CHAPEL HOGSTHORPE WALK

I went for a brisk walk this morning. My back was still aching after the table tennis tournament on Sunday and despite resting yesterday I was still reluctant to run. It was a cold grey start to the day and as I walked I reflected on the last two weeks and how enjoyable they had been. Yet I hadn’t blogged or put anything on facebook. I’m in danger of taking my good fortune for granted I thought and determined to write this blog when I got home.

Well I have just completed a separate blog about my reflections which continued intermittently throughout the walk. This blog though is about the walk itself.

Over the first mile or so my back gradually eased, my legs loosened up and my stride lengthened. Soon I was in that happy state where I was at one with the Earth and the ground moved beneath me taking me forward in time and space. It was my intention to circumnavigate the villages of Chapel St Leonards and Hogsthorpe as best I could by means of country lanes and public footpaths. The villages are barely a mile and half apart but my route would take me along footpaths going two miles to the north before returning to Mill Lane/Sea Lane – the central axis between the villages – and on to Trunch Lane and the southernmost end of permanent residences in Chapel. (There are caravan parks further south but these effectively stretch six miles to Skegness!)

The north end of Chapel is effectively a retirement village consisting almost entirely of bungalows built to house folk like my partner Denise who, having visited the village as a holidaymaker for nearly every one of her sixty or so years, want to retire there. However the first mile took me clear of the village and I came out of my reverie to notice a field of shining yellow rape. It was the tallest crop I had ever seen with some of the plants towering over me like triffids (for the record I stand five feet seven inches high). The field was some 200 metres square and the biomass before me was impressive. Further it wasn’t even fully ripe yet, I could not smell that sweet sickly rape smell. It’s like marmite that smell, you love it or hate it. I find it pleasantly sweet on the first day but after that, for me, the aroma darkens into one of the worst of farmyard smells.

I then began to notice the birdsongs. Larks tinkling high in the sky, chaffinches cascading notes from tree tops and tits trilling and calling in the hedges. There were robins and dunnocks too in the hedges and sparrows and blackbirds around the buildings. From time to time these would flit from hedge to hedge, tree to tree, house to house. As I got further away from the village linnets and goldfinches joined the conversation and once, for some reason, a wren gave out with a powerful rattling call.

Before I knew it I was beyond the lanes going north and on a footpath leading to the bridle path that stretches from Langham Farm to Wolla Bank, a nature reserve tucked alongside the road that runs parallel to the sea between Chapel and Anderby Creek. To this point I was sensing the world through my eyes, ears and nose but now my feet felt the ground. The dry broken clay seemed to massage my feet rolling them this way and that, I could almost feel the blood flowing in and around them. I enjoyed this new sensation for a while but a magpie darting from a ditch to my right drew me back into the world of sight and sound. I picked up two new birds. The first a sedge warbler was making its home in a lonely shrub in the rank ditch. It’s hectic churrs and chatter seemed to indicate some annoyance; perhaps it didn’t like its new home I thought, it was in the middle of nowhere. The second a yellowhammer singing about chalk and cheese in a hedgerow on the edge of civilization.

I arrived at Langham Farm to be greeted by swallows swooping through the air feeding on the midges that were coming out of the grassy meadows surrounding the farm. The sun was trying to break through and it was getting warmer. Across one such meadow a honey brown mare with blond main and tail stared at me. She had a very leggy young foal with a shining white coat broken only by brown blotches on one of its flanks and on the other side of its shoulders. She decided I was no threat and carried on eating. In the very next field, across a narrow ditch, a bull stared at me from the middle of his harem (who lay contentedly chewing the cud). He too decided I was no threat and turned away haughtily.

My senses now seemed heightened and I noticed starlings flitting across the fields. One flew directly across my path carrying a beakful of grass, building a nest I assumed. In a distant field I saw numerous white dots, gulls I guessed. Then a brief flutter betrayed a pheasant taking to the air to my left, I noted how it sounded so much more controlled than the clumsy clatter made by the wood pigeons as they took to the air. I saw three ducks flying north high in the sky; for some reason one peeled off going I know not where, then the other two began a long slow descent to a fishing pond I knew of but could not see.

I passed the pond just before I turned left onto the track running below Mickleberry Hill. Three Canada Geese came off the pond and flew just feet above the path barely five yards in front of me. I was surprised at their speed and momentum. I shouldn’t have been, like other geese Canada’s in the wild migrate a thousand miles or more, they can cover a couple of hundred miles in a day and still stop to eat and sleep. Apart from that I kept my eyes peeled to the ground. I have seen a grass snake and found discarded skins on that track. Not today though.

Soon I was to turn off the track onto a footpath through the fields to Hogsthorpe. Initially I walked along a metre wide pathway created by the farmer through the middle of a field of rape. The soil was bare and cracked into open fissures as clay is after a dry spell. The effect was of a huge scaly brown snake lying across the field. Shortly though came the first of several wooden bridges across dry reedy irrigation ditches as the path wove alongside mainly fallow fields to reach the back of Hogsthorpe Community Centre. Sadly I noted the increasing frequency of dog droppings as I approached the village.

I came out onto the road near the primary school. It was busy with children and parents waiting for the school gates to open. There were cheery faces and dreary faces, wide awake faces and weary faces. Quite a throng.

I passed through the village quickly and soon reached the allotments on Mill Lane. I did not go as far as the southern edge of the village because there was no sensible pedestrian route from there back to Chapel. The map shows some footpaths but from experience I know they cross farmed fields with no easy way through the crops and fences. Just after the allotments there is a footpath that leads to St Leonards Church with bridges across the intervening drains. There was a bull and his harem in one of these fields but I managed to keep a fair distance between us.

The road from the church leads to a bridge across another major drain then through a small housing estate onto to a footpath that passes through two or three caravan sites to the western end of Trunch Lane. It’s not an appealing walk. Hidden on the edge of the village are numerous examples of human flotsam; half completed building projects never to be finished, fly tipping and the like. The caravan parks are the exact opposite of course; wonderfully manicured grass and neat rows of vans.

Once I reached Trunch Lane I made my way to the shore speedily to turn north to walk along the Bridle Path on the western side of the sand dunes. The sand slid and shifted under my feet causing the ground to move more slowly under me. It was an interesting sensation; was I ready to change gear in this new environment? As those who know me would expect the answer was no and I took one of many paths over the dunes onto the concrete seawall/promenade to once more flow over the ground like a pensive breeze.

The sea was calm, glasslike apart from some tiny ripples as it hit the shore. There was still a faint translucent mist over the sea and the hundred plus wind turbines were just hazy grey shadows. There were few people about and they were all walking dogs. Not surprising really, it still wasn’t ten o’clock in a retirement village. When I reached the village centre I decide I deserved a cup of coffee. Strong and black, no sugar but taken with a Belgian Bun, excellent. There are several cafes in the village but I had not been in this one before. I will probably call again.

The final leg of my trip took me to Chapel Point and the new observatory. I’m afraid I was more impressed with the beach huts than the observatory, at least they had fun names like ‘Happy for shore’ and ‘Den’s Den’. From there through another holiday park – this one was mostly chalets. To my surprise I saw a mistle thrush in there. I see more song thrushes in this part of Lincolnshire. I also saw a pair of blackbirds trying to encourage a fledgling to fly. It seemed to me a mite young to be out of the nest, very unsteady on its feet. I just hope they got it to somewhere safe where perhaps it could gain some more strength.

This route took me back by way of the monstrous rape I had seen earlier, then alongside a drain to the Ship Inn and finally down Sea Road to the estate where I live. From the bank of the drain I saw a couple of friends building something in their back garden and exchanged some banter and friendly greetings. Chapel is a friendly place.

I arrived home just before eleven. I had been out just over three wonderful hours.

REFLECTING ON MY GOOD FORTUNE

I went for a brisk walk this morning. My back was still aching after the table tennis tournament on Sunday and despite resting yesterday I was still reluctant to run. It was a cold grey start to the day and as I walked I reflected on the last two weeks and how enjoyable they had been. Yet I hadn’t blogged or put anything on facebook. I’m in danger of taking my good fortune for granted I thought and determined to write this blog when I got home.
As I relaxed my pace increased and my thoughts went to the Easter weekend. The weather had been glorious and the air alive with butterflies, a veritable kaleidoscope of colours; orange tips, holly blues and brimstones. Colours that were reflected in the flowers beginning to bloom; primrose, coltsfoot, celandine, green alkanet, periwinkle and even a patch of viper’s bugloss. There were other’s too; red and white dead nettle, a stray pink oxalis, more than I can remember in fact.
I also put in some time at the allotment, mowing the grass with my one wheeled mower (I am going to have to buy another one soon) and planting some rhubarb and yet more beetroot. I also continued working on the ground I am preparing for my peas and beans. At home I sowed some lettuce seeds and some sprout seeds. The former are now reaching for the sun in my conservatory and I had to thin them out yesterday. Some of them have now joined the sprout seedlings in the cold frame Audrey bought me for my birthday. Yes these too have now sprouted and I am hoping for more success with them this year than I enjoyed last year (when not a single seed took).
Mother Nature and I have had some discussions about my garden. As always she has taken charge and my garden retains its rude, rustic look with weeds sort of under control and some of the structural jobs completed but with work obviously still needing to be done. Which is just how I like it really. In the front the I had a great show of hyacinths, daffodils and tulips which is now just about finished and it’s all a bit dormant now until the gladioli and fuschia’s glow red. That said I have a geum and a couple of tea roses in pots that might beat them to it.
The back is wilder. One creamy clematis is now over and is stretching its tendrils to gather strength for next year. The marsh marigolds on my wild life pond are gleaming yellow and the iris will be blooming shortly. The mint and the speedwell are looking to colonize the banks as well as the pond so the whole thing is now beginning to look lived in. Still no sign of frogs though. I have a bank of wild flowers under the hedge beyond the pond. They have attracted white and blue butterflies and even a comma has visited. Bees buzz around wallflowers in the left border. One of these wallflowers is incredible, I bought it last spring and it is not stopped flowering since; even through the winter there were flowers on it. The daffodils in the main bed are all but over but the aquilegia behind them is flowering and the peonies and lupins aren’t far behind. Just in front of the windows the bushes are now in leaf with violets, primroses and bugle blooming underneath, and some solomon’s seal set to make an appearance shortly.
On the structural side I have at least replaced the flag missing since I took out the disused feature in the centre of the paved area last autumn, and I have pebbled over a small bed so Denise can get to the table and chairs in the main pebbled area more easily. We also now have a garden swing to accommodate, a gift from some friends.
With the Easter holidays came a lull in singing activity. The singing school closed for three weeks and the choir rested for two. Karaoke continued though and I have enjoyed two or three good Saturday nights down at the Ship Inn. Dancing hasn’t stopped either and we have been learning new waltz and cha-cha routines. If I am honest I am not that fond of the new waltz but we have to follow what teacher says. We have also learned a new Viennese Waltz routine and surprisingly I like this one and we seem to be mastering it.
The main table tennis season is now over. It effectively ended with the Lincolnshire Championships on Sunday. I won 3 out of 9 games in the open, over 40s and over 60s tournaments but I got to the final of the over 60s and took the runners up trophy. I reckon I am about 5th best over 60 in Lincolnshire but you can only beat those who turn up. I lost to a 12 year old in the open competition, he wasn’t particularly good but worked out a strategy that played to his strengths and my weaknesses. Brilliant for such a young player. I told him so. His mum and dad thanked me; his dad said that was a great lesson for him, it isn’t just about banging the ball about, it is about observing your opponent and making an appropriate game plan.
The other player in our group was ranked 2nd in the Lincoln League last year. He beat the youngster easily but lost to me. A great scalp for me, and a great surprise. I have taken games off him before but would never ever have expected to beat him.
My other main sport – ultra distance running – is now foremost on my mind. I am training hard for the West Highland Way Race and regularly running 12 to 15 miles; carrying my rucksack more often than not. I have sorted my back up team for the event, a chap I met in the Cape Wrath Ultra 2 years ago and a friend of his. I travelled to Colchester to meet up with them on Good Friday. It’s now about discipline and sticking to my training.
As I said earlier, this morning I only walked 11 miles because I was stiff. However I did follow that up with 2 hours playing table tennis this afternoon so it has been an active day. (Although out of season there are various fun table tennis sessions and competitions during the summer so I will continue to play). It was my intention to blog about this walk as well but I think this blog is now long enough so I will close at this point and maybe start a separate blog about the walk.

SINGING, DANCING; RAMBLING AND SCRAMBLING.

It seems every weekend brings something different at the moment. Four weeks ago Denise and I took our dance medals and, as it turns out, we were awarded honours in all four examinations (ballroom, latin, rock and roll and Viennese waltz). We are now already well on with the cha-cha and waltz routines for the Gold Bar Three examination.

Three weeks ago I was taking part in my first choir performance on the Thursday and my first solo singing performance on the Friday. I have since decided to take singing examinations and have already chosen two of the four songs I will need to perform; Home on the Range – a traditional American song, and The Manchester Rambler – an English folk song. The latter has to be sang unaccompanied! Music is definitely gripping me, I have also bought a 61 key keyboard and am trying to train my fingers to find the keys. I bought it so I could get used to the sound of a piano as that will be my only accompaniment in the singing examinations, and I hope trying to play easy tunes will help. It was a bargain, second hand on Ebay at £50.

The last two weekends have been spent away from home. I took part in the Shropshire Way 80K race the Saturday before last and spent this weekend in Newquay with Denise, her mum, brother and nephew visiting her niece.

Shropshire is a lot more hilly than I remembered and it took me just under 14 and a half hours to complete the course. This was two hours longer than I had hoped for but I finished relatively strongly which bodes well for my main challenge this year – the 96 mile West Highland Way Race on June 22nd and 23rd. I was also joint 32nd out of 155 starters and only one hour behind the first woman. These factors allow me to think I am in good shape for Scotland in June.

I stayed Friday night at Wilderhope Manor Youth Hostel. The manor was a really old, interesting building owned by the National Trust and it was located deep in scenic countryside under Wenlock Edge. I relaxed in this very calm environment and enjoyed a good meal and sleep there before setting of to register for the race at 7am Saturday morning.

After registration I had a light breakfast and laid back until the race started at 9am. My plan was to jog as far as I as I felt comfortable, then continue alternating jogging and walking as far as I could until settling into a decent walking pace to complete the race. One restriction I placed on this was ‘do not jog or run up hills, walk them’. There are people who run these events all the way but the vast majority of entrants are usually taking on a personal challenge and often ‘completing the distance’ is enough. That is certainly my goal in June. Entrants had 24 hours to complete the Shropshire Way 80K, we have 35 hours to complete the West Highland Way in June.

The race took us from Craven Arms to Church Stretton via Wenlock Edge and Ragleth Hill. It then climbed over the Long Mynd, fell down to Bridges before taking a long sloping route up to Stiperstones. From there we made our way to Bishops Castle via Linley Hill, passing the halfway point of the race somewhere in between. I started to walk/jog somewhere in this section and I also passed and was passed by a number of other participants. Smiles, words of encouragement and short conversations passed between us as we recognized the same drive and enthusiasm within us. I also got lost somewhere around Linley as I failed to spot a gate into a wood and ran an extra half mile or so!

From Bishop’s Castle we ran out to join Offa’s Dyke via the penultimate feeding station at Reith Farm. Here we enjoyed a choice of very welcome beef or vegetable broth. (There had also been food just past Church Stretton – fidget pie, a local dish – and just past Stiperstones some local sausages!).

Needless to say we had ascended a hill, Colebatch Hill, to reach the feeding station at Reith. We now journeyed on to join Offa’s Dyke for a mile or so before striking of for Clun over a series of smaller hills. By now though they did not feel small and for the first time my head began to question my motive for entering the race.

Luckily I was passed by 4 other participants travelling at just the right speed at just the right time. I latched on to them and by focusing on keeping up with them I forgot about the gremlins that had been climbing into my head. At Clun we had our last food stop. A lovely fruity cake lifted my spirits and once again I latched onto the four who had overtaken me. In time I got to talking to the two men, Rory and Matt; they had fallen in together at Bishop’s Castle and had no objection to a third member of the band – it turned out the other two participants were actually running their own race.

None the less we all stayed together as it got dark and in time we caught up with several other runners, well walkers now. There were still two more hills to climb before we finally saw the lights of Craven Arms in the distance but in company and with the knowledge it was nearly over the last ten miles did not seem much of an effort. That said when we did finish I found it hard to bend my legs to sit down, and even harder to straighten them to stand up. But that always happens when the adrenalin goes.

As always it was hard to say good bye to my fellow walkers, there is something about a challenge that pushes you together. I will probably never see Rory or Matt again but I felt as if they were lifelong friends at 11.30 that Saturday night.

There is a bizarre ending to this story in that the race organisers had thought I was missing at one point and phoned Denise to ask if she knew where I was. The marker at one of the checkpoints failed to check me through the checkpoint (though he/she had stamped my race card) and when the checkpoint closed it was thought I was lost somewhere. Anyway the call obviously worried Denise and though the situation had been remedied I wanted to tell her myself what had happened.

Unfortunately I could not get a signal on my phone, as indeed most people couldn’t in that part of Shropshire, so I set off to find one. To cut a long story short after almost 40 miles and numerous attempts to make contact I realized my phone was not working. I eventually found a land line at a motorway service station and got through to Denise. However I had very little change so Denise said she would phone back. The call never came through and, would you believe it, the phone chose that moment in time to break down. Another 30 miles or so, another service station, I got through again but Denise was now asleep; not surprising as it was now past two in the morning.

I was now almost halfway home so I abandoned my plan to sleep at the Discovery Centre in Craven Arms and decided to drive the rest of the way home. I almost made it but had to pull off the M6 at Knutsford to catch a couple of hours of sleep before finishing my journey at 7am. It had been a very different 24 hours.

Newquay was a timely restful affair. Denise’s brother Eric drove us down there, a mammoth eight hour journey and we arrived late morning on Wednesday. The day was spent making lots of loving reunions; Denise et al thrilling in seeing Helen and Oliver (Denise’s niece and great nephew) and Lee, Helen’s husband.

For me it was a long weekend of reading and Sudoku broken up by two hour, early morning rambles along the cliffs before everyone else woke up. A perfect way to let my body recover after the exertions of Shropshire. I saw a couple of birds I am unlikely to see elsewhere this year; fulmars, shags and gannets, and noted flowers such as sea campion and thrift were already beginning to bloom. As a family unit we did have a couple of short walks to the harbour where we saw one of the resident grey seals hanging around the fishing boats. Mobility was limited though as Audrey is 87 years old and Eric has severe back problems.

On Friday Myles, Eric’s stepson, and I went with Helen and Oliver to a fun climbing wall and I enjoyed an hour’s climbing up some easy 20 to 30 feet routes. I also undertook the ‘leap of faith’ which is a leap from a platform about 20 feet off the ground to try and get hold of a bag suspended in the air 6 to 8 feet away. I got hold of the bag but slid off it before we were lowered to the ground. Good effort but should I be doing things like this at my age? Of course I should!

That afternoon Myles and I also went for a ramble across a couple of the bays that make up the front at Newquay. We scrambled up some of the rocky outcrops and parts of the cliffs as well. That was fun too albeit that I managed to fall off into the sand at one point and inadvertently drop into a rockpool at another. We both had a good laugh.

We returned home on Sunday, another eight hour drive, with Denise suggesting we would have to make it a week’s holiday next year. I suppose if I take the car and can get farther afield that won’t be too bad. I could explore more of Cornwall’s cliff paths. We’ll see.

JUST ANOTHER WEEK IN RETIREMENT (W/E 24 MARCH)

I can’t say it has been an uneventful week but the events hardly been earth shattering. We have had a couple of storms and at the end of last week the wind caught my car door and blew it through 180 degrees. This pulled on and warped the front wing and now my car door and bonnet won’t shut properly. The damage is covered by my insurance but I have a £375 excess to pay. It goes into the garage next Tuesday. Life has its ups and downs.

Despite the wind I did some useful prep work on my allotment and even got my early potatoes set. I also went out for a 4 hour training session in the wind on Friday, I literally had to lean into it to ensure it did not blow me off my feet. It was quite a tough session mostly at a very brisk walking pace. My other training sessions tended to be an hour to an hour and a half in the gym at a much quicker pace than usual; I seemed to struggle to find the time to train this week, so burnt off the same calories by going quicker. I played table tennis on Tuesday, a league match, and again today, Sunday, in the Scunthorpe Closed Championships; but my heart wasn’t in it. Well it was but I didn’t have the will to win, I was just playing to enjoy myself and consequently lost at least two matches I should have won. I am not too worried though, after all enjoying should be the most important thing.

Yesterday Denise and I took our dance exams in ballroom, latin american, rock and roll and Viennese waltz; four exams and ten dances. On the whole I enjoyed the dancing, just a few nervy moments here and there, except for the Viennese waltz. I didn’t think we did ourselves justice, we have done much better in practice. Will have to wait a couple of weeks to see what the examiner thought though.

I have not written anything substantial for a week or two, I have been caught up in some discussion threads on the Mensa facebook page plus one on the CSEAR page. For posterity I have copied these below. I have also copied a short children’s story I wrote for the German speaking group for the same reason. This was in response to an exercise in our textbook based on another children’s story. That story was about a fox that played a nasty trick on a supposedly stupid bear, we were asked to paraphrase it but I chose to write a sequel – The Revenge of the Bear.

First my comment on the CSEAR website:

Some thoughts on Sustainability Standards:

1. Inevitably they are reductionist particularly, as appears to be the case in this instance, if they are to be part of consolidated statements aimed at, primarily, financial stakeholders.

2. This can be mitigated by:

a. ensuring they demand disclosure of all negative social and environmental impacts caused by and part of the consolidated entity, together with a statement how these impacts can be mitigated and, in the future, avoided; and
b. include a declaration of all material (in the sense of impact not finance) investments and disinvestments with a policy statement on how associated stakeholder engagement and/or environmental impact assessment was carried out.

3. Paragraph 2 refers to processes that should be easily auditable. However to ensure true accountability to all stakeholders further details of all items identified in these processes should be published on a Wiki or similar to enable public scrutiny and feedback. (The Accountability Stakeholder Engagement Standards offer the sort of details that should be required).

The GRI and IR offer much more detail but the I think the above goes beyond their requirements which are subject to the criticism I mention in paragraph 1 above.

My comments on the Mensa Website include:

I am not a fan of representative democracy, it inevitably reduces people to building blocks and removes individual responsibility, and I would love to be able to formulate a more participative democracy. Unfortunately I am just not clever enough as the task from where we stand at the moment would be monumental. However my strategy is to always support devolution of power at every opportunity and hope some process of education delivers power to a better informed and responsible public.

And

I understand that argument Richard but most people have an opinion on all those things you mention and as they effect their lives they are entitled to it. If an MP thinks they are wrong but does not manage to explain why she/he thinks some other way is better she/he will create resentment if she/he simply presses ahead with the other way. If sufficient resentment builds up…well it is no exaggeration to say that it can lead to war. Populists through history have shown us that. So that is why I think MPs should represent the views of their constituents, because I think they have a duty to win over their confidence on issues. They haven’t been doing that for some time and that is why our system has been in freefall for the last year or two. (Yes there are many critiques to my argument , not least time constraints; I think they can be overcome but I have already gone on for too long).

This discussion was about democracy and my comments were obviously answers to other comments but I think they make clear my rather anarchistic stance. In a separate thread about socialism I commented

Slowly we approach the crux of the matter. What are the bounds of freedom? To big a question for this thread I think. I will have to draw my line here and withdraw from this thread. I may write a blog and/or a contribution to the Philosophy SIG on that one.

Again revealing my anarchistic leanings and concern with freedom.

I am going to try and avoid being drawn into any discussions for a while though as I have some other things I want to write. Will have to see how that progresses.

Finally The Revenge of the Bear (for posterity)

Braun Bar traf Reineke Fuchs im Wald. Der Fuchs bemerkte den Bar trug einen Korb.

“Was haben Sie in Ihren Korb?” fragte der Fuchs.

“Eier und Milch fur meinen Eierkuchen,” antwortete der Bar.

“Gern,” dachte der Fuchs und sagte, “Ich kann Ihnen zeigen, irgendwo Sie Honig fur Ihren Eierkuchen finden konnen.”

“Oh, bitte zeigen mir,” sagte der Bar mit vielen Begeisterung.

“Er hat die letzte Zeit vergessen,” lachte der Fuchs sich, und er fuhrte den Bar am dicken Baum mit dem dicken Stamm.

Der Bar stellte seinen Korb ab und steckte sein Gesicht in den Honig.

Schnell der bose Fuchs nahm den Korb and laufte weg.

Der Bar entfernte sein Gesicht und jetzt lachte er sich.

Nach Hause der Fuchs nahm ein Ei und biss es. Yeuk! Es war schlechtes. Er trank etwas

Milch. Yeuk! Es war sehr sauer. Er war sehr, sehr Krank.

Vielleicht sind allen Baren nicht einfaltig?

Hope that made you smile.

IMPENDING DISMAY AND INCREASING DELIGHT

Brexit has done its best to occupy my mind this week and I have been involved in one or two discussions which came perilously close to arguments. I have been reading a book about the rise in national populism which made me realise that whilst I understood why Brexiteers are so passionate I did not understand why Remainers were so equally passionate. With that in mind I posted a comment on Facebook to various friends at MMU and also put it on the Brightspace Facebook page.

“Professors Eatwell and Goodwin offer 4 reasons for the rise in populism in their 2018 book National Populism: The Revolt Against Liberal Democracy. These are

1. A fear about the loss of historic identity and established way of life
2. Relative deprivation as inequality of wealth and income rises
3. A distrust of politicians and loss of voice
4. The breaking down of political systems.

They intimate that BREXIT is one manifestation of the rise in populism.

I have spent the majority of my life working as a professional – accountant then university lecturer – whilst returning home to a blue collar, working class family. It is fairly safe to say, bar 1 or 2 exceptions, there is clean split in the way these two groups voted in the EU Referendum; academics wanted to Remain, my family and friends to Leave. The reasons for leaving seem to correlate mostly with reasons 1 and 3 above with some influence from reason 2.

What isn’t clear to me is why Remainers are so passionate about remaining. I am retired now so I can’t ask my former colleagues directly, and when I worked with them it seemed they just felt it was obviously the best course of action. But why? What reasons are offered for this passion. I think it’s important we all understand each other’s reasons because BREXIT is tearing a hole in our society and we need to fix it whatever the outcome.

I would appreciate any comments.”

Maybe I’ll find some understanding in the responses.

Other more personal highlights are basically related to singing and my ever deepening interest in music. Again I took to Facebook and wrote of Friday night

Music school party last night. All learners invited to go on stage individually to play a piece or sing a song in front of peers and their families. Keyboards, guitars, clarinets and lots of voices were all represented. I sang Colours of the Wind from Pocahontas – my favourite song. Never been so nervous, no karaoke prompt, just you and the music. Just relaxed into the song in the end and am now glad to have done it.

And of Thursday night.

Just taken part in my first choir performance. We were the interlude ‘act’ at the Spilsby & District Schools Music Festival 2019 now in its 70th year. It was brilliant; 200 children from about a dozen local primary schools (they are very small round here often 2 age groups in the same class) gathered in the pews of a local church singing their hearts out whilst their parents watched from the balcony above. The fun and enthusiasm boiled over and spilled into everyone’s hearts. We sang Rhythm of Life and the theme to The Vicar of Dibley. Real contrasts, first at full pelt, second actually a psalm. Was a great experience.

I have also acquired a 61 key electric keyboard to explore sounds more deeply. Adding Thank you For the Music to my karaoke songs. I have always enjoyed singing and listening to music but now I have time to explore more deeply.

Seeking an ecologically defensible calculation of net loss/gain of biodiversity: A critique

This paper does what it says it will, ie describe an ecocentric (or perhaps better, an ecosystem) offsetting scheme. However it does not and cannot answer the real criticisms applicable to such schemes. In effect it is just an interesting – if you are mathematically inclined – numbers game.
Firstly it ignores the monumental lack of understanding we have of how nature works. Ecologists are scientists and probably know more than most but even so their knowledge is limited. Why do I claim this? Because nearly every week I receive requests for funding to explore some very specific ecological research into, for example, the reasons for the decline in spotted flycatchers. If we don’t understand the reasons behind the decline of one member of a very popular family of animals, how can we claim to understand the inter-relationships involved in a typical ecosystem containing thousands of life forms? There are over 6,000 types of beetle alone in the UK, and over 2,000 types of moth; I doubt we have much knowledge of the vast majority of these.

I will also note, as an amateur naturalist of over 40 years, there are many questions that have hardly even been formulated. Why have whinchats declined so much in the UK last 20 years or so? Why have buzzards expanded their range so far east in such a similar short time frame? We just do not know enough about how nature works to pretend we can model it effectively. And this is what we do when we measure the loss of one ecosystem against another ‘managed’ – forecast? – ecosystem.

This leads to my second criticism. How do we decide what is a bad ecosystem and what is a good ecosystem? Further how do we decide whether a threatened fly or fungus is more or less important than a threatened bird or plant? Indeed in many instances how do we even know whether a particular fly or fungus is threatened? These are not necessarily empirical matters and relative power may well influence the discussion, thus they are more properly political matters and they are obscured when they are hidden by numbers. Examples in the UK include the development of green and brown field sites. Green field sites tend to be seen as more aesthetically pleasing and carry a higher economic value (and with it more power) yet, as many naturalists will concur, brown field sites are often more diverse.

Another more ecologically based argument is how should a site be developed, what should be conserved? In the UK the hills of Saddleworth to the east of Greater Manchester are being returned to blanket bog? Why was this ecosystem, essentially a product of human activity 5 or 6 thousand years ago, chosen over a likely pre human system of woodland? This could only have been a political decision within the conservation community.

The hidden controversies behind framing and valuing ecosystems, together with the uncertainty surrounding the science, lead to a third criticism. Not of the system itself though, but of its efficacy. It is a house built on sand and ultimately it will be easily overcome by a determined antagonist armed with strong economic arguments.

Finally I criticize it on quasi ethical grounds and aesthetic grounds. It is, at its centre, a hidden anthropocentric argument and as such another example of human arrogance. Once again we think we can know everything and have the right to treat other lifeforms as we see fit. Also it denies the beauty of Nature by hiding her behind a wall of numbers. Elegant as these numbers might be they are human creations and cannot match the artistry of 4 billion years.

A SHORT NOTE ON INTELLECTUAL STIMULATION IN RETIREMENT

A good week this week. I am feeling really fit after completing a 20 mile run in 4 hours on Friday and winning 8 out of 9 games in today’s inter-town table tennis competition. I have also had lots to think about having read 3 or 4 good academic articles. I was worried about a lack of intellectual stimulation once I retired but I am getting involved in some good groups and conversations on Facebook; and of course I have joined a number of ecologically minded organisations and am receiving their publications.

In particular this week I have read a critique of social and environmental accounting by Dennis Huber (in publication) which I felt was a little unfair and commented accordingly on the CSEAR Facebook page where it had been posted. Another paper published in the Journal for the Study of Religion Nature and Culture dealt with rituals and how they maintain and change ontologies and values whilst a third, published by the Centre for the Understanding of Sustainable Prosperity, confronted the possibility of inequality in a post-growth world. Both interesting reading. I also read a couple of chapters in Jill and Barry Atkins book Around the World in 80 Species which is about accounting for species decline potential and extinctions. I have a chapter in that book and Jill has asked me to take part in a workshop centred on the book later this month so I am looking forward to that. I am also going to a presentation on Sustainability in the Corporate World organized by CIMA at Nottingham Business School on the 2nd of April.

So body and brain have had a good workout this week. Retirement going well.

THOUGHTS ON A WORLD WITHOUT MONEY, INEQUALITY AND GLOBALIZATION

I seem to have got involved in some discussions on Facebook this week that I think are worth recording on this blog. I have not printed the threads which were mostly quite long. What follows is my contribution to those threads.

ONE

I can imagine a world without money, the difficulty is imagining how we would get there. There is that thing called human nature that has to be addressed first. What is it? I think it is a social construct, ie it is what we as a society see it as, and this can change over time and be interpreted very differently by different individuals. To have a world without money would mean some very different views on human nature would have to be developed. One where caring and sharing become the norm rather than competition and individualism (which I do not believe are in any way fundamental to what it is to be human but there isn’t space here to take on the myths that surround these claims).
Having established such a discourse I think it is possible to see that money would not be necessary but what would our species do in such a world. Well we would have to survive and life would be much more frugal in terms of material things. However once fed and housed (by working co-operatively in our communities) we would all have more time to find ourselves and our talents. We could develop these and share them too. We could write, paint, sculpture, make music and sing, play sport and watch sports. There is nature to explore too, not necessarily analytically but holistically too, enjoying the beauty she offers. Well that’s what I imagine.

TWO

This thread seems to have distilled into a discussion about morality and the resulting ethics. In a world of limited resources is it right that some people have more material goods and resources than they need when others do not have sufficient? In the past people designed belief systems and religions which helped them make such decisions but in the western world we have moved away from metaphysics in favour of empiricism and, latterly, post modern relativism. In such a context we can only form our own opinion and offer it up without making any special claims. Firstly I admit to thinking it is wrong to be selfish and that is based on a personal belief system and will influence my thinking. However I also think the great inequalities we see in the world are wrong from a consequential perspective. Basically if we do not change I believe war will be the inevitable result, and at some point it will reach global proportions. We are already seeing the walls going up in North America and barbed wire being strung out along European borders. If you have nothing then you can lose nothing. There will be around 2 billion more people on the planet in 2050 and most of them will be born into poverty. We really need to think beyond pure chance.

THREE

Just recently someone on described themselves on another thread as a socialist, an environmentalist and a globalist. This led me to think that I might try to start a thread to talk about what environmentalism mean and why I find this at odds with socialism and globalization.
Firstly I will declare my interests. I am a follower of the deep ecology movement. This is not a religion but an ecosophy, that is a philosophy informed by the science of ecology. It was founded by Arne Naess, a distinguished Norwegian philosopher, in 1972. It is a serious environmentalist movement being biocentric and attributing equal importance to all life forms. Other principles include the protection of diversity and the maximization of autonomy or freedom.
I see globalization at odds with this because I see globalization, as practiced, as the implementation of one set of (Western) ideas across the globe. Indigenous populations and cultures are being exterminated as a result and this means a reduction in diversity (and future possibilities). In earlier times this was known as imperialism!
I see socialism or rather international socialism as part of the same movement. It is an attempt to put governmental controls in place to facilitate some form of globalization. That inevitably reduces autonomy and ultimately diversity. Again future possibilities are lost – with lots of aesthetic damage done too. Responsibility has to lie with people not institutions.
I guess some people will see me as a romantic, possibly an anarchist, but I would really like to see this debate opened up.

SOME THOUGHTS ON READING NATURE BY RALPH WALDO EMERSON

A short but powerful prose that sets out Emerson’s philosophy and the centrality of nature thereto. It is not an easy read, at first it felt like a wall of words, but eventually these began to make shapes I could understand and make sense of. Emerson divided his treatise into eight sections which I shall refer to but not necessarily in the order Emerson presents them. There is much to be divined from this work and I am sure others have found/will find different stories and interpretations. I like to think I see things from a deep ecology perspective and that will undoubtedly influence my interpretation. In particular I note that understanding the ultimate basis of our beliefs is fundamental to deep ecology.

“The overall augmentation pattern of a supporter of the deep ecology movement reveals references to ultimate premises. This relates to the preferred sense of the term deep: …” (Naess, 2016, p118, original 2005)

In his first section Emerson makes it clear that he believes in God.

“Standing on the bare ground, – my head bathed by the blithe air and uplifted into infinite space, – all mean egotism vanishes. I become a transparent eyeball; I am nothing; I see all; the currents of the Universal Being circulate through me; I am part or parcel of God.” (p5)

In his sixth section he explains why he is also an idealist.

“Idealism sees the world in God. It beholds the whole circle of persons and things, of actions and events, of country and religion, not as painfully accumulated, atom after atom, act after act, in an aged creeping Past, but as one vast picture which God paints on the instant eternity for the contemplation of the soul.” (p42)

Further he notes the soul

“…accepts from God the phenomena, as it finds it, …” (p43)

In the following section he makes it clear

“… matter is a phenomenon, not a substance …”(p44)

But notes if idealism

“… only deny the existence of matter, it does not satisfy the demands of the spirit. It leaves God out of me…” (p45)

However

“.. . the Supreme Being, does not build up nature around us, but puts it forth through us…”

Essentially Emerson appears to believe God, nature and ourselves are one.

It is this belief that allowed Emerson to say in Section 1

“The greatest delight which the fields and woods minister is the suggestion of an occult relation between man and the vegetable.”

Whilst continuing that

“…the power to produce this delight does not reside in nature, but in man, or in a harmony of both. (my bolds)” (p6)

Emerson however not only explains the importance of nature by way of metaphysical reasoning, he has sections noting its instrumental value. The second and shortest, barely two pages long, is its value as a commodity or resource. It is probably fair to say that at the time he was writing nature as a finite resource had not entered the imagination of man.

Three other sections note the importance of nature as artistic inspiration, as the basis of language and as a discipline that organizes life. Artistic inspiration comes in three ways: delight in what we see, evidence of a higher virtue, a drive to creativity. For Emerson

“… the world exists to the soul to satisfy the desire of beauty…” (p16)

This he explains is an ultimate end, no reasons are asked or needed. To Emerson it seems the quest for beauty is an existential quest and I see no reason to disagree.

In terms of language Emerson claims words are signs of natural facts or phenomena, further some of these natural facts are symbols – metaphors – of spiritual facts and nature itself is a symbol of spirit. He argues that when words lose their links to natural facts they lose their simplicity and become ground for duplicity and falsehood and calls for them to be fastened to visible things. In this way we will live in harmony with nature.

I suspect the world at large would see these arguments as outdated romanticism. Myself I see great merit in them. A frugal life searching for beauty works in a world of finite resources. We do not know if any of the more sophisticated technological proposals will work (and the results so far appear very mixed at best).

Nature is a discipline that organizes life. We have the seasons, we have night and day, we have climate and physical geography. We have, or had in Emerson’s time, natural harmony and he saw this as a gift of God. Today, as I see it, we continually fight against this natural harmony and live ever more stressful lives. Time for a rethink perhaps?

In his final section Emerson looks to the future. He pre-empts Deep Ecology by suggesting that

“Empirical science is apt to cloud the sight, and…bereave the student of the manly contemplation of the whole” (p47)

Presently, man, he tells us

“..works on the world with his understanding alone. He lives in it and masters it by a penny-wisdom..”

Continuing poetically

“There is such a resumption of power as if a banished king should buy his territories inch by inch instead of vaulting at once into his throne.” (p52)

He echoes sages of many ages when he claims

“The invariable mark of wisdom is to see the miraculous in the common.” (p53)

And he calls for us to recognize that

“Nature is not fixed but fluid. Spirit alters, moulds and makes it……..Build therefore your own world” (pp54-55).

A call to arms I think and another reason to exist.

A WEEK IN ALCUDIA

I spent the last week courting a half wild Spanish dream. Full of colour, of rude health and fecund; at times almost, but never quite, domesticated; she so tempted me. I wanted to explore her glorious shape and form but my every effort was rebuffed. I could easily fall in love with … Mallorca.
Today I fly back to England. It has been a wonderful week. My apartment in Alcudia was spacious containing 2 beds and bedside lockers, a large sofa and coffee table, a TV, a dining table and three chairs; and there was still room to practise my dancing. There was also a fully fitted bathroom, three large cupboards in the vestibule, and a small kitchen with fridge, two hobs, a microwave, a toaster and various kitchen utensils. I lived on oranges, apples, bananas, tomatoes, cheese, yogurt, bran flakes and bread and jam with pre-prepared pastas or pie and beans for dinner and, of course, postres from the panaderia. The Spanish make wonderful pastries and buns.
My days have mostly been spent walking under beautiful blue skies and a warm sun. On Friday, Sunday and Tuesday I walked from nine in the morning until dusk at about 6.30. On Friday I visited the Albufera, a huge marshland nature reserve a few miles south of Alcudia, whilst Sunday and Tuesday were spent in the mountains or the lanes and tracks leading to them. On Saturday and Wednesday I met with Bill (really Guillermo) a Spanish friend. We met in a bar for coffee – café solo, another Spanish delight – and then went to his apartment for breakfast. I met his wife, and on Wednesday his son William (yes another Guillermo) called in to say hello. William the younger is also a friend. Father and son work or worked in the hotel where Denise, Audrey and I stay in the summer. After leaving Bill et al I walked locally around Alcudia. There is another marshy nature reserve, the Albuferata, to the north west of Alcudia and some interesting hills to the north east. The highest of these, the Talaia D’Alcuda, is just short of 1500 feet but is still a challenging walk up steep ridges over sharp and pointy rock.
On Monday I went to Palma with Martin, another friend from the hotel. He was meeting his friend Raquel who is training to be a barber and who, on this particular day, was learning how to shave a man. Martin and his friend Paco had agreed to be guinea pigs. I knew both Raquel and Paco so it was nice to say hello to them too. Whilst Paco was being shaved Martin and I walked around Palma and I was happy soaking up the different culture as manifested in the buildings, clothes and language. When we returned to Alcudia I spent the rest of the day reading as it was a bit late to set off anywhere.
In the evenings I read, tried to learn Spanish or played Killer Sodoku. I read Nature by Ralph Waldo Emerson, a hard read but I eventually came to understand it. I have two Spanish textbooks, one of which contains short reading passages, and I read two of these. The other is a grammar book and I tackled verb tenses whilst in Alcudia. They seem to use more tense variations than us, in particular the preterite and subjunctive seem to be used more widely. It was tough going. Su Doku is my way of relaxing, you know it can be done if you just keep plugging away.
Visiting a foreign country alone when you can’t speak the language is always going to be a bit of an adventure and I had one or two. Or rather I had one or two misadventures. I got lost in Palma on the very first day, I had to change buses in the city centre and missed the stop. With the help of my first words of Spanish, “Donde es La Place D’Espana por favor?” I eventually found the bus station. Then I decided to take an indirect route which was leaving immediately rather than the direct bus which wouldn’t leave for another two hours. I ended up stuck in Porta Pollenca six kilometers north of Alcudia and had to walk this distance in my winter coat pulling a 25lb suitcase in just short of 20 degrees centigrade.
On Sunday I caught the bus to a town called Inca where I planned to catch another bus to the mountain village of Lluc. I waited at the bus terminus for my bus only to find there was another terminus in Lluc and my bus had left from there. I determined to walk the country roads into the mountains and see how far I got before I had to turn around. After about two hours I arrived at the foothills and an hour later stopped above a steep gulley to admire the view and have some lunch. Things were going swimmingly so I decided I would actually walk through the foothills to Lluc and catch the bus back late in the afternoon. An hour and a half later I was lost nearly 2,500 feet up a mountain and somewhat annoyed with myself decided discretion was the better part of valour and began to retrace my steps. I wasn’t totally lost, I knew the way back I just couldn’t find the way to Lluc. Or so I thought, one hour later I am walking up and down a mountain trail thinking how the hell did I get across that ravine. After 45 minutes I finally found the route I had come up by, a tiny path through a copse that I had forgotten all about.
By the time I got off the mountain it was one hour to dark and Inca was 6 miles away. I am glad I am fit because I was able to jog a large part of the way and so get back before dark. I had missed my return bus though and the next and last one would leave in just over two hours. I had met Martin, my Spanish friend on the day I arrived and he had told me to call him anytime I was struggling in any way. I phoned him and God Bless him he drove to Inca, a 24 kilometer journey, to pick me up. In the meantime I waited in a local bar and dined on bread and tomatoes and drank fresh orange juice and café solo.
My other mountain walk didn’t go to plan either. I did not reach my target peak because I could not find the trail. However this time I retraced my steps in plenty of time to head for another destination, an ancient chapel atop a 1,000 foot rocky outcrop accessed by a narrow road and trail where even I couldn’t get lost.
Mountain walking in Majorca is a serious business. Firstly the available English maps are lacking in many of the details we find on ordnance survey maps, not least contours. My map showed 50 meter contours whereas ordnance survey maps show 10 meter contours. Further the trails themselves are mostly across rock or rough scrub and often invisible in themselves with just occasional cairns built of half a dozen stones to indicate where they are. On both my mountain walks these just seemed to peter out, or at least I couldn’t find them. A final point is that most of the hills are steep, often with 60 to 70 degree slopes falling away on one (or sometimes both) side(s). The rocks under foot are frequently loose and/or the vegetation offers numerous roots all of which are happy to throw you off your feet and maybe off the path, so you have to move slowly with extra care.
Not my kind of walking really. I love to be moving along briskly with my eyes roving all over the place looking for bird, butterflies and flowers. I will still walk in the mountains on future trips to Mallorca but with less ambitious aims.
Talking of birds etc these provided some of the highlights of my trip. A Griffon vulture soaring above me in the mountains, a male marsh harrier calling a love song whilst performing acrobatics for two females in the Albufera, a beautiful Fumana flower (I think) beaming bright yellow back at the sun but hiding her face from the moon, and butterflies skipping about the place in February – brimstones, red admirals, speckled woods, wall browns, clouded yellows and blue of some sort in the hills.
Yes I will be back to woo Mallorca again. I love my own land, England Scotland and Wales, but now there is a place in my heart for Mallorca too.