I can hear it building as the sun half-heartedly rises on London, passing to us beneath the oceans, an invisible wave of familiar disappointment, of a prowess blunted, a bubble burst, a city of gold turned mirage, yep, its the sad mutterings of the defeated English.
The cheap champagne flowed way too long in their national imagination. Fifteen months later they awoke on a park bench, just as the hangover kicked in. Ba Ba BANG! How garish the jubilant product endorsements peppering london's underground now appear - arms raised high, grins wide, muscles flexed, success inevitable - oops. Dave on a building site reckons cricket in England is too bloody middle class. They need some mongrel. They need to want it more. Class based or not, an invisible ingredient was missing from the fray.
I'm sad for Captain Flintoff. He was let down, deserted, and overburdened. His leadership deserved better followership. Along with Kevin 'Lekka' Peterson he would push for a baggy green were he born on sunnier shores. And most frustratingly, his lurking predecessor is absolved of responsibility - an unjust reward for physical incapacity. No cheap photographic juxtaposition of the searing agony with soaring ecstasy for Mr Vaughan. History is cruel to valiant men like Freddy. And our revenge is somehow asymetric.
As for us, well, we wanted it it, and we needed it (if only to ease the path for future generations of exiles in London). We may not be the centre of the universe, but we're bloody good at sport - cue VB-laced grunts of agreement. And unlike the shadow of empire, you have to keep winning to maintain the reputation. A drought of medals, trophies and the urn would do more emotional damage to us than a few years without rain. Bragging rights are the mining rights of the post-colonial world.
Five-nil would be cruel, but fair. That which they stole last year (and I'm not just referring to an entire nation's sleep) can only be restored thus. So onward to the G, and Warney's Hollywood moment led by Captain Punter, the most determined man ever to emerge from the wilderness island. A more stoic protector of the national reputation would be hard to find.
As the bushfires around Melbourne smoulder, from the ashes emerge new shoots, regeneration, a canopy of the future - the bush is lost, but returns doublefold. This is the natural order of things down under.
19 December 2006
As Shane Heaved Elbow Skyward....
Quote of the day
"I'm beyond caring - this is like watching a very close elderly relative being savaged to death by a gang of otters as bystanders laugh at the spectacle."
English Cricket fan as the wickets they fell, somewhere out west of Kalgoorlie.....
"I'm beyond caring - this is like watching a very close elderly relative being savaged to death by a gang of otters as bystanders laugh at the spectacle."
English Cricket fan as the wickets they fell, somewhere out west of Kalgoorlie.....
15 December 2006
Quarter time at the G
A 53 day experiment concludes today.
According to my data, I've categorically proven that blogging is for people with far too much time on their hands. In an effort to devote my bounteous time to other pursuits, I'm going to ration a bit henceforth, weeding out the turgid and tangential. I enjoy juggling words in sentences far too much. And I've proved to myself that it is possible to juggle words on virtually any topic known to humanity. That's a lot of prospective topics! Luckily there's a lot of bloggers out there covering them off.
My thoughts on blogging are these. It's a good medium. With a niche and good material you could create something significant. But the 'who cares' principle needs to be applied ruthlessly - both in terms of 'does anybody care about this issue' and 'is my opinion of any consequence beyond boring the tits off readers.' I fear nothing more than sounding like the editorialising blogchild of Andrew Bolt and Greg Sheridan. . . . . . oooooooogh.
So a hiatus is in order, energies to be deployed instead on pesky essays, walks in the deep London autumn, and, after the sun sets, the ticking off, one by one, of the 1000 books to read before you die (I'm up to #4).
I'll be back, soon as a lively thought insists on being committed to the cyberswamp.
xx
According to my data, I've categorically proven that blogging is for people with far too much time on their hands. In an effort to devote my bounteous time to other pursuits, I'm going to ration a bit henceforth, weeding out the turgid and tangential. I enjoy juggling words in sentences far too much. And I've proved to myself that it is possible to juggle words on virtually any topic known to humanity. That's a lot of prospective topics! Luckily there's a lot of bloggers out there covering them off.
My thoughts on blogging are these. It's a good medium. With a niche and good material you could create something significant. But the 'who cares' principle needs to be applied ruthlessly - both in terms of 'does anybody care about this issue' and 'is my opinion of any consequence beyond boring the tits off readers.' I fear nothing more than sounding like the editorialising blogchild of Andrew Bolt and Greg Sheridan. . . . . . oooooooogh.
So a hiatus is in order, energies to be deployed instead on pesky essays, walks in the deep London autumn, and, after the sun sets, the ticking off, one by one, of the 1000 books to read before you die (I'm up to #4).
I'll be back, soon as a lively thought insists on being committed to the cyberswamp.
xx
14 December 2006
Experisotto of the day
Combining the two easiest things in the world, procrastination and risotto, I've decided to branch out from old favourites to new experimental varieties. Today its creamy risotto with red wine, mushrooms, zuccini, rocket and sage. Splendid for a chilly london day (though must find a way to stop mushrooms, red wine and cream turning the risotto juice grey).
Buck the star
Yesterday I discovered the secret to Starbucks uncannily consistant coffee - and complete lack of athmosphere. While waiting patiently for my grande latte without cinammon, eggnog or any other festive distraction, I snuck a look at the coffee machine. Shock! The chain which claims coffee culture as a trademark uses fully automated espresso machines! No skill required. Press the button, the machine grinds the coffee, and out comes the espresso.
As a retired barista, I find this a slight affront. Where is the human element, the crash of metal on metal, the cascading coffee grind, the sweat on the barista's brow? All these things go into the making of a fine coffee. Sure, sometimes you'll encounter a dud coffee maker or some burnt beans, but that's what makes the good ones sing. Viva baristas, the artisans of the cafe world. Viva La cimbali coffee machines that last a thousand years. Viva coffee with soul. Viva romantics who care about such things.
As a retired barista, I find this a slight affront. Where is the human element, the crash of metal on metal, the cascading coffee grind, the sweat on the barista's brow? All these things go into the making of a fine coffee. Sure, sometimes you'll encounter a dud coffee maker or some burnt beans, but that's what makes the good ones sing. Viva baristas, the artisans of the cafe world. Viva La cimbali coffee machines that last a thousand years. Viva coffee with soul. Viva romantics who care about such things.
Flying Kangaroo on the barbie
Despite them being very cute animals, I love a good Kangaroo fillet, particularly when made to Tobs' patented honey and beer recipe - AKA Bundahroo. Emotional attachment is no barrier to carnivorous consumption.
Can the same be applied to the flying Kangaroo, dismembered this evening by the hungry hoards of private capital? It's easy to get misty eyed at the sight of a Qantas plane in a far flung airport. Dropping off punters at the Joburg airport always bought on a sniffle in the knowledge that the big wheels would soon touch down in terra australis. Does that change now that Aussie Macquarie and their mates will spend 11 billion bucks to take Qantas private? Not a bit. $11billion is a lot to pay for a herd of flying roos - and you can bet that a significant portion of that is brand recognition (remember Rain man). They'll need to milk every little homesick tear from ex-pat Aussies if they're to make money. The association with Australia will remain at the core of the company (hopefully accompanied by onshore jobs). And by law it will remain technically majority Australian owned (though who invests in the investors is another matter). So pop the melbourne bitters and let the roo fry. And 'mums and dads' put your money in Macquarie if you want a piece of the juicy fillet while it's rare.
Can the same be applied to the flying Kangaroo, dismembered this evening by the hungry hoards of private capital? It's easy to get misty eyed at the sight of a Qantas plane in a far flung airport. Dropping off punters at the Joburg airport always bought on a sniffle in the knowledge that the big wheels would soon touch down in terra australis. Does that change now that Aussie Macquarie and their mates will spend 11 billion bucks to take Qantas private? Not a bit. $11billion is a lot to pay for a herd of flying roos - and you can bet that a significant portion of that is brand recognition (remember Rain man). They'll need to milk every little homesick tear from ex-pat Aussies if they're to make money. The association with Australia will remain at the core of the company (hopefully accompanied by onshore jobs). And by law it will remain technically majority Australian owned (though who invests in the investors is another matter). So pop the melbourne bitters and let the roo fry. And 'mums and dads' put your money in Macquarie if you want a piece of the juicy fillet while it's rare.
President Obama - "skinny kid with a funny name"
What would a President Obama mean for the world? It's a long shot, but given rumblings suggestive of an Obama candidacy in 2008, it's suddenly a question worth posing. He's only 45. He's a two year senator. He's frighteningly eloquent. He is currently the only African-American in the Senate and only the fifth in history. But he, more than other rumoured candidates, would represent a new beginning for America. Since 1980 when George Bush Snr joined the winning Reagan ticket as Vice President, either a Bush or a Clinton has been at the centre of American power. 1980 was 26 years ago. One could imagine a Whitlam-esque 'its time' campaign tapping into residual frustration with the state of things (think Sept 11, the Iraq war, big budget deficits, frustration with divisive partisanship and politicians ethical lapses).
He has the 'American miracle' biography, rising from modest means (literally son of a Kenyan goat herder) by making the most of opportunity. We all heard his striking convention speech in 2004 - here - in which he raised the roof with a lyrical evocation of Democrat values. His biggest barrier is to persuade democrats to take a leap of faith with him. He'd be the youngest President since Kennedy. Hillary Clinton would be the safe bet - she is popular though opinion against her is hardened - but don't write her off. For either, 2008 is a great opportunity to avoid an incumbent President or Vice President - a relatively rare thing.
The problem is without a public track record to speak of, its hard to know where he stands on issues - apart from the broad rhetoric. He voted against the Iraq war when it was not comfortable to do so - that's a plus. A Time article, based on interviews with Obama, raises questions about the depth of his policy ideas - he is smart, incisive and eloquent, but not particularly willing to shake-up conventional policy approaches. Moderation and cross-party mediation are his prefered approaches. Maybe he is just keeping his policy powder dry for 2008 - he is not yet a disclosed candidate. But he could go a long way simply promising 'change' to the way politics is currently played in the US, perhaps all the way. Definately one worth watching in the months ahead.
He has the 'American miracle' biography, rising from modest means (literally son of a Kenyan goat herder) by making the most of opportunity. We all heard his striking convention speech in 2004 - here - in which he raised the roof with a lyrical evocation of Democrat values. His biggest barrier is to persuade democrats to take a leap of faith with him. He'd be the youngest President since Kennedy. Hillary Clinton would be the safe bet - she is popular though opinion against her is hardened - but don't write her off. For either, 2008 is a great opportunity to avoid an incumbent President or Vice President - a relatively rare thing.
The problem is without a public track record to speak of, its hard to know where he stands on issues - apart from the broad rhetoric. He voted against the Iraq war when it was not comfortable to do so - that's a plus. A Time article, based on interviews with Obama, raises questions about the depth of his policy ideas - he is smart, incisive and eloquent, but not particularly willing to shake-up conventional policy approaches. Moderation and cross-party mediation are his prefered approaches. Maybe he is just keeping his policy powder dry for 2008 - he is not yet a disclosed candidate. But he could go a long way simply promising 'change' to the way politics is currently played in the US, perhaps all the way. Definately one worth watching in the months ahead.
13 December 2006
Glamour in Hampstead
Meet Zarah, daughter of Terina, resident of Oshikati Namibia, part-time opera singer, part-time South Park impersonator, visiting model at the Holly Bush Inn Hampstead - and my tip for Australian Idol winner 2025.
No Tuscan - a Gospel Oak scene
The Jones' copied the Smiths who copied the Johnstons who copied the Millars who....... infinityMick was right
....You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes well you just might find
You get what you need....
You can't always get what you want
You can't always get what you want
But if you try sometimes well you just might find
You get what you need....
11 December 2006
Kofi Annan departs
While an essay on 'protectionism' calls, I couldn't resist watching Kofi Annan's farewell speech as Secretary-General. If ever there was a singular voice of reason in this world, it is that of Annan. Approaching the microphone he appeared uncharacteristically tentative, unsure where to put his hands, no doubt his mind whirring with thoughts about the impending close to his tenure. He is a profoundly sensible man, a peacemaker, a humanist of the finest measure. He builds bridges, he calms nerves, he warms hearts. Call me a wet-eyed commie, but I love 'im.
But when he criticises it bites. His speech at the Harry S Truman presidential library, delivered in his measured West African cadence, focused on the history and future of US leadership. Truman was a framer of the UN, a builder of postwar multilateralism who understood the importance of US leadership. Annan reminded the audience that the US can lead - it did so much to build the multilateral system - but the world's problems need another infusion of its benign leadership. He reminded of the critical importance of principles in foreign policy - a thinly veiled reference to Guantanamo etc - the maleability of which leave "friends abroad troubled and confused."
Annan laid out five lessons from his tenure as Secretary-General: We are all responsible for eachothers security; We must ensure all have the chance to benefit from global prosperity; Our security and prosperity depend on human rights and the rule of law; all states must be accountable to eachother and to non state actors; We can only achieve these things by cooperation through multilateralism - in particular the institution of the United Nations. And in closing Annan noted the responsibility of major powers to serve, not dominate institutions like the Security Council.
May he write a nice thick book in the months and years ahead, freed from the story-telling strictures of office.
But when he criticises it bites. His speech at the Harry S Truman presidential library, delivered in his measured West African cadence, focused on the history and future of US leadership. Truman was a framer of the UN, a builder of postwar multilateralism who understood the importance of US leadership. Annan reminded the audience that the US can lead - it did so much to build the multilateral system - but the world's problems need another infusion of its benign leadership. He reminded of the critical importance of principles in foreign policy - a thinly veiled reference to Guantanamo etc - the maleability of which leave "friends abroad troubled and confused."
Annan laid out five lessons from his tenure as Secretary-General: We are all responsible for eachothers security; We must ensure all have the chance to benefit from global prosperity; Our security and prosperity depend on human rights and the rule of law; all states must be accountable to eachother and to non state actors; We can only achieve these things by cooperation through multilateralism - in particular the institution of the United Nations. And in closing Annan noted the responsibility of major powers to serve, not dominate institutions like the Security Council.
May he write a nice thick book in the months and years ahead, freed from the story-telling strictures of office.
Social democracy defined
In recent months Kevin Rudd has unveiled a personal philisophical schema that will presumably guide his leadership of Labor. It makes for interesting reading. I particularly recommend his wideranging speech to the CIS - here - in which he expounds a contemporary social democratic platform, defined against the free-market thinking of Hayek. It is refreshing to see a leader state so categorically the basis of his political involvement and decision making. Whether such an exposition connects with those who care more for outcomes that philisophical definitions remains to be seen. One thing is clear though, Rudd is intent on product differentiation - from first principles up.
The death of distance
My classmates' eyes pop out at mention of my christmas flight home. "22 hours - I'd go crazy after 10." So much for my efforts to pursuade them that Australia is not the ends of the earth. My only competitor is a Swede flying to his Nicaraguan sweetheart via New York and Miami - 20 hours.
As I write I'm listening to ABC radio online having just checked The Age and The Australian - there is a hot wind blowing in Melbourne town. The separation between physical distance and emotional distance is closing fast. At one level there's a certain sadness that we'll never again experience the separation from home of travellers a century ago - the satisfaction of the trek and the discovery of a new world. I love Frank Moorehouse's book 'Grand Days' and the way it captures the transformation of an Australian country girl in 1930s Geneva. She dreams of dry paddocks at home while leading a glamorously feather-boa'ed life, linked to her roots by dust-tinged letters from home conveying months old news. But those days are gone, and my romanticism probably misplaced.
Instant is the word of our age: know anything, anywhere, immediately and feel aggrieved if something stands in the way. As I discovered in a rural Tanzanian hotel room, you can know that an election has been called in Australia before 99.9% of Australians discover (CNN). But I think its a false intimacy - one keeps abreast of the news and views, but misses the non-digital textures of home (the smell of hot gum leaves springs to mind). The company of family and friends can never be truly digitised. How would you capture the kaleidascope of conversations, asides, manerisms, smells, knowing looks and kicks under the table. I just hope the web's artifice of closeness doesn't become a substitute for the real thing. An 80% solution to justify perpetual globe trotting holds plenty of temptation.
As I write I'm listening to ABC radio online having just checked The Age and The Australian - there is a hot wind blowing in Melbourne town. The separation between physical distance and emotional distance is closing fast. At one level there's a certain sadness that we'll never again experience the separation from home of travellers a century ago - the satisfaction of the trek and the discovery of a new world. I love Frank Moorehouse's book 'Grand Days' and the way it captures the transformation of an Australian country girl in 1930s Geneva. She dreams of dry paddocks at home while leading a glamorously feather-boa'ed life, linked to her roots by dust-tinged letters from home conveying months old news. But those days are gone, and my romanticism probably misplaced.
Instant is the word of our age: know anything, anywhere, immediately and feel aggrieved if something stands in the way. As I discovered in a rural Tanzanian hotel room, you can know that an election has been called in Australia before 99.9% of Australians discover (CNN). But I think its a false intimacy - one keeps abreast of the news and views, but misses the non-digital textures of home (the smell of hot gum leaves springs to mind). The company of family and friends can never be truly digitised. How would you capture the kaleidascope of conversations, asides, manerisms, smells, knowing looks and kicks under the table. I just hope the web's artifice of closeness doesn't become a substitute for the real thing. An 80% solution to justify perpetual globe trotting holds plenty of temptation.
Climate toastiness
The BBC climate change site lists the top 10 hottests and coldest places in the world every day. Today, 8/10 of the hottest are in Australia including usual suspects Port Hedland and Exmouth as well as the more temperate Sale, Mulgrave, Tullamarine and others.
Climate guru Nick Stern spoke at school a few weeks back. Here is his speech - really worth a look.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/mediaselector/check/nolavconsole/ifs_news/hi?redirect=st.stm&news=1&bbram=1&bbwm=1&nbram=1&nbwm=1&nol_storyid=6133578
Climate guru Nick Stern spoke at school a few weeks back. Here is his speech - really worth a look.
http://www.bbc.co.uk/mediaselector/check/nolavconsole/ifs_news/hi?redirect=st.stm&news=1&bbram=1&bbwm=1&nbram=1&nbwm=1&nol_storyid=6133578
10 December 2006
Renewal of the trident
Incidentally, I've been chatting to a few fellow students about the UK government's decision this week to renew the Trident submarine-based nuclear deterrent. Two questions came through - what does it actually protect the UK against, and would UK citizens ever want to use it? On the question of threats, the most pertinent is non-state actors (against whom the tool is blunt). Future threats are always difficult to pin-point and this cloudiness seems to be a prime justification. On the question of whether the deterrent is credible (would it be used), those I've talked to were horrified at the thought of the use of UK nuclear weapons against another country - even had the UK itself been struck. The deployment of nuclear weapons would seem to collide with Britain's post-cold war self image (human rights, development, rule of law, multilateralism, just war etc).
This leaves a final explanation (and one which is a bitter pill to swallow). To not renew the deterrent would leave France the only nuclear power in europe, and leave the UK under the US nuclear umbrella. So long as 'Great Power' status remains linked to nuclear status, it's hard to let go. But so long as nobody lets go, the association remains and aspirants to great power status will chase nuclear capability by hook or by crook. The renewal of trident would seem a lost opportunity for the UK to take the lead in global disarmament, not necessarily through unilateral disarmament, but by using that as a bargaining chip. Maybe France can oblige.....
Mr Blair's parliamentary speech on the issue is here
This leaves a final explanation (and one which is a bitter pill to swallow). To not renew the deterrent would leave France the only nuclear power in europe, and leave the UK under the US nuclear umbrella. So long as 'Great Power' status remains linked to nuclear status, it's hard to let go. But so long as nobody lets go, the association remains and aspirants to great power status will chase nuclear capability by hook or by crook. The renewal of trident would seem a lost opportunity for the UK to take the lead in global disarmament, not necessarily through unilateral disarmament, but by using that as a bargaining chip. Maybe France can oblige.....
Mr Blair's parliamentary speech on the issue is here
Nuclear chess in India
Interesting article in the NYTimes today. http://www.nytimes.com/2006/12/10/world/asia/10india.html?ex=1323406800&en=51b114f5c9927d2b&ei=5088&partner=rssnyt&emc=rss
All power to India for negotiating its groundbreaking nuclear agreement with the US. The trade fits the national interests of both parties (narrowly defined). India gets access to power generating nuclear technology to fuel its booming economy - and concedes none of its nuclear weapons program. In return they open their burgeoning market to US investment - a significant bargaining chip (chess was of course invented in India).
But the conseqences for multilateral efforts to constrain the spread of nuclear weapons are grave - and relatively silent. In embracing an overt violator of the non-proliferation treaty, the US undermines its capacity to enforce the non-proliferation norm elsewhere (at a time when this is a priority). One exception begets more. A new non-proliferation regime dependant on the singular judgement of the preponderant world power would seem shaky. Ultimately the NPT of the 70's has been revealed as an empty promise - the diffusion of nuclear power technology has been overly constrained, and nuclear powers themselves have not disarmed. A great pity. Now that the horse has bolted, perhaps pragmatism is the only way forward. I can't see where the next non-proliferation leader is going to come from (perhaps a missed opportunity for the UK to make a moral stand and scrap its nuclear deterrent... but that's another issue).
All power to India for negotiating its groundbreaking nuclear agreement with the US. The trade fits the national interests of both parties (narrowly defined). India gets access to power generating nuclear technology to fuel its booming economy - and concedes none of its nuclear weapons program. In return they open their burgeoning market to US investment - a significant bargaining chip (chess was of course invented in India).
But the conseqences for multilateral efforts to constrain the spread of nuclear weapons are grave - and relatively silent. In embracing an overt violator of the non-proliferation treaty, the US undermines its capacity to enforce the non-proliferation norm elsewhere (at a time when this is a priority). One exception begets more. A new non-proliferation regime dependant on the singular judgement of the preponderant world power would seem shaky. Ultimately the NPT of the 70's has been revealed as an empty promise - the diffusion of nuclear power technology has been overly constrained, and nuclear powers themselves have not disarmed. A great pity. Now that the horse has bolted, perhaps pragmatism is the only way forward. I can't see where the next non-proliferation leader is going to come from (perhaps a missed opportunity for the UK to make a moral stand and scrap its nuclear deterrent... but that's another issue).
9 December 2006
Jetsetting vegies
You know you live in a globalised world where your dinner ingredients derive from:
Peru Avocado
Ireland Mushrooms
Chile Asparagus
Belgium Noodles
Morocco Green Beans
Spain Organic pumpkin & celery
Britain Parsnips
What's the carbon footprint of this bundle? Good bet by Britain to corner the booming parsnip market...
Peru Avocado
Ireland Mushrooms
Chile Asparagus
Belgium Noodles
Morocco Green Beans
Spain Organic pumpkin & celery
Britain Parsnips
What's the carbon footprint of this bundle? Good bet by Britain to corner the booming parsnip market...
6 December 2006
France 24 will save the world, apparently
I like croissants. I like to say "oui" every now and again to show my continental sensibilities. I enjoy baguettes and cheese. I even doff my beret at french champagne. But these aside, I shall never be a francophile.
My gripes are threefold. 1) Muruaroa Atoll is not close enough to Paris for my liking. 2) A grape grown in a particular valley in france is no more 'champagne' than an identical grape grown in the Barossa. 3) French culture is nice, but no nicer than anyone elses.
The final of these, cultural-political hubris, particularly grates. We've been fortunate to be insulated by our heathen non french speaking ways. But no more - President Chirac is launching a 24 cable channel in English called France 24. It promises to give a French perspective on the world. Whether this extends to France's status as the last remaining colonial power, France's corporate meddling in Iraq, or France's protectionist inclinations remains to be seen. But this quote by one of the presenters was gold - no comment required.
"Take the conflict in Lebanon this summer. If Jacques Chirac's call for a ceasefire - which didn't even make BBC or CNN - had been reported earlier, it could have brought about an earlier resolution of the conflict. If Chirac's call had been reported more widely it maybe could have saved thousands of lives. That was a story calling out for a French angle, given the historic links to Lebanon."
http://www.guardian.co.uk/france/story/0,,1965061,00.html?gusrc=rss&feed=1
My gripes are threefold. 1) Muruaroa Atoll is not close enough to Paris for my liking. 2) A grape grown in a particular valley in france is no more 'champagne' than an identical grape grown in the Barossa. 3) French culture is nice, but no nicer than anyone elses.
The final of these, cultural-political hubris, particularly grates. We've been fortunate to be insulated by our heathen non french speaking ways. But no more - President Chirac is launching a 24 cable channel in English called France 24. It promises to give a French perspective on the world. Whether this extends to France's status as the last remaining colonial power, France's corporate meddling in Iraq, or France's protectionist inclinations remains to be seen. But this quote by one of the presenters was gold - no comment required.
"Take the conflict in Lebanon this summer. If Jacques Chirac's call for a ceasefire - which didn't even make BBC or CNN - had been reported earlier, it could have brought about an earlier resolution of the conflict. If Chirac's call had been reported more widely it maybe could have saved thousands of lives. That was a story calling out for a French angle, given the historic links to Lebanon."
http://www.guardian.co.uk/france/story/0,,1965061,00.html?gusrc=rss&feed=1
Wombats 2 - Wombles 0
Much as the temptation is enormous, I know of no taunt capable of trumping England's own self-loathing. As word spread yesterday, and the afternoon papers clammered for a bruising headline, England re-aqainted itself with the pleasure of self-flaggellation. The London equivalent of Lateline spent 20 minutes interviewing sports psychologists to discover "what is it about sportsmen, and in particular English sportsmen, that makes them lose basic motor skills under pressure." Video reels of English sporting failure (drawn from a vast archive) rolled in the background. A mate emailed to say he was sad and angry. I sent back a joyful, though non-commisseratory, email. He shut me down with "ok ok we're shit - now i've got work to do."
So to work and other joys does the land of the early setting sun turn, quietly muttering about Australian egos and looking through scrapbooks of 1966 and 2005. One thing is for sure though, Shane Warne elicits as much respect on these shores as he does in Australia - watching a timid Hoggard and a taciturn Collingwood being interviewed the morning after, they'd clearly done their internal polling and figured Shane Warne was the most acceptable excuse for a fist waving English audience. "Shane Warne" was a stand-alone two word sentence of explanation.
Self loathing is England's best defence mechanism - even the most one-eyed Aussie here would think twice before verballing a sniffeling mess of a man. Just a pity it kicked in so soon - no fun in that dammit.
So to work and other joys does the land of the early setting sun turn, quietly muttering about Australian egos and looking through scrapbooks of 1966 and 2005. One thing is for sure though, Shane Warne elicits as much respect on these shores as he does in Australia - watching a timid Hoggard and a taciturn Collingwood being interviewed the morning after, they'd clearly done their internal polling and figured Shane Warne was the most acceptable excuse for a fist waving English audience. "Shane Warne" was a stand-alone two word sentence of explanation.
Self loathing is England's best defence mechanism - even the most one-eyed Aussie here would think twice before verballing a sniffeling mess of a man. Just a pity it kicked in so soon - no fun in that dammit.
5 December 2006
Compassion is not a dirty word
Sad as I was to see the end of the Beazley-era, the future beckons. It was nice to hear a defence of core values like compassion in Mr Rudd's parliamentary speech. Nice too to hear a committment to ideas as a driver of policy. The coming weeks promise to be interesting.
Last weekend, the FT splashed Australia's 'culture wars' on the magazine cover( http://www.ft.com/cms/s/760e6c24-81aa-11db-864e-0000779e2340.html). The article ends on a worthy note. In identifying indigenous australia as central to the culture wars, and citing Noel Pearson's interventions in the welfare debate, the FT suggests that "once more, Australia might be a pioneer in democratic innovation - in pointing a way for other societies to find a route to common citizenship." This is an interesting and hopeful conclusion to draw from a relatively damning analysis. I'd like to hope Australia can serve that purpose. Our recent difficulties have changed the way the world sees us - we fly a different flag (beacon on immigration control rather than multiculturalism). But as management consultatants might suggest, we should see in the crisis a golden opportunity. The early 90's pushed the bounds of identity change. A counter-swing was inevitable. In challenging the counter-swing a new consensus will emerge. The time is ripe for new ideas.
And just an aside - in recent months the ALP was dubbed RUDDerless by the media pack. Was the putsch engineered (not in a JFK way, but in a what-will-we-write-about-today-fellow-correspondants way)? Did people lose faith in Beazley because they were reminded incessantly of his shortcomings? Was he only boring to those that filter the news? In a world of new shiny things, was he in the game too long - like a walkman trying to pass himself off as an iPod Nano? I dunno, but its worth thinking about the power of the media to shape politics - after all how many aussies watch question time live and undiluted on the web?
Last weekend, the FT splashed Australia's 'culture wars' on the magazine cover( http://www.ft.com/cms/s/760e6c24-81aa-11db-864e-0000779e2340.html). The article ends on a worthy note. In identifying indigenous australia as central to the culture wars, and citing Noel Pearson's interventions in the welfare debate, the FT suggests that "once more, Australia might be a pioneer in democratic innovation - in pointing a way for other societies to find a route to common citizenship." This is an interesting and hopeful conclusion to draw from a relatively damning analysis. I'd like to hope Australia can serve that purpose. Our recent difficulties have changed the way the world sees us - we fly a different flag (beacon on immigration control rather than multiculturalism). But as management consultatants might suggest, we should see in the crisis a golden opportunity. The early 90's pushed the bounds of identity change. A counter-swing was inevitable. In challenging the counter-swing a new consensus will emerge. The time is ripe for new ideas.
And just an aside - in recent months the ALP was dubbed RUDDerless by the media pack. Was the putsch engineered (not in a JFK way, but in a what-will-we-write-about-today-fellow-correspondants way)? Did people lose faith in Beazley because they were reminded incessantly of his shortcomings? Was he only boring to those that filter the news? In a world of new shiny things, was he in the game too long - like a walkman trying to pass himself off as an iPod Nano? I dunno, but its worth thinking about the power of the media to shape politics - after all how many aussies watch question time live and undiluted on the web?
4 December 2006
A good man exits
Kim Beazley is a very good man. He has an enormous, generous heart - far too good for the attrition of endless opposition. He is the greatest Prime Minister Australia never had and I'm saddened that he'll not be able to demonstrate that. Such men do not deserve to end their careers in disappointment - but that's politics. I had hoped he would be the man to stand at a dais and announce (in soaring prose) the success of a republican referendum. Perhaps he'll do so as incoming President. Three cheers for Kim Beazley - you'll be missed.
1 December 2006
When is a neo-con not a neo-con?
Have I become a neo-con? This disturbing though entered my mind tonight as I listened to the Heritage Foundation's president speak on UN Reform. I had expected a horned beast to grace the stage and spit Rumsfeldian riddles at the audience (in between ripping the heads off live chickens). Instead I heard a recitation of reform ideas which fit relatively snugly with my own. Have no fear, his bigger vision was way out of whack - I for one think the UN has a future beyond "allowing Vanuatu and Liechtenstein to talk to eachother". But his individual reform ideas were sensible and these rhetorical flourishes were just that.
Be tougher on human rights; Deal with issues in proportion (resolutions on Israel lack balance in number and substance); Be tougher on internal fraud, corruption, incompetence and malpractice (oil-for-food, abuse by peacekeepers etc); Avoid duplication and overlap between agencies; make sure money is carefully spent; allow some say in the budget process for large donors (top 10 countries contribute 80% of budget); improve the quality and leadership of the secretariat; allow the Secretary-General more freedom to manage staff and money; make attached agencies more accountable for spending; focus on what the UN does well.
So if this is the agenda of a neo-con - then sign me up (for the newsletter).
Be tougher on human rights; Deal with issues in proportion (resolutions on Israel lack balance in number and substance); Be tougher on internal fraud, corruption, incompetence and malpractice (oil-for-food, abuse by peacekeepers etc); Avoid duplication and overlap between agencies; make sure money is carefully spent; allow some say in the budget process for large donors (top 10 countries contribute 80% of budget); improve the quality and leadership of the secretariat; allow the Secretary-General more freedom to manage staff and money; make attached agencies more accountable for spending; focus on what the UN does well.
So if this is the agenda of a neo-con - then sign me up (for the newsletter).
28 November 2006
27 November 2006
Blogs: A big herd of self-obsessed cows blocking the information superhighway
Who's got time for all this blog bizzo? If the rapid rise of individual blogging outpaces the number of people buying computers, we may reach a stage where there is no-one left in the world with time to read them? Yes it's gloriously democratic to be able to express an opinion for all the world to see, but who cares? Isn't blogging just an online version of boring your mates at a BBQ with the minutae of your life? Hell's bells perhaps we're confusing documenting with living. Putting aside people who control nuclear weapons and those who aspire to control them, does anyone really care what someone on the other side of the world did today? And even if they care, is it healthy for them to do so. Can there be too much information?
On an individual level, I need help. I'm all for diversity of media, and would be the last to suggest the internet equivalent of book burning. But I'm screaming out for someone to create an information sorting device that brings the internet back to a human dimension. I want a single page that contains all I need without distracting me with links to things I don't - the internet equivalent of the sexily simple iPod.
I like to know stuff. This is not a bad thing. But it places me in mortal danger of losing a balance between accumulating information and deploying it usefully. I find myself info-grazing far beyond the purpose of my search - to the info-antipodes and back in half an hour.
Tim's impossibility theorem: Amount to learn = infinite; Time to learn = finite; Chance Tim can absorb everything he wants = zero;
In search of self discipline, I'd like to install a restraining device on my computer - a succession of pop-ups activated whenever I click an article link.
(Pop up 1) Tim, you've clicked on a link to an article about Lebanon. Are you sure this is what you want? (Yes to proceed) (No to refrain from distraction)
(Pop up 2) Tim, do you really need to learn about Lebanon right now? (Yes to proceed) (No to concede you're just procrastinating)
(Pop up 3) Tim, first persuade me that knowing about Lebanon will nourish your presentation on economic development tomorrow. (Fill in explanation to proceed) (No to return to presentation preparation)
(Pop up 4) Ok Tim, you either need to know about Lebanon or you're a lost cause - (click here to proceed).
If someone invents this, please let me know. In the meantime good old-fashioned self discipline shall have to do.
If you have time, check out this link to Tory boss David Cameron's blog - I'm wondering whether a person with time to write a blog should be allowed to run a country?
webcameron http://www.webcameron.org.uk/
And this journo reckons he's just being a tosser.
http://media.guardian.co.uk/site/story/0,,1957952,00.html
On an individual level, I need help. I'm all for diversity of media, and would be the last to suggest the internet equivalent of book burning. But I'm screaming out for someone to create an information sorting device that brings the internet back to a human dimension. I want a single page that contains all I need without distracting me with links to things I don't - the internet equivalent of the sexily simple iPod.
I like to know stuff. This is not a bad thing. But it places me in mortal danger of losing a balance between accumulating information and deploying it usefully. I find myself info-grazing far beyond the purpose of my search - to the info-antipodes and back in half an hour.
Tim's impossibility theorem: Amount to learn = infinite; Time to learn = finite; Chance Tim can absorb everything he wants = zero;
In search of self discipline, I'd like to install a restraining device on my computer - a succession of pop-ups activated whenever I click an article link.
(Pop up 1) Tim, you've clicked on a link to an article about Lebanon. Are you sure this is what you want? (Yes to proceed) (No to refrain from distraction)
(Pop up 2) Tim, do you really need to learn about Lebanon right now? (Yes to proceed) (No to concede you're just procrastinating)
(Pop up 3) Tim, first persuade me that knowing about Lebanon will nourish your presentation on economic development tomorrow. (Fill in explanation to proceed) (No to return to presentation preparation)
(Pop up 4) Ok Tim, you either need to know about Lebanon or you're a lost cause - (click here to proceed).
If someone invents this, please let me know. In the meantime good old-fashioned self discipline shall have to do.
If you have time, check out this link to Tory boss David Cameron's blog - I'm wondering whether a person with time to write a blog should be allowed to run a country?
webcameron http://www.webcameron.org.uk/
And this journo reckons he's just being a tosser.
http://media.guardian.co.uk/site/story/0,,1957952,00.html
Quietly praying for a drubbing
I've been keenly anticipating The Ashes series since discovering that the suburb next door is called 'Tufnell Park' - apparently not named after England's most hilariously poor cricketer. Memories flooded back of the ruthless flaying of English cricket by the likes of Border, Waugh, Taylor and Boonie. But ever the cautious fan, I've been hosing down my internal hopes of a pommy thrashing - just in case. The only thing worse than a repeat of the Rule-Brittania-singing, St-George-flag-waving hysteria of last year, would be humiliation at my having predicted a bloodbath.
So, I'm responding to congratulatory comments with a sober-faced nod - presenting the face of reasonableness and balance as a Trojan horse for my escalating excitement. I'm making excuses for England's cricketers and invoking the oppressive heat of an Australian summer in their defence. All the while gleeful at the seemingly dischevelled state of their players (is that botched botox or sunburn on Flintoff's nose?). Its too early to tell, but things look promising. Five-nil is not too much to ask. Wouldn't our queen be pleased!
btw - I sighted our very disowned Rolf Harris last week..... waxing lyrical outside the opening night of Dirty Dancing. Thought I'd squeeze in a spot of celeb spotting while waiting for my bus home from school.
So, I'm responding to congratulatory comments with a sober-faced nod - presenting the face of reasonableness and balance as a Trojan horse for my escalating excitement. I'm making excuses for England's cricketers and invoking the oppressive heat of an Australian summer in their defence. All the while gleeful at the seemingly dischevelled state of their players (is that botched botox or sunburn on Flintoff's nose?). Its too early to tell, but things look promising. Five-nil is not too much to ask. Wouldn't our queen be pleased!
btw - I sighted our very disowned Rolf Harris last week..... waxing lyrical outside the opening night of Dirty Dancing. Thought I'd squeeze in a spot of celeb spotting while waiting for my bus home from school.
25 November 2006
Night haunts of London
Friday night activity of the week was 'Because the Night', an uber-contemporary art event sprawling though a disused victorian-era town hall. Old horror films projected on walls, new films of hip-hop culture and pirate radio, cabaret, talks about insomnia and ghosts, music about the life cycle of moths.... and a sillouettist.
A highlight for me was a collaboration between a writer, a soundscapist and webdesigner. They explored the lives of those who inhabit nighttime London, often unseen: cabbies, sewer workers, cleaners, police, lifeline operators, security guard etc. The reflections were melancholic, capturing the entrails of the city, the discarded emotions, the refuse, the rebirth of the city each morning and the interconnectedness of our lives with those untold.
The website for the collaboration is brilliant - make sure you listen to the soundscape.
http://www.nighthaunts.org.uk/flash.php
A highlight for me was a collaboration between a writer, a soundscapist and webdesigner. They explored the lives of those who inhabit nighttime London, often unseen: cabbies, sewer workers, cleaners, police, lifeline operators, security guard etc. The reflections were melancholic, capturing the entrails of the city, the discarded emotions, the refuse, the rebirth of the city each morning and the interconnectedness of our lives with those untold.
The website for the collaboration is brilliant - make sure you listen to the soundscape.
http://www.nighthaunts.org.uk/flash.php
23 November 2006
First strike
Instead of factually reporting day one of the ashes, the Telegraph - that favourite rag of belching pipe smokers down the local - chose instead this.
"Australia - a few facts. It's the sixth largest country in the world, and the largest island and its people have the biggest egos, despite residing in a vast useless desert full of spiders."
hmmm. Gloves off then. I would have thought "Oh shite! The aussies are going to eat us for breakfast" would have been more appropriate. Instead, a return to the safe chortling ground of post-colonial diminution. Chortle, chortle, chortle, where's my pork pie then lovie?
Fitter, faster, sunnier, happier - stick that up your hairy empire-lusting nostril.
"Australia - a few facts. It's the sixth largest country in the world, and the largest island and its people have the biggest egos, despite residing in a vast useless desert full of spiders."
hmmm. Gloves off then. I would have thought "Oh shite! The aussies are going to eat us for breakfast" would have been more appropriate. Instead, a return to the safe chortling ground of post-colonial diminution. Chortle, chortle, chortle, where's my pork pie then lovie?
Fitter, faster, sunnier, happier - stick that up your hairy empire-lusting nostril.
All the rage in Bloomsbury
How long do you need to be a cyclist before you can claim the high moral ground? I'm at about four weeks, and can feel a distinct superiority complex creeping into my road use.
Last night, after many hours in the library, my route home was temporarily blocked by a london cabbie who wanted to turn across my path. He saw me late, braked appropriately, but still his bonnet blocked my way. Though I was in no danger, I found myself waving a fist at him. In body language I was trying to convey "you buffoon, can't you see a three-pronged flashing halogen - not only do you endanger my precious life with your blindness, you insult my people, the global carbon neutralising corp - we are the future and you are a relic." I think he got the message. He stopped, rolled down his window and in an unexpectedly feminine voice said "orite ma'e, don't get carried away now."
Then this morning, I was holding my own in the Bloomsbury bustle. A delivery van changed lanes and ate up the thin sliver of bitumen with my name on it. Once forgiven, but when he repeated the act at the next lights, I theatrically removed my bike from the road, looking around to see who had witnessed this travesty. The bus driver behind, gave me a world weary shrug. Direct action required. So I rolled through the gridlock to Mr deliveryman, and knocked on his passenger window (no fist this time). I gesticulated feverishly toward my precious sliver of road with a "wherethehelldidyouthinkIwasgoingtogoyouninkunpoop" expression on my face. He saw a man waving angrily. He honked his horn to say "you cycling vermin, you have no place on this road - I got a two wives and six kids to feed and if I don't deliver this truckload of potata crisps by 9 my boss'll have my balls for breakfast." I heard only honk. I rode onward to school, leaving him traffic-bound in my wake.
Somehow, the exchange was good for us both. I was exhilarated by my act of davidian defiance in the face of his goliathan road manners and started dreaming up grandiose schemes for public expenditure on inviolable cycleways (perhaps elevated like monorails). He, satisfied to have clearly made his rebuttal, and gagging for a bacon sandwich.
Last night, after many hours in the library, my route home was temporarily blocked by a london cabbie who wanted to turn across my path. He saw me late, braked appropriately, but still his bonnet blocked my way. Though I was in no danger, I found myself waving a fist at him. In body language I was trying to convey "you buffoon, can't you see a three-pronged flashing halogen - not only do you endanger my precious life with your blindness, you insult my people, the global carbon neutralising corp - we are the future and you are a relic." I think he got the message. He stopped, rolled down his window and in an unexpectedly feminine voice said "orite ma'e, don't get carried away now."
Then this morning, I was holding my own in the Bloomsbury bustle. A delivery van changed lanes and ate up the thin sliver of bitumen with my name on it. Once forgiven, but when he repeated the act at the next lights, I theatrically removed my bike from the road, looking around to see who had witnessed this travesty. The bus driver behind, gave me a world weary shrug. Direct action required. So I rolled through the gridlock to Mr deliveryman, and knocked on his passenger window (no fist this time). I gesticulated feverishly toward my precious sliver of road with a "wherethehelldidyouthinkIwasgoingtogoyouninkunpoop" expression on my face. He saw a man waving angrily. He honked his horn to say "you cycling vermin, you have no place on this road - I got a two wives and six kids to feed and if I don't deliver this truckload of potata crisps by 9 my boss'll have my balls for breakfast." I heard only honk. I rode onward to school, leaving him traffic-bound in my wake.
Somehow, the exchange was good for us both. I was exhilarated by my act of davidian defiance in the face of his goliathan road manners and started dreaming up grandiose schemes for public expenditure on inviolable cycleways (perhaps elevated like monorails). He, satisfied to have clearly made his rebuttal, and gagging for a bacon sandwich.
22 November 2006
A future of triumphant mediocrity?
This is worth a read - Lindsay Tanner on 'the light on the hill' - lifelong learning
http://media.theaustralian.news.com.au/sydins.pdf
And an interesting aside from an academic in the ensuing debate.
"The usage of the word “elite” in modern Australia is telling - attached to the word “sportsman”, it’s a desirable description. However, attach it to the word “academic”, and you’re beneath contempt."
I agree with Tanner's thoughts on the contemporary applicability of Donald Horne's book. Our anti-knowledge culture is incompatible with a skill-intensive future. More champions of the book required.
http://media.theaustralian.news.com.au/sydins.pdf
And an interesting aside from an academic in the ensuing debate.
"The usage of the word “elite” in modern Australia is telling - attached to the word “sportsman”, it’s a desirable description. However, attach it to the word “academic”, and you’re beneath contempt."
I agree with Tanner's thoughts on the contemporary applicability of Donald Horne's book. Our anti-knowledge culture is incompatible with a skill-intensive future. More champions of the book required.
British weather optimism
Much as we round up 98c to $1, so the BBC weatherman applies a dash of statistical flexibility to weather forecasting.
"The weather symbol shown for each day in the five day forecast represents the predominant weather expected on the day in question. This is calculated based on a weighting of different types of weather, so if a day is forecast to be sunny with the possibility of a brief shower, then we will see a sunny or partly cloudy symbol rather than a rain cloud."
Blinkers people! Pretending the clouds are not grey doesn't make the rain go away! Surely the chance of rain (read guaranteed downpour) should be sufficient to add at least one lil' raindrop to the fluffy cloud? People who trust the venerable BBC get wet. Especially those trying to be sexily carbon neutral on a bike. Perhaps the BBC thought police are applying the placebo effect to weather - if we think its sunny outside we'll feel happier as we furrow around in office buildings. All I know is that tomorrow is forecast below....... time will tell whether I arrive at school looking like a drowned water rat.
"The weather symbol shown for each day in the five day forecast represents the predominant weather expected on the day in question. This is calculated based on a weighting of different types of weather, so if a day is forecast to be sunny with the possibility of a brief shower, then we will see a sunny or partly cloudy symbol rather than a rain cloud."
Blinkers people! Pretending the clouds are not grey doesn't make the rain go away! Surely the chance of rain (read guaranteed downpour) should be sufficient to add at least one lil' raindrop to the fluffy cloud? People who trust the venerable BBC get wet. Especially those trying to be sexily carbon neutral on a bike. Perhaps the BBC thought police are applying the placebo effect to weather - if we think its sunny outside we'll feel happier as we furrow around in office buildings. All I know is that tomorrow is forecast below....... time will tell whether I arrive at school looking like a drowned water rat.
21 November 2006
Long live ideas
Of all the obituaries for Milton Friedman, none are as succinct as that penned by his son - www.daviddfriedman.blogspot.com
Friedman was a man of ideas, passionate about public policy (even if he questioned the public aspect of it) and questioning of embedded conventions (conscription, tax, the size of government, methods of analysing of the economy etc). Whether you agree with all his arguments (and I don't), the above qualifies him for hero status. Rarely do academics make such a singular impact on public policy, and across so many state boundaries. His life work preaching rigour in analysis and challenging accepted wisedom should be an inspiration for dynamism in policy creation, no matter of what variety: just because it is so, doesn't mean it shouldn't be forced to prove it is so. He has done well.
Cattle die, kindred die,
Every man is mortal:
But the good name never dies
Of one who has done well.
Friedman was a man of ideas, passionate about public policy (even if he questioned the public aspect of it) and questioning of embedded conventions (conscription, tax, the size of government, methods of analysing of the economy etc). Whether you agree with all his arguments (and I don't), the above qualifies him for hero status. Rarely do academics make such a singular impact on public policy, and across so many state boundaries. His life work preaching rigour in analysis and challenging accepted wisedom should be an inspiration for dynamism in policy creation, no matter of what variety: just because it is so, doesn't mean it shouldn't be forced to prove it is so. He has done well.
19 November 2006
18 November 2006
Protesting in the free world
I'm frustrated by the antics of self-appointed thugs who hijack worthy causes like 'make poverty history'. I wish they'd acknowledge the efforts governments do make to improve the world. And I wish they'd pause to consider the complexity of the issues. I'm a little embarrassed for their sins of rational thought as much as for their acts of mindless criminality. A few thoughts that spilled from my de-radicalised fingers follow.....
Sweet democracy. Quietly it knits a web from our individual preferences to manage our complex societies. We get consulted from time to time, and do our best to appoint professionals to manage things in between. There are flaws, but its our least-worst option.
Democracy allows us to protest freely whenever we disagree - and whenever a flotilla of men in dark suits float into harbour. The wearing of suits is apparently secret code for "we want to crush the world's poor under the mighty fist of unrestrained capitalism." I have serious issues with such simplistic nonsense - just because it sounds good coming from a megaphone doesn't mean its right.
On Central Banks and democracy: I'm not alone in noting the central fallacy of the last federal election - the debate on which party would keep interest rates lower. Alas, the buck actually stops with the Reserve Bank Board - appointed men in dark suits. What does this mean for democracy? Should Central Banks be independent? And further, should we object when independent central banks meet alongside elected treasurers to discuss global issues? And what on earth does this have to do with throwing urine-filled water bombs at police outside a McDonalds restaurant?
There are a variety of views on Central banks independence. Perhaps the most persuasive argument in favour is in order to prevent elected governments from manipulating interest rates around election time. Studies of non-independent central banks showed a correlation between cuts in interest rates and elections. A cut a year out from an election would stimulate the economy, create more jobs, and reduce the size of mortgage repayments. It was also inflationary - but this was OK because the bad effects would only kick in after the election. But the punters are cleverer than governments. They came to expect a pre-election cut to rates, as well as the inflationary aftertaste and pegged wage claims accordingly. Wage claims offset the 'surprise stimulus' by introducing earlier inflation, making the whole process a little pointless - but that didn't remove the temptation.
So central banks were separated from the mothership and we all lived happily ever after, safe in the knowledge that 'long-termism' drives our monetary policy. Critics would have it that in this long-term planning, central bankers are biased by the aversion of their banking chums to inflation (it erodes the value of loans, the backbone of private banking profits). Fair enough, but without the capital in the first place we'd all be living in shacks and eating grass for dinner. Central banking is an arcane and intricate business. Decisions are made quietly, beyond the understanding of punters like me. Data gets crunched and decisions get made. What better target for the megaphoned claims of 'secrecy' 'conspiracy' and 'the slaughter of african babies.'
On the G20 Meeting: Should they be allowed to meet? Absolutely. The global depression in the 1930s came about in part through a lack of policy coordination between central banks and governments. Old recipes failed. New ones needed to be discovered. More talking, and more agreed cooperation may have averted the economic calamity that beset the world. The G20 grew out of the 1997 Asian financial crisis suggesting its intentions are generally honourable. 1997 caused great damage to the economies of South Korea, Indonesia, Thailand and beyond. And the people who paid the price were the poor, the unskilled and the vulnerable. Private money took on central bank money and won. Learning from this event, and planning for the next time private money loses faith in a developing country economy, seems eminently sensible.
So how to persuade Melbourne's missile throwing protesters that the G-20 meeting is virtuous. Perhaps Oxfam, (that supremely sensible NGO) could use its research nous to demonstrate the importance of central bank independence and coordination, particularly for the world's poor. Perhaps a counter-rally could remind the particularly violent protesters that they live in a democracy, a democracy (whatever its flaws) that elected the current Treasurer. Further, that the people of Soweto elected the Finance Minister who is representing South Africa at the G20 Meeting by a 67% majority - and they adore him because he is pro-growth and job creation. And that the Reserve Bank governor of South Africa was St Mandela's economic advisor. Complex issues deserve considered responses, not simple 'men in suits are bad' jingoism.
Throwing things at McDonalds was cool in Seattle a decade ago. In 2006 Bono wears a dark suit and engages world leaders in rational discussion. Same argument, different method - I know which I prefer.
Sweet democracy. Quietly it knits a web from our individual preferences to manage our complex societies. We get consulted from time to time, and do our best to appoint professionals to manage things in between. There are flaws, but its our least-worst option.
Democracy allows us to protest freely whenever we disagree - and whenever a flotilla of men in dark suits float into harbour. The wearing of suits is apparently secret code for "we want to crush the world's poor under the mighty fist of unrestrained capitalism." I have serious issues with such simplistic nonsense - just because it sounds good coming from a megaphone doesn't mean its right.
On Central Banks and democracy: I'm not alone in noting the central fallacy of the last federal election - the debate on which party would keep interest rates lower. Alas, the buck actually stops with the Reserve Bank Board - appointed men in dark suits. What does this mean for democracy? Should Central Banks be independent? And further, should we object when independent central banks meet alongside elected treasurers to discuss global issues? And what on earth does this have to do with throwing urine-filled water bombs at police outside a McDonalds restaurant?
There are a variety of views on Central banks independence. Perhaps the most persuasive argument in favour is in order to prevent elected governments from manipulating interest rates around election time. Studies of non-independent central banks showed a correlation between cuts in interest rates and elections. A cut a year out from an election would stimulate the economy, create more jobs, and reduce the size of mortgage repayments. It was also inflationary - but this was OK because the bad effects would only kick in after the election. But the punters are cleverer than governments. They came to expect a pre-election cut to rates, as well as the inflationary aftertaste and pegged wage claims accordingly. Wage claims offset the 'surprise stimulus' by introducing earlier inflation, making the whole process a little pointless - but that didn't remove the temptation.
So central banks were separated from the mothership and we all lived happily ever after, safe in the knowledge that 'long-termism' drives our monetary policy. Critics would have it that in this long-term planning, central bankers are biased by the aversion of their banking chums to inflation (it erodes the value of loans, the backbone of private banking profits). Fair enough, but without the capital in the first place we'd all be living in shacks and eating grass for dinner. Central banking is an arcane and intricate business. Decisions are made quietly, beyond the understanding of punters like me. Data gets crunched and decisions get made. What better target for the megaphoned claims of 'secrecy' 'conspiracy' and 'the slaughter of african babies.'
On the G20 Meeting: Should they be allowed to meet? Absolutely. The global depression in the 1930s came about in part through a lack of policy coordination between central banks and governments. Old recipes failed. New ones needed to be discovered. More talking, and more agreed cooperation may have averted the economic calamity that beset the world. The G20 grew out of the 1997 Asian financial crisis suggesting its intentions are generally honourable. 1997 caused great damage to the economies of South Korea, Indonesia, Thailand and beyond. And the people who paid the price were the poor, the unskilled and the vulnerable. Private money took on central bank money and won. Learning from this event, and planning for the next time private money loses faith in a developing country economy, seems eminently sensible.
So how to persuade Melbourne's missile throwing protesters that the G-20 meeting is virtuous. Perhaps Oxfam, (that supremely sensible NGO) could use its research nous to demonstrate the importance of central bank independence and coordination, particularly for the world's poor. Perhaps a counter-rally could remind the particularly violent protesters that they live in a democracy, a democracy (whatever its flaws) that elected the current Treasurer. Further, that the people of Soweto elected the Finance Minister who is representing South Africa at the G20 Meeting by a 67% majority - and they adore him because he is pro-growth and job creation. And that the Reserve Bank governor of South Africa was St Mandela's economic advisor. Complex issues deserve considered responses, not simple 'men in suits are bad' jingoism.
Throwing things at McDonalds was cool in Seattle a decade ago. In 2006 Bono wears a dark suit and engages world leaders in rational discussion. Same argument, different method - I know which I prefer.
16 November 2006
The Barbican: Brutal or Beautiful
As arguments go, few are as irreconcilable as the question of what makes good art. Individual preferences can lead equally easily to speed-painted pink flamengos at sunset as to Jackson Pollock's famous poles. While all views should be valid, is it possible to set up a heirachy of preferences related to art. If 900 people prefer speed-painted flamingos hanging over their bed and 100 people prefer a screaming Pollock, is the former therefore better art? Or is good art only determined by scholarly debate. If 100 people in berets prefer Pollock and 900 people in acidwash jeans prefer flamingos, do the beret's votes carry 10 times more weight?I ask this question in relation to London's Barbican - a 1960s mega-construction of galleries, theatres and housing, all draped in lumpy darkgrey concrete (even the book glorifying the construction describes the 'acres of concrete' as "relentless"). My first thought was "Hidious." Why build a block-size shrine to concrete in the middle of London's gorgeously weaving streets. I soon discovered that such a view ran contrary to the beret brigade - and indeed international architectural consensus. What we see is not a concrete monolith but a visionary example of post-war architecture - elevated pedestrian pathways, free from traffic and not a Victorian flourish in sight. But shouldn't art speak for itself, independant of Those Who Know. Just because a building is 'Important' doesn't mean its not hideously ugly, or even a mistake. Surely, inaccessibility should detract from worth.
Luckily speed-painted flamingos are not better art than Pollock despite being more accessible. There is a valid place for grand ideas and experiments. New ground must be broken somehow. So a middle ground might suggest that such 'visionary' efforts should be limited in scale (just in case they turn out to be horrendous). Jackson Pollock used big canvases but they can still be hidden inside a gallery and offset by calming Monets and Van Goughs. At 35 acres, the Barbican may be a test case for this principal of hideability.
15 November 2006
By the hand of JM Keynes
This evening I opened a well thumbed volume of The Economic Consequences of the Peace, J M Keynes prescient warning on the harsh reparations imposed on Germany at Versaille. The effect of a thousand deferential fingers shows on the yellowed paper. The edition, printed in 1924, was donated to the LSE library from the effects of Sir Montague Burton, a prominant Jewish industrialist knighted for his services to industrial relations - he fed and provided free dental and eyecare to his textile factory workers. Turning to the preface of the book, I noticed that it has been signed, in grey-blue ink, by "JM Keynes 18 May 1938" - touched by the man himself just as his pessimism saw effect and the world descended into war, again. He writes:
"In this autumn of 1919, in which I write, we are at the dead season of our fortunes. The reaction from the exertions, the fears, and the sufferings of the past five years is at its height. Our power of feeling or caring beyond the immediate questions of our own material well-being is temporarily eclipsed. The greatest events outside our own direct experience and the most dreadful anticipations cannot move us. We have been moved beyond endurance, and need rest. Never in the lifetime of men now living has the universal element in the soul of man burnt so dimly."
"In this autumn of 1919, in which I write, we are at the dead season of our fortunes. The reaction from the exertions, the fears, and the sufferings of the past five years is at its height. Our power of feeling or caring beyond the immediate questions of our own material well-being is temporarily eclipsed. The greatest events outside our own direct experience and the most dreadful anticipations cannot move us. We have been moved beyond endurance, and need rest. Never in the lifetime of men now living has the universal element in the soul of man burnt so dimly."
12 November 2006
about blogs.....
There is a button near the top of your screen that encourages the blogging equivalent of channel surfing. I suggest you try it in moderation - "next blog". There is an army of people out there sharing their views with the world. So many that my faith in the uniqueness of my creation is shaken. For example, in my short journey away from 'bidip' I discovered the following:
A knitting catlady who writes extensively on both topics.
A treatise on the problems with bus routes in Israel.
A site of shoe pictures from Spain.
An author of "paranormal romance novels" from Texas
A rustic looking poet from Crete
A camera-photo record of life in New york
The progressive renovations of a groteque American cottage
And this lil piece of gold http://wikidumper.blogspot.com/
All these are windows into people's unique little worlds. Peeking at some feels a little invasive. People are very honest - and the world is watching! But are they? Do these words disappear into the misty swamps of the web's antipodes? Is there a reader for every word written?
Inspired by catlady, my self-disciplines henceforth will be these - I will aim for brevity. I will only write sentences that add something new to the world. I will never write "nothing happened today." And I will be utterly unfussed if my words are destined for the swamp.
But for Sharon from Kansas who has three kids and a husband in the army and likes stamps, I dearly hope lots of people read your words because you sound like a genuinely good sort.
A knitting catlady who writes extensively on both topics.
A treatise on the problems with bus routes in Israel.
A site of shoe pictures from Spain.
An author of "paranormal romance novels" from Texas
A rustic looking poet from Crete
A camera-photo record of life in New york
The progressive renovations of a groteque American cottage
And this lil piece of gold http://wikidumper.blogspot.com/
All these are windows into people's unique little worlds. Peeking at some feels a little invasive. People are very honest - and the world is watching! But are they? Do these words disappear into the misty swamps of the web's antipodes? Is there a reader for every word written?
Inspired by catlady, my self-disciplines henceforth will be these - I will aim for brevity. I will only write sentences that add something new to the world. I will never write "nothing happened today." And I will be utterly unfussed if my words are destined for the swamp.
But for Sharon from Kansas who has three kids and a husband in the army and likes stamps, I dearly hope lots of people read your words because you sound like a genuinely good sort.
11 November 2006
UFOs and Kylie's Bum
Further to the below there appears no quality differential between the free-for-all papers and those that cost pennies . The friday Daily Mail adopts an open approach to factual standards with "The aliens are coming, warns ex-MOD chief."Apparently while heading the Ministry of Defence 'UFO Project' Mr Nick Pope learned that other lifeforms have visited earth "and more specifically Britain." But having quit defence for a career writing about alien life (is this a euphemism for being institutionalised) Mr Pope is very concerned that MoD cost-cutting is leaving Britain "wide open to aliens". *cough* Luckily page three dealt with more temporal matters - the size of Kylie's bum (3/4 page "Does my bum look big in this? Er, yes, Kylie").
And in an example of the 'time-inconsistency' problem applied to cricket, the Mail's back page seemed not to notice England's flogging in Canberra. Back page headline: "G'day mates, the name's Flintoff" with a pic of exhuberant high-fiving english players - clearly quite early in the game. An article inside ("Aussies running out of players") draws a connection between the rural drought and the imminent demise of Australia's cricket geritocracy. Apparently all Aussie cricketers drive combine harvester and crop dusters in their spare time. Stereotype is a powerful thing!
And in an example of the 'time-inconsistency' problem applied to cricket, the Mail's back page seemed not to notice England's flogging in Canberra. Back page headline: "G'day mates, the name's Flintoff" with a pic of exhuberant high-fiving english players - clearly quite early in the game. An article inside ("Aussies running out of players") draws a connection between the rural drought and the imminent demise of Australia's cricket geritocracy. Apparently all Aussie cricketers drive combine harvester and crop dusters in their spare time. Stereotype is a powerful thing!
10 November 2006
Tittle Tattle but no Tut Tut
It is amazing that in the spiritual home of newspapers so much dros gets published. The Financial Times and Guardian aside*, the average p-geezer gets by on a daily diet of scandal, and expose - the literary equivalent of pork pies and deep fried mars bars. Do they love it? A sample observation of tube readers suggests no link between reading about Kate Moss's cocaine-fueled exploits and inner happiness. The train is confettied with free copies of the 'London Paper' and 'London Lite' - enough tittle tattle to fill a thousand Herald Sun's - and yet nobody breaks the vow of tube silence. Not even a private "tut tut" about the latest ministerial orgy. S I L E N C E. And visual silence too - no smirks cracking through the morning makeup. After the 15 minute tube ride the rag is tossed aside as if it added no value, delivered no news, and provoked no inner conversation at all.
So why publish them? Does the content gestate for a few hours and re-emerge at coffee break, or in the pub at night, or on the extra-marital pillow? Perhaps they are published to enable tube riders to avoid eye contact with other punters. Perhaps in time the 'news' will come to replace 'weather' as Britain's conversational flotsam of choice. And there's so much juicy material, whether or not its complete bollocks. A recent edition reported a rapid increase in tropical fish in English waters due to climate change - including a mermaid sighting at Cornwall! Can we expect a country happy to be delivered news riddled with the tangential fantasies of work experience copyboys. Why not I guess - after a long day punching keys, perhaps nothing cushions a ride home to suburbia like a smattering of political humiliation, celebrity gossip and starsigns that predict good weather.
*hereby acknowledging my newspaper snobbery but hoping it is offset by my affection for both left and right wing rags.
So why publish them? Does the content gestate for a few hours and re-emerge at coffee break, or in the pub at night, or on the extra-marital pillow? Perhaps they are published to enable tube riders to avoid eye contact with other punters. Perhaps in time the 'news' will come to replace 'weather' as Britain's conversational flotsam of choice. And there's so much juicy material, whether or not its complete bollocks. A recent edition reported a rapid increase in tropical fish in English waters due to climate change - including a mermaid sighting at Cornwall! Can we expect a country happy to be delivered news riddled with the tangential fantasies of work experience copyboys. Why not I guess - after a long day punching keys, perhaps nothing cushions a ride home to suburbia like a smattering of political humiliation, celebrity gossip and starsigns that predict good weather.
*hereby acknowledging my newspaper snobbery but hoping it is offset by my affection for both left and right wing rags.
9 November 2006
Woe woe woe (a lament on intercontinental sporting shame)
A simple but timely question - why do we Aussies vest our national reputational responsibilities in the unreliable hands of sportsmen? In two deft (daft) manoevers our fittest and most-mulleted have again reminded the world of our capacity for boof-headedness. In India and Ireland the bombastic behaviour of our sportsmen threatens to untie the solid bonds of friendship. Someone needs to remind our lads that - and the cliche rings true - its not just about winning!
Sadly, our best moments on the sporting field in recent years have been in defeat. Our graciousness in losing the ashes temporarily restored humility to the arsenal of our cricket team. Even Shane Warne looked like an adult. And our sad tumble out of the soccer world cup reminded us of the microcosm within which we 'dominate' international sport - Commonwealth Games ooh aah. It seems we need to lose more often to remember again the rewards and responsibilities of winning.
So my recommendation for the day is set up a giant shiny mirror running from Karatha to Cairns. We could see ourselves as the world see us: myopic in our pursuit of sporting success; bursting with hubris; and convinced our geographical blessings were hard-earned. Unfortunately I now see exhibitions of national sporting pride through the prism of Cronulla - boorish, exclusionary and utterly lacking in self-awareness.
But perhaps national pride is just universally ugly. It is by definition exclusive - to be enjoyed only by those whose fortune of birth aligns them with the winning colours. Short of abolishing nations and all other forms of human grouping, we're stuck with it. So in this imperfectible world our lads could use a few lessons in fair play, graciousness in victory and reputational responsibility off the field. Then I can stop feeling embarrased about something over which I have no control, and avoid tarring the good sports amongst us with the Cronulla brush.
Sadly, our best moments on the sporting field in recent years have been in defeat. Our graciousness in losing the ashes temporarily restored humility to the arsenal of our cricket team. Even Shane Warne looked like an adult. And our sad tumble out of the soccer world cup reminded us of the microcosm within which we 'dominate' international sport - Commonwealth Games ooh aah. It seems we need to lose more often to remember again the rewards and responsibilities of winning.
So my recommendation for the day is set up a giant shiny mirror running from Karatha to Cairns. We could see ourselves as the world see us: myopic in our pursuit of sporting success; bursting with hubris; and convinced our geographical blessings were hard-earned. Unfortunately I now see exhibitions of national sporting pride through the prism of Cronulla - boorish, exclusionary and utterly lacking in self-awareness.
But perhaps national pride is just universally ugly. It is by definition exclusive - to be enjoyed only by those whose fortune of birth aligns them with the winning colours. Short of abolishing nations and all other forms of human grouping, we're stuck with it. So in this imperfectible world our lads could use a few lessons in fair play, graciousness in victory and reputational responsibility off the field. Then I can stop feeling embarrased about something over which I have no control, and avoid tarring the good sports amongst us with the Cronulla brush.
6 November 2006
I'm a convert to the cycle. Little did I realise that while I was feretting around underground, jamming my poor nostrils into the un-deoderised armpits of strangers, above ground cyclists were happily weaving among the buses and taxi's and winning the race. So now I've joined them. It takes less than half an hour from home to school (downhill-ish) and on the way back the slope is compensated for by the lack of traffic (17 minutes door to door the other night). And I have a set of flashing halogen lights that make me viewable on google earth. The benefits are threefold: no tube fare everyday; arriving at school with a 30 minutes blast of oxygen in my brain; and the acquisition of a modicum of fitness. Not to mention the sudden absence of armpits from my life. Best of all I now join the sanctimonious elite of bike riders who scowl angrily at the drivers of carbon burning steel monsters - in a city like L there is just no excuse, unless you're posh or famous, both of which are fair cause. Ah the sweet carbon-monoxide scent of the high moral ground :)
26 October 2006
Dr Dlamini-Zuma, South Africa's esteemed foreign minister spoke at school last night - with security checks and the confiscation of water bottles. It would have been an entirely uneventful exposition on the importance of multilateralism, had the London-based Zimbabwe lobby not intervened in spectacular style. First one, then another, rose in the audience and pleaded for increased South African intervention with Mugabe. DZ sat down while 10 minutes of shouting, ejections and arrests ensued. I admired her grace under fire but couldn't help noting the contradiction between her speech and her response to subsequent Zimbabwe questions. While her speech focused on the key role of the UN and the international community in pressuring the aparthied regime, she seemed intent on emphasising the internal nature of the democratic transition (the ANC made the miracle happen). I'm not sure if this interpretation reflects more the propinquity of ANC struggle leaders to the transition, or a retrospective reading to rationalise their public passivity in the face of domestic problems in other African countries (ie: Zimbabwe).
She lamented that it took 40 odd years for UNGA initiatives to take effect, but then implied that this was the correct approach for the international community to take (it all turned out ok in the end so the technique was justified). By deduction, the UN should satisfy itself with empty UNGA resolutions on Darfur and leave the real resolution to the Sudanese themselves. A familiar recitation of G77 pro-sovereignty arguments if ever there was. I'd be very interested for the Minister's views on how this should apply in cases like Rwanda or Bosnia where conflict situations are not blessed with the negotiating tact of the ANC. And for that matter how South Africa will embrace the Responsibility to Protect ('R2P') concept in its coming Security Council deliberations. I suspect at heart the government agrees with R2P - at least intellectually. In practice it will always be difficult to implement - particularly if the implementation falls to contigous countries.
DZ's best joke was her response to a question on why South Africa's parastatal arms industry continues to export arms. With a slightly sanctimonious air she noted that "we only sell arms if we are sure that they won't be used against people in war." Explosive laughter and applause to that!
She dealt with questions on HIV/AIDS tactfully and gave a concise explanation of Thabo Mbeki's views on the matter (deal with the disease as part of the battle against poverty, not seperate to it - an intellectual excess when faced of a national health crisis I would have thought).
At the close a calm-mannered Zimbabwean human rights lawyer valiantly attempted to differentiate himself from his more combative countrymen. He asked a respectful question about land reform in South Africa. To his clear frustration this was a cue for the white Zimbabweans in the audience to interject and reiterate their complaints about South Africa's quiet diplomacy. Two things were obvious - a) the Zimbabwean people's cause is done no service by allowing itself to be taken over by the gripes of expatriate white Zimbabweans (their rude interjections over the top of the mild mannered questioning of a highly educated black lawyer acted as neat metaphor for the old Rhodesia) and b) South Africa has shaped its own historical narrative to fit the policy of quiet diplomacy - and nothing's going to change that in a hurry.
I will be interested to see how the eventful evening is covered in the SA press.
She lamented that it took 40 odd years for UNGA initiatives to take effect, but then implied that this was the correct approach for the international community to take (it all turned out ok in the end so the technique was justified). By deduction, the UN should satisfy itself with empty UNGA resolutions on Darfur and leave the real resolution to the Sudanese themselves. A familiar recitation of G77 pro-sovereignty arguments if ever there was. I'd be very interested for the Minister's views on how this should apply in cases like Rwanda or Bosnia where conflict situations are not blessed with the negotiating tact of the ANC. And for that matter how South Africa will embrace the Responsibility to Protect ('R2P') concept in its coming Security Council deliberations. I suspect at heart the government agrees with R2P - at least intellectually. In practice it will always be difficult to implement - particularly if the implementation falls to contigous countries.
DZ's best joke was her response to a question on why South Africa's parastatal arms industry continues to export arms. With a slightly sanctimonious air she noted that "we only sell arms if we are sure that they won't be used against people in war." Explosive laughter and applause to that!
She dealt with questions on HIV/AIDS tactfully and gave a concise explanation of Thabo Mbeki's views on the matter (deal with the disease as part of the battle against poverty, not seperate to it - an intellectual excess when faced of a national health crisis I would have thought).
At the close a calm-mannered Zimbabwean human rights lawyer valiantly attempted to differentiate himself from his more combative countrymen. He asked a respectful question about land reform in South Africa. To his clear frustration this was a cue for the white Zimbabweans in the audience to interject and reiterate their complaints about South Africa's quiet diplomacy. Two things were obvious - a) the Zimbabwean people's cause is done no service by allowing itself to be taken over by the gripes of expatriate white Zimbabweans (their rude interjections over the top of the mild mannered questioning of a highly educated black lawyer acted as neat metaphor for the old Rhodesia) and b) South Africa has shaped its own historical narrative to fit the policy of quiet diplomacy - and nothing's going to change that in a hurry.
I will be interested to see how the eventful evening is covered in the SA press.
25 October 2006
On my way to school I saw a lady riding her retro bike along the street, weaving in and out of traffic, a set of manaquin legs tucked under her arm. Nobody stared. I saw the curls of train-mist in the arched rafters of Paddington Station. Nobody looked up from their well trodden morning routes. I'm thinking there's an inverse relationship between the number of people in a city and the number of random little things that get noticed. Sad really, but the train mist and the manaquin were all mine to savour today.
24 October 2006
The secret to great lasagne, Jamie Oliver, is not your proximity to the photogenic vignerons of Tuscany. It lies in denying the over-subsidised cheese producers of europe the honour of including their product. So I rationalise my absent-minded failure to include any cheese in the lasagne AND deliver a scrumptious meal nonetheless. A post-fact sprinkling of parmesan did its bit, but otherwise the soaring flavours of the courgettes and broccoli were allowed to shine alone - washed down with an upstanding bottle of SA rouge and an ambling catchup with Marcus Sorour. Moral - cheese and lasagne can be parted.
23 October 2006
Why does this still make me feel ill?
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8cz8ezw0P9k
HIDIOUS. clearly the inventors of youtube had Geelong supporters in mind - we're the sort who fill our off-season with secret visits to video sites like this to re-live the visceral pain over and over again - a mantra to remind ourselves that football justice excludes just us.
But like bogong moths to a sleet-resistant flame we'll be back.
Note the link between my landmarks and Geelong's
30 - 2006 - Geelong trounce Port Adelaide at the Oval to win 2/3 of the years championships (a slightly misleading statistic).
20 - 1996 - Gary Ablett delisted - ??????????? - entry to the GFC abyss
10 - 1986 - Gary Ablett listed - !!!!!!!!!!!!! - entry to a decade of blissful home+away seasons
0 - 1976 - sitting pretty at 11wins/ 6losses after 17 rounds (no doubt coupled with premature GF talk in the kardinia park outer). Four straight losses duly unravelled, then a taunting win in the first final and a reassuring thrashing in the semi. The natural order of things I'd say and a good predictor of the next 30 odd seasons.
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8cz8ezw0P9k
HIDIOUS. clearly the inventors of youtube had Geelong supporters in mind - we're the sort who fill our off-season with secret visits to video sites like this to re-live the visceral pain over and over again - a mantra to remind ourselves that football justice excludes just us.
But like bogong moths to a sleet-resistant flame we'll be back.
Note the link between my landmarks and Geelong's
30 - 2006 - Geelong trounce Port Adelaide at the Oval to win 2/3 of the years championships (a slightly misleading statistic).
20 - 1996 - Gary Ablett delisted - ??????????? - entry to the GFC abyss
10 - 1986 - Gary Ablett listed - !!!!!!!!!!!!! - entry to a decade of blissful home+away seasons
0 - 1976 - sitting pretty at 11wins/ 6losses after 17 rounds (no doubt coupled with premature GF talk in the kardinia park outer). Four straight losses duly unravelled, then a taunting win in the first final and a reassuring thrashing in the semi. The natural order of things I'd say and a good predictor of the next 30 odd seasons.
This is not London. Sunscreen not currently required here. The ominous grey in the background is perhaps more representative of my current environs. But with a few centuries of global warming London WILL resemble Zanzibar, and pound coins will be traded by retired bankers wearing man skirts and thongs.This picture was taken when I was 28. I'm now 30. How did that happen. Who gave time permission to pass. I shall have to investigate the impartiality of the time keeper because I'm sure its not even quarter time yet.
Hello world
So I thought this'd be a nice way to document a year in london without clogging up my dear fam's inboxes - And to rediscover the ability to write after 5 years of dot dash.
whattayareckon?
So the news. On Saturday I broke my toe (note: from my quick survey of blogs that would seem to be the type of content one should include - or even more tedious).
I did break my toe, and two hours in an NHS waiting room threatened to break my faith in public medicine too.
For the toe I blame three things. 1) Geelong Football Club who encouraged me to drink beer at The Oval (not just any oval) all afternoon as they trounced the Port Adelaide scumbags. 2) India whose celebration of Diwali had me running around Aditi's flat lighting candles in preparation for her family's arrival (we were running late...... for which Aditi blames GFC). 3) my lack of respect for the foundational stength of modern day sofa beds. My pinky merely brushed the sofa base and sent me into a Kent Kingsley tumble.
The NHS eventually handed me some sticky tape to ease my pain (?) but seemed more interested in why an aussie was hobbling around their waiting room. NHS bashing is a national sport so I shall resist lest we find another sport to better the p-geezers at.
Tonight I make my first veggie lasagne. That is all for today.
So I thought this'd be a nice way to document a year in london without clogging up my dear fam's inboxes - And to rediscover the ability to write after 5 years of dot dash.
whattayareckon?
So the news. On Saturday I broke my toe (note: from my quick survey of blogs that would seem to be the type of content one should include - or even more tedious).
I did break my toe, and two hours in an NHS waiting room threatened to break my faith in public medicine too.
For the toe I blame three things. 1) Geelong Football Club who encouraged me to drink beer at The Oval (not just any oval) all afternoon as they trounced the Port Adelaide scumbags. 2) India whose celebration of Diwali had me running around Aditi's flat lighting candles in preparation for her family's arrival (we were running late...... for which Aditi blames GFC). 3) my lack of respect for the foundational stength of modern day sofa beds. My pinky merely brushed the sofa base and sent me into a Kent Kingsley tumble.
The NHS eventually handed me some sticky tape to ease my pain (?) but seemed more interested in why an aussie was hobbling around their waiting room. NHS bashing is a national sport so I shall resist lest we find another sport to better the p-geezers at.
Tonight I make my first veggie lasagne. That is all for today.
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