Category: Culture

A Day at the Bath and West Agricultural Show

It’s a part of my childhood. It’s fascinating to see how it has changed over the decades. There’s hardly a year go by when I don’t go to at least one agricultural show in the UK.

Last year, I visited the Lincoln show and the Newbury show for the first time. Most of the summer rural shows in the UK have a long history that is kept going by an Agricultural Society. The bigger ones have dedicated show sites and some permanent buildings. The smaller ones can be a large field that’s set aside for a couple of days a year. Each show reflects the nature of the farming, the crops, the animals, in its region.

This Friday, my day out was a trip to the Bath and West show[1] in Somerset. The show site is large. Spread over a south facing gently sloping hillside. To the south of the town of Shepton Mallet, at the base of Prestleigh Hill.

That’s my family connection. My mother grew-up on a small farm in Prestleigh. It’s not named on the map anymore as a couple of the buildings are now dwellings. Yew Tree Farm was situated on a dangerous bend on the main A371 road where traffic must veer right as it comes down the hill. The alternative being to hit a wall and end up in the farmyard. If I remember correctly, my grandad got free tickets to the Bath and West as they used one of his fields for a car park. As children we would hop over the fence to go straight to the show.

This year, the ground was as hard as rock underfoot. Spring has been unusually dry. There’s more dust than mud. That’s good for the show. There have been years when the wind and rain have swept the exposed show site and blown down tents and made mini rivers. Making welly boots mandatory.

What has changed? Although this annual event is predominantly a showcase for West Country food and farming it’s gone beyond that formula to become an atypical half-term family day trip. It’s no longer a place where local farmers strike deals with machinery salesman or learn about the latest breeds or cropping methods. That post-war image of mucky tractors and trailers turning up in droves is for vintage postcards.

What’s nice is that there’s something for everyone with an interest in the English countryside. Beekeepers, cider markers (and drinkers), cheese makers, traction engine enthusiasts, rare breeds, heavy horses along with tea and cake in the WI tent.

Sheep started big this year. Cattle and pigs less so. Again, the word is enthusiasts. Breeds rare and commercial ones all cleaned up for display and judging. Handlers, young and old, parading their animals for picky judges to prod and score. Then colourful rosettes displayed with pride.

It’s not a cheap day out for townsfolk and county people anymore. Car parking might be free but the price of entry and just about anything on-site can quickly rack up. Everywhere, even in a field, we have become a cashless society. A tap here, a tap there, no longer do we dig into our pockets for loose change.

For the good weather and crowds, I expect this year’s 3-day event will be evaluated as a great success. Keeping the tradition going.

[1] https://www.bathandwest.com/royal-bath-and-west-show

Collecting First Editions

Somewhere in several cardboard boxes I have books. Now, I know not where they are. Most of these books were published by Hodder and Stoughton. There were numerous print runs. Popular fiction.

What attracted me to these books was a character played by Roger Moore. No, I’m not talking about James Bond. Moore is probably best known for his portrayal of Bond. This was before he got that cinema role and global fame.

Author Leslie Charteris created a character called The Saint. That is Simon Templar. Roger Moore, as The Saint ran as a British TV series in the 1960s. What ran was an honest crime mystery series, with a Robin Hood style hero, who always won the day. His nemesis was a police inspector, even if they did cooperate towards righteous ends. The Saint didn’t always play by the rules. He fought tooth and nail to topple the ungodly.

Collectables are first editions of Leslie Charteris books. At one time they would appear forgotten in High Street charity shops. That day has gone.

The Saint Plays With Fire is worth revisiting. It’s a warning – especially now.

What Does Freedom Mean?

Daily writing prompt
What does freedom mean to you?
View all responses

Freedom. There’s as subject that’s banded around as if it’s a simple matter. It’s not.

Let’s start with Thomas Hobbes in the 17th Century.  He says freedom is the absence of external obstacles. Thus, if a person is not restrained from doing what they will then they are free. That’s an individualistic view. However, what happens when the theory is applied to a murderer, a thief or conman? I would like to see such a person presented with obstacles. By the way, I’m taking liberties as Hobbes was more nuanced than my description of his philosophy.

Let’s say I’m more inclined to John Stuart Mill’s thinking. Liberty (freedom) is to be free to think, say, and act as one wishes on condition that resulting actions do not harm others. Autonomy has a condition. This is nice. Hold on, isn’t the range of what might be generally considered as “harm” a wide one? In the past, school children may have chanted: “sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.” Quaint, and in the modern context a saying that is clearly utter nonsense.

In Britain individuals are free. However, boundaries are placed on that freedom by law and by social convention. Freedom of thought, speech and action are to be cherished and defended. In my mind that means challenging boundaries where constraints might be overzealous.

Words used with intent to harm others should face public objection. Words that may annoy or unsettle or question others, well that’s a different matter. A dynamic balance must be sought.

Exploring a Riverside

Riverside walks can be pleasant ways of spending a sunny spring evening. That’s what I did on Friday. Sun shining with a cool breeze sweeping through the trees. Underfoot even the unmade-up paths were dry, which is testament to the rainless weather of recent weeks. Even so, the riverbank showed signs of the flooding of the winter.

Reading is a town[1]. It’s England’s largest town. Now, I didn’t know that until I looked it up. The largest English town that I’ve been familiar with over the years is Crawley in Sussex. I think of that as a large town but it’s less than half the size of Reading. It’s the railway that makes Reading. Reading railway station was the last stop on the Great Western Railway (GWR)[2] when it was first opened in 1840. After that the railway forged west to be what we know now as the main thoroughfare across southern England.

Reading town has a long history. That’s no surprise given its position on the river Thames. It’s where the river Kennet, the canal and the river Thames meet. An obvious place for trading since Roman times. It’s a commercial town. Glass sided office blocks and Victorian brick work. For all that it doesn’t stand out as an architectural masterpiece.

Another surprise for me was leaning that town twinning is alive and well. That Reading in twined with Düsseldorf in Germany. A city more than twice the size of Reading. In fact, until this last year, I’ve been more familiar with Düsseldorf.

Our walk ended at The Fishermans Cottage[3]. I’m happy to recommend this small riverside pub.

From there, on the walk back to the railway station I did see the one of the more notable sites in Reading. That’s the Banksy’s Great Escape artwork[4] on Reading prison wall. Oscar Wilde spent time in that jail. The artwork has got a Perspex cover to keep the pigeons off. And anyone else who might think of spraying it.

That reminds me. It’s not unusual to have a phobia about dogs. Although dog owners mostly have a difficulty in getting their heads around the fact. On my riverside walk dogs were not the problem. Amongst our small group of walkers had a different phobia.

As we got to the confluence of the Thames and the Kennet, we discovered the phobia of one of our walkers. Alfred Hitchcock would approve. The Kennet’s tow path attracts Swans. These Swans are attracted by people with food. With no inclination to get out of the gently flowing river these lazy Swans wait for passers-by to pay attention to their needs. That’s no problem.

It’s called Ornithophobia. A fear of birds. Birds flock when free food is on offer. The worst of these can be thought of as flying rats. I talk of pigeons. That how I think of pigeons. Tom Lehrer[5] had the right idea about these annoying birdies. Frightening them away, at least for a moment, cleared our pathway. Like a flash they returned as we strolled into the pub.

[1] https://www.reading.gov.uk/

[2] https://www.gwr.com/stations-and-destinations/travel-inspiration/blogs/history-of-the-railways

[3] https://www.tripadvisor.co.uk/Restaurant_Review-g186363-d7363678-Reviews-The_Fishermans_Cottage-Reading_Berkshire_England.html

[4] https://banksyexplained.com/create-escape-march-2021/

[5] https://youtu.be/yhuMLpdnOjY

Humanity and Tolerance

Who doesn’t know this short sentence? “A rose by any other name would smell as sweet”. It has a particular meaning in play Romeo and Juliet. It’s Juliet saying she doesn’t care about her loves’ family name. The source of their great troubles. Being elegant and fragrant it’s no surprise that Shakespeare chose to speak of a rose.

More broadly this phrase makes the point that calling something different doesn’t change its core characteristic. Roses might not be the best example since naming these flowers plays a big part in distinguishing between one and another. So many modern hybrids. Instead, let’s go for trees. “An Oak by any other name would be a noble tree”. Which remains appropriate despite the number of different types of Oak trees.

Over the weekend, I was standing under a large ancient Holm Oak[1]. It had to be pointed out to me that that this type of Oak tree is evergreen. Most Oaks are not. An aged, stately and weathered one is definitely a noble tree.

I’m finding the News reporting of the moment mixed-up and confused. The word “diversity” gets thrown around like a political football. Let’s be clear. Diversity is everywhere. It is not unusual. Names are labels that we use like a scatter gun. Often to try to pick-out, to differentiate one group of humans from another. Not always with good intentions in mind.

Let’s remember our essence and intrinsic quality is that we are human. We live on planet called Earth and we need to find ways to get on with each other.

Today, there’s rather a lot of us. Globally, over 8 billion. However, that’s not the key factor. Let’s face it, in Shakespeare’s time there was a fraction of that number[2]. All the great strife and troubles he wrote into his plays are here now, as much as they were in his time. Proportionally, the diverse range of people and their ways of living haven’t changed that much.

It would be wise to heed the lessons of history. As we segment, categorise and slot groups of people into specific camps. The digital age, social media has added a dimension to this process. Now, likes and dislikes pigeonhole people into “similar” groups.

Here, I’m trying to keep the topic generic. Recent judgements from eminent judges, although necessary, hasn’t added a much to social harmony. To say “the law is an ass” is no understatement. I certainly wouldn’t want to fly on an aeroplane designed by lawyers. Although, it would be safe since it would never get off the ground.

I believe, we should treat each other in a way that respects that we are human, and thus diverse. That means tolerance and mutual understanding are essential. Not optional. Creating the need for bathroom police is the dumbest thing venerable British judges have done in a while.

[1] https://www.woodlandtrust.org.uk/trees-woods-and-wildlife/british-trees/a-z-of-british-trees/holm-oak/

[2] In 1600, around William Shakespeare’s time, the estimated world population was around half a billion. London’s population was about 245,000.

Cartoons capturing us

To me, it’s fascinating how a few lines of pen and ink can sum up so much. One of the great underestimated influences is the power of the cartoon. They speak of their times, they speak of social niceties, they speak of the ever-moving conveyer belt of humour.

Every day the cartoons of MATT[1] sum up, in a witty way, what the News has to say. A little composed abbreviation of an event, a thought, or an idea. Not the least bit easy to do unless that’s your talent. Believe me, I’ve had a go, and the results were not good.

A picture can tell a thousand stories. Substitute for page of words. Often this is said about photography and not so much drawing. Pictures have a language all their own. Their properties escape the communication difficulties that language can throw up.

Back to the few lines. A minimalist drawing in black and white with a sentence is the basic format. I wonder which comes first. The witty line or the image? I’ll bet that varies from person to person. An idea must spring from the mind first.

Let me say right away that not every cartoon hits the mark. I’ve got a daily tear-off New Yorker cartoon[2] calendar. It has a cartoon for the day. In the morning, I’ve torn off the last day and pondered at the worst of them, thinking what on earth were they on when they selected this one.

The reason I started writing these words is a reaction to the cartoons of H.M. Bateman[3]. He’s from another era. A world of English etiquette that has faded with time. Although, I expect if you go to the races at Royal Ascot[4] Bateman’s world lives on in its modern form.

What came to my mind is the link between social media and Bateman’s view of the world. A lot of his cartons depend on the notion that just below the surface the English are about to explode at any moment. Like the 1970’s sitcom character Basil Fawlty.

Under the social equilibrium that enables society to function there’s a seething mass of rage. A bubbling anger that can spill over at the least provocation. Then reason turns into unreason.

A sense that a minor faux pas reveals a sense of injustice that has simmered for years. One small social blunder and an avalanche descends on the poor victim. So, is social media behaviour merely an extension of a human characteristic that has aways been there? That we can easily take a violation of etiquette or social norms wholly out of proportion.

And my further thought. Have certain unscrupulous politicians learnt how to exploit this suppressed emotion. Have encouraged the volcano to explode on que. Prodded and poked it. Even having lifted the vail on the weaknesses of you and I, meant that they could get away with innumerable gaffes, and blunders. There’s an essay for a bored writer to take-up.

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

[2] https://www.newyorker.com/cartoons/daily-cartoon

[3] https://www.hmbateman.com/

[4] https://www.ascot.com/royal-ascot

Communication Prevents Disasters

It’s often forgotten that there’s a need to repeat messages. We are not creatures that retain everything we see and hear. There are exceptional people, it’s true, those who cram away facts and have an amazing level of recall. Often that’s my reaction to watching students leading teams on University Challenge[1]. How on earth do they know those obscure facts?

Most of us do not respond well to those who say, “Well, I told them once. I’m not going to tell them again.” That line is probably one of the most misguided utterances a teacher can make. Like it or not, this approach is part of our heritage. Past ages, when deference was expected, listening was mandatory, and misremembering was entirely the listener’s fault.

We’ve had a cultural shift. Our complex technological society doesn’t work in a command-and-control way. Too many disasters can be traced to miscommunications and misunderstanding. Now, the obligation exists on those delivering a message to go some way to ensure that it’s received with a degree of comprehension. That’s when repetition has a role to play.

One of the pillars of Safety Management Systems (SMS) is Safety Promotion. It’s the Cinderella of the aviation safety world.

Why do I say that? Experience for one. It’s much easier to get policy made and funding for the “hard” sciences like data acquisition, analysis and decision-making systems. These are often perceived as providing tangible results. Actionable recommendations that satisfy the need to be recognised as doing something. Even if that something is questionable.

Communication is key to averting disasters. It’s no good having pertinent information and failing to do anything with it, other than file it. The need to know is not a narrow one. Confined to a specialist few.

Let’s go back to 2003 and the Space Shuttle Columbia accident[2]. This craft was destroyed in a disaster that claimed the lives of its crew. The resulting investigation report is extremely compressive, if slightly overwhelming, but it has some key points to make.

To quote, “That silence was not merely a failure of safety, but a failure of the entire organization.” [Page 192]. In other words, the hidden concerns and internal machinations of an organisation can smother safety messages and led to failure. Since 2003, it’s sad to say that there are multiple occasions when what has been learned has been ignored. The impact has been devastating.

So, to shape the future let’s remember the Cinderella of the aviation safety. Discovering problems is not enough. It’s vital that practical solutions and good practice gets promoted. That needs to be done forcefully and repetitiously.

NOTE: This is, in part, a reaction to watching this video presentation. https://acsf.aero/an-unforgettable-closing-to-the-2025-acsf-safety-symposium-with-tim-and-sheri-lilley/

[1] https://www.bbc.co.uk/programmes/b006t6l0

[2] https://ntrs.nasa.gov/api/citations/20030066167/downloads/20030066167.pdf

My First US Adventure

Let’s wind the clock back. My first trip to the US. It was a big adventure. One that I’d recommend to anyone in their 20s. The trip was a Pam Am fly-drive affair. A travel package that took me and three friends from London Heathrow to Seattle and back. In 1981, I had no idea that I’d be returning to Seattle numerous times in the following decade.

I keep a personal flight logbook. It’s a simple way of keeping track of the dates, times and places. Memory can be unreliable. When 40 years or more has past recollections of individual trips get jumbled up. Although this one is difficult for me to mistake.

We took off in the afternoon and flew across the Atlantic on flight PA 123. Slightly being in awe of the mighty Boeing 747-100. It was the largest aircraft doing that route on a regular basis.

Sadly, the Lockerbie bombing occurred 7-years later to a similar transatlantic Pan Am flight. The airline that brought the Boeing 747 to life didn’t survive after that tragic event.

One of the advantages of being a sandwich student was the ability to earn. To put some money away. To have the funds to plan an exploration like this trip without depending on the bank of mum and dad. To keep the costs down the four of us shared a car, the driving and the motel rooms along the way. In fact, we had a detailed itinerary that didn’t leave much slack time at all. Our travel planning was meticulous. I’d even arranged to visit an offshoot of the Plessey company in the Los Angeles suburbs. It was a real eyeopener. A maker of precision metals for the aerospace industry.

We arrived in Washington State only a year after the deadliest volcanic eruption[1] in US history. Naturally, being the students we were, we drove as close to the devastated area as the open roads would let us. I took pictures of that too. Views of forests felled like matchsticks.

We packed an enormous amount into August 1981. Returning to our final year as soon as we got back. This trip always reminds me that if you plan well and are determined enough you can do a hell of a lot in a short time. We drove over 6000 miles and took in a lot of the West Coast.

[1] The Mount St. Helens major eruption of May 18, 1980.

Light in Dr Who

I’ve started so I will finish. There’s a good line. Don’t worry I’m not going to write about quiz shows but it’s time for another short review. I have seen the light. Well, switched on the TV.

Flashy clothes, 50s vibe and excruciating way of getting there. The second in this new series of Dr Who twisted and turned around an attempt to get home. There’s a theme. Adventures on the way home. Wonder where that idea came from? An odyssey of a flight in time, one might say.

In a digital age a flip back to an age of film was a nice touch. It’s kind of funny how animation is now so much easier done. Film is becoming a museum artefact. I don’t think it will get the popular revival that vinyl is getting.

Explaining a job like “projectionist” to newer viewers isn’t necessary. Wasn’t done. Takes me back to the small flee pit of my youth and the story of a living Volkswagen Beetle[1]. That’s quite freaky. Jumps in the film, munching crisps in the theatre and sitting in the dark when it was daylight outside.

The sinister and creepy monster turned out to be a being of light. Like a Twilight Zone moment, a menacing cartoon character came to life. Given the various realms through which the doctor travels, this is not unexpected. Good job there was only one of them to defeat.

Beings of light[2] are a popular science fiction theme. They crop up now and then on both good and bad sides. I like the ambiguity. That one entity can flip between good and bad. It wasn’t so much a tale of an evil moonbeam as one of light finding a path to becoming substantial and physical. The dark of night or, in this case, the cinema world turned the mischievous moonlight to the bad side. Only a release back into the bright light of day let it rejoin the sunlight and starlight of the universe.

Plonk in the middle of the show was a breaking of the fourth wall. That boundary between the fictional characters, the Doctor and companion, and the imagined audience at home. Suddenly one was real, and the other was fiction (even though they were both fiction).

After a good haunting the colourful cartoon menace was expelled. Given how easily it got into the cinema in the first place it’s a wonder this story isn’t repeated a million times.

Confusing at times, the suspenseful moments were jarringly technicolour. Sometimes less is more. This was a case of packing too much content into a rapid-fire story.

Having wrapped up a 1950s mystery, the Doctor is back to his time travelling.

[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Herbie

[2] https://babylon5.fandom.com/wiki/Vorlon

Who 15

As per tradition there was a moment of running down corridors pursued by robots. Add to that the shock horror realisation that it’s bigger on the inside than the outside and the staple diet of BBC Science Fiction is playing again.

Dr Who is rolling[1]. As expected, Russell T Davies works magic with a super-fast story line. In fact, so fast that I’m going to have to watch it again to figure out exactly what the featured rift in space and time did to the plot. Thematically up to date as the main baddy in control of the evil robots was both misogynistic and AI. I’ll give something away if I reveal that the two letters AI were not what they seemed. Not only that but the robots were redeemed.

Although there was a smidgen of absurdity and an expectation that the audience would draw of decades of Dr Who mythology, the show hit the mark. Afterall it’s entertainment not a profound reflection on the state of the world. It’s colourful Saturday night drama that the whole family can watch. Although in this case there was no need to hide behind the sofa. Also, a lot of the 21stC social commentary would be lost on younger viewers.

Because the series has been running for such a long time there’s a bit of repetition that creeps in. This is not bad per-se. It’s a reminder that coming up with truly original scripts is incredibly hard. Imagination has no limits but when pen hits paper past references helps move stories along quickly.

Adventures in space and time could go on forever. All time, in fact. The subject has no limits. Each version of the Dr Who saga will be set in the context of the audience’s everyday reality. So, the Daleks were a product of nuclear war, and now humanities greatest threat comes from billions and billions of electrical ones and noughts.

Playing with humankinds’ curiosity about space and time is fruitful territory. Imagery can be fantastical and push the boundaries of video production. If anything, Dr Who is modest in pushing at those boundaries. Mustn’t forget that it’s prime time entertainment. Real space and time are far more than a headful.

[1] https://www.radiotimes.com/tv/sci-fi/doctor-who-times-release-schedule/