The Hunts of Warlingham

In the pursuit of liberty ... !

2006-11-01T15:51:00.000Z

The following appeared in an article by Mick Hume, editor of Spiked:

“Behind the grim warnings of global destruction (in the Stern Review published this week), there was a discernible sense of relish in the way that government ministers seized the opportunity to propose green taxes and similar measures to police our personal habits.

“This seemed to have less to do with their shaky grasp of the science of climate change than their firm belief in what has been labelled ‘the new politics of behaviour’.

"The job of government today is seen not as formulating any grand vision of how to run society and shape the future, but telling people how to run their lives. Usually this is done in the name of promoting personal and public health. Now it can also be done under the banner of saving the planet.”

These items also appeared in the media at some stage this week:

A committee of MPs found that the presence of speed cameras on our roads has resulted in a fall in the number of road traffic police, meaning that drunk and dangerous drivers etc. stand more chance than ever of getting away with it.

BUT, they still demand that more cameras should be installed! Why?

Ministers plan to force everyone in the country – through the national census to take place in 2011 – to declare their income. Why? What possible business is it of theirs? What’s more, if you fail to fill in the form, you can be fined more than £1,000.

Also, plans are in train to recruit an army of inspectors who will have unprecedented access to our homes to judge how much council tax we have to pay.

They are looking at taking into account the area you live in, the view from your house, how well-off your neighbours are and lifestyle to assess the level you have to pay. Why? Again, if you refuse access to these people, another £1,000 please. Tear down those conservatories and bathroom extensions now!

And I am not going to even mention ID cards …

What can we do then to turn the tide of this increasingly oppressive and worrying Government intervention in our lives?

Well, a small step is to sign up to the basis tenets of libertarianism!

A libertarian is really an old-fashioned liberal. In the nineteenth century, and especially in revolutionary America, a liberal was someone who mistrusted government and wanted as little government intervention as possible.

Libertarianism is a philosophy based on the principle that individuals should be allowed complete freedom of action as long as they do not infringe on the same freedom of others.

Libertarians support a limited government that engages in the minimum amount of initiatory force (such as levying taxes to provide some public goods such as defence and roads, as well as some minimal regulation), because they believe it to be necessary to ensure maximum individual freedom.

Doesn’t sound so bad, does it … think about it. You never know it might catch on!

My name is Richard and I am a soapaholic ...

2006-10-18T15:38:00.000+01:00

... there I’ve said it.

Now that’s out of the way, I want to have a moan about the quality of writing ( and, more importantly, plotting ) currently being displayed on BBC’s ‘Eastenders’.

I have to set out my allegiance first. I have been watching ‘Coronation Street’ since I was a kid and, in my opinion, it remains top of the soap heap in terms of acting, writing, comedy, tragedy –and plain enjoyment.

But, I do also follow ‘Eastenders’ – not as avidly, it must be said. And over the years it has had its peaks and troughs. Now, it’s not so much going through a trough – more the slough of despond.

For instance, yesterday we had the news that Martin – who runs a greengrocer’s stall on the market – had been asked to give a talk on healthy eating to pupils at his daughter’s primary school. (This is the person, of course, who can be seen regularly chomping his way through a massive fried breakfast in Cath’s Café!)

What conversation do you think took place between teacher and head for this to happen?

Head: “I think we really need to be telling the kids about healthy eating.”
Teacher: “What about Betty Smith’s mother, Dr Smith? She’s a nutritionist and would be ideal.”
Head: “No. I’ve got a better idea. We can ask Rebecca Fowler’s father. He works on a market stall selling fruit and veg – he can tell the kids all they need to know.”
Teacher: “Great idea. I’ll give him a call.”

The second mad storyline of the week is that Patrick – or one of the Five Hectors (don’t ask) – could be Denise’s long-lost father after she heard that they had once visited Montserrat where she was born. And, guess what, they just happen to live a few doors away from each other on Albert Square.
What are the odds, eh? They are up there with the chances of Crystal Palace winning the Premiership, FA Cup and the Champions League, twice, in successive years!

I could go on. For instance, the depiction of the health visitor who told Honey that she should have got rid of her downs syndrome baby must have set the cause of health visitors back decades.

Anyway, the upshot of this rant is that ‘Eastenders’ writers have lost the plot. Perhaps, they would be better off running a market stall.

2006-09-29T17:19:00.000+01:00

This is a piece of creative writing reflecting the takeover of our local by Mitchell & Butler (with a hint of sarcasm)

By Carol

Signs of the Times

They chose a time when the pub would normally be very quiet, but it backfired.
The two red-faced representatives looked small in front of the hundred-strong crowd. With not one of the audience on their side, their upbeat presentation quickly flopped. Deflated, they jostled their way to the door under a barrage of angry insults. Tempers had been frayed since the village’s residents heard rumours of a takeover. The fourteenth century pub had belonged to the locals since the year dot and they were feeling seriously under threat by the proposed refurbishment, and prepared for a fight.
The pub to date had been a tapestry of local characters. Regular congregating over a beer seemed, for many, essential to one’s sanity, providing an anchor in difficult times. Bert, Jim and George had been regular customers for over fifty years. Jim and Bert would frequently reminisce over their days in the Royal Air Force, recalling the night they bombed Berlin. George was a desert rat and had several bouts of malaria. Each of them had their own personal tragedy and their ‘local’ offered them a degree of comfort.
No wonder the intermediaries were greeted with hostility as they paraded their samples of synthetic furnishings; a small carrot to dangle, in exchange for ripping the heart out of a local community.
Many locals worked tirelessly to find any shred of evidence suggesting that Mitchell & Butler should withdraw their application for planning permission. Then, at last the goose laid the golden egg. Tireless research uncovered that parts of the building were protected under English Heritage. The locals were about to lock horns with the opposition once again. The discovery led to the fat cats having to return to the drawing board, withdrawing their application.
The pub was bulging at the seams with revellers high on victory. The atmosphere was one of elation instead of defeat. No longer held down under the giant paw of capitalism, they drank to the people, to each other and ghosts past. Lovers sat in the inglenook finding privacy to share their deepest thoughts. Loners quietly rejoiced behind the daily tabloids. Staff scurried up and down behind the bar to keep pace with the celebrations. The headline on the front of the local paper read ‘Cheers! We’ve saved our pub’.
It was not over yet. The next lot of plans reared their ugly heads. The intermediaries knew now that they would have to negotiate and compromise with the customers. Now there were two-way discussions, with the hope of a win-win situation.

Piped music, with pop classics is force-fed in every bar, regardless of demand. ‘House’ and ‘Garage’ blast out in the Inglenook. Frank Sinatra plays where the bar is full of kids who have shown ‘ID’, ‘Trance’ in the original bar where even the youngest person took the eleven plus. The D.J. is sitting in an office three hundred miles away and piping the same music all around the South of England. The consensus being, he should be shot. However, the pub already harbours the shame of having been watering hole to one murderer (that’s a different story) so instead, one by one, the wires are surreptitiously pulled from the speakers. The refurbishment for some obscure reason seems to bring with it drugs and violence. A new sign appears ‘The wearing of hats is forbidden, any one wearing a hat will have it confiscated’.
Seventy two year old, Bert is sitting in the old bar with drinking pals, Jim and George, when a barmaid, barely sixteen, wearing her ‘in training’ badge says,
‘Sorry but you can’t wear that hat in ’ere’.
‘I beg your pardon; do you know how long I have been coming in this pub?’
‘He was in the RAF you know’ piped up George.
‘You’re not allowed, it’s the rules. You ’ave to take it off’, she said with a mouth full of braces.
No surprise then, that one of my female friends, in her forties had to remove her matching houndtooth cap. I mean, she looked every bit a crackhead.
As if Bert, Jim and George hadn’t had enough after being asked to remove their hats, they were also forced to sit in a draught. It was late October and there was a chill in the air, hence the hats, but another sign read ‘Do not shut the door’. With the clientele’s comfort at the forefront of their minds Mitchell & Butler’s policy was that the door should remain open at all times to attract customers. So you were either blasted out with ‘Trance’ or frozen out by the draught. Was this ever going to be a ‘win-win’ situation?
On the positive side ashtrays had to be cleared after one use and glasses had to be collected every few minutes, but for how long? Home cooking was now strictly forbidden in this beautiful fourteenth century public house. Instead the food might have been piped in much like the music, all pre-packed and frozen. Jim bit the bullet and ordered haddock, chips and peas, only to find that the haddock was still frozen in the middle. Considering all the policies in place to protect the consumer from food poisoning, dishing up frozen fish did not seem a good plan. Moving on to sign number three then; ‘Do not move any of the furniture.’ Moving furniture we learned was grounds for being barred. By this time we had decided that Mitchell & Butler were the new Gestapo. There was nothing left to do apart from revolt. Drinking at the local became a game of cat and mouse. They opened the door, we closed it. They turned the music up, we pulled it out the wall. We shook our heads from left to right and tutted at anyone that even looked at a menu; we were doing them a favour. Eventually the staff lost the will to live. Who wouldn’t be demoralised on five pounds an hour and constant abuse from disgruntled customers. Gradually the locals began to win back their territory. The speakers remain off of the wall. Furniture is moved around to suit. The drug problem seems to be dormant for the time being, following police raids. Bert wears his hat and the original bar has been retained. The new bar however, is a hideous contrast. Orange, paintwashed walls are home to meaningless cheaply framed prints. Hollow ornaments and artificial plants break up Ikea style shelving. Spot lit ashtrays sit full to the brim with dog ends. Teenage boys, dressed uniformly in baseball caps, huddle around the all singing and all dancing fruit machine. Bert has to drink his ‘Jamesons’ out of a tumbler. He misses the days when his drink would appear on the bar as he walked through the heavy oak door. Warm greetings had been traded in for teenage ‘whatever’ attitudes with staff not knowing a whisky from a brandy. They wear branded t-shirts by night and school blazer and tie by day.
The locals did succeed in influencing the brewery and kept the original bar area. The brewery failed to make the new area in-keeping with the old but everyone did get a bit of what they wanted. In the words of one of the locals
‘I feel what I did made a difference’
However, one can’t help feel a sense of loss.

Manners maketh man ...

2006-09-21T11:15:00.000+01:00

I have just finished reading a book by crime writer, Ken Bruen ( do check him out: http://www.kenbruen.com/ – he’s brilliant! ) in which the main ‘villain’ is someone who trawls the streets of south London and kills people because they lack manners and are generally unpleasant people.

And while it is rather an extreme way of trying to introduce a bit of courtesy back into life, I couldn’t wholly condemn his actions. Indeed, Mr Bruen obviously couldn’t either because the killer escapes to carry on his work in America!

I know I can sound like a broken record, but there is a coarseness about life at the moment which, I’m sure, does us no good at all.

So – without going around killing everyone who doesn’t say please or thank you – why don’t we all try and do our bit and lead by example?

Remain polite and cheerful in the face of surliness

Open doors for old ladies, even if they look at you as if you’re something they’ve just trodden in

Use lots of these phrases:
- I’m sorry, I didn’t quite catch that …
- I’m sorry, do you mind …
- I would really appreciate if you could …
- Please
- Thank you
- Pardon me
- Excuse me …

Just have in the back of your mind that if none of this works, there is always the ultimate solution ...

Welcome back ... to terror!

2006-09-01T11:57:00.000+01:00

After what seems a long sojourn, and severe lack of inspiration, here is the first entry in the Huntsofwarlingham blog for some time.

It is back to the dependable Spiked Online for an article which expresses a lot of what I feel about the current 'spectre' of fundamentalist terrorism hanging over us. See what you think.

"Terror: keeping the outrage in perspective Islamic terrorism is real. But the notion of an Islamic terrorist threat to society is the product of our own insecure imaginations"

http://www.spiked-online.com/index.php?/site/article/1485/

Some transactional tenets ...

2006-06-14T14:27:00.000+01:00

I was researching the pyschology theory of transactional analysis ( see http://tajnet.org/ta/index.htm ) for my college course the other day when I came across the following quotes which help illustrate in some way what this type of therapy can achieve.

They are also not bad tenets to live your life by either … !

"Instead of making others right or wrong, or bottling up right and wrong in ourselves, there's a middle way, a very powerful middle way...... Could we have no agenda when we walk into a room with another person, not know what to say, not make that person wrong or right? Could we see, hear, feel other people as they really are? It is powerful to practice this way..... true communication can happen only in that open space."

Pema Chodron, Buddhist nun who runs Gammpo Abbey retreat in Nova Scotia.

"I would rather be ashes than dust! I would rather that my spark should burn out in a brilliant blaze than it should be stifled by dry-rot. I would rather be a superb meteor, every atom of me in magnificent glow, than a sleepy and permanent planet. The function of man is to live, not to exist. I shall not waste my days trying to prolong them. I shall use my time."

Jack London, author, 1876-1916.

"Each friend represents a world in us, a world not born until they arrive, and it is only by this meeting that a new world is born."

Anais Nin, French-born American writer, 1903-1977.

"Fantastic things happen - to the way we feel, to the way we make other people feel. All this simply by using positive words."

Professor Leo F Buscaglia, teacher, writer and humanitarian, 1924-1998.

"Ninety per-cent of what we worry about never happens, yet we worry and worry. What a horrible way to go through life! What a horrible thing to do to your colon!"

By the same bloke.

Brendan O'Neill ...

2006-06-07T16:30:00.000+01:00

... is a London-based writer and deputy editor of Spiked ( see other link ).

I have added a link to his website as it is well worth a read. There is a very thought-provoking article on the new film, 'United 93', about the plane that crashed on 9/11 before it reached its target. A very refreshing take on the whole 9/11 mythology ...

Rooftops and smoke

2006-06-07T15:27:00.000+01:00

There were a couple of interesting items in today’s news which reflects a number of themes I have expounded on at various points in this blog. I thought I would draw your attention to them:

Item One:

A man being chased by police in a stolen car somehow finds himself on the roof of a house in Gloucestershire whereupon he proceeds to rain bricks and roof tiles down on to the people below, damaging a number of cars unfortunately parked in throwing distance.

And the police response? They send him up a bargain bucket of KFC, a coke and some fags! “Even though he is on the roof, making a nuisance, we still have to look after his well-being and human rights,” said a spokesman, presumably with a straight face.

What about the well-being and human rights of the people who live in the house whose roof was slowly being dismantled, and the drivers who will return to their cars to see brick-shaped dents all over them!

He was up there for 10 hours. Wouldn’t it have just been easier to get fire brigade to aim their jet hoses at him until he either jumped or was washed away!

Item Two:

A report by the increasingly rebellious – and sane – House of Lords states that the dangers of passive smoking were exaggerated by the Government to push through a blanket ban on smoking in public places.

As I have said before, I will be personally delighted when I can sit in my local and breathe fresh air rather than noxious cigaretter and cigar fumes. But my libertarian instincts rail against such a ban because I regard it as the thin end of the wedge. What I call the ‘what next?’ factor.

The report states that the Public Health Minister Caroline Flint, no less, admitted that 95 per cent of smoking-related deaths are linked to lighting up in the home – rather than the workplace. It goes on: “Given the evidence about the impact of passive smoking, we are concerned that the decision to ban smoking in public places may represent a disproportionate response to a relatively minor health concern."

Lord Wakeham added: “We are concerned that the Government does not pay enough attention to the cumulative impact of legislation on personal freedom and choice.”

Ah, the voice of reason at last!

Brain dead frontliners

2006-05-24T21:37:00.000+01:00

Customer Service Vacancies

If you can show us that you do not have any initiative then we have the job for you!

If you can prove to us that you are void of any personality then you are the one for us!

We are looking for corporate clones who do not think for themselves and will at no time engage in personal conversation with the customer. If you are experienced in acting dumb then look no further - CALL US NOW

In the course of my work at the moment, I have had the task of approaching front line customer service people. Having approached several hundred in person and by telephone I am amazed at the calibre of customer service assistants. It seems that a prerequisite to the job is to never act on your own intitiative. Customer service assistants seem stripped of any ability to make decisions, however small. They are programmed to say ' I dunno, I'll ask the manager' or they say 'the managers not ere' and put the phone down. They seem to have absolutely no idea that they are representatives of the company and in their defence their hands are perhaps completely tied in corporate rope! The manager even has no authority to make a localised decision because he/she has to refer to the corporate rules. Customer service has become totally inpersonal and completely robotic. What does this do for community I ask??
Post Offices are not allowed to display posters advertising charity events - isn't the post office supposed to be the heart of the community??
Sports shops are unabe to advertise a sporting event even though this surely would be good marketing.
Where are we going to exercise the local community now that we have corporate high streets?
Perhaps this ties in with my previous entry on artistic co-ops. Maybe we need a local noticeboard as well as a local co-op. Is anyone with me on this? Does anyone out there agree that we need to 'think local' and overcome mindless, souless, corporate consumerism and create our own online high street where we dont have to speak to the manager but can all exercise our own initiative, creativity and individuality? We have to fight this lunacy if we want to retain the community. We have to find a platform for the local voice!!

We shouldn't laugh really ...

2006-05-22T15:24:00.000+01:00

I don't know whether this is a spoof or for real - but who cares! It is one of the funniest things I have seen for a long time, which says much for my sick sense of humour.

It's from a Belgian chat show but don't worry that they are speaking Flemish, just remember that the poor chap being interviewed has had his testicles removed by mistake during an operation. Make sure you have the volume on.

www.controlancy.co.uk/fun/lost_jewels.htm

Dealing with my middlescence ....

2006-05-17T16:43:00.000+01:00

An article in this month’s Harvard Business Review reveals that employees between the ages of 35 and 55 – dubbed middlescents – are apparently ‘burned out, bored and bottlenecked’. And, when I read this in yesterday’s media, I immediately recognised myself.

According to the authors, middlescents are the least likely to say that their workplace is congenial or fun. They have the lowest satisfaction rates with their managers and the least confidence in senior executives. Many feel trapped by financial pressures. In short, far too many mid-career employees are working more, enjoying it less and looking for alternatives.

Earlier generations looked to their work for security and material success – the way to combat restlessness was usually to buckle down and focus on one’s current job. Today’s generation have different goals – they want to get more out of life, and they are willing to trade some of their current success for greater significance in their lives and work.

Companies need to be developing strategies to deal with this lifeless body of workers to avoid losing good people, say the authors. But how many are even aware that the problem exists? I suspect very few.

My view is that companies can’t change things but the individuals can. I have been doing my job in various forms, for a variety of organisations and companies, for almost 30 years. I am in the middle of the middlescent age range. And I am bored out my skull. Everything I do, I have done before, in some form or other. I wonder how many people are in the same boat?

The first thing I believe people need to do is recognise that they are in this position. Like many things, acknowledging the problem is the first step to curing it. I acknowledged the truth: bored with my job, bored with my profession and slipping into what Pink Floyd famously called ‘quiet desperation’.

I have done something about it. Firstly, I identified another area that I was interested in and could train in. I am studying at college for the second step towards eventual qualification in a whole new discipline. This has given me a choice for the future, as well as important personal development at a time when it is easy to say: ‘been there, dunnit’.

I have also made the big leap – I negotiated a deal from work and will be leaving in four weeks. I am not sure what the future now holds. All I know is that it will be different, unpredictable and a challenge - three words which would not have appeared in any description of my working life during the last five years.

So, my message is – if you choose to hear it – don’t be a disgruntled middlescent. Be a very gruntled one!

Michael Douglas shows how not to deal with his 'middlescence' in the film, 'Falling Down'.

A divided kingdom?

2006-05-11T11:00:00.001+01:00

I am currently reading ‘Divided Kingdom’ by Rupert Thomson which is set in a parallel world in which Britain is split into four different countries where people are ‘rearranged’ by the old-fashioned ‘humours’ – choleric, melancholic, phlegmatic and sanguine.

The book covers lots of issues which I feel are very relevant to the way that Government wants to move society – something I have covered before in this blog. Issues such as freedom and individual choice are clearly apparent in the book as well as more complex themes such as alienation and social engineering.

One passage struck home with me, a passage that – while not wholly relevant as yet - could become a scary reality if we, as a society, remain passive and supine and are not willing to challenge the things that will have a major impact on our lives.

“It’s like racism really … I don’t mean the old racism. That’s dead and gone. I’m not interested in the colour of someone’s skin. It’s their thoughts that bother me. The new racism is psychological. What’s strange is, we seem to need it – we thrive on it. If we don’t have someone to despise, we feel uncomfortable, we feel we haven’t properly defined ourselves. Hate gives us hard edges. And the authorities knew that, of course. In fact, they were banking on it. They force-fed us our own weakness – our intolerance, our bigotry. They rammed it down our throats … They took the worst part of us, and built a system out of it. And it worked –“

Find out more …

http://www.dividedkingdom.co.uk/

… or buy the book!

And, on a similar theme, I see they are remaking the sixties TV series, ‘The Prisoner’, as a film. Another timely reminder about things we need to be wary of.

Live by Number 6’s mantra:

“I will not be pushed, filed, stamped, indexed, briefed, debriefed or numbered. My life is my own. “

The Sultan's Elephant

2006-05-08T16:26:00.000+01:00

One spectacle I was sorry to miss this weekend was the arrival of the Sultan’s Elephant show ( see above )which paraded through London over a four day period.

Judging by the pictures, reactions from the crowd and the BBC news video, it was an amazing event.

It is good to know that sometimes the powers-that-be get it right by doing something daring, different and guaranteed to please and amaze everyone of all ages.

More please!

If you didn't see the coverage, or hear about it, or want to see the video, follow this link: http://news.bbc.co.uk/1/hi/england/london/4981728.stm

Grumpy Old Man

2006-04-25T17:23:00.000+01:00

My lovely wife, Carol, told me the other day that I was becoming a grumpy old man – just like Victor Meldrew and all those middle-aged misanthropes on that BBC show.

At first I was offended. Me, grumpy? Always moaning? Never. Then my two daughters backed her up. I was on a losing wicket so I thought: if you can’t beat them, join ‘em!

Moan 1 – the first in an occasional series:

I hate pop stars who think that because they can sing a few songs and fill out Wembley Stadium they have a sudden God-given right to tell the rest of the world what it is doing wrong, and how to put it right. You know who I’m talking about, don’t you? Yes, Bono.

As actor Nigel Havers said the other night: “That Bono, he is the bollocks of all bollocks, isn’t he … ?”

Couldn’t have put it better.

Now why wouldn't this surprise me?

And to make it worse, Paul McCartney then pops up on prime-time telly recently with his wife to tell us all not to buy or wear fur – and how terrible the fur trade is.

This is the man who inflicted the frog chorus on us! Sometimes I think Mark Chapman shot the wrong man.

2006-04-12T15:04:00.000+01:00

Say it with Flowers Lord Philips

I cannot fully express how appalled I was to read that there are draft guidelines suggesting perpetrators of domestic violence be let off with a lighter sentence if they show remorse. This makes a mockery of all the resources that have gone into Domestic Violence Awareness over the last decade. Professionals that interact with this field should by now have received some form of awareness training and at its most basic level should be aware of the ‘Charm Syndrome’. It would be impossible to judge whether the remorse of a perpetrator were genuine as it is a fundamental and well-honed trait of an abuser. As they sense their control lessening, their remorse takes on a more convincing guise. I have personally known two perpetrators to engage in Baptism of the full immersion kind but never to enter a church or pick up a bible again once they have won the survivor back. The idea of reducing a sentence where there is remorse is an insult to all survivors who have been manipulated in this way and an insult to all those who contribute to the awareness campaign. I think it is Lord Philips himself who should be showing remorse for this betrayal and sending flowers to all those affected if indeed his remorse is genuine.

Here is Lord Philips address for anyone inspired to send him their comments

Rt Hon the Lord Phillips of Worth Matravers
Royal Courts of Justice,
Strand, London WC2A 2LL

Alternatively write to your local MP

South East Surrey
Peter Ainsworth MP
Address: 2 Hoskins Road, Oxted, Surrey, RH8 9HT.

Warlingham Artists Co-operative Society WACS

2006-04-11T20:49:00.000+01:00

ONLINE MARKET

I had this crazy idea the other day about starting a local online market. This came from my belief that as the supermarket giants monopolise the consumer market, how precious local products are becoming. There is nothing quite like the personal touch. My prediction for the future is that high streets, which are now made up largely of various charity shops (nothing against charity shops by the way!) will be revived through a demand for specialised and personalised goods. In other words we are going to turn full circle which is so often the case. I think though, this time there will be a welcome twist in that the market will attract artistic talent. This will be an oasis in the soulless consumer drought where many will want to take refreshment; which brings me to my idea of an online market.

It’s a certainty that there is a wealth of skill and talent in our local area that goes untapped and a new breed of consumers that long for the original article. If there was a platform where locals could buy and sell, we could put the pleasure back into shopping.

Anyone out there interested in contributing to an artistic cooperative??

Leave your comments!!

Yours truly,

Carol

It’s snow joke .. !

2006-04-10T16:07:00.000+01:00

... And a commuting moan ( second in an occasional series ).

Isn’t England a wonderful place to live? The middle of April, the daffodils are out, birds are singing in the trees and plants are in full bud - and what do we get this morning … ?

… between three and five inches of snow blanketing the whole area.

Spring, it seems, is the new winter!

And while it made for some lovely pictures,

... it obviously flummoxed our trusty railway companies.

Turning up on the platform at Upper Warlingham station on time to catch my train - without an overcoat, as I was foolishly persuaded by those other charlatans, the weather forecasters, that it would be 52 degrees farenheit ( yes, in about July ! ) - only to find out that the snow had seized up the whole system and all trains were running 30-45 minutes later.

I suppose I should be beyond surprise about how easy trains can grind to a standstill in our country – but I still hold out a forlorn hope for improvements in our fast-moving technological age!

What rubs salt into the wounds on days like these is that Southern Rail have just had the gall to stop the 5 per cent discount on annual season tickets you get because of their poor performance during the year.

They reckon they now have hit all their targets for trains arriving on time.

Can’t say I’ve noticed ….

The April Fool is on us ....

2006-04-04T10:37:00.000+01:00

Last Saturday, the Daily Mail ran an April Fool story about Tony Blair changing the colour of the front door to Number 10 from black to red ( see link ).

The fact that I read this story at face value – and with weary resignation - is not a testament to my gullibility ( I used to be a journalist and always keep a weather eye out for spoofs on the 1 April ).

Rather, it is a sad indictment of this Government that I would not be surprised by anything that they do – and changing the colour of No 10’s door is one of the milder acts of madness they could perpetrate.

http://www.dailymail.co.uk/pages/live/articles/news/news.html?in_article_id=381687&in_page_id=1770&ct=5

Two Poems*

2006-03-31T17:15:00.000+01:00

The Wind, One Brilliant Day – Antonio Machado

The wind, one brilliant day, called
to my soul with an odour of jasmine.

"In return for the odour of my jasmine,
I'd like all the odour of your roses."

"I have no roses; all the flowers
in my garden are dead."

"Well then, I'll take the withered petals
and the yellow leaves and the waters of the fountain."

The wind left. And I wept. And I said
"What have you done with the garden that was entrusted to you ?"

The Clay Jug - Kabir

“Inside this clay jug there are canyons and pine mountains,
And the maker of canyons and mountains!

All seven oceans are inside, and hundreds of millions of stars.
The acid that tests gold is there, and the one who judges jewels.

And the music from the strings no one touches, and the source of all water.
If you want the truth, I will tell you the truth:

Friend, listen: The God whom I love is inside.”

*Thanks to Jackie Leven

Sorry seems to be the hardest word ...

2006-03-14T17:21:00.000Z

We all know that politicians are not whiter than white. And, I don’t think any of us are particularly surprised when they are caught with their pants down, proverbially or otherwise.

Of course, in the good old days, if a politician was found inflagrante with a rent boy, or prostitute, having an extra-marital fling or found to be cooking the books and lining their pockets, they followed best practice. They put their hands up, said sorry and then resigned gracefully.

A good example of this was John Profumo who died this week. He was embroiled in the biggest political scandal of the 1960s, apologised for his behaviour, resigned and lived a life of obscurity, while doing charitable works.

I can’t be alone in finding it very disturbing that our New Labour overlords have no similar grace under fire. They cling on to power with a grim determination, no matter what mud is being slung at them, and no matter how much has stuck. They look down their noses at us all, blame the media – and continue to look smug and patronising while they brave it out on the rare occasions they visit Parliament.

Tessa Jowell, and Met Police Commissioner, Ian Blair ( who I will lump in with the New Labour cadre, as he so clearly demonstrates all their horrible attributes ) are just the latest. And, yes, I do think Jowell deliberately ‘separated’ from her husband to save her political skin – that’s how cynical I think this Government is.

They sully their positions. Yes, they have been scrutinised and found to have, technically, done nothing wrong. But they are in positions of high responsibility. They need to have the respect of the people who they serve, and who serve under them. I can’t believe that either of these two people do.

A simple message, therefore, for the fragrant Tessa, and the politically correct PC, Ian Blair. Go. Go now. Gain a bit of credibility. You never know guys, it could be the best move you ever made!

Tessa repents all!

Blair admits he's wrong and prepares to commit hari kiri!

Cat in a jacuzzi

2006-03-01T14:41:00.000Z

I thought I would kick off March with a blog-cliche, a picture of our fat cat Jess, wondering why we haven't filled the jacuzzi for her ...

Flashman and Iraq

2006-02-24T14:23:00.000Z

Opening the pages of ‘Flashman On The March’ - the latest in the superb series of Flashman books by George MacDonald Fraser – I was struck by the nature of the foreword.

In explaining the historical context of the book, George has made some very pointed remarks about the current situation this country finds itself in regarding the Iraq war.

It’s probably the first time I have read such political comment on a current issue in the foreword of what is ostensibly a comedic, historical romp through the annals of British history – and it very much struck home. I hope George will not mind me reproducing some of it here because it makes an excellent point far more eloquently than I can.

‘Flashman On The March’ is about the hero’s involvement in the Abyssinian War of 1868, one of the strangest of all imperial campaigns. It involved a British Indian Army invading one of the least known and dangerous countries on earth simply to rescue a tiny group of British citizens held captive by a mad monster of an African King.

Says George: “ .. it may be, that along with the light he (Flashman) casts on a unique chapter of imperial history, he invites comparison with a later and less glorious day.

“For Flashman’s story is about a British army sent out in a good and honest cause by a government who knew what honour meant. It was not sent without initial follies and hesitation in high places, or until every hope of peaceful issue was gone. It went with the fear of disaster hanging over it, but with the British public in no doubt that it was right. It served no politician’s vanity or interest. It went without messianic rhetoric. There were no false excuses, no deceits, no cover-ups or lies, just a decent resolve to do a government’s first duty: to protect its people, whatever the cost. To quote Flashman … those were the days.”

LOSS OF LIBERTY 2

2006-02-17T11:03:00.000Z

This week saw laws passed in Parliament which will mean that people will feel the heavy hand of Government upon them during the next few years – a hand which if it gets any heavier will completely flatten us all.

Firstly, ID cards. The Government initially said we needed them to counter terrorism. Now it is clear that the 7/7 bombings would not have been stopped by everyone having an ID card, they are scaring us with the threat of identity fraud.

Even government minister Peter Hain on BBC Question Time last night did not look convinced by his arguments in favour of these cards – if he isn’t, then why should we?

All they will do is enable this – and future – Governments to be able to track our every move, know everything about us and, probably, sell that information for commercial gain. If you don’t think that will happen then ask the DVLA what they have done with motorists’ details and car clamping companies – something they have had to subsequently apologise for. And we will have to pay at least £93 for the privilege!

Now there is to be a complete ban on smoking in public places. As a non-smoker, I suppose I am glad that my air will no longer be polluted by tobacco smoke. But as someone who has moral difficulty applauding more and more Government intervention in our lives, I can’t help thinking that this is the thin end of the wedge. As Stephen Pound MP said in the Commons debate on this issue: what next? Drink, fatty foods, sweets, motor cars ….?

And as to the dangers of passive smoking, see this interesting article on Spiked Online: http://www.spiked-online.com/Articles/0000000CAF7C.htm

A law preventing glorification of terrorism – what is that all about? We have perfectly adequate laws to prevent incitement to violence and murder. These are laws which can be used if there is a political will to do it. Why do we need this vaguely-worded offence?

And what will it be used for? I bet the first time it is applied, it won’t be an extremist muslim demonstrator praising the July suicide bombers – it will probably be some old dear who says that animal rights groups releasing laboratory animals into the wild is a good thing. What price free speech?

Watching Question Time last night and listening to the audience’s questions and views, it is clear that people are getting more and more worried about this increasing government interference in our lives. I think they are right to be worried, and frightened. We must keep our wits about us and fight back where we can.

Random acts of reality

2006-02-16T10:19:00.000Z

I have included a permanent link to this blog ( see sidebar ) as it is one of the best I've seen. It is the thoughts and experiences of a paramedic based in Newham, East London. It's been so successful that the writer has been asked to put it all into a book! Well worth a look.

http://randomreality.blogware.com/

The White Lion, Warlingham

2006-02-13T15:42:00.000Z

Opening Up

This post charts the highs and lows, the failures and successes and the ongoing history of ‘The White Lion’ – Warlingham’s most famous hostelry pictured above in more bucolic days – according to yours truly, Dougie Doolittle, sage and scholar to the drinking classes.

The following relies on dedicated research, unparalleled local knowledge and my own natural storytelling skills, fuelled by pints of Carling, regular intakes of vindaloo from the Warlingham Tandoori and, not least, my own small stash of exotic tobacco.

First Round

It doesn’t do too well to be too tall if you are a White Lion regular, as the sign above the door states: ‘Weary traveller do ye mind your hatte’ although it’s clear that many modern day imbibers do not understand Olde Englishe, judging by the regular sickening thuds as head meet low beams and the accompanying expletives that can be heard on any given day.

Obviously, people were a lot shorter in the days when the White Lion was built – around 1467, according to this history books – which is why many of the low beams in the building barely reach six feet.

Of course, the recent refurbishment, more of which later, has meant tall people can manoeuvre round the place in reasonable comfort now – so long as they stay in the garish, modern extension!

But, the Lion wasn’t always a pub. It was built first as a farmhouse and cottages, only becoming an Inn later in the 15th Century. This was due to an inspired move by owner and local farmer, Hubert Grassdangle! I think the fact that the Parish Council continually refuse to put up a statue in his honour on the front of the pub is a national disgrace.

The White Lion Inn became an immediate hit, with its warren of intimate and enclosed bars, lit by old carriage lamps, and its unique features such as the Inglenook fireplace beneath which is buried the entrance to a secret tunnel leading under the Limpsfield Road to the nearby almshouses.

And it’s worth looking out for the carved wooden post which escaped the refurbishment and which precariously supports one end of the particularly low beam running across the main bar area. It was taken from the corner of an Elizabethan four poster bed whose springs once bounced along to an amorous romp between Shakespeare-wannabe, Christopher Marlowe, and a mystery milkmaid from nearby Chelsham.

During the 19th Century, the Lion’s services were more diverse than they are today, selling general provisions as well as beer much like some of the bars in rural Ireland still do to this day.

Inside the pub, the atmosphere was often gloomy, with little sunshine breaking through the smoke-fugged rooms and, not surprisingly perhaps, there have been many sightings of apparitions in the main bar area after closing time when all but the bar staff have gone.

One notable encounter was in 1913 when Dorothea Tremayne-Wilkinson, the daughter of a local wealthy businessmen, big in steam-driven suction pumps for cesspits, found herself collecting glasses as a favour to her barmaid friend.

She heard a noise in the main bar, poked her head round the door and saw at the bar a young girl dressed in white standing next to a florid-faced man with heavy black Cavalry whiskers, banging soundlessly on the bar top, apparently demanding a drink.

I now understand that this could be Colonel Manley Pilkington and his young wife, Cecilia, who tragically died in 1824 while waiting for a coach to London. They were both pushed under the hooves of the oncoming horses by jealous rival, Frederick Fawshaw, and his rather simple-minded brother, Jebediah, who were both later hanged for their crimes.

During the 1890s, the right hand wing – which the keen observer may notice is slightly out of scale with the rest of the building – was rebuilt. But it wasn’t until 1971 that it was given its own bar. It was also during the 1970s that the large garden at the back was opened up and a further serving area provided to cater for the many families and tourists who visit the pub during the summer months.

The Genial Hosts

In the 19th Century, the White Lion belonged to Croydon brewery, Crowleys, who along with their local rivals, Nalder and Collyer, owned many of the surrounding hostelries.

They made the wise decision of letting the pub to the Churchill family – and succeeding generations of this dynasty manned the beer pumps at the Lion for 72 years, between 1868 and 1940. The following 30 years saw G W (Bill) Adams at the helm who poured his last pint in 1970 when he retired.

He was then replaced by the mysterious Dane, Cnut Neilson, a blond haired, blue eyed charmer who lasted just a few months after he fled into the night with the Christmas takings, never to be seen again. There were some sightings of the Dodgy Dane, pouring Scandinavian lager in a Spanish bar in Magaluf but these were never confirmed. The Lord Lucan of Warlingham, that what I always called him!

The biggest effect of Charrington’s takeover from Crowleys in 1971 was to make the Lion a managed house and placed it, alongside other older pubs, into a separate company called Vintage Inns. There followed a succession of faces behind the bar who all foisted a variety of their own individual foibles and idiosyncrasies on us unsuspecting drinkers.

Leading the way were Tony and Tiu Brand who reigned between 1971 and 1984 and who left a legacy by establishing the Lion’s reputation for good food – a reputation which has fallen into disrepute in recent years, highlighted by a distinctly unflattering review in the local paper.

They were followed by Brian Basen ( 1984-1986 ), Tim Bartel ( 1986 -1987 ) whose extra-curricular parties could have made the front pages of the News of the World ( think human spin-the-bottle games ! ), Kath and Andy Smith ( 1987 – 1989 ) and Julia ‘Charlie’ Evans whose nickname came from her resemblance to Farrah Fawcett-Majors in Charlie’s Angels.

Jill and Alan ‘Drinkseversomuch’ followed Charlie and remained for just 5 months, followed by Christine Sheridan, who was in the post from July 2000 until February 2002 when a tragic shooting incident forced her departure and the closure of the pub for 6 weeks. From this low point, the pub slowly recovered with Andy Eyles as manager followed by Amber.

Charlie made her return as manager following the refurbishment and not long after departed again!

Spirits and Mixers

Sometimes to the annoyance of regular imbibers, the Lion became a popular stopping off point during the 1890s and 1900s for ramblers and cyclists venturing out from the suburban hell of Croydon.

They were followed by the first ever motorists – or, at least, those brave enough to tackle the steep hills surrounding Warlingham, hills which also discouraged train and bus development and enabled the area to remain remote and unspoilt until the later 1920s. Some of these visitors’ verbal ramblings can be seen in a visitors’ book which used to be display in the pub’s middle bar but was liberated by a well-known local to save it from the clutches of the redevelopers. It remains safely hidden to this day.

During the Second World War, the pub became popular with servicemen, notably RAF pilots and aircrew from the nearby aerodromes at Biggin Hill and Kenley. Winston Churchill himself stopped off on one occasion while driving to his home in Chartwell.

His car conveniently broke down outside the pub and while his chauffeur carried out the necessary repairs, he retired to what is called ‘The IPA Bar’, downed several large brandies and entertained regulars by practising his most famous speech, ‘never in the field of human conflict .. ‘

One regular did walk in during his impassioned rhetoric and asked him why Churchill was sitting in his favourite chair and would be kindly move? Churchill’s reply is not recorded.

During Bill Adam’s time it is recorded that members of the Handlebar Club ( moustaches, nothing to do with bikes ), including'Whacko!' comedian Jimmy Edwards, used to meet at the Lion occasionally during the 1950s and 1960s.

Many of the regulars have been coming in on a daily or weekly basis for over 50 years but the probable record holder must be former village bobby, Arthur ‘Curley’ Wiles, who had an attendance record going back to before the First World War. Of course, he never rode his bike drunk once…

Last Orders

There was much controversy when Mitchells and Butler decided to refurbish the pub. But, a well-orchestrated local protest succeeded in forcing the faceless accountants running the brewery to considerably review and redraw their plans for the pub. Apart from the rather incongruous pub sign at the front there is little to detract from the most attractive façade of this ancient building. The interior is now split between old and new, and draws criticism and admiration alike.

Afters

Well, this was a potted history of the White Lion, garnered from various sources If anyone has any other interesting anecdotes, facts or memories, then let me know through this blog.

See you there for a pint!

Dougie Doolittle.