Longrider

I see that Norman Tebbit is raising the spectre of his cricket test a decade after first proposing it. I found the concept quaint the first time around and no less so now. The idea being that someone who comes to this country to live should demonstrate their “Britishness” by supporting the national cricket team of their adopted country rather than the national team of the nation they have left behind. Not only is this over simplistic; as someone who was born here and lived my whole life here, I would fail the test. I do not support any of the national sporting teams and have no plans to; it is also missing a very big point about what constitutes “Britishness”.

The problem is one of defining “Britishness”. The archetypal Englishman is a product of his ancestry. His genes contain a hotch potch of DNA from centuries of immigrants who settled here whether through invasion, marriage or simply economic migration. Ours is a country of immigrants and the true Englishman is the final outcome. So what is Britishness? Celt, Roman, Viking, Saxon, Norman or more recent additions to the gene pool from Asia and Africa?

It is arguable that immigrants should seek to integrate into the indigenous population. While the first generation may not readily do so, successive generations will and will bring with them their own contribution to the rich fabric of society. Certainly it is a fair point to argue that people who make their homes here should have some empathy with the country and its people. If not, why come here? I would not be planning to make my home in France if I hated the French and their way of life. However, when sitting around the kitchen table, it is unlikely that my wife and I will be conversing in French.

I don’t give a flying fig whether or not people support the Indian national cricket team, the Pakistani team or the English one; it really doesn’t matter. The movement of labour is as necessary for our economic survival as is the movement of goods; a point those who rail against economic migrants conveniently choose to forget. Indeed, we are encouraged to deride and deplore economic migration. Whether migrants display British qualities is neither here nor there; what matters is that they are useful members of our society. If they come here to make homes and work, then they fulfill that requirement - and that, surely is enough.
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Bearing in mind that readership of these blogs is international, I try to be careful with my words. I am aware that certain phrases or words may trigger alarm bells in those countries that control their citizens’ access to the web. One of those countries is China. I am now informed that the Chinese government blocks Blog-City. So, my careful avoidance of criticism to avoid unnecessary blocking was wasted - of course, given that this is a blog site with numerous blogs by people saying all sorts of things that may offend obsessive government agencies, my contribution is a mere grain of sand in the Sahara.

Well, I can now feel free to criticize. One day, hopefully, the Chinese people will finish what was started in 1989 in Tainanmen Square. The Chinese government may choose to put behind them the barbarous oppression that led to the wicked massacre on that day - the rest of us have not. What we see today is just another example of the control freakery that governments like to impose upon their citizens. Totalitarian governments who do not have to face an electorate every few years do not concern themselves unduly about a possible backlash. However, there comes a time when the people decide differently. The Chinese tried once. They will again; one day. Unfortunately, an elected government is no guarantee that they will be free of excessive government interference in their lives or control over their right to freedom of expression and information - our elected government has displayed similar symptoms.

If you value freedom and believe that it is a necessary human right, then constant vigilance is the price we pay. And saying nothing infers complicit approval.

After a long night drive, we are back in Blighty. Each trip to L’Oustal becomes more of a wrench when we have to leave, as each time it becomes a little more of our home - as, indeed, one day it will be.

This time of the year is bittersweet for me; it is still late summer, yet August wanes into September; a hybrid month, neither summer nor autumn. The chill snap and heavy dew of morning are sharp reminders of the winter to come yet the afternoons are gentle and warm. It is this time of the year that I mourn the passing of summer and dread the cold dark days of winter to come. Yet, still, in those last throes of the dying summer, the landscape presents its latent beauty in the glorious morning light that only occurs at this time of the year. For it is now that those early mists rise from the fields and hedgerows to catch the golden light of the rising sun that bathes the buildings on the horizon with a gentle bronze gold colour.

That’s why I just had to stop and take this picture.

“That will be a simple little job.”

Famous last words…

What should have been a simple enough job was the fitting of a hand basin in the toilet. Straightforward indeed; connect the waste pipe into the existing waste pipe running down behind the toilet and take a cold water inlet from the cistern inlet. Simple.

Except…

The basin came with a mixer tap - so it needed both hot and cold inlets. Okay, plan B. I could drill into the bathroom next door and run from the basin inlets there. I worked out the shortest pipe run and measured everything up. I fitted the hand basin and ran the waste pipe down to the old one half plastered into the wall. It was when I cut out the old one that I realised that while everywhere else in the house had 32mm pipes, this one was 40mm. My careful measurements were upset by the pipe being half buried in plaster. A quick trip to Lodève to get the necessary fittings and adaptors was complicated by an accident earlier in the day on the A75. In order to avoid this I took the old road which while more interesting, takes longer.

The waste pipe completed, I set about drilling the holes for the water inlets. Unfortunately, I couldn’t fit the drill into the planned gap. Never mind, plan C. I simply drilled further along the wall. However, this meant another two elbow joints, which meant another trip into Lodève. With everything soldered up, I was ready to cut the water pipes and disconnect the taps in the bathroom hand basin. The hot tap came off easily enough. I couldn’t get the cold tap off completely, so I left it in situ while I fitted flexi pipes onto my T junctions. Excellent. Time to switch on the water. A face full of water later, I switched it off again. I tried tightening the cold tap, but it was tight. Suspecting the washer was at fault, I took the joint off and sure enough, it needed a new washer, which meant another trip to Lodève.

A new washer failed to seal the joint. I couldn’t get the tap off because the nylon nut seized tight at the same point as the pipe joint. The thread was clearly damaged. So new taps were in order. As it was now eight o’clock in the evening, we had to manage with the water turned off until the following day.

The local bricolage didn’t have the old style taps, so I had to buy modern mixer taps. Okay, no problem, plan D.

Why is is that when I attempt simple plumbing jobs, they are anything but simple and I always seem to uncover gremlins left by the previous occupants?

Having finally sorted the problem, we now have a hand basin in the toilet and the bathroom and they both work without any leaks. I decided it was time to indulge in a bit of photography - and came across this chap climbing the steps to the house.

It is a truism that people often do not explore their local area. So, with my sister and nephew staying with us while in France, we took the opportunity to do a little grockling* ourselves and show them about. The Grotte De Labeil is but a few minutes drive from our house so we decided it was worth a visit. This part of the Languedoc is riddled with natural caves bristling with stalagmites and stalactites. The mineral deposits in the rocks contribute to colourful formations. Many of these are open to visitors for a few euros and are worth the trip. We were also plied with cheese and wine after the tour - and, naturally, we were tempted by a nice little Roquefort…

Tomorrow, it’s back to the plumbing…

* Grockling: West Country slang for sightseeing. Not usually a complimentary term.

Today I did another temporary driving job. This time it involved delivering frozen “meals on wheels” to the elderly. It was an interesting experience. While the wages were still pitifully low for the work, there was something rewarding about the overall experience. One thing that struck me was that these folk were genuinely pleased to see me; yet I was a complete stranger. They invited me into their homes - to be sure, it was so that I would unpack the provisions and put them in the freezer for them, but there was good natured chatter going on at the same time and a little of me suspected that this was all part of the exercise.

What really struck me was the level of politeness. This is a generation that has not forgotten good manners. True, this does not mean that everyone else is rude as such, just that time taken to be polite is time wasted. These people have the time and the inclination, I guess and it was an uplifting experience. I felt that I didn’t just do a job today; I did something worthwhile and a little light was spread into my life and I hope that I spread a little into the lives whose paths I crossed.

And, of course there was the inevitable exchange:

“Do you know how old I am?”

“No.”

“I’m ninety four, you know…”

There’s no answer to that…

What is it about fora?

I started visiting them early on when they were little more than sequential discussions and you had to scroll down the page to see the threads. Indeed, the Men’s Longhair Hyperboard clings doggedly to this format. Since the advent of PHP and Invision the format offers much more scope for splitting the forum into discrete sections. I like it providing it is well done. What bothers me, though is online behaviour.

Moderation Policies

Every board needs them; necessary evil that they are. Unfortunately they bring with them cries of censorship. It is a difficult line for many to tread. The Longhair board is determined to maintain a G-rating. This means that swearing and suggestive (even mildly suggestive) images and discussion are deleted; so, too are discussions about board policy. Naturally people get upset when this happens. The NO2ID forum has a slightly different problem - although related. They want to discuss Identity Cards and the impending bill going through parliament. They do not want to get sidetracked. Despite being clear about this, some folk insist upon plastering cut and paste volumes from conspiracy sites and then complain when they get moderated. It got so bad that even slightly off topic discussion is now deleted, which is annoying to those of us who feel that a discussion that is slightly tangential but relevant is worth following up - yet the moderators make a decision and we have no option but to fall into line. It is no longer a place I want to frequent because the policy has gone from none at all, to too harsh.

Self Righteous Behaviour

Some folk just seem to think that they are right and that is all there is about it. I found that sites specialising in theological discussion seem to be particularly bad. The issue overlaps with moderation policy - if the moderation team take a particular line and their clique fit in with them, dissenting voices are silenced by excessive use of moderation when it is not appropriate. I had hoped that being an atheist, the Internet Infidels forum would provide a place to meet like minds. Unfortunately, I met people who were so far up their own arses, I didn’t want to hang about. They give atheism a bad name.

It’s a private place

This is the nub of the matter. All of the boards I mention are privately owned and operated. So, they set the rules. That is their prerogative. Unfortunately for me, I find them off-putting because they are just too rulebound. When I set up News & Views it was a backlash against excessive moderation. My rules are simple; treat everyone else with the courtesy you expect of them. Behave like an adult. That’s it - apart from no spamming, thankyou very much. The only other independent forum that I still regularly visit because the moderating policy is so understated and works well is UK Bike Forum. Here the admin and mod team seem to have got the light touch spot on and it works. Unlike Rider Site where the moderation policy has failed to stop little cliques ganging up on anyone who dares to venture an opinion they dislike.

So one by one, I have deleted most of the discussion boards from my list of favourites because people cannot manage their sites without being excessive when it comes to their polices. This is a pity as I can understand why. It’s their place, they set the rules That’s fine, it is a balancing act after all. For me, they have managed to get that balance wrong. I can vote with my feet. And that is exactly what I have done.

The IRA has declared that its armed struggle is over. Okay, fine. History aside, what does this mean? And is Tony Blair right to rush to dismantle army posts?

It’s a difficult one. While I broadly support the republican movement - the idea of a fragmented Ireland is illogical to me - I have never supported the IRA as it is an odious, self-righteous and hypocritical oranisation that is less about freedom fighting and more about criminal activity. Using as it did, the latter to supplement the former. Something its American supporters chose to gloss over or ignore completely when putting money onto the Noraid tins rattled by fund raisers in Irish Bars. Something that in the wake of terrorist activity on US soil they have been forced to reconsider, no doubt.

The piece written by Norman Tebbit today crystallizes my thoughts.

“Terrorists can be let out of jail none the worse for the loss of liberty for a few years but for victims the slate is never wiped clean.”

His comments are a poignant reminder of what terrorism is all about - the brutal murder and maiming of innocent non-combatants. Although, doubtless the IRA would argue that the British government was a legitimate target. Norman Tebbit’s wife most certainly was not and “collateral damage” is an abominable euphemism for the murder of innocents - whoever uses it. It is Tebbit’s comment that he and his wife will forever be paying the price - even though those who committed the atrocity will be free to continue their lives that strikes home the message.

“For her pain is an ever present companion, disability the load she never ceases to bear. For her, that quick shower and breakfast is a three-hour routine with a carer.

Not for the wheelchair-bound the quick decision to take the train, nor the cheap flight to Paris or Rome.

No more the shared laughter at the awkward stairs or the pokey bedroom of the village B&B in the heart of rural France and the fun of being off the beaten track.

Never will we take those adventure trips from the brochures falling through the post box every day. “

The little things we take for granted are torn away, lost forever. The 1,800 lives lost in the brutal campaign will never come back now that peace has been declared.

Yet….

Now is the time to make the most of this opportunity. Drawing a line under the last thirty five years means that the present generation can move on without the shadow of the IRA hanging over them - there will not be another 1,800 lost lives and the spiral of affected lives devastated by that loss.

I will still be unable to listen to the repugnant Gerry Adams smarming on the television, some phony, pietistic nonsense about the “political process” without wanting to throw up. However he along with his equally nauseating accomplice Martin McGuinness is the face of Sinn Fein and at least talking is better than bombing.