February 2011


February is not my favourite of months during the year, however snow drops are in full bloom and daffodils shoots are growing furiously heralding an ever nearing Spring. Lighter evenings are now becoming more noticeable creating a general feel the sap will soon be rising even in myself. Even as I write the outside temperature gauge which sends a signal to my indoor weather station is showing 53° farenheit (11.7° C) which is remarkably mind for this winter month. This is something of a welcome respite after the recent savage weather conditions that the county has experienced. Those who use the centigrade scale must forgive me for still using Farenheit, it is however what I grew up with and to myself, I find Centigrade temperatures do not convey any real purposeful meaning when visualising external weather conditions. I am certain there are many more old-codgers like me who do the same.

Little is going on in the garden at the moment but I must soon start annual hedge trimming before new greenery starts to appear and birds start building nests in the hedges.

South Somerset where I live is mainly comprised of small villages. Even the local District Council logo is made up of a depiction of rural villages. One of the benefits of this scattered residential habitat is most villages have at least one or two public houses within their small communities. Over recent years this has give rise to many fine small restaurant developments as part of a public house, many of them are reliant on this business for their main trade. Unlike many large cities, my small part of the world now has the choice of numerous restaurants all serving well prepared meals at a very reasonable cost and with personalised attention. Given the rural nature of this area, driving to a public house/restaurant is still a necessity but again, most serve non-alcoholic beers allowing for an equally enjoyable time to all concerned.


 6th February 2011

Our bi-monthy community news letter recently arrived through my letter box, I would think that many of the villages in Somerset have something similar. My newsletter covers the villages of Ilchester, Limington, Northover, Podimore and Yeovilton which are naturally bound together by geography. I recall when I first arrived in Somerset to be pleasantly surprised the first time the newsletter arrived. London where I previously lived although a large a city, is still never-the-less comprised of groupings of many communities that merge into each other. In the 45 years I lived in London, I never once saw a community newsletter in any of the districts where I lived. It is hardly surprising that outside of adjoining neighbours in London, many people are complete strangers to each other.

I find our local newsletter very informative with details of forthcoming local events, local council decisions and issues with planning applications and outcomes. There are usually a number of well written articles, some covering local events and history while others are much broader based in both content and location. The local CoE also devotes time to broadcast local church news without sounding like a sermon. Advertisements for the butcher, baker and candlestick maker as well as many other sundry local undertakings abound throughout the news-sheet. I find the advertisements very useful in not only subsidising the cost of the free newsletter, but also useful for a first point of contact should one require an external service. Somerset I have found is an area if one needs advice about a subject ranging from building work to good restaurants, one only has to ask a friend or neighbour for an entire chain of helpful knowledge and contacts to be forthcoming.

National crime maps is a subject recently in the news, These can be found at  http://www.police.uk/. These maps give a breakdown of actual or reported crime both by an area and a street by street basis. I could not get through the link on the first day of operation as apparently the computer crashed due to overwhelming demand nationally for information. Now that things have settled down a bit, I was pleased to see my own village showed a zero in every category of crime. Out of curiosity I looked at my previous London location to find the streets around the previous district where I lived littered with markers indicating burglaries, street crime and other types of offences. I wonder if these new crime maps will have an impact on houses prices in districts that show high levels of crime?

Prior to the online availability of these new crime maps, another Government/Police based crime map was available. I however found this map most unhelpful and meaningless. The previous map showed the entire county of Somerset to be “average” in crime. Bristol was the only location showing above average. To me this posed the question of what “average” crime meant? Did average mean two garden sheds broken into over a period of a few years or, did average mean several murders a day on the same street? I suspect on that on that national crime map a broad-brush of statistics were applied that left a pointless outcome. I did ask about the meaning of average crime on this map at a meeting of local Neighbourhood Watch representatives with the Police. Unfortunately as they were not the composers of this particular national crime map, although they understood the points raised, they could not answer the question.

 


11th February 2011

Yesterday, the leaders of the three main political parties visited the West Country with two coming to Yeovil. The pleasant small market town that comprises Yeovil only takes ten minutes or less to drive through and is where I do most my shopping. Historically, Yeovil was the glove making centre of the UK producing up to 95% of all gloves made. Like many industries, times change and glove making is now all but past history. Augusta Westland in now the major employer that dominates the town and is always a magnet for visiting politicians and notables. It was also the same location which became known as the Westland Affair in the 1980’s which led to the then Defence Secretary Michael Hesletine walking out a cabinet meeting and announcing his resignation.

The West Country is traditionally Liberal Party country but the recent debacle over increased university student fees has more than ruffled a few feathers. Apparently Nick Clegg the leader of the Liberal Party found the visit a little uncomfortable as people voiced their thoughts. I wonder how much forward thinking consideration was given to the effects of breaking an unbreakable pledge so soon after coming into power in a coalition government.

At the turn of the 20th century, there was effectively  only two political parties capable to forming a government, The Conservative and Liberal parties then known as the Whigs and Liberals. With the formation of the Labour Party, voters who traditionally vote Liberal moved their voting allegiances in droves to the new Labour Party effectively leaving the Liberals in the national government wilderness ever since. Due to the electorates intense dislike of the Labour Party, recent election results left the Liberals in the position of King Maker who threw their hat into the ring with the Conservatives. After only a few short months in shared government, the firmest of election pledges was broken for which I suspect they will pay a high price at the next election. Excuses for broken promises may be fine for politicians but not the electorate. Most politicians weasel their way out of political promises with feckless excuses. European, Union and Referendum are words that spring to minds in recent times. But to break such a firm pledge is such a short time means that any other undertaking that may be given will be viewed with immediate distrusting scepticism by the voting public. It’s like making a rod for your back for life.

I am not certainly not knocking any particular political party as personally I do not think any of them are fit for purpose at the moment. It will probably take a few more politicians to fall on their swords before one credible party rises like the Phoenix from the flames.

As for the visiting politicians, they left as rapidly as they came following their whirlwind visits, leaving the people that really run the country to get on with their lives.

 

 


24th February 2011

 The connection between Somerset and the Middle East may seem somewhat remote but the recent troubles sweeping through that region arouse not too distant memories. In 2006 similar troubles arose in Lebanon which involved the rapid evacuation of British nationals from that country. The response of the Government of the day was swift. Naval ships including aircraft carriers, (we still had both in service at that time), moved into that area of the Mediterranean Sea. I also recall watching from my garden, a flight of Sea King helicopters from the Royal Naval airbase at Yeovilton which adjoins my property, leave in formation on a 24 hours flight to Cyprus. At that time the Sea King helicopters were about 25 years old but have proved to be an immensely reliable workhorse. The flight involved a number of refueling stops in various Nato countries but despite the long distance, the Sea Kings managed the flight with ease. The following day the helicopters were involved in ferrying stranded British nationals from the troubled shores of Lebanon.

Now only five short years on and again we have need to evacuate British nationals but this time from Libya currently being torn apart by internal strife. What is the Government response this time? It is a very weak, swift on words but short of action response as one might expect from a government constantly trying to appease its coalition partner. Other European governments took immediate steps to evacuate their nationals while our government was still trying to charter aircraft. Five years ago troubles abroad were foreseen and an aircraft carrier was moved into the area in advance to assist in evacuation. Now we have reduced aircraft carriers with no aircraft and a reduced naval fleet. We still do have large transporter aircraft which could be used in an emergency although the government is closing some of their bases. However, being stranded at Tripoli Airport as upheaval and bullets tear the city apart does not appear to be deemed a sufficient enough emergency to use the transporter aircraft.

I do hope this Government never have to deal with a real national crisis, but I do foresee if the Alternative Voting system (AV) is accepted in a forthcoming referendum, we can constantly expect similar indecisive action from a string of coalition governments that will be inevitably be elected as a result.

The Boxing Match


On reflection, I suppose the most enjoyable and carefree period of my life was the three years after I left school aged 15. Although education now continues for much longer in most of the western world, this was the UK school-leaving age in 1960. For those three years I was a telegram delivery boy, my first year on a bicycle and the following two on a motorbike when I legally became of age to own a driving licence. It was a period of time when like most youngsters I felt almost immortal. I had money in my pocket that was earned, nothing fantastic but it did give one a degree of independence. Also there were none of the future adult worries about providing for a family, mortgages or insurance, those things would come soon enough but not at that moment of time.

It was also a drug free age for most people, this being something that young and old alike would be horrified at. Drugs were simply not the done thing and it makes me wonder even now why people use them as those who have never tried them will know, you simply do not need them. Life is more enjoyable to the full without them. The almost drug free culture of those days has certainly kept me in good stead and apart from the rare anti-biotic prescription from a doctor that is the way it will always stay as far as I am concerned.

The legal age for buying alcoholic drinks in a public house, (bar), in the UK is 18, the same as it was in 1960. I still had to wait until I was 21 before I legally became an adult and awarded the traditional  “Key of the door”. I am aware the minimum age for buying alcohol remains at 21 in some countries which I find strange as also in most countries, people are now legally classified as an adult at that age. I suspect like most 17-year-old youngsters at the time, we did enjoy the occasional late night pint in a public house, with the oldest looking of our mates being pushed to the front of the queue to do the buying. A new emerging pop group named the Beatles marked the transition from the post-war years and heralded the brave new future.

It was also a time before regular girl friends although my friends and I would occasionally take a girl home from the local dancing hall called the Ilford Palais. As with most youngsters of that time, friends would brag about their sexual exploits from the night before, however one always knew it was not true. It was an era when the pill had not yet arrived and society still attached a great social stigma to unmarried mothers. Due to the potential consequences, most girls simply would not dare get involved in sexual relationship with a one night stand or even more regular boyfriend. Heavy petting however was another thing.

There has always been a strong boxing tradition in the East End of London and the telegraph branch of the Post Office where I worked at was no different. Each year the London Region of the telegraph service would hold a boxing competition between the various postal districts that comprised the London Region. Each year my own Eastern District would proudly hold onto the winners cup and never had been known to lose the competition. It was not a case that all us youngsters were budding world boxing champions but more a case of being “persuaded” to enter. As the Godfather in the film of the same name would say, we were made an offer we could not refuse. In our case it was anyone who did not wish to enter would become the practice punch bag for those that did wish to enter. Needless to say this ploy always worked, it also ensured that my area retained the cup.

The competition was decided on a points basis with so many points being awarded to the winner of a bout and lessor points to the loser. Due to the high number of entrants from my district being much greater than any other, it was required that many of us would be paired against our colleagues rather than rival from another location. This ensured my East London District would always come out with the highest number of points even if we lost every bout against opposing districts.

Training

Our boss was something of an elderly white-haired man and something of a father figure to us all. He was certainly elderly to us youngsters but at that time, I suppose anyone over about 25 years old seemed as equally elderly. Although he was frail looking he did show us some photographs of himself and friends at a swimming pool when he was young. At that time he certainly displayed a muscular physic to be proud of although health problems in latter years clearly led to his wasted away look. Ernie or simply “Guv”, (short for Governor),  to us decided that we need to come up to match fitness several months before the event. Once we submitted to and passed medical tests to confirm our fitness to participate in the boxing match, Guv placed the entire office under a strict training regime. Every time our lunch break came around, Guv would detail us to run a circuit around Wanstead Flats. Wanstead Flats is a large open area of grassland near our office and is the southern most tip of Epping Forest. Our dress was regulation navy blue shorts, white singlet and plimsolls, fancy trainer shoes did not exist then and this would also be our dress during the boxing match. The circuit around Wanstead Flats and back to our office was about four miles and for the first week we all arrived back knackered. (Colloquial language for being physically exhausted). After about two weeks when we arrived back with our rapidly improving fitness levels, Guv simply told us all to go and do another lap.

The basement of the multi-storey office where I worked was huge with a long corridor and doors located on either side. One of these windowless basement rooms about 30 foot square, was allocated to my office and used to store our sports equipment. We did convert it into a temporary gymnasium with punch bags etc. As a person who had never boxed before I began to learn some of the rudimentary skills. As an individual I am not particularly keen on boxing but I did learn I had something of a lightning fast killer punch. As absurd as it may seem, there was a period of time during each training session when we all wore boxing gloves and the room lights were turned off. Being windowless the room was pitch black. The rules were quite simply, one had to simply stumble around in the dark and punch anyone you might make contact with. You would never know who you had hit or indeed, who had hit you. Startled cries of pain from the darkness always meant someone, somewhere had made contact.

The Fight

The night of the big fight finally arrived and I think all contestants felt a little trepidation at how well each would fare in their individual bouts. I think most of those who did not come from the East End felt daunted at their prospects as the fearsome reputation of the East Enders preceded them. To my dismay I was not matched with a contestant from another area but with a person from my own part of the world. Although he came from a different office to mine he was also well-known as an amateur boxer, clearly my own prospects of winning became severely diminished.

All bouts consisted of three rounds of three minutes duration. From the start, my opponent came straight at me like an express train as I came under a deluge of blows. His superior boxing skills soon showed and believe me, it hurt. The lightning fast killer blow that I did not know I possessed until I started training managed to put my opponent on the canvas twice with the referee starting to count him out. Unfortunately he struggled back to his feet on both occasions to return to his vicious onslaught. Eventually the match went to full-time and the judges award the match to my opponent. Although I managed to floor my opponent twice he clearly had the upper hand in term on the number of blows that landed on me. I did not feel too bad about the result considering I was a complete beginner against an amateur boxer and felt proud I managed to stay the distance and never went down once. I was also awarded a silver medal for getting my brains bashed in. That I am glad to say was the my first and also the last  boxing match I ever participated in.

My area as usual retained the champions cup for another year and as for myself, I certainly ended up a lot fitter due to the training, even if somewhat bruised.

For anyone who may read this who is in the same 15-18 age group I was in at that period of time, I would strongly advise you to enjoy your life while you can.

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