Writing in a Twist

An Act of Desperation?

2012-01-10T16:04:00.000Z

Why other people make life choices that seem foolish to me is not usually of much interest.
It's a free world, from the point of view of getting up to face the day is usually concerned. However, having learned that one regular on Blogspot is heading off in to a yet unpredictable blogging sunset, I actually bothered to call by to offer the ongoing benefits of staying put here, or at least of continuing to copy and paste work as he goes along.

Since I do not own copyright to the product of years of hard labour at the "official" hack's coalface, keeping copyright intact is now important.

It would be too boring for words to explain why, but the story of how Mary Shelley came to own rights to works that her feckless male friends had not the wit to protect might be of use here.

Post Christmas Blues...

2012-01-10T11:12:00.003Z

The decorations are down, the seed trays ready for off and the house seems to be breathing out a sigh ofsatisfaction after a job well done.

I love Christmas, but that is because I don't perform all the mandatory rituals that used be expected like eating trifle and watching television until one became blue in the face.
Some people feel unhappy after all the celebrations and work kicks in again. Housewives, if they have any sense,don't feel let down. As members of the voluntary workforce they can choose when and how to get on with chores,(or not do them if they are not in the mood), put life before the curse of seeming to reach their potential or achieve targets and generally enjoy themselves.

If people think that housewives are stupid or unable to get a "proper" job, this is one way of working out if these critics would make boring company (the usually do), are misogynistic or workaholic or just plain silly.

There is a grotesque proposition that people on this island should be frog-marched to "work". This is such an 19th century way of thinking. Bill Nighy was on radio recently explaining about how auditions kill the spirit. "They sense the desperation", he said (or something like that).
Housewives... or for the more PC mind, "domestic engineers" hope never to have to meet "them".

And if there's any tint of blue here today it's because it's difficult to type while wearing gloves...

Mr Holmes To You, Sir?

2012-01-10T10:42:00.004Z

The fact that televsion is "democratic" seems to account for the fact that it is so repetitive and predictable, I think.I don't know if you have seen the interview that Dennis Potter did with Melvyn Bragg but I'm sure it's somewhereon the Internet.

"http://www.guardian.co.uk/culture/dennis-potter"

The disappointment Potter felt with the failures of such a marvelous media was very sad and made me realise at the time that I would never feel tempted try to get involved with the Machievellian powersthat run the show.

There is an illusion of democracy because shows with casts of thousands, peak audiences and vast expense is involved.

If the recession continues, my next cutback will be to get rid of TV.
The only value it has here is that I get to see films without the invonvenience of going to the cinema.

A Good Question...

2012-01-08T15:20:00.000Z

was asked recently in the Boards.ie photography forum.
One's favourite photo from the past year to be shared...
This is not a partiular favourite but it is one of the most accomplished. I know this is so because all the help the photographers there gave me was such a great help.

Why is works technically would take far too long to write down, however.

Typos

2012-01-07T16:06:00.001Z

I've started studying my typos, not for evidence of diminished brain function, but for how distracting the current cold and dark is.

Writing has always been difficult and one area of literary criticism that most amuses me is the way literary historians work. They scrutinise revisions and rewrites as if they had some other worldly significance. Usually they can be taken as evidence that the writer had a friend drop by for a visit or that they had temporarily stopped thinking because they found the task in hand boring.

I know that in a long body of work, when the writer has been showered with acclaim, how they approach the craft comes under well earned scrutiny. Leitmotivs, evidence of emotional changes as can be traced in handwriting, introduction of new words... it goes on indefinitely as I learned at a tortuous lecture in Trinity College once.
I'll fix the confusion at the end of the last post in time, if ever.

Europe can be such a bore...(And in this case a typing course might get skills better honed.)

Come Back, Signor Berlusconi, (Almost) All is Forgiven?

2012-01-07T15:52:00.008Z

I have only twice been to Italy and the effort to negotiate buying dinner with a smattering of Latin and vast translation from French, which many waiters speak there, has left its mark. Travelling with friends who have not bothered to learn any foreign language leaves one in the position of a UN representative. A war could be caused bythe slightest misunderstanding of the nuances.

Loud enthusiasm usually impresses Italians, from my experience so far, but it was also explained by a helpful English couple that one should learn toindulge officials in functionary positions, as they are not helpful when spoken to as if one were their equal.

Although the Irish have often been called "The Italians of the North", I think that this prejudice must be based on lack of efficiency and the aforement yelling.It could not have anything to do with kow-towing to authority and I was surprised to find ticket sellers in train stations so unhelpful. Even in France, instructions willbe screamed through sound proof glass at a pitch that would wake the dead, leaving no room for ambiguity or misunderstanding.

The latest news from Italy, relayed through my only trusted source, the BBC, is that the new chief bottle washer there has now got his wife doing the cooking forevery social gathering that could implicate partying at the expense of the "the tax-payer". Do I, I ask myself, want to revisit a country where women are called on to support their husband's career beyond the bounds of reason?

Six years studying Greek have ensured that I would not step foot in a Greek jurisdiction without signed contracts with fellow travellers, regardless of linguistic ability. There is a law in Greece that claims that when a man is arrested his wife or partner is often held in custodyas well, because women always know everything. Whoever put this onto the statute books must have a vivid imagination. And since my knowledge of this law is based on the case of two English people who were at an air show where military aircraft were photographed years ago and that the details are too confusing to repeat, I've also added air shows to a long list of no-go events.

Travel does not broaden the mind. It can wear people out and cause untold psychological damage.

And as for going to Italy again, the jury is still out. We never got to the Vatican because the nice sign at the entrance to the Palazzo Doria Pamphiljcaught my attention. The sign was for food, of course, and the palace itself was a highlight of our trip to Rome. Also, I had forgotten that, being a separate state,one gets put through security systems again so I thought about if seeing another basilica was worth the risk of getting frisked and subjected to suspicion.

I draw a veil over the fact that the Irish government has taken an attitude to the Vatican that seems extreme. Davimack's reaction to politics is very similar to mine...why waste time thinking about problems that other people have made?

Not only is the political not personal in my mind, the personal is not political. And I think for many people the two may have parted company for some time to come.

Calatrava in Dublin

2012-01-07T15:16:00.000Z

The naming of the "Samuel Beckett Bridge" in Dublin distracts from the fact that it was designed by Santiago Calatrava.

The design has received mixed reviews, but its impact is unmistakeable. It has brought drama, yet again, to the city in my eyes and is very pleasant to photograph.The two-hander achieved by the literary association and the visual impact is also pleasing.

Finding access to drive across it takes the wisdom of serpents, but I finally managed to do this for the first time a few months ago.

The Value of the Printed Page?

2012-01-07T10:52:00.001Z

In the race for acceptance it now seems that both printed and digital materials are neck and neck.

On "Book Dirt" readers were asked for their opinion... give good reasons that the printed book will survive.

Since I don't have an insistance that a "book" need even be recorded in writing and that the full contents of the body of knowledge we now associate with book learning is often carried for years in writer's minds, or in the case of the past, in oral tradtion, the question posed is of fundamental interest to the survival of humanity.

But, not to be a spoilsport, here is my answer to the question:You have probably come across the game a few years ago where people used just leave books they had finished reading in public places for others to find.

It's easier to lose a book, as I know from experience, than an expensive machine, as one is likely to take more care.

You asked for the edge printed books have over digital. In the case of photography books, pages can be removed and the images framed... though with the arrival of digital cameras such mutilation is now, fortunately, not necessary.

The New Year Just Goes On and On and On...

2012-01-06T14:38:00.001Z

One reason to wish I was abroad at the moment, apart from the hideous weather and low light levels,is that I'll miss the Chinese New Year in a warm climate.

Since I'm a Dragon and chatted with a Chinese lady, much younger, who's in the same category in the past,I'm up to date with the iconography and enjoy the loud fire crackers and special food produced for the banquets in cities wherethe festival is a major social event.

Chinesefortuneclaendar.com explains that the Dragon has Seven Sons, according to the old mythologies, and they are a busy bunch indeed, mostly involved with artistic endeavour and keeping the peace , apart from Number 4 who loves howling.But since positive thinking is seemingly embedded in the system, this is a good quality linked to protectiveness.

A year ago we were in Singapore and followed the crowds to the beach. I have never seen so many people per square metre anywhere before and some of the photos would be worth sharing again.

Since the Chinese see red as a fortuitous colour, unlike Europeans for whom it means anger and danger,a bokeh image in that colour might be a good start to the run up to the Year of the Dragon.

2011 has been the Year of the Rabbit.

Perhaps that's why so many people have been running so fast all yearjust to stay still?

Words, Words, Words...

2012-01-05T23:41:00.000Z

I've just found a great blog in the Blogspot system... Book Dirt. Beautifully written and, at this very moment giving 25 reasons why books (the printed versions) will survive.

Grammar finally abandoned me at the end of my zealous post there. I'm sure they'll work it out...

Vanitas Vanitatum

2012-01-05T18:44:00.004Z

Vanity publishing has always been spurned by those who value authority and who see the desire to promote oneself as being the self indulgent havenof those too cowardly to find an editor. I mentioned a friend's book in a bookshop a few years ago. The recipient of myjoyful explanation that such an edition existed made a simple, abrupt enquiry. "Vanity publishing?"

While the cynicism of a very small minority of youthful spirits continues to surprise and alarm me, I was able, hand on heart to answer firmly"No". It was not the moment to mention that Proust self published or that most bloggers would not bother to turn on their computers if they had to dealwith the neuroses of the publishing trade these days so I left the person in question happily assured, thanks to a quick search that the book in question was not the worst he had come across that day.

Nor was it the moment to point out that such lack of enthusiasm was probably killing the book trade off quicker than many of the reasons being put about, officially, both in real life and online. Printed books are being replaced by digital for thousands of reasons but I had another even more astonishing insight in the problem when I was able to inform another bookseller that the writer I had been speaking about had just won a major prize and that it might be worthwhile moving one of the books into the relative limelight of the vast sales space we were standing in.

I know this sounds pushy but Laurie Lee used go into shops and physically move his own work up front, even though he had the backing of a veritable power house of publishers and editorial acclaim.

This post explains, most of all, why most people would probably never dream of writing a book.
Too much of a fuss...

Letting Our Little Light Shine

2012-01-05T18:18:00.000Z

Some years ago, having got used to my Flickr account and having got onto amicable terms, my now virtual friend Billie from the Beach askeda very sensible question.
"Does the sun ever shine over there?"

It's difficult to explain that I probably have come to prefer muted tones and mysterious duskyphotos, with a strong bias towards black and white images in real film rather than digital. Friends from brighter climates are forever putting on lights which startle me into an over-alert state as, in Summer at least, I like the long steady evening light.

However, the ongoing gloom of January is ahead and at this time, the only strategy is to avoid looking at anything out of doors bybringing the blinds down and filling the house with good strong electric light.

And the sun did actually shine a few days ago and I managed to capture the moment on film..

Well, Blow Me Down With a Feather...

2012-01-05T12:16:00.001Z

I don't have the energy to post on Davimack's blog, being in another system as it is.
However it is a relief to know that they are surviving merrily enough given the circumstances of being caught upin some tornado or other. I don't know if the hilarity the pieces have caused me are intended, but having weathered snow last year my virtual friends have taken the gales on the chin and are knitting, writing and making beautiful photos as usual.
I woke to a report from the BBC that a delighted arboriculturalist was actually out in the Edinburgh Botanic Gardens to study the top of a 50 foot felled tree. It's rare to be able to study such a specimen, it seems. Good news was forthcoming. The lichensat the top of the tree are numerous and healthy, evidence of good air quality.

Somebody out there must have heard all our pleas for the moaning to stop.
We are now being blown away with happy stories...

Gulliver and Dublin

2012-01-05T11:10:00.003Z

This is a surprisingly often viewed photo on Flickr. It is one of a series taken over several years of sand sculptures in Dublin.

Mostly they can be found in Summer in an interior couryard in Dublin Castle, but since I'm not a great fan of the medium used I haven't bothered to upload any more.

I don't much like Swift's writing either and while Sweet Auburn was a favourite literary reference point for adults when I was growing up,I found his writing coarse. Rabelais has the same effect and the recent dramatisation on Radio Four left me with nothing to listen to for a dull hour on a Sunday night.

The official media are a puzzle... as is why so many people bothered to look at this somewhat indiffent photo.

The artist in this case was excellent, but since the work was surrounded by protective metal girders I found it really difficult tophotograph it well. (An update... Oliver Goldsmith, not Swift wrote "The Deserted Village" and I've sorted the confusion out by posting on Widgetinghour. This post has reminded me, as if I needed reminding, that the pleasure of keeping a blog is that it involves uploading only material that one enjoys and not having to produce work that is paid for by others.)

Setting It to Music

2012-01-04T20:08:00.000Z

Finnegan's Wake is still to be found on the walls of Dublin.

Le Jeu Continue

2012-01-04T20:04:00.000Z

Never let it be said that Dubliners are not optimists.

Balloons everywhere on Harcourt the other day...

Fair Copy

2012-01-04T18:27:00.000Z

Wind and cold inhibit lucid thought, I'm certain. The typos continue apace here so I'll just go back to photography until the gales die down.

It's pleasant to think that Summer will return in the not too distant future...

Ca m'est Egal

2012-01-04T17:54:00.001Z

The title here has reminded me of all the rules and regulation governing the placement of accents in French.

Not on capital letters, ever, if memory serves. But since the last time I checked was in the 1980's I'm not going to stand over this.

Friends, who are always quick with good ideas that could leave one spent, tired and cross in the extreme, have sometimes thought I might like to write here in French.
Not a good idea, given all the blasted accents that pepper the written language and which will probably, in time, lead to its demise. Greek is a much prettier prospect, to my eye, at least, since they changed the rules in relation to accents, but since my little Greek is shrinking yearly and since I have no intention of going to Greece, chances are slim of much being put into print in that language in the near future.

People do not like difficulty and challenge, if they are any way ordinary, as I am. The annoyance of reaching my potential would probably kill me off years before nature has intended and all the stressed moan-bags who continue to haunt the Irish airwaves are probably being handsomely paid for their efforts as they praise the fearful newfangled activity, entrepreneurship.

It seems that this country is bankrupt. Since there's not any chance I can do anything about it, élan vital will have to suffice.
Potential, in any case, can only be measured by performance. Performing one's socks off to an empty audience is not much fun...

Gobbledegook

2012-01-04T17:17:00.000Z

The "wicket gream" for "wicked gleam" in the last post may as well be let stand as is.

A nod to one of my favourite writers, Lewis Carroll.

Innate Grammar, How Are You...

2012-01-04T17:14:00.002Z

If innate grammer actually exists, I think it may have passed me by.

English is my mother tongue, even if the Hiberno version I speak sometimes brings a wicket gream of amusement into the eye of some shopkeepers on what is delightfully known to some as "The Mainland". Enthusiastic declamations of "I will indeed" when "I shall"would suffice, look as if overkill has been achieved. However, since to use "shall" in parts of Ireland is to join the linguistic equivalent of "les precieuses ridicules" I very rarely use it in speech and rarely in writing.

France is always a joy (if the government changes there there might be some chance I'll muster enough courage to visit again) as most people think I speak like a true Britannique and subject me to their enjoyable foibles, depending on how they view our damp little islands... that is, if they manage to see them at all, lost as weare in the linguistic mists beyond La Francophonie.

There has been a certain relief in knowing that the work of James Joyce has been released from copyright bondage at last. I no longer have to think about quoting his work without fear of punishment.
Also some of his bizarre characters who thought that speaking the language of the invader was some foible can now be put into a measured historical perspective, perhaps.

Most people these days write and speak in acronyms. I need a decoder, not a linguist.
br> However, grammarians, an eternal force, not unlike intellectual gardeners, are always welcome...

Chins Above Water, As Usual

2012-01-04T16:53:00.005Z

I find myself thanking my blessings, despite the gales that are raging through the British Isles, sending trees and electrical wires crashing.

A year ago we were snowbound and although I know that much of Europe has months of frost and snow every year, I find a sort ofcomfort in knowing that the Gulf Stream continues to warm our shores and give a sense of well-being.

Anybody who has described an average Winter in New York has ensured I have never been tempted to go there. Yesterday's post about staying home was based on experience, not fear of the unknown, btw.It is sizzling hot in Melbourne as I write and I have met many people there in the past who craved a brisk breeze after months of what I experienced as enviable warmth. Having never spent more than four months in a warm climate, I don't know when the desire for cold weather would actually have begun. A trip to Australia was punctuated, in every sense of the word, by a visit to Tasmania's Cradle Mountain, an experience that could not top the fear that Mont Blanc struck into my heart, but which came a close second. I share with every sensible person who lived up to the time of the drug fuelled Romantics, a healthy respect for mountains. Mostly I like them to be placed picturesquely at a very safe distance, but if compelled to visit closely, being at the bottom rather than half way up in the sleet and snow would always be a personal preference. Having given my ski gloves to a friend who wanted to wander around Dove Lake, I spent a strange day muttering to myself as I tried to get warm, bonded with the only living creature out of doors, a very photogenic member of the crow family and sat in the only place offering lunch and felt a strange sense of longing for Europe in the company of a Spanish artist. We hardly spoke, but he interpreted the unmissable belled and whistling plastic gew gaw that heralded the arrival of our food while I surprised him by picking out his accent from a thousand possibilities and getting it right. He drew in a small pad. I examined my photos with over zealous scrutiny, as there wasn't much else to do.

One of the more terrifying images, to my eye, of the great mountain, were Explored on Flickr, which has never happened much since, showing that struggle is part of true art. However, I'm happy to stay home and make dreamy black and white film images with my new Canon EOS RT, a camera that had a short lived success in 1989 and which seems set to become a classic, if those of us who possess the calm its pellicle mirror system sports manage to master it and it finds a wider audience.So here's to mystery, romance and flat terrain for 2012.

Round We Go Again

2012-01-03T14:28:00.003Z

The New Year always brings a predictable flood of reminiscence and predictions from media sources. It can be extremely long winded and as a result I find myself looking out at a chilly garden wondering when I can muster enough courage to take it on again.

Sweeping leaves is a healthy pursuit, but not when it could involve catching a chill or picking up one of the remarkably efficient viruses that now lurk in every building in the land. Show the slightest weakness and these enviably resilient strands of dna kick in.

So I continue to change channel whenever the news comes on, watch old movies while planning a spectacular 2012. Since gardeners seem to measure time in aeons, not paltry swathes of twelve months at at time, I remember 2011 as a mixed bag as usual. The first half included a lot of travel, which would have once seemed an impossible dream. To visit Australia, Italy and the UK in the space of four months is not something I would complain about, but it makes being home a very valuable experience.

Travel was always a bit of an upheaval, but even though I rarely suffer home sickness or culture shock, the sheer inconvenience of getting from one place to another made me decline an invitation to an event abroad towards the end of the year.

Home it shall be, thankfully, for some time to come.

Happy New Year!

2011-12-31T20:37:00.000Z

2012 is just round the corner and here's to success and happiness for all who visit here.

It has been an inspiring year for bloggers as we find our feet in the world of citizen journalism.

Winners all round...

Oh, Christmas!

2011-12-15T16:36:00.001Z

Walking round town is a pleasure these days. Dublin is a blaze of tasteful lights in the city centre. This year there are plain, not coloured lights round Grafton Street and photographers will find plenty of lively scenes to snap.

My Home Town

2011-12-12T11:47:00.001Z

Dublin has been home since the mid-1970's. It's a city that draws people from all over Ireland. Some stay for just a few years to work and establish themselves in a profession. Many find urban life easy-going and lively at the same time and stay forever.
There is much written about the urbanisation of the Planet at the moment. Living in the country is not as easy as it used to be as transport systems have been cut back and rural isolation has been studied by sociologists.

However the city is not immune when it comes to cutting back on resources. For the next year IMMA, the museum of modern art, will be mostly closed for renovation.
We have taken to haunting the National Gallery and the Hugh Lane for the time being...

The Circus has Been and Gone

2011-12-10T11:11:00.001Z

I haven't been to the circus for years, but this photo, taken in County Cork, reminds me of how enjoyable it is.

Really and Truly

2011-12-10T11:05:00.002Z

Winter is not my favourite.I've been rummaging through photos taken in warm weather to try to distract myself from the wind and rain out of doors.So far it has worked very well...

No Time to Spare

2011-12-02T18:24:00.000Z

Writing has gone far down the list this week.

Root canal treatment, shopping for Christmas gifts, doing some much needed Winter Cleaning... chores certainly take up time and energy, but are worth the effort in the long run.

The rain and wind fall and bloweth as is often the case in an Irish Winter, but good humour is sutained through much friendly banter with friends.

I have even started using the telephone again from time to time.
Since everybody has gone to ground with work and December duties, it's nice to chat, even if one doesn't have time to meet up.

How to Drive a Saint to Virtual Drink

2011-11-10T22:42:00.000Z

The system, Cronos fashion, has taken to eating posts on some blogs.

I may have worked out the trick with one of the the bugs in the comment system in Blogger, though this is based on practical observation and does not rely on any coding knowledge.

I hit the "comment" link and a box appears but the words usually found in the verification in the captcha system are not visible There is just a red X. However, if one looks at its properties by right clicking, this has the potential of being a link, and one that, in several cases if one persists in typing a message, leads to a mem something or other error message.

Reload the page and the word verification shows letters to be retyped in the usual slot. Usually typing the message in this fully fledged box, with the captcha in place, will cause no problem when one hits the publish button, but this is not guaranteed.

I don't know if this glitch is an additional security measure, but it is extremely inefficient for me as it has stopped me posting any more comments.

Perhaps it is an inbuilt effort to slow up an increasingly unwieldy and ever growing Internet?

It certainly wastes time and bandwidth.

Also, just in passing, everybody should read the differences in copyright between posts and comments before deciding where to write, I think. Legal responsibility in material printed on a non-adult blog is taken seriously here and I use this more technical space to try to unravel the complexity of the web for ordinary everyday use.
Much of the time is spend snarled up in coccoons of my own making, but the comment system is becoming a real, external problem that I cannot solve.

Perhaps in time copyright lawyers will have replaced venture capitalists as the most employable entrepreneurs round. Mesmerising language and sleight of mind thinking are always in demand and making sense of who owns all the lost comments and where they are stored should cause hours of harmless fun.

Maths (or Math) for the Fun Loving Blogger

2011-11-06T19:01:00.002Z

I would probably find calculus more useful for understanding the internet, but I like the fact that trigonometry has something to look at besides numbers.Sequences and patterns in numbers are worth looking at and I hope to get back to them, useful for predicting and as everybody now knows, the coders joy to behold.

Blocking Traffic?

2011-11-06T17:29:00.001Z

Strategies are needed with every mechanism. There is chat about blogs being redirected on the Blogger system at the moment and since contracts are always being changed, it's worth looking again at the associates in Google.

Many of the sites visiting are not being vetted enough, according to other Blogspot users. Having an open site is what appealed most when I signed up here and it would be strange if unwelcome guests were to consider taking advantage. I know that the Internet is not monitored and it's a case of protecting oneself, but if one's service provider is acting with a nefarious "enemy within" it's probably time to move on.
I'm not too concerned at the moment but I have also wondered why drafts are saved so very often.

Thank You, Again

2011-11-06T14:47:00.002Z

The French are always astonished as the number of times Anglophones say "Thank You". I got used to their seemingly rude manners quite quickly, but still find that to express the socially acceptable phrase in any society is essential and as a result this "Thank You" is for Davimack, whose fidelity to commenting is now awarded the usual laurels. Also, it has given more to think about, as usual. The "bread and circuses" refence is especially apt, given that "bread" can also refer to money. It was explained, since most Irish people seem to live in the US and were forever explaining the culture, that the American social class is based on monetary and personal success, not on proximity to the throne or being able to trace one's ancestors back to Charlemagne, as Europeans fuss over. I don't like class systems and Proust is the greatest guide to the havoc they spread. The current generation deny that they exist at all, which is a great relief and I'm happy to comply. However, when a person is short on bread, they are being compelled, increasingly to join the social circus, whether they wish to or no. It is possible that the people who have taken to camping on streets around the world are admired by many onlookers, but my main concern is that they will catch chill. I have seen reports that most of the tents in the vicinity of St Paul's cathedral are empty at night.That simply invites the usual question... whose test machinery is being used and who is funding it...

I Write Like...

2011-11-05T19:32:00.000Z

It's fun to try the "I Write Like" site.

You just paste in a piece of text from your blog and the machine will answer which famous author you most emulate.

I haven't studied the grammar and vocabulary systems that make this possible, but it sounds like a blogger's Enigma Machine.

Because I change style depending on the subject in hand I have been everyone from James Joyce to today's writer,Cory Doctorow. Since he is an expert on the Internet the pages linked to his name will be very helpful for the next while.
"http://www.locusmag.com/Perspectives/2011/11/cory-doctorow-its-time-to-stop-talking-about-copyright/"

Does It Matter If Nobody Reads a Blog?

2011-11-05T14:17:00.001Z

People who measure success in terms of approval by others would be unhappy to run a blog like this. It turns out that most visitors don't stop at all, which makes me consider if the ips from which they come are merely part of the network mechanics.

All is not lost, however, as the Analytics can be used to learn about new places around the globe. Geographers would find this useful, I expect.

Also, the value of blogging is that of documentary. Unless the Internet is obliterated, all the people who have taken time to learn the skills required to blog will be available to newcomers and will, it is to be hoped, have quicker access than those of us who had the feeling of being present at some astonishing breakthrough in science and knowledge.

I continues to astonish me that such a system can operate thanks to mathematics. Anybody who finds the subject boring or mysterious can quickly find sites on logarithms everywhere these days. Thanks to being indoors more than usual at the moment, a bit of trigonometry could pass the time.

Le jeu continue...

2011-11-05T12:16:00.002Z

Just in case anybody should take offense at the last piece, playing devil's advocate and having a sense of irony about the current way of life on this island, I think that the ability many people have to laugh rather than get angry is one of the ways of dealing with life's irritations.

The irony in my own case is that I cannot think of a better place in the whole world to live than Dublin. Every time I look out over our coastline or meet a friendly person, it is obvious that being driven out by carbon taxes would show a lack of resilience. Also, since houses are worth next to nothing and continue to fall in value, it would be poor economy to try to go to live in a wealthier country. Thinking aloud here has helped to understand why any of the G20 countries would be very uncomfortable for those of us who are not upwardly mobile and ambitious.

Seana Graham, whose insightful blog, "Confessions of Ignorance" is one of the best on the Blogspot system is very interested in the plight of the middle classes in the US. Anybody who follows the guidance of any political elite is liable to be puzzled when they discover that they have been sold a pup, metaphorically speaking.

Efforts to set the private section against the public in this country have largely failed given that most people have worked at some time or other in both areas of employment and solidarity is seen as the way forward. In class divided societies, trouble is brewing and this look sets to continue.

Carbon

2011-11-05T11:32:00.000Z

The debate on carbon issues has reached stalemate, it seems. The latest idea, that house insulation will cut down on problems and lessen one's carbon footprint is given governmental backing and grants are available.

I have problems relating to health when it comes to over insulating a home. In winter, I tend to just go upstairs where the rooms are warmer (and those who don't have an upstairs will already find they are losing interest)and wrap up in many layers. Having been in houses that have been subjected to the new systems, I find it difficult to feel comfortable. The air is inert in these spaces as it does not flow. A house should be allowed to breath and wrapping it up over securely may not actually make one ill, but, in my experience at least, it can make it very uncomfortable. I have stopped visiting such houses.

The alternative to insulation is to winter in a warmer country. This is not always possible, but it certainly solves most of the problems faced by those who are going to have heating bills that could send one into overdraft. There will be carbon taxes and many different inconveniences involved, notably the problem of not being in own's own well-loved home, but if faced with ruin, it is a reasonable option.

And getting back to the insulation, the mess involved, whether the system is inside or out along with the hidden costs of electricity and water usage is worth studying before a plan is drawn up. Over the years, having builders in the house has been manageable, but not enjoyable. Obviously, wealthy people can afford to live elsewhere while work goes on but for the average householder, getting out every day and living in squalor for the duration of the work is the norm.

Also the building trade is so stressed at the moment that inviting stressed people to work in one's domestic space takes a preliminary course in PR and psychology. Many builders, used to working on new building estates, have not thought about how to deal with house owners. They say what they want done and try to convince the would-be employer that they know best. I would never buy a house that had been owned by a professional builder. Everything is done to the exact letter of the law as it is officially set out at the time the work was accomplished. It is usually a very fine example of excellent craftsmanship and is stuffed with heaven only knows what sort of materials were fashionable at the time. Upgrading would involve ripping a lot of rubbish out.

The last few months were spent studying insulation systems. Any that I've met so far have left me with a simple solution... Sell up and go somewhere warm...

Letting the Big Guys Win

2011-11-04T14:40:00.001Z

There have been so many complaints about how large enterprises and franchises have taken over the shoppers world that it is worth seeing how everybody, either wittingly or not, colludes in their success.

I love supermarkets. Shopping to me is work and having a friendly local shopkeeper who knows all my personal business is just another inconvenience. As a result, I almost never go into small shops and the one that used be near here is now closed. One place insisted on vetting my credit card to the point that I never darkened the door again and it closed for a very long time. If I am ever compelled to go there I now bring cash, but I avoid it too most of the time. Butchers who over price their meat have also been cut from my list of contacts. I'm willing to risk whatever my local supermarkets have to offer rather than be taken for a charlie.

However, when it comes to the Internet, I find that I have more fidelity to the sites I visit than I would have expected a few years ago. Once some of them got too big, were hacked or were taken over by people who liked fighting, I left. But now I'm faced with the opposite problem. My favourite chat room has shrunk to two posts a day and the large social networks are where everybody gathers. I am less favourable towards a shift to exposing all my thoughts on the international stage that they represent because they are not particularly local enough for my limited Internet activity.

Modern times yet again...

The Way of the World

2011-11-04T13:25:00.001Z

I've stopped tuning into the news.

I know that some people claim that laughter is a form of aggression, but for whatever reason, discussion about Europe makes me laugh out loud and I can't waste time at the moment. So much to catch up on in the blog, for instance.

Like any machine, once started it seems to have taken on a life of its own. While it is tiresome to explain what a blog is to the vast number of people who pour scorn on such self indulgence, gradually the value of being able to find like-minded contacts around the world is increasingly obvious even to professional writers.

Their distain for unedited ramblings is a source of amusement to me. Do they find that bloggers are not serious people? Are they concerned that their place in the world order may be threatened? Learning to read is still withheld in some societies as a way for elites to keep power over those who are unable to access information.

Learning to write is to find a voice in the ever increasing noise that our Planet is making.

Learning to blog is one step futher. It allows for documentary makers to upload their podcasts. Films that would never find a public forum are now top billing among fans and "Rudetube" is popular on TV, as the official media, which is almost always a follower rather than an innovator, catches up with the play.

There is a certain snobbism in distaining blogs, just as Flaubert made a song and dance about that new fangled machine, the train. However, they are increasingly more read than newspapers, especially among younger generations.

I have often been puzzled by those who feel that anything has to be given official validation before its value is recognised. Authority structures are being, finally and to my relief, being broken down by the ability of many people to maintain a coherent body of writing and visual material for sharing online. Showing it to another person for approval would not dawn on me, because their input would change the nature of what is being produced.

When Security Becomes a Deterrent to Living

2011-11-04T11:51:00.001Z

I posted on Damien Mulley's blog last week and have not had the energy to go back to see if it had appeared. When last viewed, there was no sign. It puts me off visiting again, which is probably the experience that some commercial sites have had when they spam my blog. One person's spam is another's business opportunity. Since this is not a commercial site, I don't tend to upload commercial material.

Also, the peace and quiet can be pleasant. However, I have just stopped trying to post on Davimack's site as an extra system is in place there that I cannot get the hang of. This is just to say that I continue to read the interesting experiences there and was sorry to find that the choir went into psycological meltdown some time back.

Monteverdi was often at loggerheads with his choir, so rows are probably part of the game. I have a horror of choral singing and have, happily now very distant memories, of standing on a bench for hours while some deluded Svengali tried to coax angelic sounds from our worn voices.

I was content enough to drone on an octave below the sopranos, as singing alto was my punishment, or so it seemed to me. Counterpoint is grotesque, except on mechanical instruments, which can bear the strain.

Good News Travels Fast

2011-11-04T10:56:00.000Z

I have plenty of time to write at the moment as I'm recovering from root-canal treatment. If anybody reading this becomes paralysed with fright at the thought of dentistry, be reassured. Things have improved beyond measure since I was last subjected to this treatment.

The latex material that is used to protect the back of one's mouth from invasive shards of filling is so effective that I found the procedure just gave an opportunity to think quietly for a while.

I've always been a believer in the myth of progress. It's nice to have evidence that it is actually for real.

Novelties

2011-11-04T10:47:00.000Z

There are so many offers to try new systems that I've gone into lockdown and click on as little as possible. Being the first to have any new gadget is for nerds, I fear.

Even if it seems that I spend much time in a mental space that is close to "The Big Bang Theory", I continue to dislike it. Skype is beyond the pale and since I've even stopped using that outmoded technology, the telephone, except when absolutely necessary, visits in person to real people continues to be the life that seems most appealing.

The "Friendconnect" systems just leave me wondering how I could turn them off to save bandwidth. I don't want to connect...

The Vikings are Coming

2011-11-04T10:37:00.000Z

Back into comfort zones, I feel at home in York. Like Dublin, it is a Viking city in my eyes, even if the Roman ruins dominate still.

It is a the place which first, officially at least, practiced apartheid, as every time two groups used meet on the streets they engaged in fights to the death. I suppose that is one way of ensuring social harmony, but the idea makes me feel less comfortable.

York is a warm city, however, even if some of those running institutions are a bit uppity. Dublin is no different, so one ignores the dull ones with attitude and chat with the pleasant ones. I had a great moment in the Art Gallery while admiring Hockney's amazing trees. The staff were really proud of having "Bigger Trees Near Warter" as the star of the show during the Summer of 2011 and we spent a considerable amount of time trying to work out if some pieces were missing at the top. The branches did not meet up at one point, but that is the artist's prerogative.

Photography was not allowed, but since I did not have a wide angle lens this was not a problem and the work is everywhere on the Internet in any case. Chatting about copyright passed the time and I learned that many of the works in the gallery are free for photographers to examine and photograph. This is a relief to know, as I mistakenly took some photos in another gallery and got yelled at, very loudly.

Yelling seems to be the new social control. In less formal settings, I would yell back, but speaking in a whisper seems to work better as a way of defusing aggression. I just mock the French and repeat what they are saying when they yell, it is such a common way of behaving these days.

It makes them laugh...

La Règle du Jeu

2011-11-04T10:12:00.001Z

I'm always fascinated by the American fascination with class in Britain. Years listening to American visitors on radio has left an impression of people wandering round, lost, in a series of social codes that are designed to alienate and disturb. Many visitors from Africa have explained in conversations over the years that they find English politeness to be a form of subtle rudeness.

I remain on the fence in these cases. It was a relief to visit France and to learn that the codes there were often the direct opposite of those practiced in the English speaking world. I can play at either, if necessary, but find most bourgeois habits to be a bore. The Mitfords were much in fashion when I started reading seriously, trying to find a way of making sense of the horror that much social interaction has become. U and Non-U behaviour was a source of hilarity, not a guide to how to behave.

This ensured that I made sure never, if possible, to visit Britain and I still feel more comfortable speaking French than in trying to communicate with my closest geographical neighbours. London continues to be a personal nightmare place, Dickensian and very tiring. When there, we took refuge in the friendly Jewish areas where food and a sense of humour warmed the visit.

This may sound like an Irish reaction, but I am not alone in finding London cold. Anybody I have spoken to who lives north of Watford understands my discomfort in being addressed in a chilly fashion and held at arm's length while the interlocuter avoids eye contact. On the Underground, one learns to find a place just above the other passengers head and direct one's gaze there. The French habit of staring is considered to be the height of impertinence, but I find it less tiring. Really, it's all to do with what one can tolerate.

That said, my ability to laugh for no particular reason has made me instant friends in London shops and anybody who has (or claims to have had) an Irish grandmother seems to find me a magnet for conversation on the street. London is the world and one may as well be in Asia on the Finchley Road.

Americans always seem to be having a jolly time in London and, as far as is possible to see, don't take any of the codes seriously. Getting to all the tourist spots is the aim, though I do wonder what they make of being corralled by army on horseback during the changing of the guards.

I have never felt so poor and excluded as during the moments outside the vast gates of the Palace and being yelled at as part of the mob.
Dickens would have understood...

Memcache value is null for FormRestoration

2011-11-03T21:26:00.000Z

I'll end today with a new message that has just appeared out of the blue when trying to post a comment on another blog.

The old French saying that "To Understand is to Forgive" is of absolutely no use in this case.

I find such language inexcusable...

Setting the Record Straight

2011-11-03T18:16:00.000Z

In fact, the claim that visitors spend 20 seconds on average on my blog is erroneous. I have found that it is, in fact, .09 of a second.

That is fast...
It does beg the question... whatever are they looking for. However thank you for dropping by, whoever you may be. If nothing else, it gives me a mystery to think about.

Modal Dialog

2011-11-03T14:29:00.001Z

In the flood of information that gets deleted from my computer, this one caught my eye.

I continue not to trust computers one bit. "Your privacy is important to us" is taken with a pinch of salt. I was subjected to an educational system where I became adept at flushing out insincere protestations of confidentiality on the part of those in charge. While I almost never bad mouth the people who took such time to turn us into functional citizens in the past, I learned very quickly that an Irish person is incapable of keeping a secret and that anything I said or wrote would be taken very personally indeed. This was before the time that television replaced other peoples' business as a form of entertainment and when first subjected to the harrowing nature of Irish chat, I was reminded (as if reminding was needed) that zip up time was order of the day.

So this insight has been carried forward with every usage of my blog spaces. I have no way of knowing who is reading this as I type. If there is actually a machine that records before publication (the system automatically saves work as it is put down) I wonder if this is not a double edged sword, as one can change one's mind or think the matter in hand not worth pursuing.

Also, it is one reason to, at last, consider breaking with the Blogger system, as it may not be as safe as I might wish.

If there is a modal dialogue installed here, I have no way of knowing what it does. As ever, ignorance of the rules can breed fear...

This is going to be useful, if I ever get round to understanding what it means.
"http://dbarrowstechblog.blogspot.com/2011/06/close-sharepoint-modal-dialog-from.html"

Productivity

2011-11-03T14:06:00.001Z

Thanks to a conversation in a chat room on the subject of "work" I'm tempted to think more about how the workplace was a place of boredome and stress in the past and how it curtailed productivity and was sometimes a cause of illness.

This is not some fantasy, as I worked as a teacher for several years and one way of getting every airborne bug known is to be in an overcrowded, overheated space in winter with a group. I tend to keep the temperature in our house quite cool, mostly because the much praised insulation systems now available are not installed and I'm not in a hurry to spend a lot more money just to save putting on an extra jumper. Also, heat breeds bugs.

Of course I was very pleased to be offered work in the past, as it meant survival. But when I look at life today compared with all the activity spent placating taskmasters and equally bored employers I wonder I did it for so long.

This is at odds with the experience of many of my generation. People who are approaching retirement are, to my surprise, apprehensive of change and wonder how to fill time. Also, those who have reached a position where status is quite high are faced with a sense of loss. I had a feeling that I would just wait round for my friends to retire as well and things would go on as before. However, our lives have taken such different directions that I find that the boredome of the workplace, though absent in reality, seems to come along with some of them, like a shadow they cannot shake off.

I remember laughing when Charles Lamb admitted that he spent so long at his desk the wood had entered into his soul. It seems less amusing now.

Writing for money is a chore, but a good training. Writing for pleasure is so much more fun.

Economics as Entertainment?

2011-11-03T10:29:00.001Z

You have to hand it to the Greeks. Having managed to turn a game with 20 players into one with 21, they have captured top billing in the official media this week.

Since I don't have any contact with the most wealthy of the Planet and hope not to be driven out into the snow by their incessant demands and uppity behaviour, I actually found the reporting from Cannes last evening to be a sort of amusing distraction, coming from far, far away.

It certainly made a welcome change from the efforts of radio journalists to bore us witless with fiscal matters. The language of economics is bewildering and seemingly that is how it manages to hoodwink ordinary people who do not understand a blessed word of what is being said. The DOW could whiz up and down daily. It will not make any difference to the health of the trees in my garden or to how I view the world. All the shouting on the trading floor only adds to my desire to switch off.

The Greeks seem to be more engaged in the current problems and I should probably be grateful that somebody is taking time and energy to try to find out what is really going on in "Europe". The statement that the centre is now "profoundly European" is a reminder that for English speakers "Europe" is a moveable feast.

Being banished from the table does not seem a great disaster to me...

Yet Another Reminder of a Sunnier Climate

2011-11-02T14:28:00.002Z

The Analysand

2011-11-02T14:26:00.001Z

Since Google Analytics is on one of the blogs here, I check it out ever so often just to see which cities send visitors to the site.
Having insight into all the extras, like bounce rate, are not really useful at the moment, as the most hits per day is forty and this is not a commercial site.

One detail pleases me. The average time sometimes hits twenty seconds, which is all is needs to look at photos. It also confirms my belief that surfers read next to nothing on blogs, skim quickly and move on.

In fact skimming over blogs could be one way of training oneself in speed reading.
One can get quite a lot of information in twenty seconds...

Disorienation...

2011-10-31T13:39:00.000Z

follows the change in the clock every time it happens.

I now feel like going to bed as soon as it gets dark and after the sort of sound sleep that only Autumn can induce, I find it impossible to get up in the morning.

Watching the Dublin Marathon on TV today I was astounded at the energy of so many people as they headed out to run 40 kilometers in a light drizzle.

There's nowt as strange as folks...

Cultivation

2011-10-30T11:29:00.000Z

After years of various activities, the peaceful nature of gardening and cultivation now attracts me more and more.

We went out into the Wicklow mountains recently and came, by chance, to Hunting Brook Gardens. This is one of the most peaceful gardens I know and there is a walk in the woods that helps blow away all the mental cobwebs that accumulate from being indoors. Classes are held in the lovely wooden building on the site and there is always a warm welcome.

Back in suburbia, I continue to tidy leaves out of the now empty flowerbeds and plan to plant bulbs for Spring. It's a lovely time of year for the gardener, as everything seems possible. The reds and russets in the hedgerows are spectacular this year and the Virginia creeper in particular is a delight every time I look out the window... a blaze of dying embers.

More people are taking to gardening, thanks to recessionary times, but also because it is such a natural impulse.Here's to success in the next year...

Jobsworthy?

2011-10-29T17:40:00.001+01:00

There is a lot of chatter about work these days. The truism that everybody should have the right to earn their living is beginning to look very irrelevant in a world where people are wearing themselves out with often meaningless activity in return for a basic living wage.

The grumbling continues so it was a pleasure to see a programme on TV during the week where John Humphrys explored the reality of the welfare state in both the US and Britain. Civilized societies have safety nets for their citizens, which is why we have social security and, for those who are unable to join the workforce, a system of benefit that ensures quality of life. I signed on in the early 1980's, as friends queued to leave the country, never to return. Between the jigs and the reels, I cobbled a job of sorts together that finally became untenable.

While I missed the people I used meet while working as a hack, it was not cost effective to keep going.

I wish that somebody would explain the realities of low paid employment to all the over-talkative experts who talk down to those who scrabble for a living daily.

Some jobs are simply not worth doing...

Much Energy...

2011-10-28T10:21:00.000+01:00

is now spent on keeping warm.

Even though the Summer was so cold, it was not a patch on the chilly nights we are facing now. I shouldn't moan, as last evening we went to a lovely local Italian restaurant where there is always a warm welcome and exceptionally good food. This treat was after a trip to the polls. Our new president will soon be in place and the less said the better about the waves of vitriol that have poured through the official media for weeks. Most people have lives and don't bother to cause trouble daily. Picking on public figures has become the latest blood sport for some.

I was going to go to Imma this morning. The Museum of Modern Art is always interesting, but laziness took over and it also seems more pressing to organise my own photos. A strange shift of perspective has happened. Now when I go to art galleries, I'm more interested in the shots of the building and grounds that I might capture, rather than the works on display.
This is a pleasant reminder of warmer days and shows that nature in Ireland and Britain is always a joy...

Grinding to a Halt?

2011-10-27T16:22:00.000+01:00

This blog seems to have dozed off for Autumn.
There is not much to say at the moment and waxing lyrical on the everyday household chores does not really inspire. We have gone out into the country a few times, notably to a free Sunday concert in Castletown House. It is a beautifully restored 18th Century Palladian mansion and the stucco work is very beautiful. Ireland is probably a surprise to visitors who have heard only stories of poverty and deprivation. Some of the most skilled artists came here during the 18th Century, mostly from Italy but also from Switzerland. A visit to Riverstown House in County Cork is very highly recommended. Contacting the Georgian Society is a good idea, as they know all about the hidden gems.

Thanks to having uploaded a photo of the fine outdoor balustrade at Castletown, I have learned that there is a Flick group that combines geology and architecture.
A very good idea indeed.

The Past

2011-10-14T09:39:00.000+01:00

I've started looking through the archives.

This blog seems to have been running for an eternity, but it is interesting to look back and see the photos that started me off on the path to improvement.
The Irish countryside is certainly a colourful place...

From Photographe à Dublin

Where To Now?

2011-10-13T10:16:00.000+01:00

The Autumn has brought the usual leaf fall that sends me out to tidy and clear daily. Not much time left over for literature as a result.
However, since the nights are dark, reading has replaced TV as the distraction of choice. The bookish people who now gather in little groups to hear writers read from their latest work are also good company. Last week we went to hear Alan Glynn read from "Bloodland", a complex thriller set on three continents. Paranoia fiction is seeing a revival, doubtless thanks to the psychological horrors being inflicted on unsuspecting citizens by corporations and governments worldwide.
It's nice to be tucked up indoors with a book that makes one think...

Preparing for Life Indoors

2011-10-06T13:02:00.000+01:00

Over the years the Irish weather has loomed in this blog. Every October we start getting the house warm, bringing in logs, checking heating systems.

The latest hysteria about global warming has ensured a veritable plague of new systems where houses are being insulated. It's hard to tell if they are necessary... or even more to the point, if they actually make much difference.

The old Irish cottage had very thick walls, to ensure that the house was warm in winter and cool in Summer. Since the seasons are now very chilly all the year round, it is possible that by making walls thicker one may be insulating cold air indoors.

The tried and tested trick of putting on an extra jumper seems to be the best option.

Rev the Motors, It's Back to School Time

2011-09-28T10:08:00.001+01:00

Old habits...
I still approach Autumn with a sense of excitement as I sharpen my virtual pencils and lay out a simple curriculum for the year to come. Since I left college almost forty years ago, it still amuses me to find that I instinctively line up books as if they were to be analysed for essay writing, or ... worse ... for discussion in seminars where everybody got a bit hot and bothered about meaning, syntax and their place within the literary canon.

Anyways, I have been told that a copy of "Down These Green Streets", orchestrated by the top crime and noir writers of my generation, awaits in the local library.

At last... a tome I can get my teeth into...
Or, for the purists... into which I can get my teeth.

Happy Days Again

2011-09-15T17:00:00.000+01:00

The other night I went off to listen to Alan Glynn read from his new thriller, "Bloodland". It is much easier when a book is read aloud in a friendly atmosphere than when, finally, one sits down to untangle character, plot and local colour.

The best part of the evening was a leisurely walk through Temple Bar, down to where Essex Street intersects with Cow's Lane. It has improved beyond belief since the days in the 1980's when I went looking for ideas to write about. The new Gutter Bookshop is off the beaten track, but should find many visitors as word spreads. Friendly staff and willingness to help find the exact book for a gift always make bookshops inviting spaces.

Photos are up on the Flickr Rosewoodoil site, and I'm too busy making pies from the excellent apple crop that the wretched Summer weather seems to have encouraged to bother to link to them here.
Nature is very mysterious ...

Negative Space

2011-09-08T13:42:00.000+01:00

There's a lot to be said for paring things down to essentials.

I wakened to some long miserable moan on radio about how the Internet is too cluttered and that "we" are becoming pancake people because "we" are so bombarded with information.

Over the past few years I have learned how to duck.

Teaming

2011-09-08T13:37:00.000+01:00

It is possible that when the gene for "team spirit" was being doled out it passed me by. That may account for my puzzlement at gaming and how hordes of enthusiasts gather in one place to spur on groups with various implements in the name of sport.
It was therefore a great relief to find that I am not alone. There was once a lot of muttering from Noam Chomsky about why he should support the college hockey team since he did not know anybody on the hockey team.

"I hate all sports as rabidly as a person who likes sports hates common sense" by H.L. Menchen does seem to go a bit too far however.

Tennis I could once manage, as when the going got rough one could always use the net as protection from assault. Athletics is mostly OK, as really one is competing against oneself. Running to represent a country is so extraordinary in my eyes that I was exhausted by a trip to the World Athletics and had to refuse to go back for more excitement, even though this was considered to be a remarkable treat, not to be missed.

Horse racing is is a totally different league and I don't even know if there are teams involved.
Must go look it up...

Generation Gaps Come in Many Guises

2011-09-07T17:31:00.001+01:00

What the mini skirt was to my generation (as it shattered received wisdom and alienated the older folk) gaming seems to be to the the younger generations sending them into a space where many older fogies fear to tread.

While the design elements are interesting and the influences are now everywhere in the world outside my own home, I have never got the hang of gaming culture. I think this may be because competition seems far too demanding and the intrusion of paint ball expeditions into the workplace made it a relief to get as far away from "the workplace" as was possible. Paint balling and gaming seem to have arrived together to scare many of us off.

I don't see either life or work as a game. Television programmes where people denigrate one another and cause long weeping sessions with much flouncing out of the room seem to be somehow linked with the gamesmanship that so many social encounters seem to encourage. I get teased about things being not as they were "in your day" which I take in good part, having been raised by people who thought afternoon tea the height of sophistication.

But I do find gaming interesting and sometimes ask friends about why they play one game rather than another. Some of the more violent ones seem to have replaced a night out at the theatre to see "Hamlet" or "King Lear" as a cathartic experience. In fact, I dislike most of Shakespeare quite as much as I back away from many of the adrenelin drenched games.
There was a great little game in French for children called "La Main" which taught me how to control my mouse years ago and many retired teachers used make simple games where placing the countries of Europe or the Departements of France in place passed a merry moment.These days, there are so many good sites for anybody wishing to teach themselves design. It is worth mentioning teachingdesign.blogspot which I came across today.

Marvelous Melbourne

2011-09-06T13:28:00.000+01:00

Melbourne is a surprising city.

While it is certainly very Australian in its flora and everyday culture, visually it seems that a fragment of Europe had somehow fallen into place on the other side of the World.

The cast iron decorations on so many houses were brought over as ballast for the many ships that traded back and forth and the influence of a large Italian population ensures that there are many houses that have pleasing proportions and classical interior details.

The architectural ugliness and clashing colours that causes the visitor to Europe to jump with alarm is not a feature of the Australian cities I have seen so far.

There is much to be learned...

Distracted..

2011-09-04T11:33:00.001+01:00

from distraction... by distraction.

A nice feature of increasing age is that one is increasingly less distracted by trivia. Somebody (was it Jane Austen) said that a woman's life was one of perpetual interruption. It is assumed that some genetic gift comes with the feminine condition that allows for every problem from acne to washing machine usage to be delivered daily to one's door.

We have a house that is in perpetual need of repair. This is not the spur to galvanized action and vast expenditure. It simply reminds me of the inconvenience of living in a climate where houses are the norm.

I begin to wonder if moving to a tent in a warm climate might not be a good move.

The mass evacuation of Irish people from the island, which happens periodically and with increasingly dull analysis by those left behind is one of the trivial aspects of daily information that form a sort of static sounds, crackling in from a distance.

The warm-up to the presidential election is set to be as nasty as any that have gone before. There are some who find the Establishment at play a form of entertainment. Many have made an industry of the antics involved, with publicity firms happy to keep the show on the road. As in the case of Belgium, which may or may not have a government at the moment (I gave up following the ongoing to-ings and fro-ings there), the question of whether it is worth having groups of people gather to yell at and pour bile over one another does give one pause for thought.

Last week we hied away out into the country to attend a concert at Castletown House. It is a melancholic old pile, Palladian, and with the spirit of a family who wished for better things to come still lingering in the warren like kitchen areas. If you get a chance, there will be more free concerts there in the next few weeks and the acoustic in the main entrance hall, with its sublime plaster ceiling and wall panels is not to be missed.

The arts are thriving here at the moment.
We may as well all sing along...

And as for warmth, this reminds me of a particularly comfortable day spent looking at the vast blue Lake Garda. It would be a joy to be there just now.

Back to Normal

2011-09-02T19:18:00.000+01:00

The past few years have been very instructive. Thanks to the ongoing recession I have the freedom to continue to keep this blog going and learn new photographic techniques.

The thought of gainful employment in a structured institution now seems so horrifying that I can't imagine how I managed to work so hard for years in the past. Friends who stuck the official workplace out are starting to retire and while I thought that this would offer the opportunity to renew old links, the differences in our ways of living now seem to make this unlikely.

Baby Boomers are the World's travel junkies. Try to meet for coffee? Sorry... would love to, but just about to board a long distance flight for China... or South America.

From the limited amount of time I spend listening to the radio, most of the active workforce is furious and obsessed with mortgages. They have my sympathy in trying to ends meet, as the 1980's remain in my experience as the time when an unreparable rift occurred between winners and losers in the society which I had once hoped would be egalitarian. Journalists get to meet a lot of different people in different contexts and while the work was piecemeal for a freelance, it gave a freedom that was not possible to many other trades.

Finally, however, the human condition as she is lived on this island became a difficult reality to describe, so I just retired... like a footballer does when they are no longer fleet of foot.

It was the best decision I ever made and without the years spent learning the infuriating new technologies, I would not be able to offer readers here this little photo of a moment in the National Botanic Gardens.

As ever, many thanks to everybody who has helped me learn.

Why So Many Words?

2011-09-02T12:30:00.001+01:00

Peter Rozovsky is always an "agent provacateur" for the amateur linguist. If you rush over to his blog, there's a great discussion on "good" and "bad" language usage. As ever, this set me thinking...

Authority is being scrutinised in every area of life at the moment. I have always been puzzled by the numerous professions that manage to gain enough power to force the majority of people to conform to the linguistic rules that they insist are "right" and "correct". I know many of the rules, but am often amazed at the number of people who become incensed by "bad grammar" or "misuse" of words. They often write to our national newspapers to the hilarity of the rest of us who apply a sort of "speak and let speak" policy (a variation on "live and let live")

Liz Lockhead has some wonderful poems on the subject of being hauled off to school to be indoctrinated on how to "speak proper".

The snobbery visitors to Ireland have on the subject on how Hiberno-English is seen as a lesser dialect also offers hours of entertainment. I have met many people from mainland Europe who are not convinced by my claim to be "Irish" simply because I do not speak like Darby O'Gill.

Ultimately, language is used to allow people to form into groups where they feel comfortable and which excludes those who do not know the shared code. There is a very bizarre programme running on TV here at the moment called "Made in Chelsea". It is really interesting for linguists.

All that said, there was a documentary years ago where an Irish person spoke at length and the producers put in sub-titles. Very helpful, as I had not a clue what they were saying as I had not visited the exact place from whence they came.

Le Jeu? La Chandelle?

2011-09-01T19:17:00.000+01:00

I remain eternally grateful to the person who stole a mobile 'phone from a friend years ago. I had bought the 'phone as a gift and when it was stolen I became legally responsible, according to the contracts involved. It took forever to clear the mess up and when faced with buying a 'phone for myself I asked a sensible question... was there anything I had to say that was worth hundreds of Euros and, worse, the extreme confusion that would ensue if the wretched machine went missing.

When it comes to technology, the less energy expended on communication the better... or so it seems to me.

Art as Consolation

2011-08-31T13:47:00.000+01:00

We went to Dublin Castle recently to enjoy the Georgian archicture and the plasterwork and stone heads inside and out of the Chapel Royal.

This has set me back rummaging through photos taken in Verona in May.

The marble pieces in the Archaelogical Museum were a highlight of a very interesing visit.
A place not to be missed.

A Bit at Sea

2011-08-30T21:14:00.000+01:00

As an organism that finds it difficult to function at a temperature below 25 degrees celsius, or so, this past Summer has sent me into a temporary unseasonal hibernation. It seemed useless to comment on world affairs, the death of the chat room, the sheer morbidity of much contemporary journalism and fiction or the fact that television is not worth the licence fee... or for that matter, buying a television with which to torment oneself. Keeping warm became a priority.

The fruit harvest is exceptional, thanks to dryness during the pollination season I suppose.

However, here's to some basic brain functionality returning, if September should manage to produce a few balmy days. Most photography has been indoors or from the snugness of the car.

Blue with the cold is well expressed by this drive-by shot of Dublin at dusk.

The Giusti Gardens, an Update

2011-08-28T22:26:00.002+01:00

I'm reposting a piece about the Giusti Gardens in Verona because it is worth mentioning why I found the visit so disorientating.

The statues are arranged in concentric circles, which took some time to work out and this may account for why I felt so unsettled and tired there. The solution was to sit on the rim of the central fountain until I could get my bearings and finally climb up to the viewing point above, which has one of the most spectacular views over this lovely city.

It's worth noting that the famous cypress trees are relatively new, as they were planted in 1946 to replace those destroyed by war. This last piece of information thanks to the link here: "www.comune.verona.it/veronaforkids/eng/pagFiume.htm" And here's the original piece, which was inspired by how, in general, sculpture may be the Cinderella of the blogging world.

There is one subject that could be better represented on the Internet... Sculpture.

Statues are everywhere nowadays and they make large and obvious subjects for anybody who has little patience with nature's buzzing and flapping or the impossibility of capturing a "true portrait" of people one meets.

I am always aware of the incredible effort taken to make an object in resistant materials that is meant to last for a very long time, if not forever.

The statues in the Giusti Garden in Verona disport themselves so strangely through the formal hedging that it took several hours before I could comfortably capture them. Whoever placed them where they are must have had a sense of humour, as they don't conform to what the ordinary viewer is trained to expect.

They wanted to confuse the new visitor?
Or perhaps they did not have a classical sense of proportion?

The reason is probably lost in the mists of time.

Street Cred?

2011-08-27T13:22:00.000+01:00

There is a difference between street protest and riot... or at least there used to be. I am very aware of the changes in how groups behave now in comparison to the 1960s and '70s.

We atttended a peaceful march years ago, but once dark fell arsonists took over and used the presence of a large group of well willing citizens to draw attention to themselves, even though they were a very small minority.

This phenemon became organised more recently, as "les casseurs" (the breakers) took to joining peaceful marches in order to use the situation to loot and perform acts of violence.

Many contemporary analysts mention that the streets are now like "A Clockwork Orange" where the riot police use what seem to many to be excessive force. Kettling as used in London last year has had an interesting effect. It makes some people, usually those who are not engaged in protesting, feel more secure, as the forces of law and order are shown to be powerful and competent. However, since it is impossible to discern who is a threat and who is not in such large groups, this ensures that anybody who is truly peaceful will no longer get involved in street protest. One's presence is liable to give validity to riotous behaviour.

I replaced peaceful protest with writing to various departments of government when simple situations like a dangerous school building affected me personally. Since this seemed to be a source of amusement to all concerned, I just stopped getting involved.

It is often mentioned that young people are not interested in politics. I think this is about to change simply because they will be compelled to think about the consequences of social unrest on the streets of Europe and decide whether it is useful to perform random acts of vandalism and theft in order to draw attention to their dissatisfaction with contemporary urban society. From watching the way people move on the streets, I think they have integrated the way gamers think into their strategies.

One interesting detail... the songs and poems that were a feature of the 1968 student revolt in Paris gave a certain artistry to the struggle. However, it was dangerous to be in Paris at the time and it is noteworthy that some of the leaders lost their fine social conscience once they graduated and joined the establishment.

Melbourne in Faux Vintage

2011-08-18T20:20:00.002+01:00

White Flowers and Bokeh

2011-07-29T16:18:00.001+01:00

There Seems to be a Fly in the Ointment

2011-07-23T14:55:00.000+01:00

I have saved a post that displeased the system this morning and will post it later.

There seem to be a lot of virtual tripwires on the net today.

Bad Weather Makes Good Writers

2011-07-20T10:29:00.000+01:00

Yesterday was an exceptionally productive time in relation to putting order on internet usage. Bored by the incredibly unwieldy way the hacking problems are being approached, I decided to drop Twitter, Facebook and Boards.ie indefinitely.

This is not a personal foible, just a reminder to myself that popularity always leads to oversubscription. Getting in and out of these systems is now awkward and time consuming and the systems that are going to succeed for me will have to be efficient and speedy.

I'm happy enough to trundle on with Flickr for the time being. The more cheerful atmosphere there is engaging and the photos are a delightful mosaic of our world, most of which I will never see in reality. People actually still exchange tips and ideas there, rather than sit in their own little universe alone.

This is purely one individual's choice and does not cast any criticism on the very successful names that are now gathering many new users daily. In an emergency, tweeting for help might be a good strategy, though calling on one's neighbour is still the best way to deal with a problem efficiently.

The numbing effect of the televised investigation into media practice was very helpful in revealing the problems that anybody choosing to work in that area will face. I had never heard of "willful blindness" and shall now avoid any situation that may bring an attack of such a strange condition on. In a nutshell, it seems to mean that a person is guilty of not knowing something that they should know. Manuel in "Fawlty Towers" comes to mind.

Having been bludgeoned with Knowledge and Truth for hours, I return happily to Blogger and shall continue a while more, hopefully.

Also, finding yesterday's post even looked dull, I peppered it with some needless commas at the time, as decoration rather than for meaning.

Just goes to show what living in a cold damp climate does for writing. There's not much else to do...

Statuesque

2011-07-19T18:46:00.001+01:00

There is one subject that could be better represented on the Internet... Sculpture.

Statues are everywhere nowadays and they make large and obvious subjects for anybody who has little patience with nature's buzzing and flapping or the impossibility of capturing a "true portrait" of people one meets.

I am always aware of the incredible effort taken to make an object in resistant materials that is meant to last for a very long time, if not forever.

The statues in the Giusti Garden in Verona disport themselves so strangely through the formal hedging that it took several hours before I could comfortably capture them. Whoever placed them where they are must have had a sense of humour, as they don't conform to what the ordinary viewer is trained to expect.

They wanted to confuse the new visitor?
Or perhaps they did not have a classical sense of proportion?

The reason is probably lost in the mists of time.

The Diligent Student

2011-07-19T16:30:00.003+01:00

There is much reference to "due diligence" on TV as I write.

The joint is hopping, as the pursuit of truth is always a slippery activity. I actually feel sorry for anybody caught up in the current "Hacking Scandal" and although it might not quite be "the moment", it's worth mentioning that all journalists are not evil and unethical... just as all members of the nursing profession are not gin swilling modern updates of Sairey Gamp.

If it were not so utterly frightening, the ability of some to gain access to other peoples' telephones would have my undying admiration. I speak as one who, when left alone in any office I have ever entered, found it,usually, difficult to find the 'phone in the first place and then, once staring down the uninviting mouthpiece, in search of divine intervention perhaps, to actually get a line out.

This, among the many hundred excuses I found for abandoning the workforce over twenty years ago, is probably one of the most memorable. I am a confirmed technophobe and my currect state of relative functionality can only be attributed to the age old advice to "Know the Enemy". While I cannot yet think like a smart little spybot and have little inclination to try, there is a lot to be said for knowing enough about contemporary machines to make them less easy to trick and infiltrate.

The question I now ask myself, applying as much due diligence to the question as will match my total ignorance of the subject is:

Why do some get hacked and others do not?

As ever, this will probably take several years to answer with any satisfaction. Tin foil hats are out of fashion, but even they might have a function.

Tin foil hat wearers are probably boring people who are not worth hacking.
I think I'll get one...

Dublin Days

2011-07-07T12:53:00.000+01:00

At last we are settled back into a relaxed domestic rhythm.
All the travel of the past six months have been carefully put in place, photos organised and enjoyed and we are free to spend days wandering in our own little city, admiring the art and the lively people on the street.

When in Paris a few years ago, I noticed how I always seem to run rather than walk. Even the Parisiens were less agile and fast, it seemed. This may be caused by the fact that it is often on the verge of raining here and speed helps to keep ahead.

It rained yesterday for a while but last week was very sunny indeed.

Even then there was a sense of people being on the move, especially in Grafton Street.

Venice

2011-07-04T23:38:00.002+01:00

Getting a Grip on the Domestic Interior

2011-06-29T16:33:00.000+01:00

I've been watching the Greek reaction to austerity.

Tear gas on the streets of Athens is not exactly a good way to encourage tourism, so it seems obvious that Irish people will probably continue to grin and bear it when it comes to being lectured daily on the necessity to suffer and "take the pain".

Also there's a lot to be said for just ignoring the self appointed experts on social policy who clutter the media and drone on in a miserable tone about the horrors that are yet to come.

I have decided to keep scrubbing and polishing... there's nothing like beeswax to bring a shine to the dullest wooden surface. And in the moments snatched from crawling around looking for spiders' webs in dark corners, studying depth of field helps develop a sense of perspective.

It's actually warm in Dublin today.
Carpe Diem and all that...

Wandering in the Past

2011-06-27T13:20:00.000+01:00

There is a lot to do in a house.

This week will see a new broom blasting through the rooms here, waxed cloths weilded with energy and a vastness of suds applied to duvets and mats.

Little time, therefore, to take new photos.
The past will have to do...

The Urban Jungle

2011-06-23T12:13:00.001+01:00

Somehow, many towns and cities manage to avoid the smear of modern life, concrete monsters both erected and underfoot. Venice still has its cobbles and a true air of the Middle Ages. Parts of Dublin could still belong happily in the 19th century. Paris, despite the horrors of its traffic, retain an elegance around the Parc Monceau that gives a sense of time having stood still.

While in Italy I found it difficult to get information on writing on art and architecture when I enquired in art galleries. It's a strange fact of life that people on desks are trained only to sell tickets and do not have a wider sense of perspective.

However, having time now to surf, there are so many sites and online magazines that come to the urban traveller's aid, that I can enjoy Venice and Verona virtually and in comfort.One site in particular is a mine of information on the construction of Venice...

bellereti.com/Perhaps, as well, all links lead to Rome?

The Weather is Frightening...

2011-06-23T11:55:00.000+01:00

Memories of being out of doors, reading in the calm shade of the betulas in the garden are receding beyond recall.

It rains in Australia as well, but mostly the climate is warm most of the year and when it does rain, the mists create a mysterious haze that cheer the heart.

Renaissance Art

2011-06-20T17:52:00.000+01:00

Apparently there is a recognised medical condition known to exist among visitors to Italy who get exposed to too much art.

Knowing this, we took things gently enough when we visited art galleries and churches.

In Venice, there are many angels.

On the Map

2011-06-20T10:10:00.004+01:00

[This is the Flagcounter map that has been for a relatively long time on my Flickr profile.It brings a bit of sparkle to the site... a reminder that in Cyberspace one is never alone.

Parsing

2011-06-17T10:45:00.000+01:00

I have just found a site called "Parse a Sentence".

The lack of a live link here is part of the ever growing desire to stop my bandwidth usage from becoming a mushroom cloud of confusion and obfuscation.
More to the point, the site reminds me of years in primary school struggling with sentences that could only have been designed by bored middle aged people who wanted to taunt the young.

Parse, if you dare.
I'm off to make more photos...

Emergency Mode?

2011-06-11T14:54:00.000+01:00

I don't do emergencies.
There are so many others "out there" who track GIS information, scrutinise every movement on the web for potential threats and generally spread a pall of paranoia and unease that I have adopted an increasingly relaxed view of all happenings on the net. Many sites located in the US have a battery of IP tracking devices that I just turn off before I leave. It should be explained that the electronic equivalents of frisking and scrutinising, far from making people feel secure, are a source of puzzlement... or in my case, high hilarity.

Instead of addressing the issues of poor web design, feeble writing and ill disguised advertising tricks, spiking a website with intrusive widgets is one way of ensuring that nobody will want to visit it.

Or so it seems to me...

Small Poppy Syndrome

2011-05-27T16:05:00.003+01:00

National stereotypes are so misleading in real life, though very useful in literature.D H Lawrence hated Australia and wrote a long-winded moan about the place in "Kangaroo" which I attribute more to his poor state of health at the time, rather than to any general misdemeanours on the part of Australians.Some Australians have asked me if I am disappointed with the lack of history on the continent, but since I dislike history, 200 years of recorded comings and goings is quite enough.I tend to develop short poppy syndrome when there so that the taller ones can bloom as a group. Apparently they are obsessed with this subject.

Moderation in All Things...

2011-05-27T11:42:00.000+01:00

Ever so often I put full moderation systems in place on this blog. This is not out of fear of finding something nasty plastered on the site but simply because it stops people posting in most cases and now and again I just don't have much time to chat.

Many other blogs seem to have a similar approach. I have just posted a comment that will (or may not) appear after it has been approved. Since I shan't have time to see whether is is acceptable or not, here it is again:

PreviewEdit Tales from the Birch Wood. said...I think you would enjoy the French writer, Colette. She was very open about her own coldness (nowadays it's called "objectivity") and how writers have a shard of ice in their hearts.Also the Brontes loved badly written novels... they helped them to see what the pitfalls in style, character and plot are and so avoid them.Great blog. So much to learn here.

Choice Language

2011-05-25T15:44:00.000+01:00

"Either/Or" is a book by that dullard Kierkegaard who caused so many people to write gloomily in the past.

I forgot to finish a sentence in the last post and decided not to bother correcting the mistake.

Why people are given only two choices between "Either" and "Or" has always been a mystery.

Usually my response to such nonsense is "Neither... but thank you all the same."

Only Punning

2011-05-25T15:36:00.000+01:00

I think that one of the main reasons I gave up work years ago was the desire shown by editors to control every syllable and image that came across their desks. Control freaks are a nuisance at the best of times, but when it comes to other people's thoughts, newspaper editors take the prize.

Political correctness was about to kick off at the end of the 1980's and it has now reaped a predictable whirlwind of nastiness and, in many cases, physical violence.

We are now so used to sissies on the Internet and in real life trying to control language that when I uploaded a "Kerryman" joke yesterday, a friend wondered if I might not be looking for trouble. The fact that the joke was about gardening or construction implements and could go down just as well in "Arkensas" (get the pun? SAW)only seemed to make matters worse.

I had to drop one of my doctors around the same time because everything was either twisted into some crazed medical dictionary and came out covered in spots. And writers can be the weirdest, as "the enemy within" lurks in most of them and sees danger where none actually exists.

Several have told me that the word "blog" is personally offensive to them. Perhaps that is why so many writers who write blogs to advertise their wares are so niggardly with comments. And, no... this is not the "N" word in disguise. It is a perfectly good, upstanding adverb that best suits the ninnies who would see threats in the most innocent of statements.

I hope all the editors who used edit my godmother's wise saws from my copy are ashamed of themselves. Though since they didn't know what they were doing, it probably doesn't matter.

And my godmother was not a carpenter... oh, just do a search for "SAW"...

Taking the Biscuit

2011-05-24T14:04:00.000+01:00

In the title bar is a link to every possible usage of that quaint old expression "that takes the cake/biscuit".
Most of us never bother to look up what we are actually talking about, which leads to "fulsome praise" being "availed" at "this junction".

Mrs Malaprop is alive and well and has taken over the Internet.

Long may she prosper, bless her little woolly socks...

The Buttercup Season

2011-05-21T23:00:00.000+01:00

...is in May.

This wildflower meadow is just on the edge of Dublin city.

Jesus, Mary and Joseph!

2011-05-20T12:10:00.001+01:00

The Queen's trip around the world for sport has nearly given me a heart attack.

Whoever the eegit was who decided that a trip to an open air ruin in one of the most wind swept sites in Ireland should take place on the fourth morning of a gruelling trip that would kill an ox I do not know.

The frightening sight of her husband, hatless and without a scarf, listening to a doubtless fascinating diatribe on Romanesque arches was one of the most unusual spectacles I have ever seen on TV.
Much more of this and we'll be accused of trying to kill the royal couple with kindness...

Coming, Beeping, to an Airport Near You

2011-05-19T10:51:00.002+01:00

I am now living proof that the human spirit can survive the most stupid rituals, get the hang of them and sail on through.

My first encounters with changes in airport security after terrorist attacks were not encouraging. I thought that the oversized child with what seemed to be a cattle prod at Dublin airport was about to electrocute me and I refused to go through the system. To give them their due, the people who took me into a room and explained the situation for twenty minutes were doing their best given the circumstances. They explained that they frisked one another every morning at which I became even more alarmed.

"You mean you don't trust one another?"

After several attempts to not beep on trips to Britain, I just gave up and decided to drive. The English, a tolerant people, used stand by impassively while I sobbed like a drain and explained that I was a not a threat to national security, but really even I found this boring.

Then I unleashed "Operation Beep-Off". Before one long haul flight to Australia three weeks were spent in my bedroom with a weighing scales and a measuring tape and, though I drew the line at the expense of a metal detector, I studied how I might lessen stress at every move.

The greatest humiliation, I now longer wear a foundation garment while travelling, as the French thugs who decided to explore my person at CDG seemed to find this detail particularly interesting. Having refused to be pawed all over there and threatened with the police and "the black glove" they finally found somebody who had not been trained in a prison, got on with the business and I got home. I have not been back, as the insolence has not been forgotten, much as I am used to French life. Comparing their system unfavourably to that in Singapore made me no friends there so we now go through Heathrow where some of the chatty attendants are actually friendly.

"You're shaking", a cheerful voice said as we went through after a twelve hour ordeal and I explained that we had been travelling for hours. We all have our pride and the cross-patch with the barking voice who had just asked me to step back behind the line would have been pleased to think that he had been the cause. There are sadists everywhere and they must be ignored.

However, having forensically removed every piece of metal from my person, apart from my teeth fillings, I am astonished to find that my hand luggage is still being either scrutinised for strange objects or, wonder of wonder, actually beeps.

"There's something in your bag" I was told at six in the morning at Dublin airport a few weeks ago. "What is it?" I asked, by now more intruiged by the eerie x-ray image on the screen than annoyed or frightened.

Not a good answer...

"You tell us, it's your bag..."

I had no idea that my companianable little Robert's radio was letting out pathetic signals. I have not studied electronic engineering, but this subject must now be added to the curriculum for the World Traveller. How, in the oceans of print that I have studied in the past few years could I have missed the word "radio". No wonder I got a mediocre degree.

"It's a radio... nobody mentioned radios" was my only limp excuse but every fool except me seems to know that radios must be put in a special tray.

Leaving Marco Polo airport I didn't beep which is not surprising since I have now banished hairclips (or, as my American friend call them, bobby pins, from my person. But even the security agent who asked if they could open my hand luggage rushed to help me find the culprit when the horror of its beeping presence dawned on my stunned face.

The radio was in the tray. We had thrown out any water bottles before coming through. I did not have any gifts or new purchases as the weight restrictions are now killing commerce. I had bought absolutely next to nothing to bring home and in any case the CD and books were in the main luggage.

This time it was the industrial grade earmuffs I wear while travelling, it seems. The had never beeped before but the metal content was seemingly enough to cause the noise in Italy where they must have bought a very sensitive sensitive system indeed.

I'm now on the market for a set of metal free industrial grade earmuffs...

But only a lunatic would design such a silly object, I fear.

Pillar Talk

2011-05-19T00:25:00.000+01:00

There is a frisson underlying life in Venice, especially in relation to the two famous pillars on Saint Mark's Square.

With images representing Saint Mark and Saint Teodor of Amasea atop these imposing poles, they are a reminder that the square was, up to the 18th Century, a place of execution.

The religious art of Venice, after several days, began to make me wonder (and not for the first time), how such a terrifying fantasy life could have been transported so readily to Celtic and Nordic countries where nature, not artifice, is so much more in harmony with the tastes of the people.

The glorious Church of Saint Anastasia in Verona gave me my breath back after the Baroque splendors of Venice. The soaring pillars are decorated with intricate tendrils and flowers.

I was in Heaven there.

The Political is Personal?

2011-05-18T09:49:00.002+01:00

The queen's visit has caused an outbreak of transference and counter-transference which would make Freud chuckle, I think. He had a good sense of humour, as his hilarious book "The Psychopathology of Everyday Life" goes to prove and his cracking open of human motivation is always worth a look.

One person stopped on the street yesterday by the police worked in the context that her grandfather fought with the IRA almost a hundred years ago and that up to that very moment,when being stopped and scrutinised, she had roamed wild and free though the streets of Dublin, unhindered by any force.

She has my sympathy. I have a similar problem when getting through airports but I do not call on the sins of the fathers as a link to the inconvenience of having my underwear examined as if it contained all the fowl and characters from that jolly ditty "The First Day of Christmas". If you go where security forces are, you are fair game I think, which is the reason that I stayed home yesterday and wondered, vaguely, if it might be safe even to go shopping.

The paranoia that world leaders bring in their wake is entertaining, but a bloody nuisance too.

When Prince Charles came to Dublin, I forgot about all the problems it might cause and got stuck in a car park that had cars parked illegally ending up late for an appointment. Bad planning on my part, not a reminder that my grandfathers had a political viewpoint that had led to such a nuisance.

The mockery that the parking attendants poured on me that day was simply a reminder of the coarse nature of city life back to the dawning of time. It also ensured that I did not go back to that carpark for years.

And, just in passing, one of my grandfathers was in the Somme during the Easter Rising in Dublin. He survived and lived to a ripe old age, giving instructions daily as only an Irishman can, regardless of their political hue...

All a Glitter...

2011-05-17T20:02:00.000+01:00

Italian art is often gilt and glitz.

Very pleasing indeed...

The Last Straw

2011-05-17T19:12:00.005+01:00

The French radio has gone into meltdown after yesterday's court appearance by Dominique Strauss-Kahn.

And I have to admit I have joined the shocked commentators who looked in total horror at the humiliation, seemingly consciously inflicted, on this prisoner. While the French have focused on the handcuffs, I wondered if there are no water and facecloths in US prisons. Though it is not easy to inflict self harm with a safety razor, I am being kind in thinking that it was for Monsieur Strauss-Kahn's self preservation that he was not allowed to shave.

But the absence of a tie was the last straw.

If the State of New York had any sense it would have judged the situation better. It might have thought about the effects that this horror show might have on tourism. I can now quite happily live with the possibility of never setting eyes on the Art Deco architectural jewels in New York and being able to, in real time, think about the ambiguous nature of the Statue of Liberty.

I would be terrified to visit such a very unthinking place.

In France one was considered guilty until proven innocent during much of my life.

But appearing in a dishevelled mess before a judge would be considered a marked sign of disrespect to all concerned.