Category: British

1930s Aerodrome Architecture

We talk of optimism and pessimism as if one presides while the other sleeps. It’s not quite like that in consideration of the legacy around us. There’s no doubt that the 1920s and 1930s were years of austerity and depression. The Great War had an overwhelming impact on all sections of society. The buildings that remain from that era, including the house that I once lived in, do record a simpler style. Material chosen for their functional value rather than decorative.

Victorian’s built with flair and every mechanical contrivance that their technology could provide. Value in longevity was integral in their thinking. Who could imagine the sun setting on British empire?

The brief inter-war period was one of concrete and steel. A bit of classicism retained an influence. Form, fit and function played a bigger part. Modernism meant reflecting the advances in technology that were making great pace. Construction was fast.

Aviation was one of the most notable advances. Post-war flying moved from the military to sport, the recreation of the rich and the wonder of the onlooking public. It went together with the race for speed on land. Everything had to be faster and go further.

Maybe it was the Bauhaus in Germany, that set down some much-copied rules. Symmetry and square lines were on the drawing boards of a lot of public architects. It’s the case that some ornamentation was thrown in where the patrons were wealthy. Even that was relatively muted.

What lasted is no abomination of a poverty of ambition. It’s not utopian. It’s not brutalist. There’s instead a simplicity that was authoritative enough but not too ostentatious.

Pictured above is the 1932 Aero Clubhouse at Brooklands[1] in Surrey. It was designed by Graham Dawbarn[2] in what was a typical 1930s style. It set a trend for aerodrome buildings. Buildings like this one added grandeur to aerodromes where sheet metal hangers and small wooden huts were more often to be seen.

I like these enduring, straightforward, practical buildings. Yes, they are a form of British colonial architecture. One that could be easily reproduced anywhere on the globe. In today’s terms not the least bit environmentally friendly or efficient. Nevertheless, there’s an appeal that marks them out particularly when compared to the sheets of glass and skeleton frames of steel of modern aviation facilities.

[1] https://www.brooklandsmuseum.com/

[2] https://www.ribapix.com/graham-dawbarn_riba47117

Dr Who?

I’m having to get to know Paddington. For such a long time my route into London was via Victoria station. Every nook and cranny of that enormous railway station was etched into my brain. I could go from A to B with the speed of a swift. Southern trains trundle backwards and forwards, in and out of London. For the last 8 years, I’ve been able to navigate from my doorstep to the Royal Albert Hall (RAH) in about an hour. Only occasionally being marooned in Croydon.

Once I’d discovered the BBC proms it became a regular part of my annual schedule. That knocked off August and part of September. Promming[1] is a wonderful tradition that opens access to great music of all kinds for a token sum. Standing for me is no big deal.

Last night, I travelled through space and time. A different space and time from my normal one. Now, I’m having to get to know the ins and outs of a different railway company. To some extent they have “proper” trains that go somewhere. I mean, cities in Wales and the West of England.

This was only my second BBC prom of the year. This one was going to be different. For a start it was Bank Holiday Monday. It was the main day of the Notting Hill Carnival[2]. For those who don’t know that sat on my route into Paddington and round the Central Line to the RAH.

Busy, busy, busy. I don’t know if the National Orchestra of Wales to the same route as me. They were on stage for prom 48[3]. Thankfully, GWR speedily and safely got us into London.

The buzz was infectious. Whovian community folk like to dress-up. Standing in-line outside before 6pm, conversations were about favourite monsters and the authenticity of other prommers costumes. Fantastic handmade scarfs. Elaborate purchases from e-bay. Eccentric illusions to long lost baddies. I felt grossly underdressed. That said, I shouldn’t have been surprised but the audience was about as intergenerational as is imaginable. Maybe, I should have said intergalactic. I was standing next to a would-be William Hartnell in his 20s. Further along the que there were 2 Sylvester McCoys in their late 50s, at least.

What can I say about the evening? Hat’s off to all concerned. It was a dam good show. I don’t count myself as a Whovian even if this small screen fiction has populated most of my life. I was struck, not just by the obvious theatrics but how important the music had become to the whole drama. It really does pull on the emotional strings. Story telling needs that magical music.

Standing in a crowded arena, I wasn’t for one moment frightened. Which I would have been as a young boy with a cyberman walking straight toward me. An authoritarian Dalek called for the interval. Ordering the orchestra off the stage. The revered Russell T Davies was in the audience. They played out with the Doctor Who theme.

For an evening learning a new route in and out of London, all my effort was more than rewarded. Time and space well spent. I shall now turn my hand to inventing a working TARDIS. Then I could go back and do it all again. Well, that is except for the cool breezy late-night hanging about at Reading station platform 3.

[1] https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/articles/3598F306c3KnN6t3x6ThKpN/what-is-promming

[2] https://nhcarnival.org/

[3] https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/m00224zh

On Your Farm: 60 Years of Farming Innovation and Change

Like me, the BBC’s “On Your Farm” will soon be over 60 years old. I’m already there and, as a 4-year-old at the time wouldn’t have known there was anything new on the radio. That chunky Bush radio with the large batteries.

That’s a launch one year after the coldest winter for 200 years, in 1963. I don’t remember that winter but was told numerous stories about it. Winter 1963 must have been tough for the West Country farming community. Probably a lot of fun for me a very young boy. Snow for weeks and weeks.

The BBC’s regular farming radio broadcast takes a wide-ranging view of what’s happening in the industry. Needless to say, the elapse of 60-years has seen changes that would have been incompressible in 1964. The sheer scale of enterprises, the power of modern machinery and huge reduction in the labour force may not have been predicable.

That early sixties period was one of great hope for the advancements that technology could bring. We now see that some of the leaps forward that were made were progressive but had long-term negative consequences. Ripping out hedges to make bigger fields and becoming ever more dependent on artificial fertilizers did increase productivity. That came with big costs.

If I’m correct in recalling what my father’s generation said, at the time there was great pride in the modernisation that was taking place. A vibrant competitiveness between farmers to have the most modern machinery and buildings available. National policies encouraged expansion.

There’re pictures of me and my brothers sitting on a new Ford 4000 tractor. Clearly, that modern tractor was the state-of-the-art for a family farm of the time. It’s now a classic at agricultural shows.

1964 was also the year of the debut of Top of the Pops. So, the BBC was busy catching up with the changes that were happening in society. We talk of populism now but pop culture kicked-off at the time I’m recalling.

The idea behind the BBC’s “On Your Farm” was an innovative one. Go out and chat to people about the challenges of their farming world on their working farms. Outside broadcasts were a relief from cultured studio accents and monotone accounts of the great and good. Outside broadcast vehicles and equipment of that era were bulky and sensitive. Making them work in a random field or farmyard must have been a technician’s nightmare. The reward for producers was getting a sense of real life transmitted into the nation’s kitchens and living rooms.

Putting aside the changes in agriculture, the changes in broadcasting are vast. Fortunately, radio hasn’t disappeared. It’s evolved. Now, with an inexpensive handheld mobile and a good microphone anyone can practically go anywhere at any time. Not only that, but given a reasonable internet connection the broadcast can be instant and of superb quality.

So, are we all better informed about agriculture, farming and the British countryside. I’ll let that one rest. One thing is certain. There are more opinions expressed, more often about more subjects than ever before.

I will not say one word about badgers.

Spectacular Sighting

There’s steep hills. Some more interesting than others, you might say. In my youth this one was known for the road that climbed the hill. That’s the B3081, if you want the detail. It’s an opportunity to journey through wonderful English countryside. The area being Cranborne Chase, a protected landscape.

Zigzag hill was great fun for us as children. Probably not so much fun for my parents as our jet black Wolseley16/60 strained to get around the corners and climb to the top. The car packed with the six of us. This was a route we’d take to get from home to Bournemouth, and the seaside.

On the way, I remember the finger post signs to Compton Abbas Airfield[1]. My thought being what an interesting place for an airfield, right up here high on the chalk hills. Looking down on the surrounding Dorset countryside and the town of Shaftsbury.

Normally, I have to go to flying displays to see historic aircraft fly. This Sunday afternoon, I travelled no further than my back door. Sitting outback in the steaming 30C-degree summer weather all I had to do was look-up. Not that I’d planned to look skyward.

That doesn’t happen every day. First there was a distant rumbling sound. Then it developed into the hum of multiple piston engines. It’s only when the distinctive sight of a Lancaster bomber appeared over the roof of my house did all become clear what was happening.

As soon as I fixed my eyes on the aircraft it was already off over the garden and out across the neighbouring field. This was Avro Lancaster PA474 passing right overhead[2]. It was heading off in a north easterly direction at a notably low altitude. Quote a spectacular sight.

I had to do a little research once the aircraft had disappeared over the horizon. Looking at what was happening on Sunday, I assume it was flying back from Compton Abbas Airshow[3] to its home in Lincolnshire. Given the high summer weather, this was a great day for flying.

This Second World War heavy bomber first flew in 1941. It’s part of the Battle of Britain Memorial Flight (BBMF), based at RAF Coningsby. It’s the only Avro Lancaster that remains airworthy and flying in the UK. It’s only recently returned to the air after a tragic accident involving the BBMF.

Later in the day, off in the distance, looking north, three other historic aircraft trundled across the sky. After dark, with the heavens clear, I caught the Perseid meteor shower. So, for watchers of the skies, 11th August was a noteworthy day.

[1] https://www.comptonairfield.com/

[2] https://www.bbc.co.uk/news/articles/clyg7e7x319o

[3] https://comptonabbasairshow.co.uk/participants/

Free Speech or Unregulated Chaos?

Twitter grew to a global scale. It didn’t make money. It was a social media success but a commercial mess or, at least, that’s how a lot of people saw it. Its snappy short text became the playground for people pushing press releases and journalists seeking immediate printable lines. On top of the professional users were a mountain of commentators that ranged from the highly credible and reliable to the outlandish crazies promoting their every possible madness.

For whatever reason it caught the attention of Elon Musk. He has a numerous selection of descriptions ranging from wry businessman to futurist visionary. There’s no doubt he’s a risk taker who has an uncanny ability to come up smiling where others would likely have collapsed in bankruptcy or chaos.

Reports of “X”, as it is known now, are that Musk sees it as a platform for free speech. There’s an absolutism about this mandate. Although there’s legislative obligations in most countries that put some boundaries around what’s called “free speech” the platform X has become one that pushes at the boundaries.

Generally, moderate opinions don’t stir-up controversy. So called “mainstream” factual reporting can be boring and somewhat dry. What seems to trigger a lot of activity are opinions that are “extreme”. That is often extreme in the political sense from the left and the right. Tapping into the popularity of populism – if that makes any sense. Polarisation if it doesn’t.

As a platform for legitimate political views, however disagreeable, there’s not so much to complain about the openness of a lightly moderated space. Through history public spaces have been created for people to vent their views[1]. However, this is not done without regulation on conduct.

Where free spaces get extremely toxic is the riotous spread of misinformation. It’s one thing to have strong socialist or liberal views or hard conservative views but when views are presented as based on facts when they are not[2], and expressions are intended to create aggressive responses, there’s a line of unacceptability that has been crossed.

I am taking the view that today’s X is not a place for a reputable organisation or person. It’s not that social media platforms are intrinsically bad. No, it’s the way that they are managed. My observation is that there is a connection between the mindless riots of recent days in England and the lack of attention to civilised regulation of certain digital platforms. It’s a question of both written regulation and its consistent implementation.

This situation is recoverable. Putting digital social media back into a good shape for the public to conduct a dialogue about the issue of the day will require effort from its owners and governments across the globe. Is there a willingness to step up and act? Let’s see. Surely these subjects need urgent action. 

[1] https://www.royalparks.org.uk/visit/parks/hyde-park/speakers-corner

[2] https://www.vox.com/technology/2023/5/20/23730607/elon-musk-conspiracy-twitter-texas-shooting-bellingcat-taylor-lorenz-psyops

The River’s Arms

It’s now called the River’s Arms Close. A scattering of relatively new houses. That’s all that remains of a rough working public house that I knew well in my youth. Not indoors. In the bars. I never visited more than the paved courtyard outside the pub. Afterall, I am talking about me at the age of 12 or 13ish. Until now, looking it up, I’d remembered the pub as being called The Railway.

This pub was just across the road from the entrance to what was then Sturminster Newton cattle market[1]. A huge agricultural market. It was on Station Road. Even then, the railway station and its steam trains had long gone. They must have gone in 1965/66. Then a political axe fell on rural railway lines. On a Monday, the town was a busy place. That was market day.

Scruffiness was a badge of honour. Galvanised steel sheeted buildings and tatty block-built sheds were the order of the day. The feast for the eye was not the buildings, more the people. The noise was overwhelming. Smells were on the rich side too.

This comes to mind because I moved a large and heavy plastic planter containing a healthy blackcurrant bush. Green leaves and wood. My crop of blackcurrants had been eaten by birds earlier in the year. This week’s plan was to find a suitable spot in the garden to transplant the bush ready for next year.

Here’s the connection. It’s to do with fruits. Local produce. In the 1960s, to earn money of our own, my brothers and I would go blackberry picking. There were times when Somerset hedgerows were teaming with mases of blackberries. They still are in a lot of places. We’d fill to the brim used plastic containers. Recycling ice-cream containers. Trying not to squish the delicate fruit.

On market day the courtyard outside the pub would become an auction ground. People would bring local produce and miscellaneous junk in the hope of getting a fair price. Everything would be spread out over the floor outside. Fruit, veg, eggs and strange ironwork and old tools. Around lunchtime a sale would take place. Informal and unpredictable. A huddle of farmers, townsfolk and on watchers. Nevertheless, all the small items were carefully booked in and booked out. For our containers of blackberries, or later in the year field mushrooms, we’d get just less than a pound, if we were lucky. That was in “new money.”

It’s July, so we are not into that season yet. It’s creeping up on us. Fruit trees are starting to look as if they are going to produce a good crop. Blackberries are slowly forming. A time of fruitfulness is coming. That season of harvest is just over the horizon.

Exposure to markets, and their volatility, is as much a life lesson as the benefits of organic produce. In that small Dorset country town, the ebb and flow of market day were as integral to life as the water that flowed in the river. Today, much of that rhythm is history. A new rhythm is running. We go from coffee shop to posh bakery to the purveyors of expensive imports.

Our dependency on national supermarkets and large-scale logistics is mainstream. The heavy lorries that carry food are not full of local produce going to a local market. They come from remote fulfilment centres on main trunk roads. They dwarf the road traffic of the past.

It’s silly to think that we can step back. Times were rougher and cruder but there’s merit in giving thought to the better bits. Today, there’s little incentive for a boy with a recycled container full of fresh blackberries.

[1] https://www.somersetlive.co.uk/news/local-news/sturminster-newtons-bell-toll-today-148980

New Day

The UK’s recent elections saw a surge in candidates and new political forces, challenging voters to make informed choices.

We had a surfeit of manifestos that said, this is what we will do if you give us power. Today, we have a stronger commitment, in the form of a speech, saying this is what we will do now you have you given us power. You can’t say you haven’t been warned. Or more positively, at least someone is focusing on the issues that are of concern rather than the nonsense of the preceding administration.

Democracy is about choosing. For the next 5-years a choice has been made. OK, that’s assuming there’s no calamities that bring the new Labour Government to its knees.

At this moment, please give a thought to those who made that national democratic choice possible. I know, I was one of them. 4,515 candidates[1] stood for election to the UK’s Parliament in July 2024. In 2019, there were 3,327 candidates who stood in the General Election. So, this year the crop of candidates was much bigger and thus choice wider. No constituency in the UK had fewer than five candidates standing.

This crop of candidates is to fill 650 seats in the House of Commons (HoCs)[2]. That’s using the word “seat” to mean Parliamentary constituency. Which there are not on the green benches. The HoC chamber cannot accommodate all the Members of Parliament (MPs) that are elected. It’s rather a strange situation in modern times.

More candidates and more volatility. A lot of the strong political ties that people have exhibited in former generations have been broken. In future the UK’s electorate must put more effort into deciding who to vote for on polling day. We see a move in political forces that is new.

I salute you. All 3,865 candidates who have plenty of time to reflect on their experience. Yes, there were a small cohort of eccentrics, but they didn’t get the news coverage that they once did. The Official Monster Raving Loony Party raised twenty-two candidates.

Local identity did play a part. There was a Yorkshire Party, Lincolnshire Independents Lincolnshire First candidate, Portsmouth Independent Party South Devon Alliance, and a sprinkling of similar others.

Since 1985. the deposit in elections to the HoCs has been £500. This is only refunded if the election candidate gets more than 5% of the votes cast. I don’t yet know how many of the 3,865 candidates lost their deposits.

The loss of a deposit by a candidate maybe regarded as an embarrassment. I don’t think it is at all. It takes a certain kind of resolve to put yourself up in front of the electorate. Regardless of the outcome that commitment ought to be applauded. It’s certain; not free of costs in respect of the individual candidate. I’d defend having a deposit as one means of preventing abuse of the electoral system. That said, it should never be higher than it is now and maybe the threshold ought to be halved to 2.5%.

[1] https://commonslibrary.parliament.uk/who-stood-in-the-2024-general-election/

[2] https://members.parliament.uk/parties/commons

Rethinking the House of Lords: Toward a Balanced and Democratic Approach

Good to hear that there’s a prospect of House of Lords reform in next week’s Kings speech. Change is on the agenda.

It’s astonishing that “hereditary” is a valid qualification for the job as a legislator. I’ve nothing against the individuals involved. Especially those who try to do the best they can. Put all that to one side, there’s a huge gulf between what’s normal in normal life and what’s normal in the Place of Westminster. It’s time to consider merit as more important than who your parents were.

The removal of hereditary peers should be just a first step. One of the most egregious unfairnesses is that way the HoL gets topped-up with political cronies a regular basis. We’ve institutionalised political tribalism in the second chamber. Ennobling people for dubious reasons has become a habit of Prime Ministers. Making contributions to political Party funds should not be a ticket to the HoLs.

There’s the religious element too. Whereas there’s a lot to be said for a level or moral guidance to be given to Peers there’s little justification for them to have votes in the HoL. I’m not denying the important part region plays in many people’s lives. What I am saying is that the laws that affect every citizen shouldn’t be shaped by a small cohort of clerics. Two countries have religious clerics in places of legislative power, and they are UK and Iran. That doesn’t sit well with me, and no doubt most people.

One change maybe controversial given that it smacks of discrimination and that is the setting of an age threshold. If Peers are given a compulsory retirement at the age of 80, it may meet an objective of getting the overall number of Peers down. What disconcerting is the implication that beyond the age of 80 a Peer’s potential contribution is less valuable.

I don’t agree that the compulsory retirement age for the HoL should be set at the state pension age. For some people age does mark a dimming of their intellect but for others they can be as sharp as a pin. The only easy option is a fixed threshold, but it should be a temporary measure.

Ideally, the size of the HoL should be fixed. Ideally, the size of both chambers should be similar. Not just because that number line-up but because the political weight should be set closer to a balance. I do assume in this formula that every Peer is a working Peer.

It’s been pointed out that in its current state the HoL makes it the second largest political chamber in the world. It’s reached ridiculous proportions for a country of our size.

Modest changes can only be a start. There’s the real need for permanent restructuring. Parliament’s second chamber must be replaced with a democratic upper house. One model would be an elected upper house with two members elected per UK region based on current/proposed metro mayoral regions or former regions used for electing MEPs.

Even the chamber’s name must go. It’s not good that we have legislators lording over us. Those sitting on the red benches are not superior beings. They are privileged. One would hope for them to be humble given that great privilege. Afterall they should be there to serve us. To serve the country.

No Sprint

The last couple of days have seen a new UK Parliament take shape. Beaming smiles from an intake of rearing to go new Members of Parliament (MPs). There’s lashings of energy and enthusiasm. Every problem is to be looked at afresh. No problem is too big to tackle, even if some problems may take while to cure. Horizons stretch ahead full of oceans of possibilities.

Back in May 1993, I was a freshly elected young County Councillor. It was such a magic moment. One evening, at County Hall for the first time sitting in a room with 29 colleagues. For the first time the Council being No Overall Control (NOC). One room full of a mix of battle-hardened pros and fresh faces. A manifesto in hand and magic in the air.

Today, there are 72 Liberal Democrat MPs. Yes, 72 MPs. I can imagine, without looking at the press pictures what that may feel like. A wonderful feeling of hope, ambition and warmth. A little trepidation. Thoughts like: what will be my role in this epic journey? Those with small electoral majorities might be focused not only on their role in the team but how they will secure more than one term of office.

Politics is a precarious way of life. Any electoral success is certainly never to be taken for granted. This UK General Election has shown that in spades. Volatility amongst the voting population is probably higher than it has ever been. That impulsiveness sits in the background of the overall wish to throw out the mediocre incumbents.

At least for the honeymoon period, often characterised as the first 100 days, the new government and new effective opposition will be given a period of grace. It’s a time when everyone wishes the nation to succeed and prosper in the direction that is set.

A modern UK Prime Minister has a great deal of power in the first period of their office. On this occasion, those that lost, Conservatives will be struggling to rebuild their shattered party. Whether they bury Thatcherism or reincarnate it, they will be in turmoil for a considerable while. They may even strike up an extreme ideology and march off into the political wilderness.

Liberalism is in rude health. The 72 Liberal Democrat MPs will surely work with conviction and proudly hold their principles aloft.

It’s not the first time that I’ve referenced the Stoics. I am reminded that despite the joys of the moment and the races that have been won, the battle of ideas never stops or starts. There are peaks and troughs of optimism and pessimism. There are opportunities taken and lost. There are times of progressive advance and there’s inevitable push backs. He’s no longer with us, in fact if he was still around, he’d be nearly 100 years old. Labour MP Tony Benn was wrong on Europe but often wise about the UK Parliament. I agree with his view of Parliament in this respect, however flawed it may be: “Through talk, we tamed kings, restrained tyrants, averted revolution.” Long may that continue. There’s no finality in politics; there is always another step to take.

His maxim for MPs to operate on two levels makes a lot of sense. One is to be an agent of practical action and the other is to operate in the realm of ideas. Not so easy to do. Nevertheless, democracy is healthier if both delivery and values are never strangers.

Rapid

Such a rapid change. In days we go from one governmental regium to another. The government of the UK has changed. It’s now dramatically different from what it was only a couple of days ago. It’s not overstating the case to say dramatic. On a relatively modest percentage of the overall national vote the Labour Party has been handed all the leavers of power.

The UK’s main electoral system is not proportional. It tends to exaggerate and distort performance. Lifting those who do well in the national vote numbers but suppressing those who are supported by smaller overall percentages. Interestingly, the Liberal Democrats, who have always been in favour of a proportional representation electoral system, have an approximate match between the number of seats won and the number of votes cast across the country.

Sticking with the positives, this rapid change does mean policy resets are possible. One significant example is the immediate scrapping of the policy mess that the previous government had got itself into over immigration.

Accepting a fresh start has a upside. However, the difficulty that can present itself is the challenge to continuity. Lots of new faces with new responsibilities. Lots of people learning the ropes. One answer to that challenge is to say that the civil service provides a seamless continuity. The mandarins in Whitehall guide the ship of State through the transition. Not only that but many of the people coming into power have been preparing for this opportunity for a long time.

The difficulty is that the mismatch between the national percentages of the General Election vote and the number of Westminster seats held is there for all to see. It’s a stark indicator of the reality of people’s wishes verses the outcome of a process.

I was a counting agent standing in a sports hall until the early morning totting-up an estimate of the vote for a political party. Pen in hand watching officers carefully unfold paper ballots. In a world of smart phones and tablets there’s something very retro about looking at piles of black and white paper for hours.

One aspect of First Past The Post (FPTP) is the theoretical simplicity of the counting process. Naturally, it’s far from simple. One cross, in one box is well within the capability of every kind of voter. However, it’s crude in terms of what it says about the voter’s views. It forces everyone to make stark choices. There’s no accommodation of preference. Say, you are a person who’s essentially conservative or socialist but can’t stand that Party in its current form, you are forced to leap to vote, if you vote at all, for a political candidate that may not be your natural choice.

So, society ought to ask itself, do we value the result of the electoral process most? Or do we value the expression of the individual preference the most? There’s an inevitability to the answer to that question, if the horizon set is a long one. Where so much of what we now do is addressed by algorithms designed to distil our individual preferences how can we stick with a paper based last century electoral system that ignores preference?

Change will come one day. The difficulty is that if the UK’s FPTP electoral system offers no incentive to the winning Party to change it, so we will be bound to stick with it. Well, at least for the next few years.