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And he shall purify! And we shall learn to sing Alto

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Along with prevaricating less I have also felt that life might be more exciting if I said yes rather than no,  before I go further I’d like to state that my answer won’t be yes to everything but just a bit more than I do now. Anyway, that’s how I came to be driving over to Boconnoc Church in order to perform in a Scratch Messiah.  In case you don’t know what that means, and one week ago I was in your number, it means a last minute thrown together rehearsal and performance of Handel’s Messiah.  When my friends asked me, it sounded like a laugh, I used to be in a competition standard choir when I was younger and I thought I should be OK.  At that point I was ignoring a few important facts, I have never sung the Messiah and it was a very long time ago since I was in a choir.  I was driving over to meet the girls on a gorgeous Saturday; issues of pee, poo, mud, rugby and boys were left behind and I raced through the autumn countryside humming away to the bits of the Messiah that I knew. Best just clarify that the boys were not responsible for the pee and poo issues.  Neither was Steve.  Agatha is still providing us with daily challenges but that’s a whole other column. Now where, was I? Ah yes, rolling through the Cornish countryside, trilling out my halleluiahs.  Over the week I had managed to listen to the Messiah twice and I discovered that it was a lot longer than I realised, a lot more complicated and a hell of a lot higher than I could manage. Certainly I used to be a soprano but as I’ve got older I have found that my voice, along with other things has started to head south.  When I was singing top C it made the boys search for injured cats.  My confidence was also beginning to head south.

I wasn’t sure what to pack, so in went a skirt, heels, make up, scarf, hat, walking boots (churches aren’t known for their heating) I also added some soup, rocky road, and apples and given the amount of pheasant on the lanes around Boconnoc I would soon also be packing a Game Pie.
Amid much nervous laughter the three of us arrived at the church to discover that we were late and we had to shuffle in and share scorebooks with other choristers. The plus sides were many; everyone else seemed to know roughly what they were doing, the Choir master was a forgiving man and the church had very efficient heating. The negatives however, were also many. The forgiving Choir master also assumed everyone got everything he said, after just one telling, the people around me may have known what they were doing but Jo, Rebecca and I were woefully adrift and the very efficient heating was beginning to make me sweat in my many layers. I was beginning to wonder why the hell I hadn’t packed a bottle of water. 
All too soon, and I really do mean too soon, the rehearsals were over and we were told to come back in an hour’s time for the evening performance. The look of horror on Rebecca’s face mirrored mine, surely that wasn’t it?  We didn’t even know the words, let alone the tune, or the dynamics! Even so, that was all the preparation that we were going to get.
As the moment approached a sense of dread and foreboding settled upon us but we had forgotten just how good everyone around us was and of course given that it was a scratch performance how forgiving the audience were.  It was a glorious evening and as I sang out to the skies, my voice soaring higher and higher I was thrilled that I had said yes.

Let’s not pretend that famous people are anything special…

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I think it’s fair to say that down here in Cornwall people don’t seem to be that bothered by celebrity. Film and TV stars wander around and locals look at them briefly wondering where they recognise them or give a nod and a hi and go on their way.  The other day a group of us were on a dog walk and passed Dawn French, we all nodded and smiled, as you do when you pass someone on a footpath, and continued on. No great shakes, no gushing, no autographs, we just get on with it and we let people get on with their lives as well.  I’ve often heard singers and the like who live in Cornwall giving interviews on the radio saying that living in Cornwall is great because everyone treats them just like anyone else. A while back my brother met Andrew Ridgley at a dinner party; did they talk about Wham, the fame, the fortune? Nope, they discussed their golfing handicaps and pudding.

 

So all these recent stories concerning Jimmy Saville has made me think about the way people behave towards famous people.  Whilst he hasn’t been convicted of anything it does appear that over the decades there have been numerous complaints against him that were ignored, hushed up or just not believed. Can you imagine how scary and humiliating the world must have seen to these young girls? To have such terrible things happen to them but then to not be believed either? It really does beggar belief.  Was he so well respected that no one would believe it or was there a culture of cover up going on or was the money he raised in fund raising really worth turning a blind eye for? I find the whole affair hard to understand.  I always thought he was an unpleasant character and when he died I heard comments from some along the lines of “let’s see what will comes out of the woodwork” but I couldn’t believe anything would. Just because someone seems creepy doesn’t mean that they are, and surely, surely no one could get away with so much when they were so frequently in the public eye?

 

In the same week Lance Armstrong has been found guilty of illegal drug use. He denies the claims but won’t contest them and now a whole host of people have come forward to say his cheating was constant over the years.  Again, the only way for him to get away with it was with massive support from his team members. It seems so harsh that a man who survived cancer and went on to win massively will now only be remembered as a drugs cheat.

I just think the UK media needs to take a look at how Cornwall does things and follow suit. Treat people at face value, don’t allow them to get away with stuff just because they are famous and say well done only when something is well done.

Puppies and boxing gloves

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Obviously I felt that I wasn’t busy enough because this week I brought home a new puppy! We had always planned for Harry to have a companion and we thought he was now a good age to introduce a puppy, so whilst I was at the trainer last week she mentioned a litter she knew of from a really reputable source so I went and had a look and of course you just can’t look at puppies, so Agatha jumped into my arms and away we went.

So far she is a very clever, clean little girl but she does require a plug. I forgot that after Harry I swore I wouldn’t get a dog under 6 months. Hey ho, piddle and poo.  Harry is treating the whole situation with a little jealousy and a lot of resignation. Hence the main reason for the gun dog training. It’s unlikely we’ll ever go on a shoot but it gives him something new to learn and he gets to spend more time with me. I always think distraction is a great way of heading off problems before they develop.

As if taking on a puppy and new dog lessons wasn’t enough exercise for me I have also started a new class with Petra called Boxercise, I swear I have never had so much fun! I wasn’t sure what it was going to entail but I wandered along to the class and was a bit surprised to see pads and gloves. Hmm, not shadow boxing then.  We spent a good half hour warming up, we then had to pay attention to a lot of safety rules and then we laced up our gloves and started to lay into our partners’ pads.  I partnered up with Kate and was the first to don the gloves.  Poor Kate, she kept grinning at me every time I apologised and telling me to hit her harder.  Strange girl but I soon got into the swing of it. No pun intended. We then swapped over and she laid into me. I tell you there is something really funny about laughing with someone  whilst they try to punch you. Thankfully we never once made contact with each other, other than on the sparring pads but we both ended the session agreeing the gum shields might be an idea. Petra kept shouting at us to guard our faces and of course we were never aiming for the face but it only takes one tired accident before you see stars. I’m sure this won’t happen but there was a lot of nervous giggling. Kate also came with her husband so they can carry on with their training behind the scenes. My money’s on Kate.

 

Aside from that it’s been a usual week of driving to work with the sea filing the horizon and listening to Radio 2 traffic reports of tailbacks and congestion across the nations motorways whilst I slow down for rabbits and pheasants.  Not a bad life all in all.  Hope you all have a great weekend, I’ll be playing taxi for a dinner party in Wadebridge, a rugby game in Bude, a sleepover in Lostwithiel and an outdoor activity day in Minions.  Those bunnies and birds better not get in my way as I’m going to be very busy!

My green fingers have wilted.

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Whilst the country strives towards excellence and basks in the warm glow of a world’s admiration of our fabulous Olympics and Para-Olympic games I feel the need to discuss something of greater importance.  A matter of such significance that it has exercised my mind for the past four months and that Dear Reader, is my vegetable patch.  It’s hopeless. I mean really and truly awful.  We had that fabulous, beguiling, deceiving weather in March and we rushed out to the garden and dug vegetable beds. In went the posts and paths, out came the weeds. Up went  the poles  for the peas and beans, in went the scarecrow. In the green house we cleaned down the glass, we sowed our seeds, potted out the tomatoes and sat back in the glorious sunshine and reflected on what an incredible crop we would have this year.

Then came awful April, followed by miserable May, are you joking June, just about had enough of this July and here we are in August. My runner beans have stood still, my onions bolted, my potatoes got blight, the Quince dropped all its leaves, the courgettes shivered, the strawberries were small and white and my peas were pathetic. My grape vine has produced nothing.  It’s so disheartening;  you expect some crops to fail but my sweet corn is only a foot high,  my runner beans are not above my hips and have no flowers. Not that there are any insects around to pollinate them, all that ones that woke up early in March seem to have fallen by the wayside. My bumble bee nest has buzzed away, hopefully to a warmer spot and it’s been months since I’ve seen a wasp or a butterfly.  Winged critters are in short supply but  rest assured the slugs are fine. In fact my one and only success so far has been my broad beans. They’ve been lovely and I’m eating them by the handful, my favourite way to have them is fried with butter, garlic, chorizo and scallops. Delicious!

But what can you do? I can’t ask the heavens to stop raining.  I can’t ask the sun to shine and trigger my plants’ photosynthesis, I’m tempted to take a hairdryer to my poor shivering strawbs the soil is just too cold.  I’m just glad that I didn’t bother with many root crops this year, I don’t think Unwins do a line in aquatic carrots or parsnips but if they did they’d make a mint.  Maybe I should have tried water chestnuts and watercress?

So now we are in August and whilst not delivering great heat or high levels of sunshine is a bit of an improvement on the last few months. I may get a few crops yet but I don’t think I’m going to have a glut of anything.  I hope that you’ve all had a greater share of success than us and if you do happen to have a glut of anything we will happily take it off your hands. Not green tomatoes though, I suspect I’m going to be fine there. Anyone got any good recipes for green tomato chutney?

Overseas Aid – why can’t we do it better?

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Something has been bothering me recently and has got me thinking about the phrase “help those that help themselves.” I was listening to an article on Radio 4 about the state of the Spanish Banking system. The experts were saying that the Spanish banks were doing less to support their local economy than that of the Bank of England. His reasons for them doing less were partly that they were tied by the fact that they were part of the Euro and partly because they were expecting Brussels to sort things out. This rang huge bells with me, only the other week I had been chatting to Steve about overseas aid. There’s another phrase that says “give a man a fish and he eats tonight, give a man a rod and he never has to ask for food again.” The same maxim as helping those that help themselves.

It seems a strange phenomenon but the more you give people the less they seem to do for themselves, what you are doing when you take control is quite literally that. You TAKE control. You take power away from the people / institutions that you are trying to help. In taking the power away people seem to give up and throw off responsibility for the situation.  There is an argument that says third world aid doesn’t work, the Overseas Development Agency has lots of oddities to it. For example we give aid to India. Initially this seems OK to me when I think about the level of poverty in India but then I remember that they have a Space programme. If the Indian government has enough money for a space programme, which is no cheap venture, then  they should scrap it and look after their own people first.

I am absolutely not against helping those in need. I am proud that we are able to help countries that are struggling. Those that have had regions wiped out by natural disasters but I start to get twitchy when I see us sending money to countries that are in a state of constant war, or countries that have enough money but choose not to spend it on their own people.  If a country knows that every year it will receive X  amount from other countries, it is viewed as income not aid.  If the money was not forthcoming what would they do? I hate the thought that by withdrawing our money people would suffer but I would rather that we didn’t waste our money. 

The solution to me in these cases is trade rather than aid. Like it or loathe it a capitalistic infrastructure provides stability , if we were trading with countries in a fair manner we would give them back the means of production and the ability to make their own money.

Regrettably I think the same thing happens much closer to home with our benefits system. Again I need to say that I am wholly in favour of benefits, I am more than happy that my money helps out those that can’t help themselves, I would even be prepared to pay more because I hate to think of the elderly and the disabled struggling, of mothers unable to feed their children, all these people I want to help. I just don’t want to help those that choose not to work. Given that we have over 2 million unemployed I wonder what jobs  are found by all the foreigners that come over here to work? Of course there are good and genuine reasons why some people can’t work, what we need to do is make sure that we are not propping up those that find work a chore.

Rotten weather makes me run for the hills.

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Well flaming June was well named wasn’t it? Flaming awful.  Apparently it was the wettest June ever (well it seemed it), the coldest June since 1991  and the dullest June since 1909, these figures are an average for the whole UK, how we fared in Cornwall hasn’t been established yet but I can’t remember a more hopeless month. So with that in mind I am packing to go on holiday, I’m taking my youngest son and we are heading off to sunnier climes.  Well, we are heading off to the Peak District so maybe not but we are going to travel with suitcases full of hope and optimism.  We may return with suitcases full of mud and water but we’re setting off in the right spirit. There is a saying that there is no such thing as bad weather just wrong clothing and so out goes the bikini in goes the waterproof trousers. Away with the suntan lotion and in with wellies.  Sunglasses will be replaced with woolly hats and sleeveless blouses will be spurned for sensible raincoats and jumpers.  I have checked the forecast and it’s shocking so we are also packing playing cards, books, films and activity kits.

When we get a long run of difficult weather and although it seems unlikely right now, heat waves are also difficult  weather,  we tend to grumble at first, then get really fed up and then we seem to chin up and get on with it and I think the country is now entering a chin up phase. People had been putting things off but as the days have moved on but the weather hasn’t, events have had to be cancelled or carried out regardless.  I’ve been to too many events in the past month where people have enthusiastically commented on the fact that it’s only a bit of drizzle, we seem to have given up on hoping for actual sunshine. 

In fact it seems to be getting to a serious situation for those of us who benefit from the tourist trade and here in Cornwall I think that’s the majority.  I don’t know the figures but it feels like there are fewer people in the county and if there are fewer people around then there is less money going into our economy.  What I am hoping is that there are lots of people like me out there who just decide that they will make the best of it whatever.
I have a sneaky feeling that the Peak District will be wetter than Cornwall and if it chucks it down everyday that will be a drag as we have loads of big peak walks and bike rides planned.  Neither of us mind getting muddy in fact mud is something of a magnet but constant rain and zero visibility can dampen the most gun ho of spirit. I had hoped to go pot holing but I suspect with this much rainfall it will be rightly considered too high a risk.  There is Alton Towers but it’s so damn expensive and throwing up in a roller coaster in the pouring rain having just spent £60 to get in holds little appeal, there is an outdoor swimming pool , which might have a novelty factor to it and will probably be empty and then there are the big stately homes that will be heaving with other damp, steaming families trying to entertain there disappointed and argumentative children; actually the more I type that sentence the more appealing  throwing up at Alton Towers sounds.

Whatever happens I am going to love spending time with my son, exploring a new area of the country and hopefully not contracting pleurisy.

Save a life, save points on your licence and enjoy a glass of wine!

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I’ve been learning lots of things this week, some you probably already know but I thought I’d pass them on anyway.  The first follows on from my article last week about beach safety; I was sent a video clip this week about what drowning actually looks like. I had always thought that I would be able to spot a drowning person; they would be floundering, calling for help, splashing about and generally drowning. The clip showed footage of a swimmer drowning, surrounded by other water users; this person was saved by the fact that life guards know what to look for.  Someone who is drowning generally doesn’t realise they are in trouble until it’s too late for them to call for help. Their body becomes perpendicular, and their arm movements become small and shallow.  They start to bob under the water and the body starts to close down the speech functions so that it can concentrate on getting air into the lungs. This usually only lasts about 90 seconds and then they drown. I was stunned when I watched the footage, the person, seemed fine just a bit quiet and still. The best advice from lifeguards is if you see someone quiet in the sea in a vertical position to ask them if they are OK, if they don’t reply, they’re not. Get over to them, wave for help and tilt them onto their back. Once they can start to get air into their lungs again they quickly recover.

The next things I learnt won’t save any lives but it might save you some money and points on your licence.  Friends had been out walking and when they got back to the car it was obvious the driver was pooped. Her friend offered to drive knowing that she had comprehensive insurance. Like me she thought she was also insured to drive any car. When she was pulled over by the police she discovered this wasn’t the case. In the past we tended to get automatic cover for third party on other cars but gradually that element of our insurance has been withdrawn.  If you think you are automatically covered to drive other cars third party you might just want to check. She got a fine and 3 points for driving without insurance.

The final thing I discovered was that English wine is now not just palatable but really tasty. No longer do you have to sip it in trepidation and then summon a winning smile and positive adjectives whilst wondering where you can spit it out.  I visited the launch of a new winery and vineyard near  Trethurgy – yes I know it sounds unlikely but they were seriously impressive.  The have small vineyards dotted all around the area including a large one down on the Roseland. To date they have made two whites and a rose and all were very pleasant. In fact an open bottle was an empty bottle and if great wine wasn’t enough they also cook up some pretty fine dining.  The only dampener on the day was some chap who listened to winemaker’s talk and then said rather pompously to his own crowd, “the chap doesn’t know what he’s talking about.” Obviously this was nonsense, as Knightor Vineyard are doing amazing things but I have learnt over the years that some people can only makes themselves look big if they are putting other people down.  Still I guess that’s not news to you either.  So that was my week and if the sun doesn’t make an appearance soon next week’s column is going to be all about the appalling state of my vegetable plot.

Football’s more skillful than rugby!

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Right I am about to stick my neck out and get shot down in a hail of bullets. I will be publicly pilloried, I will shop with a bag over my head but here goes. Football is a more skilful game than rugby. There I’ve said it! Even typing it has made me look over my shoulder to see if anyone saw what I wrote.  Clearly this is not the best county in which to make such a statement but  I’m afraid it’s how I see it.  Now as you know both my sons play and love rugby and if I had to choose to watch a rugby or football match I would always choose the rugby match. I prefer Rugby but if I had to say which is the most skilful then of course it’s football.
Those guys are incredibly fit, they spend the whole 90 minutes running after the ball, there’s no stopping for rucks, mauls, scrums and line outs – it is constant chasing across the field and the whole time you are trying to control a ball with just your feet. Those feet that you are also trying to run with. Just watching the players on TV and their amazing ball control skills is outstanding. Of course Rugby is a skilful game and yes rugby players are stronger, as to who is fitter I’m not sure but which requires the greater skill then it’s football. Recently I heard a daft argument about how a football player wouldn’t last three minutes on a rugby pitch but neither would a cricketer, a sprinter or a swimmer. Rugby is a hard, tough game and very exciting to watch but it’s not for everyone.
This past week I’ve been watching a lot of football, not my choice but everyone else is watching it and as I’ve always said any sport is great to watch when it is being played by the very best (except golf – how can you watch golf? Playing it is fun, watching it is an exercise in tedium.)That said football players are the biggest bunch of babies I have ever seen. I swear these guys will fall over a blade of grass if they think they can get the ref to award a penalty! They are not an impressive bunch and hardly act as role models for future sportsmen. Certainly they are very valuable assets to their club and if they are tackled it makes sense to stay on the ground and check if the bang has caused any serious damage but the tears and histrionics are pathetic. Worse yet is the way they argue with the ref or fail to bellow out their national anthem.

One of the things that always amaze me about football fans though is the split in the types that attend. When you look into the crowd you see the laughter, the tears, the hope and pride all the very best in a nation supporting their country and then there are the idiots. The people that throw rubbish on the pitch, last night someone threw a smoke bomb onto the pitch! They had to stop the game as it got so bad that the goalie couldn’t see the play of the ball.  Why would anyone do that? They no doubt paid good money to get a seat and then they think it’s fun to disrupt the game. For those players nothing is more important than the game they are playing and yet some wally comes along and halts play.
Beyond the pitch football seems to bring out the worst in people, the violence, the racism the sheer minded hooliganism. What is it about this game that attracts this behaviour when it doesn’t happen in cricket or rugby?

Anyway England play tonight and by the time you read this we are hopefully on our way to the next rounds.

An incredible Jubilee weekend.

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It’s been a pretty incredible week hasn’t it? I think looking back this is going to be one of those summers that sticks out like 1976 or 1985.  First we had the torch relay and then we had the Jubilee and what struck me most on each occasion was how incredible it is when we all do something together with smiles on our faces. I don’t think the torch procession really had much to do with our love of the Olympics in the same way that I don’t think our Jubilee celebrations were solely motivated from a love for the Queen.  In fact what I think both of them demonstrated was how proud we are of our country and our neighbourhoods.
How could you fail to be moved by watching all the pomp and ceremony process down the Mall or the grins from children as neighbours piled out onto the streets in the drizzle to have a party with each other?  I have no problem with the monarchy so this may colour how I view the weekend but I thought it was marvelous, how often do we get to have a full on splurge where we just revel in how good we are.  Too often we apologise for things or we look to blame others or we shrug our shoulders and say the country is rubbish but what can be done? But wow – just look at what we can achieve when we want to.
The celebrations were twofold in Mevagissey as it launched its first SeaFest (everything has to be Fest at the moment, have you noticed?) The RNLI and Coastguard were out in force, there was live music all day long and stalls and other events. Spread over two days the weather was kind on both and from all that I’ve heard the event was a huge success. The funds raised are going towards the Mevagissey Christmas Lights which is wonderful as they were beginning to get a bit tired. Even better Jetty Street is going to get some white ribbon lights and Christmas trees so it should look beautiful. 
And it’s not over yet we still have the Olympics to come as well as a few football matches which seem to be causing great excitement in the rest of the household. I’m a very fair weather football fan but if we get to the finals no doubt like the rest of the country I’ll get excited and join in and if we win? I can’t even begin to imagine how pleased that will make people. Oh and of course there’s Wimbledon as well but I’m not putting any money on Murray but there I go being all pessimistic, far too British! I shall learn from our new found spirit of optimism and shout Come on Murray and then when he loses I shall grin ruefully and cross my fingers for next year, in true British style.

Weasel Words

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Steve was looking at an old Zippo the other day and commented on their Lifetime Guarantee, he thought it was a pretty impressive testament to the belief in their product that Zippo were prepared to offer such a guarantee. Now it could be that I’m a picky old soul but to me their offer was good but it was only a lifetime guarantee for the life of their business not of the purchaser’s.  Were they seriously suggesting that if Zippo went bust that they had insurance policies in place so that 50 years later a customer could get their money back if the lighter failed. Even if the company had gone bust 30 years previously?  It’s just not realistic is it? So a lifetime guarantee sounds good but it’s not your lifetime, it’s theirs.  

That’s the whole thing about adverts and advertisers, they are wonderful wordsmiths, the English language is their bread and butter and every single word they use has been thought about.  I remember ASDA used to put on the back of their shampoo bottle “ASDA is against animal testing” Now again I’m being picky but that does not say “This product was not tested on animals” So my thoughts were that the majority of their products were not tested on animals as a preference but that some were. That meant they they could state a positive message but not be held accountable for it.  Am I being too cynical?  I just think a corporate giant like Wal-Mart knows exactly what it means when it says something and so do its lawyers.
I don’t think advertising and product promotion is a bunch of outright lies but I do think it is all about smoke and mirrors and sleight of hand. 
There’s an advert on at the moment for a roll on waxing product that claims 8 out of 10 women who used it would use it again. Sounds good but when would they use it again? Next month? If they were desperate? If they were paid? What’s the pain threshold of these women? The selling points of this product are that it doesn’t burn you and it doesn’t leave a mess. To be fair when looking at a hair removal product these aren’t high on my selling points. I’d be looking for pain free and for length of grow back time.  The fact that it won’t burn me sounds like a plus point but it also won’t electrocute me, or run me over. So they are selling me a concept that isn’t even an issue and making it sound like a positive.
What these adverts are doing are using “weasel words” a phrase coined to mean an empty statement. For example children who eat Nutella have more energy during the day. (Compared to children that had nothing at all for breakfast) 8 out of 10 people agree with reduced jail sentences (those questioned were currently in jail)  “It has been shown that…” Really? Where? “The majority of people think” Prove it! Using “the majority” suggests that if you aren’t part of the club you are out of step and therefore wrong. And even if a majority does think something it doesn’t mean that they are right.
Next time you watch the ads listen out for the weasel words. Oh and I believe the politicians use them from time to time as well.

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