Shipping Forecast

"The sky's took a turn since this morning. I think it'll brighten up yet ...," wrote Marriott Edgar (1880-1951).



Hey, why is this ship going backwards?

Caveat Emptor

19th. September 2008

I understand today that the Bush administration is about to contribute vast sums of US tax-payers’ money to some large financial institutions in an attempt to avoid domestic economic melt-down, largely attributed to their struggling real-estate market. Recently the UK government colluded in a similar exercise (similarly motivated?) to save Northern Rock. It is rumoured that our treasury is considering following these precedents.

As I read the news, I discern that financial institutions seem to have nothing to sell but bad debts. Would you buy one? Should they be on Ebay?

The market is supposed to be self-regulating. Adam Smith must be turning in his grave!

JMK might have something to say too:

What more evidence do I need to demonstrate that governments/politicians (I generalise) are motivated by self-interest, money, and are in the pockets of big business establishments?

Consider this: if I purchase a dodgy domestic appliance from a retailer, I may have some protection under trading standards legislation. There may be a manufacturer’s warranty. Understandably, there is a time limit on such guarantees. Beyond those limits, when my dodgy washing machine breaks down, I have no redress. It is my responsibility to finance its repair/replacement/disposal. Hopefully, I will not have bought a dodgy washing machine in the first instance, but if I have, do I expect the government to bail me out?

The debts being traded by the financial institutions have little assurance of being repaid. Mortgage terms are measured in decades. Security is nothing more than the negotiable equity in some one's property. These financiers do this knowing the risks of long term and historically catastrophic variations in the market over which they have little direct control. So, as they fail, they now receive a reassuring message that governments will throw tax-payers’ revenue at them!

Maybe I misunderstand this stinky-poo situation and I acknowledge my good fortune in having minimal immediate personal exposure to banking institutions. But, I pay tax!

There are certain things governments must do: look after the political and material infrastructure of the nation, oversee education, health-care provision, law and order. These things they do, unless you live in Zimbabwe, with some degree of debatable competence.

There are other things that governments historically have not done well at the tax-payers expense:

like wage wars

and RUN BANKS!

..............................................................................................

There, I’ve got that off my chest. For a change I’m being serious. Perhaps I’ll copy this post in a letter to the Guardian.

OH, God, is St. Anley a Guardian reader?!

Reynardine

Eureka!

I have been baffled about the inability to publish audio on blogs. This guy's solved my problem.

• You set up your videocam focused on the record sleeve. If you haven't got that, a totally unrelated subject will suffice. In this case, any passing fox will do!
• Press record on the videocam.
• Quickly, in the immediate vicinity, you play the track on whatever external audio device you are using. (Disinterested fox wanders off at this point; don't follow it!)
• After recording you pursue the usual time-consuming process of downloading from the videocam, edit as you think fit, upload to youtube.
• While all this is happening, take the opportunity to track down the fox and rescue fair maiden from his brightly-shining dentures.
• By the following morning you may have a recording you can embed into your blog.

• If that works, and you're really fortunate, you might find said fair maiden beside you as you wake!
• Relish in the sublime expressions of gratitude demonstrated by fair maiden.

Bear in mind that the above-described activity is probably totally illegal. Whatever you do, do NOT take your dog with you as you track the fox!

It might be wise to disable public viewing on youtube.

Did you like that? It's Sandy Denny again.

Fotheringay

At last! I've been trying to discern the lyrics of this song for years.

Here's my lovely wife ... undressed ...

She declined to pose. I guess this will have to suffice!

The real St. Anley

Here's a stained-glass image of St. Stanislav, the patron saint of Poland; what a fine figure of a man.

Bishop Stanislav was put to death by King Boleslav 'the bold' in 1079. He was canonised in 1253. His shrine is at Skalka, Krakow's oldest shrine. His blood stains are still visible on the wall.


No mention of light bulbs, but note the following:


"Since the 1880s some Polish most illustrious luminaries were posthumously awarded with ceremonial burial in its crypt that is open to the public." [sic] http://www.krakow-info.com/skalka.htm






What more justification do I need for my earlier fiction?

Pearls of wisdom heard at a local Folk Club

Oh dear, I have given myself away; one of my pastimes is to sing folk songs!

Aaarrgh!

At the club I attend the MC regularly documents the musical offerings we hear. See http://cityfolkclub.blogspot.com/.

I would like to chronicle some of the amusing banter between performances. As an afterthought I will include anecdotes/enigmata (new word) from other venues. I will update this posting as-and-when.

Friday, 12th September 2008:
The notice in the Gent's toilet saying "Wet Paint" is NOT an instruction! ... Bill 1.2


Friday, 19th September 2008:
I have a good friend who would prefer to remain anonymous. He is follicularly challenged about his scalp but he proudly sports a luxuriant beard. He recently returned from a holiday in Istanbul. His wife reports that a native was heard to say in perfect English:
"Your head is upside-down, Sir. May I take a photograph?" ... MH

Here's the result:




Tuesday, 23rd September 2008:
I don't hold with these new-fangled compact risks. The one I bought yesterday ruined the stylus of my gramophone! ... Terry Wogan

(Oh, no! Not just a Guardian reader. He listens to Radio 2!)

Friday, 3rd October 2008:
"I can't count up to twenty-one without removing my trousers!" ... DC

Sunday, 5th October 2008:
Heard on BBC1's programme The Story of the Guitar, relating to Shakespearian times when gentlemen awaiting their turn at the barber's were invited to play upon a musical instrument conveniently hanging on the wall:

"She is but a guitern*. Any man may play upon her!"
(* ?spelling)

Idumea

In explanation of, and atonement for, that previous post, the words of the prayer of St. Anley are a PARODY!

I have undertaken appropriate self-mortification.

I came across Idumea on a recording of the Watersons. (Frost and Fire; Topic; 1965.) They attribute the words to Charles Wesley. I question that credit. Certainly, with additional verses, it appears in The Methodist Church Hymnal, but did CW write it?

Subsequently it was used in a sacred-harp arrangement in the soundtrack to the film Cold Mountain. And that title, Idumea? ... It bears no immediately obvious relationship to the lyrics. Is that the title of the tune, or the hymn?

My transcription from the Watersons' recording is as follows:

And am I born to die;
To lay this body down?
And must my trembling spirit fly
Into a world unknown?

A land of deepest shade,
Unpierced by human thought,
The dreary regions of the dead,
Where all things are forgot.

When from this Earth I go,
What will become of me?
Eternal happiness or pain
Shall then my fortune be.

And at the trumpet sound
I from my grave shall rise,
And see the Judge in glory crowned,
And see the flaming skies.

One Biblical reference appears to be Isaiah 34.5: “For my sword shall be bathed in heaven: behold, it shall come down upon Idumea, and upon the people of my curse, to judgment.”

Oh, dear ... !

Here's a Sacred Harp rendition:




Please understand that the introduction is not people vocalising ecstasy in synchronised glossolalia. Sacred Harp singers always begin with a 'fa-so-me-la-re' (in some semblance of order) run-through.

So, what/where is Idumea?

Historically it was a region of Judea.

Look out, here comes Charlton Heston portraying Moses. He's got those blessed stone tablets I told you about!

Oh, no ... wait ... it's Indiana Jones. He's seeking the Holy Grail!

(Don't worry, it's only my good friends, Ken and Mave, visiting Petra.)

She Moved Through the Fair

Here's charming Sinead O'Connor with a captivating performance one of my favourite songs:



I forgive, and understand, Sinead's genger-pronoun substitution. After all, she has lovely teeth!

-----------------------------------------------------------------

I was seriously offended recently by a performance of a parody of this deeply heart-felt work of Padraic Collum.

I have been known to wax lyrical regarding my opinion of parody. See comment for 29th. August at http://cityfolkclub.blogspot.com/

In summary:

• Those who can ... do.
• Those who can't ... do parody.
• Lesser mortals write blogs!

St. Anley prays as follows:

Oh, Lux Eternam, if ever I unwittingly indulge in the satanic activity of PARODY, may I be cast forever into that land of deepest shade, unpierced by human thought ... where I might be forgot.

WHOOPS! ... Who turned out the lights?

Sorry, Reverend Wesley!

Thanks, for your intercession, Charles. I'm still alive!

• Those who can't write blogs are invited to post stupid comments!

Here's my lovely wife (on the left) ... dressing ...

... Lovely crab!

Spare moments

Here's an idea.

I am accused, justifiably, of having too many spare moments.

Would it be possible to market these excess 'moments' on EBay? Of course their condition would have to be described as 'new'. After all, nobody would want my used ones. They should be listed in the category 'ephemera'.

In an earlier life professional time was valued at £1.00 per minute. I can significantly undercut that, but why bother?

Such 'moments' will be supplied in original boxes. A photo of the box will accompany the listing. Bidders will be invited to visualise the contents.

I have yet to decide on the cost of carriage. (How much does a moment weigh?) I must insist on a 'no returns' policy since moments naturally deteriorate during transit. If your moments haven't arrived: you prove it within a very short time-limit!

Have I got a goer here?

Should I go for 'Buy it now'? After all, it'll be gone in a moment!

The Happy Man

Well, now I've got the hang of uploading videos I'll go for it. This strange individual with a concertina turned up in my garden a couple of weeks ago. Does anyone know who he is?

He seems very happy, anyway.

On the effects of seafood

At last I have permission. Here is my wife, arm in arm with a strange woman.

... In my dreams, of course!

Oh, Susannah!

Here is my extraterrestrial friend successfully confusing some stupid people.

Some participants might be available for gigs. Others will gratefully accept money (preferably of the folded variety) to stay away.

King Arthur

"Oi, mate," shouts the guy on the track, "Wait till I find the puncture repair kit!"

Who invented the light bulb?

Here's my self-glorifying rhyme for the day:

Some say it was Swan,
Others argue Edison created incandescence,
Verily, I say unto you,
Blessed St. Anley brought us luminescence!

(Why does spellcheck always try to change 'incandescence' to 'incontinence'?)

Well, who was St. Anley?

St. Anley is the patron saint of illumination. His annual festival of light is celebrated during September in a famous seaside town ... in the north-west of England.

I don't share this secret widely but my middle name is STANLEY! (Aaaaargh!)

Throughout life this has caused significant hostility between my parents and me. I fabricated the existence of St. Anley when I became a purveyor of light bulbs. Here is the limerick of St. Anley:

St. Anley the incandescent

Married a compact fluorescent,

When she turned him on, his filament had gone,

So fertility is sadly deficient.

Notwithstanding this fiction, I was reassured by coming across the 'Pool of St. Stanislav' in Krakow earlier this year. It is said that St. Stanislav's water has healing properties. What price should I put on the contents of MY bladder, then?

Here he is below:

His outflow is above. (I think he needs attention to his prostate.)

The water didn't taste too good. I didn't die painlessly and my paranoid tendencies persisted. In the end I opted for more traditional remedies:



If you look carefully in the foreground of this picture you will discern a glass of Polish beer. The background was completely (and delightfully) accidental. I must return to this scene and get the focusing right!

Lilla Veneda

I would post a photograph of my lovely wife, but she won't let me. Instead I'll show you a picture of my fantasy woman. I stumbled across her in Poland this year.

She's a hard woman.

"Touch my breasts and you're dead!" said Lilla.

My wife won't let me do that either!

Introduction

Greetings, bloggers, this is me (I?) posing as an unlikely creature in the middle of a field of lavender somewhere near where I live.

Can you see me yet? I'm in the middle.

"Over here!" I cry.

My insignificant being goes unheard and, lest my memory is lost for all time, I've created a 'blog'!

"What's the theme?" a friend asked. Well, nothing really, just a diary/scrapbook of disordered thoughts captured during ephemeral intervals of consciousness.