Sunday, 19 December 2010

Snowbound; goodbye Vienna

Wild flurries of this ...




 all of Friday and Saturday 




have led to a large dumping of snow




that has caused travel chaos (various members of our family this weekend have been gridlocked on the M4, stuck twice in thick snow on smaller roads, helped several other people dig their cars out of similar predicaments, and had trains and tubes delayed, diverted and/or cancelled)


 

But worst of all, as Heathrow and Gatwick shut down, our holiday plans have turned to snowdust. At this moment we should be in Vienna, sipping gluhwein at a Christmas market under the spires of Stephansdom, dreaming of coffee and pastries at an elegant Viennese cafe in the morning ... I could weep with frustration. 



All alternative options have been tried and failed. Meanwhile we trudged to the store for provisions à pied, since nobody had the will to either dig out the car or attempt the hazardous drive ...


(images of the gulag?: inmates struggle to the supply store under leaden skies)

and some disconsolately made snow angels in an effort to cheer up



(child lies frozen to the wasted ground)



Yes, I know this is trivial and middle class as misfortunes go, and no doubt I will recover my Christmas spirit at some point, but for the meantime I need to rail loudly at  British  inadequacy in dealing with standard winter weather conditions, and  then perhaps take myself off with a glass or three of my current favourite Portuguese red (Crasto, Douro 2008) and the new book I've been wanting to start (the latest Le Carré) and have a bloody good sulk.



Saturday, 4 December 2010

Gaudeamus igitur ...

They came to London from all over the world to get a postgraduate degree that would make a difference to their lives, open new doors for professional advancement. 






 Many made sacrifices - both financial and in the leaving of wives, husbands and young children far away. All felt the weight of expectations on them and the pressure from family or employers to succeed.




Many struggled with culture shock and  the disillusionment that London is not all about famous sights and grandeur, but also cold, dirty and grim in parts.  The study was hard, demanding and intense. 

But yesterday at this happy ceremony in the Barbican theatre, full of music, pomp and ritual, it was all good, all joyful. 




Colourful crowd of academics waiting to process into the theatre.


They posed with proud family and friends, while their teachers and tutors willingly smiled for endless photographs






A cycle completed,  a job well done, even as we're in the middle of the next cycle - just a pause to remind ourselves what it's all about.






Thursday, 2 December 2010

A Snow Day: Life's little pleasures

Some days just turn out to be unexpected little pleasures. When it started snowing again in earnest around midnight last night, I got an inkling; then, when the call came at 5.30 this morning to say school was closed, I knew for sure that a) Daughter the Younger had the day off and b) I did not, strictly speaking, need to be at work 


After days of battling the commute with yet another tube strike, icy pavements, sub-zero temps and winds direct from Siberia, it was bliss to burrow back under the covers ...



... while the world outside turned silently whiter.






Some trashy, pyjama-ed telly-watching followed (I won't fess up to exactly what, it's too embarrassing), though when I read this a pang of guilt struck as I recalled the pile of essays waiting to be marked.

Tomorrow it's once more unto the breach dear friends (Cry 'God for Harry, England, and Saint George!') - for me at least (Daughter the Y has just had official notice of another snow day, causing widespread Facebooked joy)


At least I won't be doing battle with knee-deep snow and driving blizzards as my Scots lassie has this week in the far north, where pyjama days are unheard of because a) they're made of sterner Calvinist stuff, of course and b) they have newfangled things such as "snowploughs" of which we simpler english types have not yet heard. 

Just for today, I'll cosy up and take life's small reprieves where I can. 








Sunday, 28 November 2010

Of Snow and Turkeys

We woke to a fairy dust of early snow and plenty of ice yesterday morning -






 ... just a taster of what's to come, apparently, as it spreads down from the north of the country, already deep in snow - see here - (my Scots lassie buried in white stuff! - here)


By late afternoon it had vanished, in time for a Thanksgiving celebration with American friends who live in nearby farmland




(And grateful we were that the snow had melted, having been stuck more than once on these steep country lanes)


Lighted windows and open fires invited us inside from below-freezing temperatures.









It's all about abundance, harvest, friends, counting your blessings and indulging in a jolly pig-out ...









And with vegan tofu-turkey -



- and Turkey-Buddha bestowing his blessings 


how could we not feel thankful?

Wednesday, 24 November 2010

An English Education

Today across Britain people gave vent to their anger ...




 ... in mass demonstrations by students, academics, parents and school children


London
  
... over plans for massive cuts to higher education budgets,  the scrapping of government aid to students in the form of the education maintenance allowance,  and tripling university tuition fees ...
 


Sheffield

... by a coalition government comprised of a party that failed to win a clear majority and a party that lied and reneged on its election promise to do none of these things



Westminster


Whitehall

and who appear bent on burying the notion of universally accessible higher education and returning universities to the preserve of the privileged.


Glasgow






 Whitehall






Brighton


 

Bristol





Photo source: www.guardian.co.uk



Thursday, 11 November 2010

José Saramago

Having just finished reading Portuguese author José Saramago’s Seeing (see here), I was moved to brush up on my sketchy knowledge of the writer (and struck by a series of related incidents).



Saramago, who died in June this year, was known for his political activism as much as for being a Nobel prize winning author. As a committed communist and atheist, his views were bound to rub some people up the wrong way, but what comes through most strongly to me in his writing as well as interviews with him (see here and here for example) is humanity and compassion. These are a few of the events of his life and opinions I found interesting …

Born into relative poverty and sent to a technical school to become a mechanic, he was largely self-taught through his own reading in public libraries, acquiring the skills, incredibly, to translate French and German classics and ultimately become deputy editor of Portugal’s daily newspaper Diario de Noticias.


 (http://librairieespagnole.blogspot.com)
With Pilar del Rio, his Spanish journalist wife, who he described as "my home ... I see our relationship as a love story that has no need of being turned into a book"


He was a life-long member of the Communist party, which he joined  at a time when (under the Salazar dictatorship) this was a risky and dangerous business. I liked his description of himself as “a hormonal communist - just as there's a hormone that makes my beard grow every day. I don't make excuses for what communist regimes have done … but … I've found nothing better." Carlos Reis (rector of Portugal’s Open University) felt Saramago “lives his communism mostly as a spiritual condition - philosophical and moral” – a  turn of phrase that might confound his religious critics but makes perfect sense considering the beliefs that drove him …

… on human cruelty: “Man invented cruelty. Animals do not torture each other, but we do. We are the only cruel beings on this planet. These observations lead me to the following question, which I believe is perfectly legitimate: if we are cruel, how can we continue to say that we are rational beings? … This is an ethical issue that I feel must be discussed, and it is for this reason that I am less and less interested in discussing literature.”


 “I am a pessimist, but not so much so that I would shoot myself in the head”
 (http://www.toonpool.com/cartoons/Jose%20Saramago_2355)


… On Blindness (made into a film by Fernando Mereilles in 2008) and Seeing: “Blindness is a metaphor for the blindness of human reason. This is a blindness that permits us, without any conflict, to send a craft to Mars to examine rock formations on that planet while at the same time allowing millions of human beings to starve on this planet. Either we are blind, or we are mad.”


Magritte: The Son of Man http://blogs.monografias.com/sistema-limbico-neurociencias/


Saramago used his raised stature following the Nobel prize to engage more actively in the world political arena. A review of his political blog noted that Saramago aimed to ”cut through the web of "organized lies" surrounding humanity”. He spoke of globalization and the increasing power of multinational corporations as the new totalitarianism. His Blindness was a metaphor for the way richer nations pursue ever greater wealth to the continuing impoverishment of the poor, while the abject failure of democracy to staunch this process was the underlying theme of Seeing.

And as a footnote:

Seeing explores what might happen if voters give up the pretence that the electoral system gives them a choice worth making, by casting blank votes. Events of the last few months in Britain have caused echoes of Saramago’s ‘universal liars’ to ring in my ears. Yesterday, tens of thousands of students demonstrated in London (see here and here), attacking the Conservative party headquarters, against further cuts to higher education and moves to raise fees to unprecedented levels ...

 http://www.timeshighereducation.co.uk/

with the implication that:

“The notion that higher education is open to all, regardless of class, has become a quaint, amusing, historic fiction. The idea that it is possible for children of intelligence and imagination to compete with the offspring of the wealthy on an even vaguely level playing field has finally been buried.”

Here’s what one commenter wrote, after describing his sense of betrayal over the Lib Dems’ reneging on their ‘solemn promise’ in this regard:

“All I can say is that like so many before me – hence the falling turnout at general elections – I have finally come to the conclusion that no politician will actually do what he or she says they will do, however much they may tell you beforehand that they will. The party political system of government is inherently flawed and cannot deliver what voters want of it. I now have a lifetime of political cynicism ahead of me. I only hope that come general election time I can muster the enthusiasm to visit the polling station to scribble "None of the above" on my ballot paper.”



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