meeting up…

Life is full of coincidences. When I was volunteering with the Iona Community last summer, Becki Cox was the resident staff member “in charge” of all the volunteers (I think “staffing administrator” was her job title?). She’d noticed that I’d made reference to St Mary’s church, Thame in my application form. Her family had been church members there for a short time when she was “very young”(!) and so mentioned this in our first conversation on Iona. Well, of course, memories came rushing back… her parents, Sheila (singing group plus much, much more) and Stephen (star member of the church cricket team etc) and their twins, Andy and Chris (even smaller than Becki!).

At long last – and entirely due to Becki’s determination and organising capabilities - Moira+I met Sheila, Becki and Stephen for lunch at Bordeaux Quay, Bristol yesterday. We hadn’t seen Becki for 10 months, but it had been TWENTY years since we’d seen Sheila and Stephen!! And yet, strangely, thanks to the wonders of facebook (Stephen and Becki have been our FB friends since last summer – Sheila has decided to resist such social media temptations!), it didn’t seem like 20 years at all.
And the other (quite amazing) coincidence is that one of our old college friends, John Tremlett – he and I shared a house together for two years – is also a very good friend of the Cox family (he taught Becki to drive and his daughter and Becki were great school friends etc)… again, it was only through facebook that this fact “emerged”!
Anyway, Moira+I had an absolutely lovely time meeting up with them yesterday and, hopefully, it’ll be much less than twenty years before we get together again!
Photo: Sheila, Moira, Stephen, Becki and me in the Bristol sunshine (in front of Hannah’s harbourside banner).

martin simpson at colston hall

Last night was my SECOND concert at Colston Hall in less than a week. Don’t worry, this doesn’t mark a new extravagant lifestyle or sudden wealth… simply how it turned out when I booked three concerts some months ago.

Martin Simpson IS an amazing musician – probably the best (non-classical) guitarist I’ve ever seen. I was sitting in the second row last night and became completely mesmerised by watching his right hand as he played the instrument (am I really that sad?)… he seemed to use ALL his fingers – and I don’t mean just “strumming”!
He played for a total of two hours in two sets. He’d lived in America (California and New Orleans) for a number of years and the first set included a fair amount of “American folk” (which isn’t really my cup-of-tea); the second set included much more familiar “traditional English” songs and was simply stunning.
A musical genius and a complete master of his craft.
PS: This might seem a slightly strange observation, but I noticed that probably 75% of the audience was male (much higher than normal, in my experience). Why was this, I wonder? Is guitar-playing a particularly “bloke” thing? Just asking!

april 2013 books

More book stuff:

About Looking (John Berger): I bought this in the Tate St Ives bookshop. I’ve always been a firm believer in the need for us all to “learn to see” (ie. we often “look”, but don’t always “see”) and so this book seemed essential reading for me. Berger explores our role as observers to reveal new layers of meaning in what we see. They’re taken from various articles Berger wrote in the 1960s/70s; some of them remain rather obscure to me (despite Google’s help!), but I read others (eg. those relating to Millet, Lowry, Francis Bacon, Turner and Rodin) with absolute fascination and certainly saw lots of things afresh.
Stag’s Leap (Sharon Olds): I’ve been reading more poetry over recent years and opened the book on a whim on one of my pleasurable visits to Foyles bookshop. I was immediately struck by Olds’ writing style and the poignancy of her subject. It’s a book of 49 poems (I counted them!) after her husband of more than 30 years had “left her for another woman”. They’re incredibly honest reflections that extend well beyond “confessional”; they’re full of intimacy and sexual passion. The book was clearly written out of pain and as a way of counselling herself in coming to terms with her new situation. I was left with two overriding thoughts: a) her former husband will probably feel as if he’s being continually stalked and hung out to dry and b) that, surely, 49 poems is a bit excessive and she needs to move on! It is a quite stunning book though.   
A Book of Silence (Sara Maitland): After Maitland’s marriage ended in the 1990s, she took to living alone and, around the same time, began a long, growing, and intensely examined relationship with silence. She subsequently restored a tiny, dilapidated former-shepherd’s house into her own home in rural south-west Scotland. She tries to live in as much silence as is possible (which is more difficult than it might sound). It's not complete isolation - although she has no near neighbours, she has the internet and a car - but she is aiming for a prayerful life of "80% silence". It’s a fascinating journey and an honest, reflective and rather beautiful book.
The Revolt of the Pendulum: Essays 2005-2008 (Clive James): I absolutely love James’s writing – he has a wonderful, lyrical, snappy way with words; he’s articulate, intelligent and there’s an amazing breadth to his knowledge and interests (from poetry, art, literature and culture to films, music, politics and motor sports). He’s also very funny when he needs to be. This is a book of fairly recent essays. These reminded me, amongst other things, how much I had loved Denis Healey’s autobiography; how he hates poor grammar(!); what a fierce critic he can be when roused and, as morbid as this might sound, I particularly liked his obituaries (“Absent Friends”). According to recent newspaper reports, the irony is that he himself now doesn’t have long to live - he’s “losing his two-year struggle with leukaemia”. I for one will miss him dearly – thank goodness there’s so much of his writing that I’ve still to read.
The Box (Gunter Grass): I found this a very strange book. It’s essentially an autobiographical essay – although the book jacket refers to it as a “daring work of fiction”. Grass writes in the voices of his eight children as they recall memories (often contradictory) of their childhoods. “The Box” refers to an old-fashioned Agfa box camera used by Grass’s assistant, Marie (a long-time family friend, perhaps even a lover?), and its snapshots used to provide Grass with for ideas for his work. I found the book confusing, annoying and egoistic (and poorly translated?). Sorry!

king creosote: legless again (almost)…

The last time I saw King Creosote (+Jon Hopkins) perform was last May in the tiny library on Iona. It was a memorable “gig” – for the general hilarity, if not the precise musical accomplishment (they’d been drinking triple G+Ts in the Argyll Hotel all afternoon!). I went to see/hear him again last night at Colston Hall and he was almost legless again – this time, he walked on stage on crutches (he’d broken his ankle)!

Anyway, last night’s concert was absolutely excellent. I just love his voice and his (often) melancholic and lyrical song-writing… and he’s also very funny.
A full house and a great evening.
PS: he wasn’t “legless” at the Iona concert – just “very merry”… but, when I chatted to him last night, he admitted they’d got into a “bit of trouble” (with the hotel?) as a result!
PPS: last night he was drinking water…

the count of monte cristo at the brewery theatre

Somewhat ridiculously, last night was the first time Moira+I had been to see a performance at the Brewery Theatre in North Street, Bristol (opened by the Tobacco Factory Theatre in 2009). On the face of it, the idea of a small travelling company of three actors rendering Alexandre Dumas’s famous book (all 117 chapters!) into a credible theatrical performance is ambitious, to put it mildly.

We need not have worried.
Andy Burden’s production (he transcribed, edited and adapted the book and directed the play) proved to be a complete delight. The three talented actors (Alex Dunbar, Kali Hughes and Dan Winter) play seventeen parts between them - utilising simple props and costumes - and are excellent. There’s something incredibly exciting about theatre being performed in a small, intimate space – where the audience is taken on a fast-moving journey and where imagination, directness and honesty are conveyed with such appealing, believable conviction.
I loved it!

another stunning, new education policy…

Michael Gove’s been at it again (surely not?)…

This time it’s about “longer school day and shorter holidays”.
Apparently, according to education guru Gove, our schools need to adopt this approach because it’s the way they do it in south-east Asia.
Sadly, I think the real reasons he wants to introduce this policy are that, magically, a) they mirror the long-hours culture of the workplace (oh, excellent!); b) they keep children at school (or should that be “child-minding” centre?) for longer and this will be less inconvenient for busy working parents; and c) he doesn’t like teachers.
Perhaps he should introduce compulsory boarding school for ALL children instead?
I find his “thinking” SO wrong that it’s almost funny – except that he’s dealing with children’s and families’ lives here.
It would be very easy (ie. about as easy as Gove finds introducing education policies?) to provide a lengthy list of objections to the education secretary’s latest “initiative”. I’m not even going to try, but I would offer the following brief thoughts:
1.       The concept of “quality family time” has clearly been kicked into touch by Gove (where would families find the time for this, given Gove’s new timetable?).
2.       After-school clubs are a very important way for children to get to enjoy important “non-lesson” activities outside the curriculum… and these include sports, music, language, science, IT, technology, art, drama, dance (actually, the list is HUGE). If you extended the school day, all these would be lost. How else would school theatrical productions, sports matches, concerts and the like happen? Answer: they wouldn’t – because there wouldn’t be time available.
3.       Everyone knows that teachers have it INCREDIBLY easy (of course!) and have far too much time on their hands. Clearly, they don’t need to prepare any of their lessons in advance or mark homework or meet parents… and, on top of all that, they just love dealing with badly misbehaving children – so a couple of extra lessons will come as a godsend. Actually, come to think of it, lots of the behavioural problems can be put down to poor parenting so, if children spend LESS time with their parents, and more time at school, then things are bound to improve massively!
Gosh, that Mr Gove is a very, very clever man… quite brilliant.
I could go on…

two gentlemen of verona

For the first time in a long time, I came away from a performance at the wonderful Tobacco Factory Theatre feeling a little disappointed. Maybe it was because it’s not one of Shakespeare’s best plays? Maybe I’d been spoilt by seeing so many RSC productions? Maybe it was my mood on the night?

I really don’t know.
Moira+I think we’ve only seen this play performed once before… in Edinburgh, several years ago – and so, perhaps, the play’s comparative unfamiliarity (to me) was partly to “blame”?
Don’t get me wrong… the acting, the costumes, the design and the music were all good. But, sadly, no aspect of last night’s performance struck me as being outstanding… I was well entertained, but I wasn’t transformed by any theatrical “magic” – as I so often am.
However, it seems that I might be in a minority… The Independent has given the play a 4-star review!

a late quartet

Another cheap Wednesday afternoon’s cinema at the Watershed!

This time, it was to see Yaron Zilberman’s directing debut in “A Late Quartet” featuring four wonderful, highly-talented actors: Christopher Walken, Catherine Keener, Mark Ivanir and Philip Seymour Hoffman.
The film features the Fugue String Quartet, an internationally acclaimed musical group based in New York, who have been playing around the world for past 25 years. Their founder, brilliantly played by Christopher Walken (cellist) is diagnosed with the early signs of Parkinson’s disease (I’m not really giving the game away here, I promise) and this throws the quartet into a somewhat confused self-questioning group, with an uncertain future. That’s when the film starts to explore them as individuals as well as part of a celebrated group of musicians.
It’s a beautiful, subtle, moving and intelligent film (and the music is rather good too!) AND New York looks stunning in the winter snow. Although the actors are clearly not professional musicians, the film was apparently made without “hand doubles” for the vast majority of “takes” – I have to say, it’s all pretty convincing to my untutored eyes.
I loved the film and would highly recommend it.
PS: Please note: this is NOT Dustin Hoffman’s film “Quartet:, this IS “A Late Quartet” starring (amongst others) Philip Seymour Hoffman! Confused? Don’t worry, rest assured, THIS is the one you should definitely see!…

legacy

I’ve been trying to avoid all the wall-to-wall media frenzy following Lady Thatcher’s death.

It’s obviously impossible to do so… but, don’t worry, I’m NOT going to list all my pet grievances (or even one or two positives) about the woman!
However, I have been reflecting on the hugely differing political legacies that war provided for both Margaret Thatcher and Tony Blair.
Mrs T decided to embark on the Falkland’s War in 1982 when her popularity was at an all-time low. I opposed the war. To this day, I maintain that it was nothing more than jingoistic opportunity to re-assert illusions of the “old empire”. Despite the problems of fighting a war such a long way from home (and the strong opposition from the US), there was never any real chance of Britain “losing”. I absolutely hated the whole affair.
Sadly, I was in a minority.
Incredibly (to me), the public at large lapped it up. Mrs T’s popularity soared and she went on to win a resounding victory at the next general Election in 1983. I personally found the entire business completely sickening but, for many people, the “Falkland’s Factor” was the political making of Mrs Thatcher.
In contrast, Blair’s legacy of the Iraq War in 2003 (alongside Bush junior) is almost entirely negative - certainly from a UK viewpoint at least. The comparatively slow build-up - with Saddam being given warnings about all those “Weapons of Mass Destruction” - gave the British public time to voice their opinions (eg. a million people, including me, took to London’s streets in the largest political demonstration in the city’s history). Although he went on to win a third general election victory in 2005, his majority was much-reduced majority and he was severely tainted.
People never quite trusted the man after that (and I don't really blame them).   
With arrangements being made for Lady Thatcher’s “ceremonial” funeral – with full military honours, would you believe(!) – next Wednesday, I think the Tories will be loving all the attention their beloved former leader will have given them over the next week or so: parliament is being recalled (ridiculously in my opinion – although one might question why they’re in recess at all?) so it can “show its respect”; on the day of her funeral, streets will be cleared of traffic and the coffin processed from Westminster to St Paul’s Cathedral.
It’ll be rather like a non-stop party political broadcast for them.
Call me when it's all over!

in the house

Went with Alan+Gareth to see this psychological Francois Ozon film yesterday afternoon. At times, it felt like watching a Woody Allen movie. High school teacher Germain (very well played by Fabrice Luchini) is bored by his job and depressed by the lack of imagination (and effort!) shown by his French literature students… but encouraged by the creative-writing assignments of one talented 16-year-old pupil who writes about his attempts to wheedle his way into the middle-class home of a classmate. It becomes a matter of rather uncomfortable classroom voyeurism (with comic elements)… the boy’s fascination with his classmates beautiful mother (Esther, played by Emmanuelle Seigner)… and, ultimately, affects Germain’s own job and marriage (he’s married to Kirsten Scott Thomas!).

In the end, I really didn’t know what to make of it… and came away feeling ultimately disappointed.

the spirit of '45

I went to the Watershed yesterday afternoon to see this Ken Loach film/documentary about post-war Britain. Unsurprisingly with Loach, the film mirrored his socialist views and was an impassioned call for a return to some of the vision, values and aspirations of 60+ years ago. It highlighted the ambition and energy within the country in the mid-40s and beyond – DESPITE the lack of finance and investment available immediately after the war (which makes our current predicament seem almost seem mild by comparison).

The film contrasted the 1945 “gains” with the “individual greed” of the Thatcher era (and beyond). Yes, you might describe it as being a blatantly biased representation but, nevertheless, it came across as a very sobering history lesson (but I bet Michael Gove won’t be advocating its introduction within the history syllabus!).
Afternoon matinee showings at the Watershed are usually only sparsely attended but, yesterday, there were probably 40 people there (admittedly, most of them were old codgers like me… or even older!) and, very usually, the audience applauded at the end of the film!
After the systematic dismantling of the nationalised industries by Thatcher in the 1980s (which were decaying through lack of investment and political will), Loach’s film is a rallying call to protect the one remaining triumph of Attlee’s Labour government, the NHS.
Sadly, I think it might already be too late…

coincidences (and awareness)…

I’ve just started re-reading Julian Barnes’s “The Sense of an Ending” in advance of our next Book Group meeting. It’s strange how these things work out but, within less than 24 hours of starting it, I noticed an article in last Sunday’s Observer about his forthcoming book “Levels of Life”. It’s partly autobiographical and deals with life following the death of his wife, literary agent Pat Kavanagh (they were married for 30 years), who was diagnosed with a brain tumour in 2008 and died within 37 days. I’m afraid I had never even heard of her, but I HAD noticed that “The Sense of an Ending” had been dedicated to “Pat”. Even stranger, only the previous day, I had bought a copy of Clive James’s book “The Revolt of the Pendulum” (essays 2005-2008) and had seen - I don’t know why, but I often do note book dedications – that he’d dedicated it to “the memory of Pat Kavanagh”. It turns out that she was his literary agent too.

I know it’s nothing, but I’m aware that this sort of thing (ie. coming across Pat Kavanagh’s name THREE times in less than 24 hours) seems to be happening to me more and more over recent years. Am I becoming more observant in my old age? Almost certainly not.
I’ve always been pretty good at “looking AND seeing” things from a photographic, architectural or artistic perspective, but I’m also aware of my apparent (lifelong?) inability to absorb details from the written page. It makes me think that such coincidences probably happen all the time and I just haven’t spotted them before?
Perhaps it’s just something to do with “having time to notice” such things?

“drawn” exhibition at the RWA

Blimey!

It was perhaps appropriate that daughter Ruth accompanied me to last night’s private view at the Royal West of England Academy (RWA) as she was the person who effectively got me drawing again on a regular basis - as the instigator of the Iona Postcard Project last May/June (note: we’d invited great friends Ros+Eric from Thame for the weekend, so Moira was otherwise engaged).
I decided to enter a piece comprising eighteen café drawings from my sketchbook for the RWA’s “Drawn” exhibition and it's all been a bit of a roller-coaster. Ruth’s husband Stu kindly delivered the framed work last Friday 15 March (while we were on holiday); judging took place on Sunday; a couple of days later, I was notified that it had been accepted; and last night was the private view!
I was delighted to have been included amongst the 201 works from 156 artists (over 700 pieces were submitted) and was rendered almost speechless when I found that someone had actually bought it!! As if this wasn’t enough, I later discovered that I’d even been mentioned in the RWA’s press release (“Steve Broadway's work Cafe Mornings: sketchbook extracts shows quiet observations of cafe scenes drawn in black pen, embodying the lines of an architect but through the eyes of an artist”)!
The exhibition runs from today, 23 March, until 2 June.
I appreciate that all this is of minor significance when compared with artists who do this sort of thing week after week but, for me, it’s been a new and very pleasant experience!   
Photo: the evidence – my picture and the red dot!
PS: When I went to check who had purchased my drawing, the woman leading the front of house team congratulated me (as far as I could tell there had had only been one other piece sold at the time!) and said: “Steve, you used to be a teacher at Norton Hill School didn’t you?”!! She (Rose) had apparently been a student during my time there (even if I didn’t actually “teach”)… I hadn’t recognised her, but it was a lovely coincidence and very nice that she’d remembered me. 
Note: I’d also submitted my “Postcards from Iona” piece but, unfortunately, this hadn’t been selected. Shame!

beyond the hills

Blimey!

Having read the Watershed’s blurb in advance, I realised that this was not exactly going to be a happy, feel-good film.
Indeed it wasn’t.
Directed by Cristian Mungiu, this drama is centred on the friendship between two women who grew up together in a Romanian orphanage. One of them (Voichita) became an orthodox nun and the other (Alina) left to make a life for herself in Germany; Alina returns to “rescue” her friend (with whom she enjoyed a youthful relationship). But Voichita’s new love is God and she’ll have none of it. Alina ends up living (albeit on a short-term basis) in the monastery and is subjected to a bizarre exorcism by the unyielding priest.
It’s an eerie, stark, unrelenting tale (actually based on a true story from 2005). On the one hand it paints a picture of a failing Romanian Orthodox Church (and perhaps the collapse of religion itself?)… but, on the other, it underlines the bureaucratic shortcomings/complicity/attitude of the country’s health service (eg. for releasing a disturbed young woman into the nuns’ care).
It’s a long, somewhat depressing, but nevertheless impressive and powerful film… if only the bloke in front of me could have managed to stay awake to see it!

st ives

High winds, wild seas, colours, space, lack of crowds, bright sunshine and dramatic clouds, Tate Café, art, time, comfort, gentle routine, conversation, reading, walking, drawing, eating and drinking… just a few of the things Moira+I enjoyed during our stay in one of our favourite places.

Ruth, Stu, Iris+Rosa joined us for a couple of days at the start of the week – and we all enjoyed walking along beaches and watching wild seas.
We love being in St Ives when, by and large, it’s empty of other “tourists”. The other mainstays at this time of year seem to be teams and teams of builders (and their vans!) – undertaking property improvements and repairs. Perhaps that’s the one slight, inevitable regret – the fact that so few people actually live in St Ives these days (although Moira did meet someone!) and that the vast majority of properties are now holiday homes.
Having said that, we have clearly benefitted from this fact over SEVERAL years and, this year, our time at Valentine Cottage (owned by friends Matt+Pippa) was a complete delight!
An important of my diary routine was arriving at the Tate Café just as it opened (at 10am) and sitting at the window table overlooking Porthmeor Beach – drinking coffee and looking out over turquoise seas, white sand… and getting on the internet! Enough said.
Another special time in a special place.

march 2013 books

More book stuff:

Who Will Run The Frog Hospital? (Lorrie Moore): It’s a book about adolescence and middle age through the eyes of a girl/woman from upstate New York. This is the first book I’ve read by Lorrie Moore and found her writing style both engaging and amusing… but, ultimately, I was a little disappointed.   
The Lemur (Benjamin Black aka John Banville): Set in present-day New York, this short book tells of John Glass - a one-time crusading journalist, now “burnt-out” - who is asked to write a biography of his rich, ex-CIA, father-in-law. “The Lemur” is the nickname Glass gives to a rather strange-looking man he interviews as a possible research assistant. It’s an easy-read “thriller” which, for me, didn’t quite live up to its early promise.
Bulldog Drummond (Sapper/HC McNeile): This is a ridiculously-dated, crime thriller (written, as it was, in 1920) which starts off with our hero placing this newspaper advert: “Demobilised officer, finding peace incredibly tedious, would welcome diversion. Legitimate, if possible, but crime, if of comparatively humorous description, no objection. Excitement essential…” – you get the sort of thing! Ian Fleming apparently confessed that Bond was “Bulldog Drummond from the waist up”! While you’re reading, you sense the Dick Barton theme tune is constantly playing in the background… easy, non-challenging, but enjoyable, stuff.
The Things He Carried (Stephen Cottrell): Our Ithaca Lent study book. I’m afraid that, although I found some of the book extremely helpful and thought-provoking, much of it left me underwhelmed… rather like his “Do Nothing – Christmas Is Coming” book we read for Advent.
The Unlikely Pilgrimage of Harold Fry (Rachel Joyce): I absolutely loved this book. It’s about a recently-retired, married man (Harold) who sets off, with his wife hoovering upstairs, to post a letter to a former work colleague at the other end of the country who is dying of cancer… he decides, on the spur of the moment, to continue walking (without hiking boots, map, compass, waterproof or mobile phone) to visit his friend in Berwick in order to “save her life”. The journey is both physical and metaphorical. It’s about loss and regret; it’s about misunderstandings and relationships; it’s about romance and loneliness… but it’s about simple pleasures, caring, kindness, encouragement and joy. You REALLY need to read this book!  

 

four go lunching in oxford…

I got together with three of my very good golfing mates (Steve, Bob and Pete) for lunch in Oxford yesterday. Usually, the four of us would be meeting up on a golf course but, with my hip issues ruling this out (hopefully just in the short-/medium-term), it made a lovely change to relax around a lunch table at The Red Lion, Gloucester Green to enjoy putting the world to rights over the odd glass (we’d all travelled by public transport!).

Everyone was in very good form and we did laugh an awful lot!
It was such a beautiful, sunny day that I also managed to fit in a stroll (well, more accurately, a hobble!) around Christchurch Meadow beforehand. Beautiful.
A VERY good day with some brilliant friends.
Photo: Steve, me, Pete and Bob (I really like this photograph because it looks as though I’m just drinking bottled water... which, of course, I was!).

credible opposition?

As far as the Tories (and David Cameron!) are concerned, George Osborne needs the forthcoming budget to work wonders for the party. After their Eastleigh by-election embarrassment, Moody’s recent removal of the UK’s AAA status and the latest fears of a triple-dip recession (following a surprise fall in factory output yesterday, which sent the pound tumbling below $1.50 for the first time in more than two years), Osborne will no doubt address his parliamentary colleagues with a supreme confidence that will placate his team mates… you know the sort of thing - providing the odd nugget of good news for the rich and (of course) smug justification of ALL his economic measures.

My long-standing concern is that, at a time when government policies should be being chastised by an effective political opposition, it’s the government who seems to be “winning” most of the political arguments.
I’ve previously expressed my concerns and disappointment over Ed Milliband’s Labour Party leadership… and there has certainly been nothing over recent weeks to make me change my mind. By the same token, the shadow chancellor, Ed Balls, SHOULD be having field day every week, but instead – despite his intellect and his confrontational, big-boy bullying image – he has become something of an embarrassment… scoring a succession of own goals instead of hat-tricks.
I think Alistair Darling was very unfairly criticised as Chancellor of the Exchequer in Gordon Brown’s Labour government and there have certainly been times over the past couple of years when I’ve yearned for his articulate, commonsense reasoning in parliamentary economic debates. So it was very interesting to read Marina Hyde’s article in the morning’s Guardian which expressed the view: “If only Ed Miliband would dump Ed Balls and recast Alistair Darling”.
If only… indeed!

nail in the coffin...

In March last year, I wrote a blogpost expressing my anger and frustration at what I perceived as the impending demise of the NHS as we knew it… thanks to the conservative government’s ideology (pause… I’d REALLY like you to read it because I think conveys the lunacy and urgency of the situation!) . On 1 April (an ironically-appropriate date if ever there was one”), the government’s proposed secondary legislation (under section 75 of the Health+Social Care Act) will virtually force EVERY part of the English NHS to be opened up to the private sector to bid for its contracts.

Today’s Telegraph newspaper published a letter from more than 1,000 doctors and health-care workers calling on MPs to force a debate and vote down the proposal.
Critics have hailed the proposed legislation is a blueprint for privatisation and goes against government assurances.
Why on earth aren’t more people jumping up and down about this?
The changes will take effect and only then will some people realise their devastating consequences. The situation will end up rather like the privatisation of British Rail or the sale of Public Utilities – it will be very difficult/virtually impossible and very expensive to turn back the clock.
I urge you to sign every petition you can on the subject before it’s too late… politicians need to know how the majority of the population feels about the subject.  

song for marion

“Everything that follows is as predictable, dreary and proverbial as the weather in Manchester”.

I don’t usually read reviews before seeing a film but, today, I did and this was the final sentence of Philip French’s review in the Guardian.
Not exactly encouraging!
I seem to be on a bit of a roll as far as “senior” films are concerned – my previous two being “Amour” and “Quartet”! This film, directed by Paul Andrew Williams, starred Vanessa Redgrave as a terminally ill wife, who embraces life as a member of the local community choir and, by way of contrast, Terence Stamp as a grumpy old man fixed in his routines. There were less than 20 of us in the audience this afternoon at the Watershed – most of them were women who were perhaps keen to see how their young 1960s heartthrob (Stamp!) had stood the test of time. Actually, the answer is quite well, I think!
As it happens, Moira is a member of a local community (fortunately WITHOUT any life-threatening illness) and I am often referred to – COMPLETELY unfairly in my view(!) – as a grumpy old man… so, at times, it felt a little close to home!
It’s predictably sentimental and “heartwarming” (even joyous and charming on occasions) – despite being predictable and somewhat patronising at the same time.
Another one of those rainy Sunday afternoon DVD films.