probably be substituting for the disbanded "The Red Arrows". Half the competitors will arrive too late for the contests, having been held up in the traffic, and thousands of Cockneys will have to be bussed in to fill the empty seats. It will be the chaos and the financial waste of the Millennium Dome all over again , but it will be great fun to watch the muddle, cheering us all up in the height of the recession, not that it will be quite so funny to have 2p put on the income tax to pay for all the nonsense.
Whilst Mrs. Copeland and her mother went out shopping in the morning, as all wimmin love to do, I washed down and polished mother-in-law's car. As it has never been near a carwash, the bodywork is still in good condition, except for scratches at every corner, those sure signs that the vehicle has been driven by a woman. When we took Mrs. Copeland's Peugeot 206 in to the garage to be part-exchanged for the much improved 207, the salesman immediately recognised the car had been driven by a woman, every corner being nicely balanced up with scratches. Apparently men tend to have serious accidents, whereas wimmin have relatively minor ones, invariably shunting their cars dodgem-style in supermarket car parks.
Mrs. Copeland's mother asked me to look at her latest telephone bill from BT. The invoices are a total muddle, being spread over five pages, giving the impression that the terrible layout has been devised by management consultants. What is so nasty is that the company has changed the various calling plans, taking the opportunity to increase line rental substantially. However, although BT is by far the most expensive telephone service with its outrageous charges, I advised mother-in-law to stay with the company as the competitors have all manner of hidden charges behind their so-called "free" options. The answer is to use the telephone less, as I am now doing.
Castle Hedingham. Essex.
We left for home after lunch, having a relatively easy journey home, stopping for a pot of tea at "The Ram Jam Inn" which, under new management, at last seems to be getting its act together, which is reassuring. Before going home, we stopped for a drink at the club, sitting outside with several other villagers. Wee were hearing today that another of our neighbours in our small community of four houses grouped around a cobbled courtyard is planning to move, so we will have had a 50% turnover this year. I suppose this is inevitable as we all get older.
After a meal, I read "The Times", seeing an article by Anatole Kaletsky headed "Britain in no danger of 'sick man of Europe' relapse." Arguing that "financial markets are frequently plain wrong," he tells us: "It is quite possible, then, that Britain's real economy will simply turn out to be less sensitive to housing and credit problems than the financial markets assume", adding that in the event of the economy continuing to weaken, "there is every reason to expect a strong, rapid response in terms of interest rate reductions from the Bank of England. That cannot, of course, be said of the European Central Bank - which is why, despite all the present gloom, Britain is highly unlikely to become the sick man of Europe."
Although I am accustomed to Mr. Kalestky's unfounded optimism and his apparent loathing of the European Union that so often impairs his judgement, I do not think I have read such a load of cobblers in a very long time - remarks that go against nearly every economist in the land as well as The international Monetary Fund. He only needs to look at the statistics in the latest edition of "The Economist" to see that we are already the sick man of Europe with our plummeting housing market, our massive indebtedness, the highest in Europe, and our huge trade deficit, the second highest in the world after America, amounting, to -$186.4 bn over the past 12 months, whereas Germany had a surplus of $286.2
The current account balance over the last 12 months in this country was -$102.4 bn, whereas Germany was in the black to the tune of $273.6 bn. The latest figures for industrial production was -1.6 for this country and +1.6 for Germany. And Anatole Kaletsky tells us we are not the poor relation, making you wonder why on earth he can make these incredible statements that certainly bear no relation to reality.
Bearing in mind that the £ is tumbling against the dollar (down to 1.84) and the euro (down to 1.25) there is no way that the Bank of England could even consider lowering interest rates this side of Christmas, possibly not even by the Spring, for a further devaluation would only make imports, on which we depend, even more expensive, taking inflation to ever higher levels. Wisely, the Monetary Policy of the Bank of England is sitting on its hands, keeping interest rates at their present level, which is the only possible option.
TUESDAY 26 AUGUST
The monthly invoice for my mobile telephone arrived in the post this morning (£17.68). I see that I now have to make out the cheque to "Telefónica O2 UK Ltd", the company having been sold off Spain. It seems incredible that nearly all our services, whether telephones, gas, electricity or water, are now foreign owned, the companies having been sold off cheaply abroad following privatisation. It is described graciously as "inward investment", in the same way that we talk about lowering of interest rates rather than the dreaded word devaluation - and "downturn" instead of recession. Owning nothing ourselves really does seem an awful state of affairs, indicating the level to which the sad little country has sunk.
Yet another sunless day. It is so utterly depressing, hardly seeing the sun at all in this dreadful summer. No doubt, though, we will be told next month, Autumn officially beginning Monday of next week, that it has been the hottest and driest summer for a decade. That is the kind of crap we have to listen to these days.
The last lap. Harvesting in Essex.
We had our monthly meeting of the local Retired Gentlemen's Club this morning, having a fish luncheon at the Club, eight of the ten members turning up, including my new next-door neighbour, whom I like immensely. A pleasant occasion. One of the members had brought me a cutting from "The Mail on Sunday" about the awfulness of men not wearing ties, especially on formal occasions, making the point that Bunker Brown looked so scruffy and unkempt at the Olympic Games in not wearing a suit or tie, "showing respect to neither the office he holds nor the Olympians he was visiting."
The comment is made that these tieless men "have confused status with fake informality", making them look "as if they have left home before they finished dressing," the additional point being made that, "Mr. Brown could do well to look at the Royal Family. They're routinely criticised for stodgy dressing but they have got it right more often than not. He shouldn't try to copy television journalists".
I suppose the real trouble is the awfulness of men's casual attire, most of the shirts that are worn having been designed to be buttoned up at the neck with a tie being worn. Without this tie, and the top button undone, men, especially those over 40 years of age, look scruffy and unkempt in showing their ugly necks, wrinkled and worn after the age of 60 and not a pleasant sight. It seems that we need to redesign the shirt if ties are not to be worn, having a more rounded top part instead of buttons, or even the thin wraparound collar that Indian men wear and which looks dignified and appropriate for the older man
Obviously I am biased on this tie-wearing issue, for I feel horribly uncomfortable and undressed if I go without one. Consequently, I wear a tie at all times (and have never worn a shirt other than a white one), the only exception being if the temperature goes above 25 C degrees, which it seldom does in this country. I suppose it is all part of my upbringing, for when I lived with my parents I was never allowed to come to the table without wearing a tie, and I respected my parents for maintaining these standards.
In the evening, starting at 8 o'clock, we showed the film ""The Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward John Howard." Unfortunately it was a tedious film, far too long at 153 minutes. So many films these days are unduly long, almost as if length is a substitute for artistic ability. Maybe, therefore, in addition to a director and producer, there ought also to be an editor who would cut 2 hour films down to a more reasonable one-and-a-half hours, but that, like précis writing, would demand effort and ability, reminding us of that old adage: "Sorry to be writing you a long letter, but did not have time to write a short one." An editor for this diary would be no bad thing either.
I really must watch the films before showing them at the Club, rather than relying on reviews. More often not we have found that the higher the praise in these reviews, the worse the film. "The Daily Telegraph", for instance even went so far as to say of "The Assassination of Jesse James": "Magnificent - one of the year's best". At times it was difficult to understand what the actor playing the part of Robert Howard was saying, suggesting that it would be helpful to have subtitles when an American southern accent is being portrayed. However, the actor's speech became somewhat better later in the film, almost as if he had forgotten to put on the southern drawl.
I find it incredible that a columnist in today's "Times" presents the argument that we cannot be a broken society in this country as we won a few medals at the Olympic Games. Oh, dear, how daft can journalists get in their one dimensional review of the world? Elsewhere in the paper there are reports that there has been a "steep rise in drink and drug-related hospital admissions since 2000"' that a "surge in gang warfare feared after police successes leave power vacuum in the streets"; and "student is beaten to death outside kebab shop", part of the violent culture, debt-ridden, drunken, and divorced that we now live in.
WEDNESDAY 27 AUGUST
There was a report in "The Times" today that the taxpayer is going to have to pay even more money to bail out Northern Rock from its acute financial muddles, principally as a result of the increasing number of defaulting mortgagees. Whatever happened, I wonder, to that hallowed principle of capitalism that there should be no state interference? Presumably the answer is that there must not be any interference when times are booming and the banks are making rip-off profits, but the moment their greed and irresponsibility catches them out they have to go cap-in-hand to the state.
Taylor Wimpey, the builders, have managed to turn a profit of £18.3 bn into a loss of £1.54 m during the past six months. The appalling loss sent the FTSE soaring, finishing the day up 57 points, presumably in the belief that the deepening economic recession will force the Government to make the Bank of England lower interest rates, the "downturn" having become far worse than expected. Anybody who believes that there is truly an independent central bank probably has fairies at the bottom of the garden.
I was seeing in "Times2" today, the supplement for wimmin, that there was an advertisement for a health check - "Wouldn't it be reassuring to be given a clean bill of health, so you can carry on enjoying life to the full?" I suppose this is true of people under the age of 60 years, but I can see no point in such checks thereafter, especially as they will find all manner of things wrong, rather like a MOT test on an old car.
People keep telling me that I should have a cholesterol test, but for what purpose would that serve, in all probability having to go on a diet and drinking less to lose excess weight, no doubt having to run round the village before breakfast every day, thereby changing my present enjoyable life into a misery - and bear in mind that most serious illnesses cannot be cured. No doubt I would fail a medical check-up, but at the age of 74 I do not want to know about looming illnesses amidst my decline. I have not had a blood test in twenty years, and do not intend to have one, knowing that the doctors would thereafter never leave me alone. Carpe Diem, as our milkman says.
In the main part of the newspaper I saw that this country would become the most crowded nation in Europe within two generations, largely as a result of immigrants swarming in. By 2060, France will have 341 people per square mile; Germany 525; and this country a staggering 822, meaning that Lax Britannicans will be living like battery hens, pecking one another in their cramped conditions. Maybe, though, the statisticians have not taken into account the millions who will leave this country, immigrants among them, as it descends into economic and social chaos, full of racial rioting, being propped up in 2060 by massive grants from the European Union.
House at Castle Hedingham.
We continue to be plagued with the radio of the workmen who have been doing up a nearby house for the past two years, loudly playing a dreadful station called Lincs FM during the working day, involving nauseous pop songs interspersed with gaudy advertisements. It really is the most awful noise imaginable, the so-called songs, many of them of shrieking wimmin who sound as if they have caught their mammary glands in the mangle, sounding all the same.
Polly Toynbee in "The Guardian" talks about the need for equality in our society, apparently failing to understand that the wide differences between people are not only a matter of money, but also of intelligence - Nature's class distinction. There should, of course, be equality of opportunity in our society, but equality can only mean, as it means in the Socialist catechism, that the good must be dragged down to the lowest common denominator. Our failed education shows that it is seldom possible to level up.
A widow living in our little enclave of four houses grouped around a cobbled courtyard was 70 today, and we celebrated the occasion by going out with her and a neighbouring couple for a meal at "Chequers" at Potterhanworth, a village some ten miles south of Lincoln. The barmaid did not even bother to greet us as we entered, and when it came to serving the sideplates they went crashing down on our table, there not being a glint of a smile from the lass However, this is Lax Britannica, where any concept of service is totally alien, unless Polish staff is employed, invariably being polite and well educated, so much better than our Surly Sharons who do not really want to work.
At least the food was excellent, and the beer was in good condition, the price being reasonable. But in view of the somewhat unimpressive service that we received we did not leave a tip.
I was back in an all-male gathering at 7.30 p.m, when the Club's Maintenance Team met to undertake some cleaning and repair work, cleaning out the lavatories among the various assignments. After our labours we sat out in the garden drinking wine whilst we burnt discarded furniture. One of my tasks was to put the Club's clock in a different position by the bar, but when I came to move it I found that there was nothing to fix it to on the wall. I therefore announced to my fellow workers: "I'm going home for a screw", which brought some ribald comments, including, "Don't be too long, John".
There is no doubt that I greatly prefer these all-male gatherings to mixed company. I enjoy the company of wimmin when I am with them on their own, but a mixed gathering always seems to be more restrained, with little laughter. For this reason I prefer working with the Club's Maintenance Team than the social events we have each month at the Club.
The relentless decline of the £ against the euro and the dollar continues, falling to 1.24 against the euro and 1.83 in terms of the dollar. And Mr. Kaletsky tells us that we are not the poor man of Europe. What a joke, what a laugh! There are times when I think he lives in a different world to the one I inhabit.
I mentioned earlier that granddaughter Chloe found that she did not like Vista on the new computer I bought her last week, and was planning to have a friend take it off and put XP in its place. Today I heard of two other people who were planning to make a similar change.
THURSDAY 28 AUGUST
Unusually for a woman, there is an article by one in today's "Times" reflecting on Ofsted recently having found that half of childminders are poor and at best inadequate. The woman, who only works part-time, asks: "What has happened to the notion that we are responsible for our own children? Some people seem to have families without the slightest intention of nurturing them. We recently visited an animal welfare centre that will not let you adopt a dog if you work full-time. The analogy with children was horribly obvious".
One of the many blessings of our recession is that many wimmin are losing their full-time jobs and are having to return to looking after their children, while others can no longer afford childminders. So that really is good news, and there were also the glad tidings that 3.3m workers here in Lax Britannica fear they will no longer have a job this time next year, bringing the hope that some of them, other than in local government, of course, may actually start to do some work. Long live the recession, not that there is any chance of it coming to an end for the next decade.
Further evidence of the recession was the announcement today that nationally house prices have fallen by 10.5% over the past year. This grim news, together with the 45,000 repossessions so far this year, prompted one little woman, a chief executive at a building society, to say that there was no fear of a crash and that we may have reached the bottom of the housing market. These were the kind of comments made during the housing crash in the 1990s, when the building societies tried so desperately hard to pretend that there was not a slump. The reality is that the market will fall at least another 10%, probably a lot more, over the next six months.
Capital Economics, according to a report in today's "Times", have forecast that the "deepening recession may push Britain to first full-year fall in GDP since 1991" amounting to a decline of 0.2%, and that there was little hope that the dramatically falling pound would improve our export trade. I would have thought that a fall of 0.2% was a highly conservative estimate, especially bearing in mind the collapse of the housing market and the mountain of debt that is still with us.
+
I have mentioned in this diary most weeks that I have had problems with Filmbank over the £88.13 PVS licence that we have to pay each year to show films at our Club. Filmbank has said that we did not pay for 2007, yet having given them details of the cheque number and telling them that the £88.13 was debited to the Club's accounts last May when we made the payment, I have got no further, despite having send 11 e-mails and made 4 telephone calls to leave a message since the beginning of July, nobody being present in the office.
Each time I am told that the matter will be referred to the finance department, but nothing ever happens. Having failed to receive any response from e-mails and telephone calls, I tried by letter today. Increasingly I am finding that the only way to get a reply from all manner of firms is to write a letter, it being increasingly impossible to telephone as there is nearly always the response that "all our representatives are busy at the moment. Your call is important to us, so please hold on."
A relaxed day at home, my productivity being lower than that of a Lax Britannican worker. I have now started on the biography of Samuel Johnson by Peter Martin, which I am greatly enjoying, the doctor being one of my heroes. It amused me to read that when Johnson was at university at Oxford, one of the tutors preferred his "ale and tobacco, and the riverside watermen and his cronies in the taverns" to fellow members of staff. It probably made him a far more interesting lecturer. I liked the doctor's comment that, "Sir, I have found you an argument; but I am not obliged to find you an understanding."
Mrs. Copeland is feeling somewhat sorry for herself with a very bad cold. She believes that she caught the cold at the pub we went to last Sunday, when some oafish working class man was sneezing all over the place, not bothering to use his handkerchief. It always amazes me that the lower orders have no manners whatsoever, no consideration being shown to other people, not that the new generation of middle class is much better with their BMWs, the nastiest people along with white van drivers on the road.
With the news that house prices were plummeting and with "UK retail sales at a record low", as well as capital Economics saying that the recession was going to deepen in 2009, the FTSE shot ahead again, every bit of bad news being greeted with a rise in the index. It really makes no sense at all in this topsy-turvy country of ours, though I suppose the view is being taken by the market that the Government will be forced to have interest rates lowered..
Meanwhile the £ continues its downward path against the euro and dollar, now down to 1.82 against the dollar, whereas it was above 2.00 earlier this year At the present rate of decline, the £ and the euro could be parity by the end of the year. And Anatole Kaletsky tells us that interest rates must be lowered! What a joke.
THURSDAY 28 AUGUST
Unusually for a woman, there is an article by one in today's "Times" reflecting on Ofsted recently having found that half of childminders are poor and at best inadequate. The woman, who only works part-time, asks: "What has happened to the notion that we are responsible for our own children? Some people seem to have families without the slightest intention of nurturing them. We recently visited an animal welfare centre that will not let you adopt a dog if you work full-time. The analogy with children was horribly obvious".
Further evidence of the recession was the announcement today that nationally house prices have fallen by 10.5% over the past year. This grim news, together with the 45,000 repossessions so far this year, prompted one little woman, a chief executive at a building society, to say that there was no fear of a crash and that we may have reached the bottom of the housing market. These were the kind of comments made during the housing crash in the 1990s, when the building societies tried so desperately hard to pretend that there was not a slump. The reality is that the market will fall at least another 10%, probably a lot more, over the next six months.
Capital Economics, according to a report in today's "Times", have forecast that the "deepening recession may push Britain to first full-year fall in GDP since 1991" amounting to a decline of 0.2%, and that there was little hope that the dramatically falling pound would improve our export trade. I would have thought that a fall of 0.2% was a highly conservative estimate, especially bearing in mind the collapse of the housing market and the mountain of debt that is still with us.
Sign of the times in Lincoln. The pub and restaurant trade is suffering severely in the recession.
I have mentioned in this diary most weeks that I have had problems with Filmbank over the £88.13 PVS licence that we have to pay each year to show films at our Club. Filmbank has said that we did not pay for 2007, yet having given them details of the cheque number and telling them that the £88.13 was debited to the Club's accounts last May when we made the payment, I have got no further, despite having send 11 e-mails and made 4 telephone calls to leave a message since the beginning of July, nobody being present in the office.
Each time I am told that the matter will be referred to the finance department, but nothing ever happens. Having failed to receive any response from e-mails and telephone calls, I tried by letter today. Increasingly I am finding that the only way to get a reply from all manner of firms is to write a letter, it being increasingly impossible to telephone as there is nearly always the response that "all our representatives are busy at the moment. Your call is important to us, so please hold on."
A relaxed day at home, my productivity being lower than that of a Lax Britannican worker. I have now started on the biography of Samuel Johnson by Peter Martin, which I am greatly enjoying, the doctor being one of my heroes. It amused me to read that when Johnson was at university at Oxford, one of the tutors preferred his "ale and tobacco, and the riverside watermen and his cronies in the taverns" to fellow members of staff. It probably made him a far more interesting lecturer. I liked the doctor's comment that, "Sir, I have found you an argument; but I am not obliged to find you an understanding."
Mrs. Copeland is feeling somewhat sorry for herself with a very bad cold. She believes that she caught the cold at the pub we went to last Sunday, when some oafish working class man was sneezing all over the place, not bothering to use his handkerchief. It always amazes me that the lower orders have no manners whatsoever, no consideration being shown to other people, not that the new generation of middle class is much better with their BMWs, the nastiest people along with white van drivers on the road.
Britain in recession.
"Deepening recession may push Britain to first full-year fall in GDP since 1991"
Headline in Business section of "The Times", 28th August, 2008
