the people’s government?

Yes, the ‘people’ have spoken. Sadly, under the present ridiculous first-past-the-post voting system, this is what constitutes democracy.
But, under such a system, my voice is not heard. It doesn’t count.
Yes, one might say that people whose voices haven’t been listened to in the past, have now had their voices heard. Sadly, I fail to understand how such people believe that Mr Johnson is the answer to their prayers… but what do I know?
Perhaps, at the next General Election, I’ll be part of a group of people who feel passionately that THEIR voices haven’t been listened to… and suddenly, at long last, have their voices heard?
I live in hope.

So, after 9 years of abject Conservative government (my personal view, of course!) and abject Opposition from the Labour Party (ditto), we now find ourselves with the Tories re-elected with their largest majority since 1987.

It was billed by some as the most important election of our lifetime… and I think that’s probably true. The sad fact remains that one in three (yes, a third of the electorate) chose NOT to vote… and, of course, why would any winning Party choose to change a voting system that clearly worked for them?

Despite everything, I’m determined to try to be positive:

a) Who knows, this election might really be the time when one-nation conservatism genuinely comes to the fore and the Party reveals a compassionate side?
b) Who knows, this election might really be the time when Momentum ceases to have such decisive influence on Labour Party policies… and that a wise, charismatic Labour Leader emerges to take the Party forward.
c) Who knows, this election might really be the time when individual MPs from all Parties come together in an urgent ‘Green Alliance’ for the sake of the environment (and other stuff) for the common good?

I desperately longed for a ‘hung parliament’ in the perhaps naïve hope that all political Parties would finally realise that they needed to work together (I was opposed to a General Election in the first place). I desperately didn’t want Brexit to happen, but now it seems that I’ll just have to accept the inevitable (even though there were more people who voted for pro-Remain Parties than who voted for the Tory and Brexit Parties)…

So, yes, today I’m feeling close despair.
I’m feeling very sad.
Tomorrow is another day and bitterness is a debilitating and ugly force.
But it’s difficult.

so long, my son…

Today, I saw what will almost certainly be my film of the year at the Watershed: Xiaoshuai Wang’s “So Long, My Son”. It’s a wrenching family saga spanning three decades that highlights the emotional history and trauma of China’s one-child policy (which wasn't fully abandoned until 2015) and the Cultural Revolution. A couple’s young son dies suddenly in a tragic accident. Their lives are understandably shattered, but their pain is made even worse by the memory of the mother having been pregnant (while their son was still alive) with a second ‘illicit’ child and being forced to have an abortion by the authorities. The actors playing the parts of the couple, Yaojun (Wang Jingchun) and Liyun (Yong Mei) are absolutely brilliant – both incredibly moving performances.

Their best friends are fellow factory workers (and they also have a son - who witnessed the death of Yaojun and Liyun’s son’s death), but the wife, a party-zealot, is actually the person responsible for dragging Liyun off to the hospital for the abortion.

The grieving Yaojun and Liyun end up leaving their factory jobs and moving away from their friends to a remote coastal town…
I don’t want give away too much of the storyline, so I think I’ll leave it there.

In simple terms, the film provides an incredibly powerful and poignant commentary on China’s one-child policy and on the Cultural Revolution itself – the latter of which is highlighted towards the end of the film when Yaojun and Liyun return to their hometown (which in the intervening time has been transformed by glitzy new high-rise buildings and advertising hoardings of the western world). There’s a strong sense of injustice and the growing rift between the rich and the poor… and also a sense that people have been somewhat overwhelmed by the speed of change (and maybe even a nostalgic desire to want to ‘turn back the clock’).

It’s a very long film (3hours 5mins – my second ‘over-3 hours’ film in less than a month!) – but absolutely justified in my view, given the 1980s to the present day time period. It’s also a film which ‘unfolds’ – it took me some time to appreciate that the story wasn’t being told in a linear or chronological way, but more by way of flashbacks and ‘flashforwards’ (and done very effectively too).

I thought the film was simply stunning. The performances; the poetry; the pace; the cinematography; the direction… and, of course, the story itself.
An inspiring masterpiece.
PS: On a lighter note, the Watershed has a noticeboard for 'audience postcard comment' on the films its screening. Given that the film IS very long (just over 3hours) and, bearing in mind its title, I thought the scrawled "So Long..." comment was quite funny!

despairing of politics…

Look, at my age*, I know that my voice counts for nothing (oh, how I wish the same could have been said of all those other ‘old’ people who were allowed to significantly influence the outcome of the 2016 Referendum!).
I no longer matter (well, at least that’s how I feel)… in 10 years’ time I may no longer be around.
But, in 10 years’ time, all my six grandchildren will be eligible to vote.
Sadly, I fear for what our nation might have become by 2030.
Actually, it’s more than fear…
It’s despair.

We have become a nation dominated by bitterness and division (surely the most divided in my lifetime) – largely as a result of the farcical (in my view) decision to hold an ill-defined referendum on EU membership (to placate Mr Cameron's divided Conservative Party). Home Office figures show there has been a sharp increase in racially and religiously motivated hate crime since the 2016 EU referendum. Where the UK used to be regarded as a beacon for stability, we have now become something of a laughing stock around the world.

Two days from now, the UK electorate will have cast their votes and, as things stand (if you believe opinion polls – but, these days, who does?), it would appear that the Tories will be forming the next government with a parliamentary majority of perhaps anything from 20-70 seats?

They will be introducing (virtually unopposed) measures that will include a speedy no-deal Brexit (after going through vague motions of trying to negotiate a last-minute deal with the EU and, of course, failing) together with lots of policies that will benefit the ‘haves’ against the ‘have-nots’. The pre-election ‘promises’ will no doubt be ‘clarified’, but are unlikely to prevent the ongoing privatisation of the NHS, the continuing deterioration of public services and the like.
In Scotland, the SNP is likely to see that the only way for them to remain in the EU is to opt for independence. The Tory UK government will publicly wring its hands at such a prospect, but privately punch the air in celebration (because it will serve only to increase their own power in Westminster).

After nearly a decade in Opposition (and at a time when it should have been only too easy to win arguments against a succession of weak Tory governments), the Labour Party has abjectly failed in its task. There are lots of intelligent, gifted politicians (of all parties) who have the experience and desire to change things for the ‘common good’, but their voices are lost behind Political Party smokescreens. They count for nothing.

Sadly, our political system does not work. Democracy is something of a farce. As things stand, given our ridiculous first-past-the-post electoral process (and where I happen to live), my vote doesn’t count. And, of course, any Party in power certainly won’t want to change a system that ‘works for them’!
Sadly, there seems very little prospect of things changing over the next 5 (or even 10) years.

Even if my vote did count, any chance that my own MP would be able to influence her Party’s political stance on individual issues is something of a pipedream, so what chance do I have? At the same time, we have right-wing biased newspapers/media in this country (and, sadly, I now also feel unable to trust the impartiality of the BBC).

So, like many people, I’m left feeling utterly isolated… and as if I live in a separate ‘virtual’ world where 95% of all my friends have similar views to my own… and yet, there’s clearly another virtual world out there that thinks completely differently… and, frustratingly, that’s the one that counts.

So, at a time when the Climate Change Crisis should be at the very TOP of its agenda, we’re likely to have a new Tory government who will frankly be paying little more than ‘lip service’ to the environment and are far more focussed on cutting taxes (at a time, in my view, when we need to increase taxes to help pay for the NHS, education, mental health, welfare and other ailing public services). I could give you a long list of lies and concerns relating to statements from Tory ministers (although other Parties are hardly innocent bystanders)… but I won’t bother (unless pressed to do so!).

In a recent article in the New York Times (entitled “Britain’s Dirty Election”), one voter admitted that she “was voting for Boris Johnson precisely because he is a proven liar. It shows, she said, ‘he’s human’”.
THERE ARE NO WORDS.

So, yes, I despair. I despair for my lovely, intelligent, articulate children… and I despair for their children (and their children). In 10 years’ time, when my grandchildren can vote (some of them will actually be able to vote within the next 5 years… and who knows, the voting age might have even been reduced to 16 before then?), they will find that their opportunity to influence a world that they love and feel passionately about is in fact absolutely tiny. I can only hope that they will be able to find and encourage others who have similar passions and beliefs…

I live in hope. x
Photo: from Antony Gormley’s “Blind Light” exhibition at the Hayward Gallery, 2007.
PS: * I must stress that I have a number of very lovely friends who are ‘somewhat older than me’… and who remain VERY active and resourceful and who contribute brilliantly to making all our lives worth living… so apologies for the rather negative ‘spin’ regarding my own ‘aged’ status! They’ll probably never forgive me! 

three cane whale at st george's (again)...

Last night, I went to the Three Cane Whale concert at St George’s, Bristol. It must be perhaps the sixth time I’ve seen them perform and they really are an extraordinary, ridiculously-talented group of musicians (and very nice blokes too).
Their music is difficult to categorise (well, for a non-music person like me)… Bristol 24/7 described them thus: ‘their delicate acoustic constructions combine ancient folk and contemporary classical ideas to weave an entirely original new musical tradition‘… which seems to sum it up perfectly. They often like to associate their music with ‘Place’ and have recorded a number of their pieces ‘on location’ – in barns, old chapels, on hillsides and even next to main roads (A303 being one example!).
The three musicians (Alex Vann, Pete Judge and Paul Bradley) play an incredible, eclectic range of instruments, including: mandolin, bowed psaltery, bouzouki, zither, banjo, dulcimer, trumpet, cornet, dulcitone, harmonium, lyre, glockenspiel, tenor horn, acoustic guitar and miniature harp(!).
It proved to be a wonderful, magical, uplifting evening in a perfect venue… and believe me, at the present time (with Brexit, General Elections and Trump in full swing), it was something I – and probably quite a few others in the audience - desperately needed.
PS: The support ‘band’ were pretty amazing too! Methera (on their FB page, Three Cane Whale describe them as a ‘contemporary traditional’ string quartet)(fiddle, fiddle, viola and cello). Talented and joyful!
Photo: Three Cane Whale ‘in action’ last night.

november-december 2019 books…

The Testaments (Margaret Atwood): This book (published in 2019) is the follow-up novel to Atwood’s “The Handmaiden’s Tale” (which, you might recall was first published in 1985!). It’s set some 15-16 years after the end of the previous book and the story is told through three female narrators, two of them young and idealistic, one of them old and wily. Just like the first book, this is a powerful symbol of resistance to the misogyny of Donald Trump and the Christian rightwing. The book continues to explore themes of suppressed women in a patriarchal society and the various means by which these women attempt to gain individualism and independence (with The Handmaids being forced to provide children by proxy for infertile women of a higher social status, the wives of ‘Commanders’). People were understandably shocked by how unnervingly relevant “The Handmaiden’s Tale” was in these early days of the 21^st century. In “The Testaments”, we’re no longer shocked – we’re just sickened by the thought of what actually might lie ahead of us in our own lifetime (it feels THAT real!). It’s a brilliant, disturbing book with a hugely important message… and Atwood is a wonderful, wonderful writer.
The Overstory (Richard Powers): This is a beautiful, remarkable book (and it’s the latest of Book Group’s books – and which won the Pulitzer Fiction Prize for 2019). Essentially, it’s a novel (eco-novel?) about nature (and trees in particular). A hugely intelligent, profound, thought-provoking, well-researched novel about the ‘heedless’ destruction of trees - full of knowledge, beauty, history and science. Powers tells his story through the lives of nine strangers – each summoned and connected in different ways by the natural world. I found the first half of the novel (telling the background stories of the eight individuals and then how they come to be connected) absolutely compelling. It’s a long book (625 pages!) and, frankly, I felt it could have been reduced by perhaps 100 pages without detriment. However, there was something about the slowness of its story unfurling that reflected the quiet, adaptation by nature itself – which I felt was utterly appropriate. It’s an incredibly powerful homage to the natural world and the awful disregard that we, as humans, have for it. The book echoes a similar message (although in a completely different way) to one of our other recent Book Group books (‘Lanny; by Max Porter): something of a call to action regarding today’s world – reminding us about the need to nurture and care for our planet (and people) and about man’s selfishness and our apparent obsession with ‘wanting more and wanting it now – whatever the consequences’. There were parts of the book that I found worked much better than others, but I came to like all the individuals who helped to tell the story. Although it was never going to have an ‘everyone-lived-happily-ever-after’ ending, I found it a haunting and, ultimately, hopeful book which I know I’ll be reflecting on over the coming weeks. Pretty magical and a book I think you need to read.
A Kestrel For A Knave (Barry Hines): Ken Loach’s brilliant film ‘Kes’ is celebrating its 50^th anniversary this year (amazingly) and I recently watched an excellent TV documentary (presented by Greg Davies) to mark the occasion. The film is one of my ‘all-time’ favourites, but I realised that I’d never read Hines’ book, published in 1968. In case you don’t know the film or the story, I don’t intend telling much of the story here… except that it’s about a 15 year-old, troubled, working-class schoolboy named Billy Casper (who’s about to leave school for the world of ‘work’, but hardly able to read or write) living in poor conditions in Barnsley. It’s a powerful story of survival in a tough, joyless world. Although Billy’s no angel (he steals; he tells lies and he’s lazy), he’s picked on - both at home and at his pretty depressing secondary modern school - by his schoolmates and by most of his teachers. Billy’s father left home some years earlier; his mother cares more about her love life than being a good mother (one of Billy’s friends reckons “tha’s got more uncles than any kid in this City”); and his older half-brother (who shares Billy’s bed and works “down t’pit”) is both physically and verbally abusive towards him. Billy is treated as a failure academically and he’s unhappy at home. But then he discovers a passion in the form of a kestrel hawk… a creature he captures from the wild and, against all the odds, sets about training. This short novel is quite brilliant… sad and shocking, powerful and uplifting. A reminder of how things were like for so many working-class children and families… but also a reminder, in many ways, of how little has changed.
Middle England (Jonathan Coe): This is a novel about Brexit. If I tell you that, in the light of the EU referendum outcome and the imminent General Election, I’ve never felt as hopelessly depressed about politics in my life as I do now, then you might have advised me to steer clear of any books on the subject. But you’d have been wrong. This is an uplifting book. Coe is a very funny writer and, somewhat ridiculously (you may think), he makes you feel better about what we’ve been through (and what is still to come). This state-of-the-nation novel starts in April 2010 and takes the reader up to September 2018 through the lives of the book’s characters… it provides a true-to-life picture of the Brexit story - that is funny, moving, depressing and tender – in an intelligent and delightful way. I even found the book’s cover entirely apt – a torn extract from one of those old railway posters showing a nostalgic, painted image of a quintessential English landscape… evoking, as some would no doubt have it, an impression of the ‘good old England’ we used to have. I really enjoyed the book (and reading it at the present time has been a perfect antidote to our current depressing times!)… a very clever man that Jonathan Coe.
I’ll Keep You Safe (Peter May): I really enjoy May’s books. This is another one set on the isle of Lewis (and Paris!)(but nothing to do with the ‘Lewis Trilogy’), published in 2018. Centred around husband and wife co-owners of a Hebridean Tweed company who were on a business trip to Paris to promote their luxury brand. The husband and another woman (a lover?) are killed by a car bomb; the wife returns home, bereft. Apparently, not terrorism but murder. The wife is one of the prime suspects… Another real page-turner (it’s 450 pages long and I read it in a little over a day). May is a very clever writer and his plots are intricate and ingenious. As with most crime novels of this type, the writer points you in the direction of perhaps four or five key characters who could all be the guilty party… and May duly conforms to this pattern here. But, much as I admire his invention, I found myself saying “Really? REALLY?” out loud! In the end, I found it somewhat implausible and far-fetched… and, frankly, I wasn’t altogether convinced.

seeking refuge…

Imagine you’re an 16 year-old young man from Afghanistan.
Imagine the horrendous ordeals you’ve suffered during the course of your short life after fleeing the extremely volatile and hazardous circumstances that confronted you in your homeland and on your frightening journey to the UK.
Imagine being left hugely traumatised and mentally scarred by your experiences.
Imagine being left feeling afraid that there are still people ‘out there’ that are seeking to harm you further and that your life is in danger.
Imagine yourself as a very vulnerable young man who needs support.
Imagine that the war has left you with absolutely no living relatives and that you’re completely alone in this world.

The young man is now aged 20 living in Bristol (at least for the time being) and, for the past nine months, he and I have been meeting together perhaps 3-4 times a month.

He’s personable and shy. He’s become a good friend. We share a love of cricket and I’ve endeavoured to assist him with matters such as his college language course; his consultations with his doctor/hospital appointments; providing additional help and support with the excellent Bristol Refugee Rights people; plus various issues regarding his accommodation. He clearly needs support and encouragement.
He’s also an asylum-seeker.

Although I have strong feelings about our country’s responsibilities towards refugees, this is NOT intended to be a blog post to persuade you to ‘join a crusade’ or anything like. I simply want to paint a picture of what life is like for some of these refugees and ask you to reflect on this.

This young man (we’ll call him Khan) has been in the UK for the past 18 months. Khan lives in a shared house with other individuals who find themselves in the same predicament. Khan lives a pretty primitive life, eating simply, trying to learn the language (and doing well at this)… but at least he has a roof over his head (for which he’s very grateful).

As an asylum-seeker, Khan has previously attended a formal Asylum-Seeker Hearing (in Cardiff) to secure refugee status. This hearing, conducted by the Home Office, apparently lasted three-and-a-half hours and involved 118 questions (Khan has shown me the papers verifying his answers).

His application was duly denied by the Home Office.
(note: according to Google, more than 60% of applications are denied)

So, today, I drove Khan to his Asylum-Seeker Appeal Hearing in Newport - junction 24 of the M4 (in my car-club car)… the alternative was train from Bristol to Newport, followed by a 5 minute walk, a 15 minute bus ride, and then a 20 walk at the other end… not too easy if you’re an asylum-seeker with very limited funds and little knowledge of ‘how things work’ in this country.

His appointment was set for 10am… but it was then explained to us that “everyone has a 10am appointment” (which, for some, meant a wait of up to 6 hours!). Fortunately, he was ‘on second’ – which involved a wait of only some 100 minutes. I was there for moral-support and, although the barrister said I’d be allowed into the Hearing, I wouldn’t be able to speak or contribute in any way. In event (based on the barrister’s advice), I sat in the waiting room. Khan’s solicitor (who had prepared the necessary papers) was unable to attend due to ‘other work commitments’, so Khan’s case was presented by a barrister who he’d met for the first time just 10 minutes before the scheduled start of the Appeal Hearing. Although, to my mind, this seemed unreasonable, the barrister was absolutely fine – polite, understanding and helpful. There was also an interpreter provided to assist during the Hearing.

The Appeal Hearing lasted nearly an hour and a half (the Home Office produces the case against the asylum-seeker and the Barrister acts on behalf of appellant). 

The judge will make his (in this case) decision known within 2 or 3 weeks. Both parties have a right to Appeal the Appeal decision.
I was left with a strong sense, maybe unfairly, that the Home Office is determined (obliged even?) to make the case against the vast majority of asylum-seekers… but it also left me wondering if the judge had a ‘quota or prescribed percentage’ of cases that he was allowed to grant?
On the positive side, I must stress that it’s been good to see the support that asylum-seekers like Khan do receive (legal advice, health care, language tuition, accommodation etc).

However, I was very conscious that this wasn’t just a legal case. This was actually determining an individual’s future… and it all felt very scary… especially if you’re a lonely 20 year-old who’s trying to find his way in a cruel, cruel world.

So, now imagine being in the shoes of my friend Khan… now living in the knowledge that your future is being determined by a judge… and that, within a few months, you could be returned to Afghanistan – a country from which you narrowly escaped with your life.

official secrets…

I went to the Watershed again this morning(!) to see Gavin Hood’s “true-story thriller” about Katharine Gun (convincingly played by Keira Knightly), the British secret service whistleblower who tried to stop the Iraq War. In 2003, on the eve of the UK-US invasion of Iraq, Gun (who was working at GCHQ) intercepted communications that revealed the UK was being asked to spy on UN Security Council Members to help influence votes sanctioning the invasion.
This came as a shocking revelation to Gun. She was fully aware of her legal responsibilities towards her employer (she’d signed the Official Secrets Act) and also the risks to her own family’s security (her husband was a Muslim immigrant awaiting permanent residency status). As a government employee, is it ever right to leak state secrets? When is such a thing in the national interests? War would inevitably bring huge loss of life…
What should she do?
Well, of course, she decided to leak the document. Surely, you remember?
The Guardian newspaper subsequently published the story (risking prosecution themselves) … and, somewhat predictably, Katharine Gun was duly arrested and charged with breaking the Official Secrets Act (as an interesting, disturbing aside, she was also advised that taking legal advice would be against Official Secrets Act!).

Yes, I know it’s all about stuff that relates back to events that took place 16 years ago… but, for me, it marked the time I stopped believing that we could trust a UK government (of any political persuasion) ever again. I was one of the huge number of people who took part in the Anti-War march in February 2003.

I had written to Tony Blair on 25 January 2003 expressing my “very deep concern” about his government’s “apparent commitment to go to war against Iraq”. In my letter, I told him that:
“I feel a real sense of unease at recent developments and your Government’s handling of the situation.  I would seriously question the morality and legality of war against Iraq at the present time and would urge that force should be considered only as a last resort - and, crucially, ONLY with UN support”.
Initially, in January 2003, the attorney general Lord Goldsmith advised Blair that war would not be legal but, “after he’d met with White House officials”, he changed his mind and, ultimately, Blair decided to ignore public opinion and his attorney general’s initial legal advice (despite the Cabinet not having been told of the attorney general’s initial legal opinion).

Gun was duly brought to trial in February 2004. She pleaded ‘not guilty’ saying in her defence that she had acted to prevent imminent loss of life in a war she considered illegal (numbers of reported deaths vary widely, but they're certainly in excess of half a million). If she’d have pleaded ‘guilty’, she’d have faced a prison sentence and the case would have been soon forgotten… In the event, she pleaded ‘not guilty’ and, within half an hour, the prosecution team declined to offer evidence and the case was dropped. The day before the trial, Gun's defence team had asked the government for any records of legal advice about the lawfulness of the war that it had received during the run-up to the war. A full trial might well have exposed any such documents to public scrutiny… and, as a result, led to the war being declared unlawful (and an investigation into possible war crimes?). To my mind, the subsequent Chilcot Inquiry represented something of a whitewash and left a very bitter taste in one’s mouth (well, my mouth!).

I think the Iraq War represented a turning point in the public’s trust (or lack of it) in politicians (ok, I know that Thatcher also “stretched the truth” about certain aspects of the Falklands War!) – certainly here in the UK, but also across the world. Now, with Brexit, Trump, social media (and media) manipulation and the like, I think many of us feel that we can do very little individually to influence political thinking and affect the election of governments.

There was a wonderful line in the film (voiced by Gun) which produced smirks of approval from today’s audience: “Just because you are prime minister that doesn’t mean that you’re allowed to make things up”. Damn right (and still VERY relevant today!)!
It’s a very good, powerful film. It’s not utterly brilliant cinema, but it DOES remind us of this important story. I think you ought to see it. It reminded me just how angry I felt at the time (and how angry I STILL feel). The duplicity. The injustice. The deception. The lies…
Who Do They Think We Are?
PS: In 2003, I also sent a copy of my letter to Blair to a) all members of the cabinet, b) Mr Iain Duncan Smith, Leader of the Opposition, c) Charles Kennedy, LibDems Leader and d) a certain Boris Johnson, our ineffective, bumbling MP!

bristol metropolitan orchestra at st george’s (again)

I went along to St George’s, Bristol last night to see/hear the Bristol Metropolitan Orchestra perform a programme of three pieces: Elgar’s ‘Cello Concerto’; Stravinsky’s ‘The Firebird Suite’ and Louise Farrenc’s ‘Overture in E minor, Op 23’.

This was the third time I’d heard the BMO perform (conductor: Michael Cobb). None of the orchestra’s players is a professional musician (they have diverse working backgrounds – including anaesthetists, paediatric nurses, engineers and IT developers), but the quality of their playing is consistently excellent.

Last night’s programme was ideal for my taste: I was very familiar with ‘Firebird’ (or, at least, so I thought… but, during the course of the evening, realised that there were quite large chunks that I’d forgotten!); I knew nothing about the little known (to me) female composer Farrenc – but am always ‘up’ for listening to something new (I wasn’t disappointed); and the Cello Concerto is one of my very favourite pieces of classical music.

The soloist for the Elgar piece was British cellist Ariana Kashefi (I think she’s just 29 years old). I’d never heard of her before last night, but my good friend Ed Kay (himself a member of BMO) had known her for more than 10 years and assured me (with a glint in his eye) that she was ‘very, very good’.
And so it proved… but for ‘very, very good’ read ‘absolutely amazing’!

Kashefi was simply outstanding. Within the first 10 seconds, you just KNEW that you were in for a huge treat! I’m no connoisseur, but she seemed to have ‘everything’ in terms of musical gifts. Her performance was electrifying – commanding (and yet incredibly sensitive); arrogant (and yet completely captivating and self-contained); and all done with wonderful, natural musical technique and skill.

Kashefi’s performance was utterly mesmerising.
This may sound ridiculous (who me?), but the Elgar piece actually brought tears to my eyes. It was so, SO beautiful. It made me recall that the last time I had seen/listened to the ‘Cello Concerto’ played ‘live’ had been when I’d attended a special concert at St Hilda’s College, Oxford (I designed some student apartments for the College in Stockmore Street, Oxford during my time working for The Oxford Architects Partnership). That was some 45 years ago(!) and, strange as it may seem, it made me wonder if I would ever again witness hearing/seeing the piece performed ‘live’ again in my lifetime.
Anyway, the evening was a bit special and the BMO are definitely worth following (their next concert will be Sunday 22 March at St George’s – featuring works by Beethoven and Liszt).
PS: The world-famous cellist Jacqueline Du Pré was an Honorary Fellow at St Hilda’s College. She was forced to stop performing in 1973, due to Multiple Sclerosis, and died in 1987, aged 42. The Jacqueline Du Pré Music Building was subsequently built in Oxford and opened in 1995 (St Hilda’s had been one of the joint fundraisers).
PPS: As an encore, Ariana Kashefi performed a short piece entitled “Song of the Birds” - a traditional Catalan Christmas song and lullaby. The song was made famous outside Catalonia by Pablo Casals' instrumental version on the cello. After his exile in 1939, he would begin each of his concerts by playing this song. Kashefi played it superbly… and I cried again (I know!). This YouTube recording doesn’t quite do it justice (IMHO), but it’ll give you a sense of Kashefi’s musical ability.

the irishman…

Went to the Watershed (for the second time in three days!) to see Martin Scorsese’s “The Irishman” film – featuring Robert De Niro, Al Pacino and Joe Pesci.
Before I start, I think I should warn you that the film lasts three-and-a-half hours - that’s the equivalent of watching the FA Cup Final TWICE… plus extra time!

But there were an impressive number of people at the Watershed’s first screening of the film – and perhaps, even more impressive (in my view), that I think only two people had to get up and find the loo!

As you may know, the film is a return to Scorsese’s ‘gangster genre’. The film’s background is the unsolved murder of Jimmy Hoffa (played brilliantly by Pacino), the labour leader and infamous head of the powerful Teamsters Union, whose connections with organised crime were wide-ranging. His career ended with a conviction for jury tampering, attempted bribery and fraud (they failed to ‘pin’ any murder charges on him). Although he was pardoned by President Nixon (who he just happened to support financially) in 1971, he ‘disappeared’ soon after… and was declared legally dead in 1982.

As one might expect, there are several theories about Hoffa’s death, but perhaps the most convincing version is the one told by Frank ‘The Irishman’ Sheeran (again, brilliantly played by De Niro) in an account he revealed to a journalist… and this forms the basis of the film… and is presented through Sheeran’s memories of his own criminal past.

The story covers four decades and the ‘stars’ all play their characters at each stage of their lives. To do this (and I can assure you, it was done incredibly convincingly!), the film uses astonishing post-production, state-of-the-art visual effects to ‘de-age’ the cast from their 70s through to their 30s (the Watershed’s programme notes refer to it as ‘youthification’!)(I’m looking for a cheap alternative at our local “Boot’s”!).
It’s brilliantly filmed (and acted – Joe Pesci makes a very convincing Russell Bufalino – ruler of the infamous Bufalino crime family from 1959 to 1989)… and there are wonderful sets, cars and a perfect soundtrack featuring music to suit the period (including Fats Domino, Johnny Ray, Smiley Lewis, The Five Satins and Glenn Miller).
As ridiculous as this might seem, the three-and-a-half-hours just flew by… I found myself completely sucked into the compelling storyline… threat, power, guilt, remorse and the trappings of success.
It’s a brilliant film… you should definitely try to see it.

meeting gorbachev…

Last month, I watched an excellent television documentary on Bruce Chatwin, directed and presented by Werner Herzog. So, when I discovered that the Watershed were showing a documentary on former Soviet head of state Mikhail Gorbachev by Herzog (and André Singer), I felt I should see it.
I wasn’t disappointed.
Despite the slight ‘clunkiness’ of the interviews (due to delays in translation etc), it proved to be a fascinating reminder of a crucial time in world history, when Gorbachev – as the last leader of the Soviet Union – created and directed the country’s perestroika and glasnost reforms. Gorbachev (who’s now 88 years old) served as head of state from 1985 until 1991 and, by the early 1990s, was instrumental in leading the country towards social democracy. He brought unprecedented openness to government, put nuclear disarmament on the international agenda and allowed Eastern Europe to escape the stranglehold of Moscow.
In spite their massive political differences, Gorbachev achieved unlikely, but hugely important relationships/dialogues with Western leaders (eg. Reagan, George HW Bush, Kohl and Thatcher) – including striking landmark nuclear arms control agreements. He was far more respected abroad than he was at home (where many Russians apparently continue to blame him for the break-up of the Soviet Union). You will no doubt recall that, in late 1991, he was “ousted and the dismantling of empire fell into less scrupulous hands” (in the words of the Watershed’s blub)… a certain politician by the name of Boris (Yelsin, in this instance) comes to mind!
The film describes Gorbachev’s rural upbringing (born of peasant parents), his brilliant youth and his improbable rise from the provinces to the centre of Soviet political life… and his wife Raisa (who he clearly adored).

It’s a moving portrait of Gorbachev’s humanity (his triumphs, hopes and regrets) and his profound historical impact (and an important examination of the decline of the Soviet Union and the Iron Curtain). The story is also something of a political tragedy – trying to change a system and integrate it with the West. In Gorbachev’s words: “We wanted to have democracy in our country, and we made progress in that. But we didn’t get to finish the job, as certain forces took control of state power and property. These forces didn’t want democracy; it didn’t suit them”.

But, for me, I think the most powerful quality that came across was Gorbachev’s statesmanship… something which, given the attitudes of many of the current world leaders (no names!), is sadly lacking in this 21^st century world – where ‘power politics’, ego and personal ambition seem to matter far more.
Well worth seeing – if only as an alternative to following the depressing daily claims and counter-claims of our current General Election campaign!

army cadet corps… and remembrance

I was in town first thing yesterday morning… I was outside our city centre church (Saint Stephen’s), just a stone’s throw from the crowds gathering for the Remembrance Service at the Cenotaph. An army officer rode past on a white horse… and it immediately took me back to my school days at Handsworth Grammar in Birmingham.

Each year, the school’s cadet corps had a large parade – they marched (complete with a full band of drummers and buglers) from the school to the sports ground off Wood Lane, two miles away… and they were always led by the Divinity master (and Army officer, of course!) who rode a huge white horse.
Our school was ‘big’ on the Army Cadet Corps… it had its own fully-equipped armoury on school premises (complete with rifles, bayonets and bullets!) and its own firing range (set up next to the woodwork block!). The firing range consisted of a high brick wall, with battered earth in front to house the targets. We used the firing range as one of our playground ‘goalmouths’, of course!
There was something of an expectation for all boys to sign up for the Cadet Corps and I think most did. But NOT our Form. I was in the ‘Remove Stream’ at school – we were in the ‘fast stream’ earmarked to take our ‘O’ Levels in 4 years instead of 5. When it came to the time for signing up (in 1962/63, when we were perhaps 14 years old?), absolutely NO ONE in our class volunteered to ‘join up’. The assigned ‘Cadet Corps Masters’ were incredulous… “never in the history of the school has this ever happened” (or words to that effect). I recall the ‘Top Dog’ Corps Master coming to lecture us… it was our DUTY… we were the school’s future Cadet Corps OFFICERS for goodness sake (implying that, as the ‘bright’ ones, we were required to pull the others ‘into shape’). It had absolutely no effect… none of us joined up. It’s something I look back on with a certain pride… you might think our actions were inappropriate, unwarranted or misguided but, like the climate change school pupils of today, I think we were making our own small statement… and, naïve as it might be, I’m very pleased that we did.
Why was this?
Well, I think we were making a collective statement. I don’t think it happened because we’d got together to discuss whether or not we should join the ‘Corps’. I think it was just a gut feeling that a number of us had and others joined as things developed.

Crucially, I think it was our instinctive reaction to the Cuban Missile Crisis (16-28 October 1962).

People forget what an incredibly frightening time it was. To many of us, it felt as if we were on the brink of a nuclear war. I can still recall a recurring nightmare I used to have… watching a nuclear bomb falling from the sky from red aeroplane flying above our house. I can also recall pupils at school (me included) having conversations with masters and asking them what was the point of us learning stuff if we’re all going to die!
I have huge respect for those who have fought for their countries in wars, but I also despair for the innocent victims. I think it’s vitally important that we remember those millions who have died fighting these wars. Each year I wear my poppy… but, like you no doubt, I long for a world without conflict… and, instinctively, I’m in favour of nuclear disarmament. I think the Cuban Missile Crisis of 1962 coloured my thinking about conflict… and has continued to do so for the past 55 years or so.

october/november 2019 books…

Red Snow (Will Dean): My second Dean book featuring Tuva Moodyson, a reporter on the local newspaper in a small Swedish town of Gavrik (the first novel was ‘Dark Pines’). Two bodies: one suicide, one murder. Tuva is about to move south to a new job and has just two weeks to help track down a killer. Gavrik feels a bit like the Swedish equivalent of a ‘Midsomer Murders’ location and Tuva seems to have the gift of helping to solve crimes in the way that ‘Silent Witness’ renders the police force entirely superfluous! Actually, this is another extremely good ‘thriller’ – a real page-turner (all 394 pages of it). I love the Tuva character and thought the plot was intriguing (and clever)… and, blow me down, I’ve just discovered that there’s a third book in the series (Black River)!
Survive The Savage Sea (Dougal Robertson): This book, first published in 1973 (a year after the events took place), is quite remarkable for two reasons: a) it tells the story of how four adults and two children survived in a remote part of the Pacific Ocean in a rubber raft, a 9ft fibreglass dingy, emergency rations, water for 3 days and no maps for 38 days, and b) that one of the adults was my great mate Robin! The Robertson family had lived on an upland dairy farm in North Staffordshire; life was tough, with constant financial struggles. On a whim, they decided to sail around the world (father Dougal had served with the Merchant Marine) in a 43 foot schooner. 22 year-old Robin (economics/statistics graduate with no sailing experience) joined them as an extra crew member/hitchhiker in Panama for the voyage to New Zealand. Sailing west from the Galapagos Islands their schooner was sunk by a pod of some 20 killer whales. With no advance warning (obviously!), they were forced to abandon ship and take ‘refuge’ on their raft, tugging a 9ft dingy and with only salvaged pieces of flotsam to assist them (indeed, after 17 days, they were forced to abandon the raft altogether and to survive in just their 9ft dingy in dangerous, shark-infested waters and at the mercy of the elements!). Their ingenuity was quite extraordinary – they ate raw fish and turtles; drank rainwater or turtle blood; they improvised using what meagre pieces of material and equipment they could utilise; and, somehow, they were able to ‘live’ within their ridiculously confined space and all the relationship tensions that ‘mere survival’ threw at them. They were eventually picked up by a 300 ton Japanese fishing vessel… and, amazingly, they all had indeed survived. Quite, quite extraordinary.
Books v Cigarettes (George Orwell): This book comprises a series of essays written between 1936 and 1947. The book’s title relates to one of the essays relating to Orwell’s dilemma about whether he spends more money on reading or smoking! Other articles/essays cover subjects ranging from the perils of second-hand bookshops; the ‘dubious profession’ of being a book reviewer; freedom of the press (with vague references to what today we might call ‘fake news’); what patriotism really means; and, finally, recollections from his days as a prep-school pupil at St Cyprian’s (“an expensive and snobbish school which was in the process of becoming more snobbish, and, I imagine, more expensive”). Thoughts from another age – but entertaining and uncompromising nevertheless.
The Narrow Road To The Deep North (Matsuo Basho): This book, by Japanese poet and diarist Basho (1644-94), describes a series of travels (on foot, by horseback or boat) designed to strip away the trappings of the material world and bring spiritual enlightenment. These sketches include numerous of his haiku poems – which do much to capture his vision of the transient world around him. In this rather lovely book, his words are sensitively translated by Nobuyuki Yuasa (using a four-line stanza in translating the traditonal three-line haiku form in order to achieve the “natural conversational rhythm” in English rather than a “constrained” three-line stanza)(yes, that might sound ‘over-technical’, but Yuasa’s introduction to the book provides a helpful justification). Amongst other things, it’s a book about the changing seasons and about noticing nature and beauty – for example, he frequently describes making particular journeys at particular times in order to see a full moon rise over an individual mountain. Above all, I found it a very gentle, satisfying book – its pace and rhythm echoing the pace and rhythm of the journeys and matched by the simplicity of the language.    
The Songlines (Bruce Chatwin): First published in 1987, I first read it in 1993 (blimey, 26 years ago… feels like only yesterday!). I decided to re-read it after a fascinating TV documentary by Werner Herzog, inspired by his friend Chatwin’s own journeys. The book’s about the invisible pathways connecting up all over Australia… “ancient tracks made of songs which tell of the creation of the land”. Aboriginals’ religious duty is ritually to travel the land, singing the Ancestors’ songs. I love Chatwin’s writing. He has a gift for stories and description… and for seeing details. He describes a trip to Australia, taken for the express purpose of researching Aboriginal song and its connections to nomadic travel. It includes discussions (frequently hilarious and sometimes sad) with Australians, many of them Indigenous Australians, about ‘Outback’ culture; Aboriginal culture and religion; and the Aboriginal land rights movement. A remarkable book and very good to read it again.