Diary of a Superannuated Soul - w/e 16th September, 2000
John Copeland
SATURDAY 9 SEPTEMBER
At the discotheque at the local Club yesterday evening, which formed
part of the wedding celebrations I attended and photographed during
the day, I was speaking to a villager who works in the oil industry in
one of the Middle East countries - Saudi Arabia I believe, spending
three months there and one month off back home. As might be expected,
we were discussing the price of oil when the women were dancing, and
he was saying that the real cause of the high price was that "the
world is now so rich". Apparently, America is still buying on world
markets instead of using its own supplies, and OPEC is restricting
supplies, all adding to the price rise. "Much depends on the meeting
of OPEC on Sunday", he commented, "but I do not expect them to do
much, and if there is a hard winter the price is unlikely to come
down".
Meanwhile, there are all manner of protests in France, and even in
this country the farmers are blockading oil terminals to express
their dissatisfaction with the ever-increasing price of petrol. Our
lugubrious Chancellor, Gordon Brown, should welcome the price rise,
for he has been increasing the excise duties on petrol in every
Budget, all part of his plans to put motorists back on the
non-existent buses. The saga illustrates how impossible it is to have
an integrated policy, for whatever the price of fuel, motorists will
continue to use their cars. Only by banning private vehicles on
certain occasions would such integration be possible, but it would be
political suicide to place any more restrictions on the motorist.
In "The Financial Times" that I now take on Saturdays, I was reading
about the fears that the oil price rise could cause troubles around
the world. Britain, understandably, was regarded as having the worst
of all possible worlds: a pound that was falling steadily and
significantly against the dollar (oil being paid for in dollars), and
the low value of the eruo making it expensive for British exporters to
compete in Europe.
However, I do not expect there will be a recession or any great fall
in the world's financial markets, especially in the US. I believe
that the American economy will continue to expand over the next year,
albeit at a somewhat smaller and more sustainable rate of economic
growth, whereas the UK will probably encounter increasing problems,
principally on the inflation front, if we do not go into the Single
Currency. Happily, the King of Lost Causes, David Owen, who made
such a cock-up in Bosnia and led the Social Democrats into the
political desert, has become the figurehead of the No Euro campaign,
thereby ensuring that we will adopt it within the next two years.
There was a chart in "The Financial Times" showing the decline of
Britain measured in terms of GDP per person in 1897 and 1996. The UK
was top in 1897, whereas in 1996 we were not even among the top ten,
and given another ten years we will probably not be in the top twenty
five. In my Third Age years I find this decline of my country so
upsetting, the more so since I realise that there is no hope of any
recovery during my lifetime, or even my granddaughter's life.
Britain is no longer among the world's top players, and is hardly ever
mentioned in the foreign Press, unless to point out that it has become
the most violent country in the Western world.
To town on the scooter shortly after 9.15 a.m., taking in the
photographs of yesterday's wedding for processing. They will be ready
on Monday after 10 a.m., and I am dreading collecting them, for I was
the "official photographer", only a few snappers taking any other
pictures. The thought of the photographs not coming out is too awful
to contemplate. When taking in the films I also took in my Nikon
camera for servicing. This servicing will cost £74.05 and take three
weeks at least. I shall have to use Mrs. Copeland's camera during
these weeks.
I also went to a national computer store to get a new black cartridge
for the printer, the one I put in at the end of May having come to an
lend late last night when I was printing off my web site. I had gone
in early to avoid the new middle classes who are so utterly awful in
town on a Saturday, and luckily there were not many about. Usually
when going to the store I see them at the counter saying: "I bought
this yesterday afternoon, but it won't work".
After lunch I went to strim an area of grass at the entrance to the
village. As the Council will accept no responsibility for this plot,
and as nobody else in the village is willing to cut the grass, I
decided that, as Chairman of the Parish Council, I should undertake
the work, thereby emphasising my nobility of community spirit.
Before I could start strimming, I had to remove all the dumped litter
- beer cans, glass bottles, and discarded crisp bags. All this mess
is a sad comment on Lax Britannica, but at least we have not had any
old carpets and ovens dumped for over a fortnight.
Several of the villagers stopped their cars whilst I was strimming,
making the anticipated comment: "You been naughty again, John, having
to do some more community service?" Fortunately I had prepared a
reposte in advance as repartee for me is something that I think of on
the way home. "Yes", I replied. "I called the mayor a wanker, and
the magistrate sentenced me to three days of community service for
uttering platitudes in a public place. This time, though, I nearly
got off, for the police couldn't spell platitudes". How that made
them laugh!
Whilst strimming I thought what a wonderful idea it would be if the
Government could bring in compulsory National Service for all retired
people up to the age of 75, making them undertake some community work
within their area. Most of the people I know are bored to tears with
the Third Age, spending their time isolated at home with little to do.
National Community Service for the geriatric, which could be called
Natcoms, would give retirees an opportunity to enjoy working in a
team again, taking them away from the smothering togetherness of
wives, whilst offering a very real service to the community. Instead
of sitting at home worrying about their health, as most of them,
including myself, tend to do, the retired could do some worthwhile
work, enjoying something rather more exciting than an overdue library
book.
It is something that Mr. Hague could put in his manifesto, possibly
helping to take his mind off those Johnny Foreigners wanting to come
into this country. Natcoms would have to be compulsory, of course,
for the numerous indolent Thirds Agers would not volunteer to
undertake the community service. Oh dear, no.
In the evening I went to the County Hospital in Lincoln to see one of
the friends I used to meet, with others, for a Saturday lunchtime
drink. He recently had a car accident, ending up in a ditch, and was
taken to hospital , badly bruised and shaken. This evening he told me
that he was in a great deal of pain, unable to move, having the
additional problem of having had an operation on his prostate gland
and a testicle removed only three weeks ago. He looked very poorly,
barely able to speak, and I left after 15 minutes or so. I felt quite
depressed afterwards, especially after seeing old men who had had
strokes, unable to speak or walk. Is this what the closing years of
life amount to?
My right eye seems to be getting steadily worse, but I suppose there
is no point in going back to see the specialist. Unless or until any
further break-up of the vitreous humour pulls away the retina, there
is not a lot that can be done. I have just got to learn to live with
all the dreadful floaters that obscure my sight at times, and with the
flashes that are most apparent in darkness.
SUNDAY 10 SEPTEMBER
One of my e-mail correspondents, commenting on my jottings on
retirement, raised an interesting issue about people in the Third Age:
"One thing which I've never understood is why retired people are so
impatient in queues. If there is a queue in a shop or bank, it is the
pensioners who start complaining about it". I find that, as an old
pensioner, I am equally impatient about having to wait in a queue,
yet I have all the time in the world. Maybe part of the problem is
that you tend to have less patience as you get older, and, in my case,
become increasingly curmudgeonly which is probably a defence against
modern manners, but presumably there may be other reasons.
We have decided to put on new wallpaper in the bedroom that
granddaughter Chloe sleeps in when staying with us. Earlier this
week I telephoned a number of decorators to ask them if they could do
the wallpapering, but in every case I was told that there was no
possibility of the work being done this side of December. I have
therefore decided to do the job myself, and this morning, using one of
the steam appliances, I set about stripping off the old paper - not
the most pleasant of jobs.
It seems incredible that there is so much difficulty in getting work
done these days. As Woody Allen said: "Not only is there no God,
but try getting a plumber on weekends!" Nowadays no youngsters are
training for the various trades; instead. they are all becoming
social workers. However, I suppose they will be useful when we all
end up with stress as a result of having to do our own decorating,
plumbing repairs, and plastering.
Mrs. Copeland and I went up to the local Club at lunchtime, where I
enjoyed several pints of "Old Hooky" ale, which was a true delight.
We met the rest of the family there, and afterwards had lunch at home
outside. The weather was cloudy and dull, but it was remarkably warm
with a slight westerly breeze. I was reminded of John Masefield's
poem "The West Wind" -
"It's a warm wind, the west wind, full of
bird's cries;
I never hear the west wind but tears are in my
eyes,
For it comes from the west lands, the old
brown hills".
The family departed about 5 o'clock, and I returned to my wallpaper
stripping, managing to complete the work by about 7 p.m.
An evening listening to the wireless, resting after the exertions and
the hangover of the day. I was interested to see an article in "The
Independent on Sunday" which suggested that the television age had
come to an end. There is no doubt that this is true, for people today
would much rather look at the Internet than see the endless repeats on
the idiot's lantern. In the years ahead, television will possibly be
only for sporting activities and for bedridden old folk.
MONDAY 11 SEPTEMBER
I enjoyed an e-mail that I received this morning:-
For those of you that are not following the recent controversy in
North America that has to do with Laura Schlessinger: she is a radio
personality who dispenses advice to people who call in to her radio
show. Paramount Television Group is currently producing a "Dr. Laura"
television show. Recently she has become a convert to Judaism, and now
she is Ba'al
T'shuvah. Lately, she has made some statements about homosexuals that
has caused the
Canadian anti-hate laws to censure her. The following is an open
letter to Dr. Laura which was posted on the internet .... .
Dear Dr. Laura,
Thank you for doing so much to educate people regarding God's Law. I
have learned a great deal from your show, and I try to share that
knowledge with as many people as I can. When someone tries to defend
the homosexual lifestyle, for example, I simply remind him that
Leviticus 18:22 clearly states it to be an abomination. End of
debate. I do need some advice
from you, however, regarding some of the specific laws and how to
best follow them.
a) When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates
a pleasing odour for the Lord (Lev. 1:9). The problem is my
neighbours. They claim the odour is not pleasing to them. Should I
smite them?
b) I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in
Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair
price for her?
c) I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in
her period of menstrual uncleanliness (Lev. 15:19-24). The problem
is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offence.
d) Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and
female, provided they are purchased from neighbouring nations. A
friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not
Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?
e) I have a neighbour who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus
35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally
obligated to kill him myself?
f) A friend of mine feels that, even though eating shellfish is an
abomination (Lev. 11:10), it is a lesser abomination than
homosexuality. I don't agree. Can you settle this?
g) Lev. 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I
have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading
glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room
here?
h) Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair
around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by
Lev.19:27. How should they die?
i) I know from Lev. 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes
me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?
j) My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev. 19:19 by planting two
different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing
garments made of two different kinds of thread. (cotton/polyester
blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really
necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town
together to stone them? (Lev. 24:10-16). Couldn't we just burn them
to death at a private family affair like we do with
people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev.20:14).
I know you have studied these things extensively, so I am confident
you can help. Thank you again for reminding us that God's word is
eternal and unchanging.
Your devoted disciple and adoring fan.
I thought this summed up very well the perils of relying on the Bible
as a guide to conducting our affairs.
Mr. Robin Cook, who does extremely poor impersonations of a Foreign
Secretary, has criticised the Tories and Mr. Hague in particular for
their failure to "embrace the multicultural society that Britain has
now become". The Tories are also condemned for their demands that
there should be more vigorous language tests for foreign doctors
working in this country
Such ridiculous comments make me so bad tempered, for in Lax
Britannica we do not live, and will never live, in a multicultural
society. We live in an English culture, such as it is these days, and
foreigners who make the great mistake of coming to live here should
learn to embrace that culture instead of trying to impose their own
upon it. This has absolutely nothing to do with racism or any of the
other fashionable "isms"; instead, it is a matter of ensuring that
foreigners adopt our manners and mores, and that, if they do not wish
to do so, they should return to their homeland.
As for imposing language tests on foreign doctors, this seems to be an
eminently sensible suggestion, for patients need to have a
comprehensive dialogue with their doctor or consultant when they are
seriously ill. Some years ago I had to go to the County Hospital in
Lincoln for an examination for suspected prostate trouble, having to
see a coloured doctor who spoke hardly a word of English. Eventually
I managed to get a translation from one of the nurses who told me that
all was well, but I found the whole business very unsatisfactory. It
could even be suggested that these overseas doctors would be better
employed in their own lands, looking after their own people - and that
is not racism, either.
As widely anticipated, OPEC at its meeting yesterday only agreed to
raise production by 800,000 barrels, which the experts say will not
relieve the pressure on the upward movement of petrol prices. I have
a somewhat ambivalent attitude to this ever rising price of oil. On
the one hand I deplore the price rise that has almost trebled the cost
of my heating oil and which will undoubtedly increase inflationary
pressures, but on the other hand I welcome the increase in the hope
that it will persuade motorists to take fewer journeys, particularly
during the weekends when the urbanites aimlessly drive through our
village. Fortunately, I am little affected by the petrol price
increase, for on my scooter I do 90 miles per gallon, which means that
a £5 tankful lasts me a whole fortnight. I only rarely use my car,
except to go down to Essex to see relations once a month.
I was delighted to read in "The Times" this morning that a contingent
of troops from the 1st Battalion The Parachute Regiment, backed up by
members of the excellent SAS, sorted out the savages in Sierra Leone
who were holding six British soldiers as hostages. This action, all
very redolent of the good old days of the British Empire when we sent
out a gunboat to clear up trouble, really did my heart good. No doubt
there will be whining and wailing from left-wingers that we should not
meddle in the affairs of other lands, and that savages should be
allowed to seize and eat whosoever they choose, but the courage of the
Government on this occasion is to be applauded.
I went in to Lincoln on the scooter this morning to collect the
processed films I had taken of last Friday's wedding. Much to my
delight they had all come out, some of the photographs being
surprisingly good. Understandably, I had a great deal of stress over
the weekend, wondering whether the photographs would be all right.
Although I shall receive no praise for the photographs, I can just
imagine the kind of sour comments that would have been made if they
had not come out: "I've never thought he was much good as a
photographer" and "You just can't rely on him , yet he's so damned
smug. Serve him right he's now got egg on his face!" Mercifully, I
am not on any of the photographs, not having used the self-timer. In
my fat and ugly, overweight state I loathe seeing reproductions of
myself, especially as I look more and more like a cross between
Oliver Hardy and Alf Garnet.
When in Lincoln, I saw that there were massive queues at the petrol
stations as motorists, prompted no doubt by the tabloid Press
warning over the weekend that the pumps would quickly run dry as a
result of the campaign by haulage firms and farmers to block
supplies, started their selfish panic-buying. At some of the petrol
stations the price of petrol has gone up from 79.9 pence to 86.9
pence a litre (£3.95 a gallon = $5.66). At the end of today's
trading, the price of oil had risen a further $1.34. So much for
benefits of OPEC's increased production.
At 11.30 a.m. I went again to the Lincoln County Hospital to see my
friend who had had a car accident last week, joining one of the other
members of our former Saturday drinking group. To my great relief,
our mutual friend, although still in a great deal of pain, was feeling
and looking somewhat better today, being far more cheerful. But it
was again a depressing experience seeing the five other old men, all
in various stages of decline and decay, in the ward.
What I find so unacceptable is the patronising attitude of the young
nurses to their patients: "Come on, darling, let's have a smile for
Nancy", and "You're looking right perky today, Bob, aren't you?" No
doubt the nurses mean well, but I find the familiarity and mock
cheerfulness, which passes for friendship, so unpleasant and
misplaced. I would insist on being called "Mr. Copeland", and I do
not want a nurse, however attractive, to call me darling. I am quite
sure, too, that I would pay for one of the amenity beds in a National
Health hospital, thereby escaping the endless chatter of new middle
class visitors yapping away to their sick relatives and friends.
In the good old days there were strictly limited visiting hours, and
this rightful discipline should be imposed again. When people are
ill, they do not want to hear the noise of that excitable rabble - and
what a rabble they are, education, such as they have had, apparently
having made absolutely no difference to them. It made me realise the
wisdom of Lady Bracknell's comments when she said that "Fortunately in
England, at any rate, education produces no effect whatsoever. If it
did, it would prove a serious danger to the upper classes, and
probably lead to acts of violence in Grosvenor Square".
There is also the comment in "The Importance of Being Earnest", from
Gwendolen: "I pity any woman who is married to a man called John.
She would have a very tedious life with him. She would probably never
be allowed to know the entrancing pleasure of a single moment's
solitude".
The weather was wonderful again today, with long hours of sunshine and
extremely warm, far warmer than in our so-called summer. We had lunch
outside, enjoyed with a strong bottle of ale.
After lunch I spent an hour or so weeding the cracks between the
slabs on the patio; window cleaning; and then leaf-sweeping in what
was quite an energetic burst of energy. A quiet evening on my own at
home as Mrs. Copeland was at a meeting. I read some more of John
Updike's latest novel "Gertrude and Clausius". I am quite enjoying
the book, liking and agreeing with the following comment:- "Marriage
must flow through intervals of privacy; otherwise a sludge of
resentments never has time to clear".
As might be expected, our local newspaper, "The Lincolnshire Echo",
had a headline this evening "Panic at the Pumps", with indications
that supplies would quickly run out in the county if the blockade at
the petrol terminal at Immingham continued. What I find so surprising
is that the police are, at the moment, doing nothing to clear this
blockade, whereas they were thumping animal protesters on the head and
clearing the way for the farmers' lorries during the rumpus about live
veal exports. It seems that there is a different law for some groups
in this country.
Mr. Blair has said quite firmly that, despite the raucous demands, he
is not going to lower the duty on petrol. I just hope he keeps to
that rightful resolution, for we cannot be governed by the mob rule of
unpleasant protesters. No doubt they will argue that their
irresponsible actions are the only way that the Government wll take
notice of them, but it is still mob rule, usually accompanied by
violence and threats against anybody who disagrees with the campaign
of civil disobedience.
TUESDAY 12 SEPTEMBER
How the mischief-making media love a crisis! Perhaps, though, we all
enjoy a crisis, relishing the excitement that panics bring to our
dull little lives. As might be expected, the radio and Press are
having a field day with the petrol "crisis", overreaching themselves
as each day passes with ever horrendous hyperbole, warning us that the
"country is near to collapse" (which it has been for the last twenty
years), and "a serious situation for essential services, with the
possibility of lives being lost". There are even warnings that food
supplies, especially of chilled products, could run out by the
weekend, resulting in panic buying at the shops.
Meanwhile, the petrol companies, hoping that the blockades will force
the Government to reduce the tax on petrol, are sitting back and
smiling as the protesters do their work for them, reminding us of the
comment of Octavius in "Julius Caesar":-
"For we are at the stake,
And bayed about with many enemies,
And some that smile have in their hearts, I fear,
Millions of mischiefs".
What is going to be so interesting is to see how Mr. Blair deals with
the crisis: whether he gives in to the farm yokels and hauliers who
are blockading the oil terminals and refineries, or whether he has the
courage not to be dictated to by a rather nasty and poorly educated
bunch of rabble-rousers. It is going to be a very real and demanding
test of leadership, for leaders must never pay the Dangeld to
protesters who are selfishly prepared to disrupt other people's
lives. Instead, they need to realise that panics, most of which are
whipped up by an irresponsible Press, are soon over if firm action is
taken and there are no signs of giving in.
Fortunately, it was good to hear on the news at lunchtime that Mr.
Blair has ordered the police to break up the blockades. I just hope
that the police display the same enthusiasm and physical force that
they displayed during the miners' strike and with the Wapping
newspaper protests. If Mr. Blair comes out of this crisis without
giving into the hotheads now blocking the roads and oil terminals, he
will have my congratulations and lasting respect.
There was also the news that the pound is continuing to fall against
the dollar, having reached the low level of $1.39 early in the day
before recovering somewhat later. This fall is going to mean real
trouble ahead, for oil is paid for in dollars, meaning that we are
going to see a continuation of the petrol price rises, indicating,
too, just how helpless we are and what little sovereignty we have in
this ailing land. Nevertheless, the rate of inflation came down from
3.3% in July to 3% in August, and in September, which is the base for
updating pensions, there will no doubt be an even more substantial
fall, despite the huge increase in fuel costs. Do we laugh or do we
cry?
I had to stay in for the early part of the morning to await the
delivery and fitting of curtains in the parlour, which completes the
house refurbishment scheme. It would not surprise me in the least if
we are featured in a forthcoming issue of "Homes & Gardens", or even
in "Saga Magazine", the journal for those over the hill, with an
article being written by a young woman journalist proclaiming that our
parlour combines all the light and vitality of Spring with the
warmth and comfort for those long winter evenings when the rain beats
about the windows and the wind howls around the chimneys. Something
along those lines, probably written by Penelope Weston-Fotheringay,
whose dad, Lord Fotheringay of Weston has landed her a job on the
journal.
Later on, when the curtains had been put up, I went in to town in the
car to purchase a stand for the computer that I am ordering at the
end of next week, and saw that nearly all of the petrol stations had
run out of fuel. Afterwards. I did some more painting at a friend's
house in Lincoln, before coming home to put the computer stand
together.
After lunch, with a bottle of "Old Peculier", and following a
reasonably long siesta, I cleared up the garden shed. We seem to
accumulate more and more items, and every few months, spurred on by
Mrs. Copeland who complains that I am a great horder, I have to have
a clear out, throwing some of the unwanted items away.
I joined the neighbours having some wine outside in the evening,
staying out in the warm evening air until about 9.45 p.m. There were
several tawny owls flying around, hooting away for all they were
worth. One of our party, a keen ornithologist, was telling us that
the tawny owls hoot a great deal at this time of year as they are
chasing away their young to find their own territories. It seems to
be an excellent idea.
I listened to the wireless news bulletin and review "The World
Tonight" - a truly excellent programme that goes in for an extensive
review and analysis of news items. Not surprisingly, the main item
was the petrol "crisis", but it seems that the tankers are now moving
again following police breaking up the blockades, albeit in very
limited numbers. It begins to look as if the crisis will be over by
the weekend, at least so far as regular supplies are concerned, but
the price of oil is likely to go on increasing, especially here in
Britain. Mr. Blair's determination and resolution not to back down
have so far paid dividends, but there are a few anxious days ahead
of him. before the saga is over and forgotten.
A book I ordered about three weeks ago on the Internet from Amazon has
still not arrived. It is the last time I ever order a book, or
anything else for that matter, on the Internet, for it is so much
easier and quicker to order from a local bookseller, Ottakars in
Lincoln offering an excellent service. Mail order generally in this
country is extremely poor, especially as there is the usual
requirement to "allow 28 days for delivery", by which time the items
could have gone three times round the world. Even when the products
do eventually arrive, they are often damaged, or are not the ones
ordered, and nearly always there is a problem over payment. Book
Clubs are the worst of all, for you invariably end up with books you
do not want, and when postage is added the savings are only marginal.
WEDNESDAY 13 SEPTEMBER
It seems that the petrol "crisis" could soon be over bar the shouting
and the determination of the Press to milk the last vestige of panic
out of the saga. Much to my delight, Mr. Blair continues to defy the
protesters who are becoming ever more irresponsible, saying quite
emphatically that he is not going to reduce the duty on fuel. I just
hope that he can maintain this brave stance, for what he needs to
realise is that the petrol companies, who are even greedier than
Barclays Bank, are hiding behind the protesters to see if there are
any signs of weakness on the part of the Government.
If Mr. Blair stands firm for the next two or three days, showing no
signs of giving in to the nasty pressures that are being mounted by
the Tory Press, as well as by Mr. Hague who has demanded the recall
of Parliament to debate the "crisis", the petrol companies will have
their tankers back on the road before you can say "Jack Straw", not
being willing to face the enormous loss of revenue that further
blockades will cause.
Meanwhile, as many tankers are already on the road again, even here in
Lincoln, the Press continue to alarm and frighten the nation, saying
that there will be no more operations in National Health Hospitals now
on full alert; that there will be no bread and milk by Friday, and
that the country is close to collapse. All this leads to further
panics, especially in the supermarkets, as Mrs. Copeland discovered on
her routine weekly, when she saw many shelves, including those for
bread, completely empty. It really is quite pathetic, indicating what
a heavy price we pay for freedom of the Press. It is a pity that
emergency powers do not include the closure of all sections of the
media.
I started wallpapering Chloe's bedroom this morning, only to find that
I needed to repaint the ceiling before starting the papering. I
therefore went on the scooter to a do-it-yourself store in Lincoln,
finding that there was little reduction in the volume of traffic on
the roads. Yet judging by the news bulletin I had heard an hour
earlier, the impression was given that the entire country had come
to a standstill, even Mr. Prescott having had to abandon his two
Jaguars and cycle to work.
I managed to put on six pieces of wallpaper before lunch, but during
the afternoon I had to go off on another job, painting some walls in a
friend's house in Lincoln before the installation of a washing machine
and refrigerator. There is no doubt that I am extremely busy now, and
am in great danger of ending up with stress, but it is extremely
fashionable to have stress these days now that the psychologists and
other Rainmakers have invented the term. In the old days, following a
hectic day at the office, we would say that we were tired out and
exhausted, but today we have to say we are suffering from stress.
Mrs. Copeland was at work from 1.30 p.m. to nearly 10 p.m., so I had
to get my own tea, after which I put on another three pieces of
wallpaper. Tomorrow I should manage to finish papering the room. I
quite enjoy the manual work, but I suppose this is very much the
romantic view of somebody who does not have to spend his working days
sticking on wallpaper day after day. Even so, there is no doubt
that I like to be busy and fully occupied during my Third Age days.
To sit around or take part in leisure pursuits is, so far as I am
concerned, a deadening experience.
I continued wallpapering until about 9 p.m., and then called it a day.
I should be able to finish the papering tomorrow.
At 10 p.m. I began listening to "The World Tonight" , but after a few
minutes I switched off the bulletin, unable to listen to the hyperbole
and the frighteners any more. Hearing the harsh and ignorant voices
of the protesters, who gave the impression that they were a
rent-a-rabble from the National Front, made me realise that Mr. Blair
must not give into these unthinking thugs who are obviously being
manipulated by the oil companies.
I half expected Lady Loony to be wheeled onto the programme, saying in
her strident voice that the oil refineries should be bombed to teach
the companies a lesson: "Bomb, bomb, bomb! That was my policy during
my glorious years in office, which were the finest this country has
ever seen. If my Ministers had not been disloyal to me I would still
be in office, and we would never have landed in this muddle".
The announcement that many schools throughout the country would be
closing tomorrow really made my blood boil. Whilst I can well
appreciate how miserable teaching must be these days, it seems that
schools shut at the slightest opportunity. In some of the American
States, days lost by schools are deducted from the holidays, and this
is what should happen here. Mrs. Copeland, who works in the local
hospital, told me that the staff have received a letter from the
management saying that they are responsible for ensuring that they
report for work regularly, and that pay will be deducted for non
attendance. That is the right attitude, and it is a pity it is not
adopted in our weak and spineless education authorities.
In our local newspaper, "The Lincolnshire Echo", there was a
photograph of lorries two abreast and tractors slowing down traffic to
a crawl on the Lincoln bypass, led by a police escort. That the
police are actually encouraging these delaying tactics on the roads,
causing immense jams, seems quite unbelievable, but I suppose the
action accords with the law being on the side of the criminals. Even
so, there are times when I just cannot understand life in Lax
Britannica any more.
Hearing all about the current "crisis situation" made me wonder what
would happen if this country faced a really serious crisis, such as a
large meteorite hitting Essex, or the return of Lady Loony to power.
If the populace can panic so readily over running out of fuel,
reaching a pitch of near hysteria, how would they respond to
something that was life-threatening?
The pound perked up a little against the dollar today, and the price
of oil went down 90 cents a barrel to 31.35. However, I do not
think we have seen the end of rising fuel prices. What is interesting
is that the "crisis" has had little impact on the London Stock
Exchange. The FTSE fell 59 points today, but this is a normal day's
range.
THURSDAY 14 SEPTEMBER
Much to my annoyance, I ran out of wallpaper this morning, having only
a small section of the bedroom left to do. I therefore had to go into
Lincoln on my scooter to purchase another roll, plus some more paste.
What amazed me so much was that there was still as much traffic on the
roads as ever, yet the media are saying that there is hardly a drop of
petrol to be found anywhere in the kingdom. The only supplies
available are for people connected with the essential services, such
as the hospitals, doctors and stress councillors.
Mercifully, it was reported on the news at 8 o'clock this morning that
the defeated rent-a-rabble protesters are now giving up the struggle,
the oil companies obviously having accepted that the Prime Minister is
not going to give in to their demands to lower the duty on petrol.
There is no doubt that the brave and resolute Mr. Blair has come
through this unhappy saga with what comprehensive school educated
people would call "flyen cullers", and all credit to him. It was a
very real test of his leadership, and although it can be argued that
he had the support of every elector who can do joined-up writing, it
was nevertheless a decisive moment in his career.
The Conservatives, on the other hand, were so utterly incompetent that
they could not even make any political capital out of the "crisis",
their only suggestion being that Parliament should be recalled to
debate the issue. Mr. Blair quickly turned down this silly
suggestion, obviously realising that there was enough hot air around
already without the windbags in Parliament joining in the chorus. So
well done, Mr. Blair. I realise that I have condemned him in the past
in this journal, but times have obviously changed. As Lord Keynes
responded to a critic who criticised him for adopting a different
policy: "When circumstances change, I change my mind. What do you
do?"
Anatole Kaletsky's article in today's "Times" summed up the "crisis"
extremely well: "...Mr. Blair should come to an ultimatum. This
should be directed not at the farmers and truckers, who may be
misguided, but on the whole seem to have done nothing wrong. It is
the oil companies, the local police chiefs and the protesters'
unthinking supporters in the media who bear a more direct
responsibility for this crisis. It is pure hypocrisy for newspapers
that demanded draconian laws against secondary picketing and backed
strike-breakers in the great disputes of the 1970s and 1980s suddenly
to declare their support for the protesters. It is grossly
opportunist of oil companies to use these scattered protests covertly
to promote the objective they failed to achieve in a decade of costly
lobbying - to discourage European governments from raising energy
taxes. It was a gross dereliction of duty by policemen to cite 'wider
public order considerations' as a reason for turning a blind eye until
yesterday to the few protesters genuinely causing trouble". Well
said, indeed.
I expected to see a long article from the medical correspondent of
"The Times", pointing out the long-term psychological damage that
running out of petrol can cause, telling us in frightening terms all
about the recently discovered PDS (Petrol Deficiency Syndrome) that
can bring on hallucinations, aggressiveness and panic buying,
sometimes lasting for many months. However, there was no such
account. Perhaps the fellow is on holiday, for he usually writes
frighteners after every national incident.
I managed to finish the wallpapering in the afternoon, then at 4.30
p.m. went up to see Nell, the traffic on the way being like a normal
day. Commenting on the petrol "crisis", Nell was saying that it
showed what a thin veneer civilisation had in this country, and that
there could very quickly be a degeneration into anarchy. The attacks
on paedophiles, promoted by "The News of the World", were another
frightening spectacle, with the great British public unable to
distinguish between paedophiles and paediatricians.
Mrs. Copeland and I went with neighbours for a meal at "The Pizza
Express" in Lincoln in the evening, where we listened to a very loud
jazz band, finding that we were unable to talk to one another. I
dislike jazz at the best of times, for the music sounds all the same
to my obviously untrained ear, and this evening I found the deafening
noise quite vexatious to the spirit. We ended up at the local Club
for more drinks.
FRIDAY 15 SEPTEMBER
There was heavy rain overnight, and it was still raining when I got up
about 9.15 a.m.. By midday, when the rain eased off, we had had 23
mm. I find it quite amazing that a spell of rain does far more to
"green up" parched grass than any amount of sprinkling. After looking
a bit sorry for itself and very parched in places, the turf we had put
down in the Spring is now looking wonderfully green. I was delighted
to see that my "Delphi tree", grown from a seed I bought back from
Delphi several years ago, is also live and well, obviously having
survived an earlier rather brutal transplant. It disheartens me,
though, to see that the leaves are falling steadily, and that soon I
shall be leaf-sweeping in earnest. I had thought of buying one of
those garden vacuums for clearing the leaves, but the wide rake I have
bought instead will give me some quotidian exercise.
The petrol protesters have now nearly all dispersed, presumably having
been dismissed by the oil companies who realise that there is no
chance now of the resolute and courageous Prime Minister bowing to
their unreasonable demands for reductions in the duty on fuel. Some
of the protesters are muttering that they will return in sixty days if
the duty is not lowered, but these are the lamentations of the
vanquished who are trying to find a face-saver for their defeat and
the belated realisation that they have been the unwilling dupes of the
oil companies.
Meanwhile, though, the media try to extract the last drop of hyperbole
from the petrol "crisis". In today's comic section of "The Times",
for example, there is an extremely silly article saying that "as the
pumps run dry in a paralysed and chaotic Britain, Richard Morrison
found the spirit that helped us through the Blitz had suddenly
appeared". Although I cannot obviously speak for the entire country,
the impact of the petrol "crisis" here in Lincolnshire was almost
negligible, with the volume of traffic little reduced. The only real
trouble was in the gullible and greedy panic-buying of bread and milk
at the supermarkets, thereby emptying shelves , and this is hardly in
line with the spirit of the war, which I lived through, possibly
unlike Mr. Morrison.
The petrol "crisis" has nevertheless illustrated some interesting
features of British society today. First and foremost, as Widow Nell
mentioned yesterday, is the thin veneer of civilisation in this
country, which can obviously so easily degenerate into anarchy and mob
rule, particularly when the law seems to be on the side of the
rabble-rousers and criminals. It would therefore seem that if there
is any real trouble in this country, it will be the army rather than
the police who will restore law and order.
Secondly, from there being a return to a wartime spirit of
co-operation and sharing, we now have a Thatcher created "me, me"
society, which smashes and grabs what it can in panic-buying the
moment the media proclaim that there are going to be serious
shortages. We live in a society in which it is every man for himself,
with the weak and the decent going to the wall, and to hell with
everybody else.
Thirdly, there are the mischief-making antics of the media, seen in
this petrol saga in the distortion, untruths, exaggerations and
downright misleading statements. Even on the BBC news bulletins,
commentators have overreached themselves with hyperbole, setting
themselves up as Chicken Lickens to proclaim that the skies are
falling and that the end of the world is nigh. It has been a
disgraceful display panic raking, making everything so very much
worse. It has to be accepted that the newspaper are in business to
make money, not present the news accurately, but the State-financed
BBC should have behaved better.
Fifthly, it has been interesting to see the suddenly changing values
of certain sections of the Press, especially the far-right expressions
of "The Daily Mail" whose hard-hammered philosophies can bend so
easily to the whims of opportunity. If trade unionists had blocked
the oil terminals, the Mail would have been down on them like a ton of
hot bricks, condemning their ruthlessness and selfishness that were
bringing the country to its knees. When big business was involved,
though, there was praise for the protesters mounting the blockades.
Sixthly, there is no doubt that the Prime Minister has come out of
this sad saga with honour, his reputation much enhanced. Everybody I
have spoken to has fully supported Mr. Blair in his courageous stand
against the rabble-rousers and their threatened mob rule, whereas the
Conservatives, even more pathetic than usual, have merely whimpered on
the sidelines, not knowing what to do and not knowing whose side they
were on, especially as they did not want to upset the farmers and road
hauliers who represent a lot of votes and no doubt contribute to party
funds. Once again, Mr. Hague has been shown to be a hopeless and
pathetic leader of a party that does not know where it is going.
Finally, the oil companies have shown just how ruthless they can be,
having prepared to bring the country to a standstill, risking lives in
the process, for the sake of even more swollen profits. Their
insensitivity, too, in trying to raise petrol prices as a result of
the "crisis" is a further illustration of the sheer nastiness of big
business. It is at least encouraging, though, that these greedy
grasping international companies have been give a bloody nose by the
Prime Minister, but they will resume their fight for higher prices,
probably blaming the pound's plummeting against the dollar for further
increases in the months ahead.
A morning home on account of the wet weather, writing some letters
and painting shelving, and generally being extremely busy indeed.
After lunch, when the weather had cleared up, I went to the house in
Lincoln when I am doing some renovating, putting on window locks.
An evening at home, uploading the web site and then reading some more
of John Updike's novel "Gertrude and Claudius".