A self-appraisal of one’s performance in this realm isn’t the best guild. That said, I don’t, on the whole, have regular coffee table conversation with friends and family about my own ability to judge others. Or at least that’s my experience.
It’s true we mark our own homework all the time. Building up mental pictures of other people. Framing them with good or bad qualities. It’s an internalised soap opera. This on-going series can be populated with stereotypes. Although, I try my very best to be fair and objective.
I’ll turn to Burns for a moment: “O wad some Pow’r the giftie gie us/To see ourselves as others see us.[1]” Burns says we need to start with seeing ourselves as others see us. Then, knowing ourselves, moving on we can try to see others as they really are. That path might be easier.
What’s simplest to recollect are personal judgement failures. That’s when I’ve got my judgement wrong or partially wrong. Case in point is were an individual’s intelligence was notable, but their social skills turned out to lamentable. I gave them far too much credit for thoughtfulness and wisdom. Turned out they completely lacked.
Am I a good judge of character? In this, I can’t be too poor. Surviving this long says something.
The back-office work of campaigning does take advantage of a lot of volunteering. That’s my experience. Giving time and energy for free and seeking to advance a worthwhile cause.
It would be nice if all political parties in this country where wholly supported by a membership that is both engaged in activities and willing to put their hands in their pockets, now and then. The reality is that, of all the eligible voters in this country, only a small fraction of them is committed enough to be a member of a recognised political party.
Even with a strong membership and a well-motivated bunch of volunteers, life is hard going unless there is a reasonable sized war chest to support campaigning work.
Come election time the range and breadth of communications that is necessary to be a competitive candidate is considerable. Thus, it is no surprise that history can turn on who has the most resources. That doesn’t always work but without a spending capacity rivals have most of the advantages.
Politicians seek the patronage of the wealthy as a pathway to power. We can remain pure and get engaged in arguments both ethical and moral as to the impact of patronage. Or we can accept that it is inevitable and ensure that strict rules exist to create a reasonably level playing field for all candidates. Since we can no more stop influence from flowing from one person to another than we can freeze gravity then a democratic society cannot must not have woolly rules on these matters.
Talk now is about financial donations that originate from abroad. That is when a wealthy person wishes to funnel money into a political party in a country other than the one of their citizenship. No prizes for guessing who or what this is about.
Now, I could say only UK citizens should be allowed to donate to UK political parties or organisations. Foreigners should be banned from involvement in national democratic processes. Trouble is that this subject is not so cut and dry as it might first seem.
Those with dual citizenships may wish to contribute and participate. That sounds reasonable. Those with notable family ties may wish to contribute and participate. Certainly, there are reasonable cases to consider. What’s interesting here is the legitimacy of the interest and that it is of a “friendly” nature.
I’d like to go back to the mater of the level playing field. If a candidate meets the criteria set down for a given election, then the battle should be over achievements, ideas and policies and not over the size of bank balances. Financial donors should not be able to exert undue influence by throwing money at a campaign. That’s where there is a strong need for strict financial limits on donations or any form of beneficial contribution that comes from abroad.
POST: One subject that Australian’s are looking at:
Ho hum. The billions of neural pathways sitting in my head were in a very different state more than 30 million seconds ago. I mean they are changing all the time. They are not sluggish either. Picturing life in the next week is challenging enough.
Even so, I’ll climb down from my hyperbole and answer as the questioner intended. The answer is “no” and “yes”. For fate turns as a penny spins. At any moment, that fair coin is unpredictable.
Last year, it was likely that a major house move would go through as planned. The move wasn’t our first choice. Then by chance, sitting in a busy coffee shop scrolling my phone, there it was to my amazement. An ad for the house that we’d tried to buy twice but each time the arrangements has fallen through. A quick change of priorities, taking a risk, we dropped the on-going purchase and started a third go at the first house we both wanted.
A year has passed. Almost. That impulse to change was the right one. Here we are. Where we want to be. Thank you, neurons.
Genuine commitment to a good cause. There are a lot of good works out there that are like the task of Sisyphus. That’s the poor guy in Greek mythology who was condemned to push a rock up a mountain. When he got near the top the rock rolled back down the mountain, and then he had to start all over again. Never-ending.
I’ve great admiration for those who can keep the positivity going whatever (almost) the mountain throws at them day after day. Can keep smiling. Can be kind and generous and not consumed by resentment despite their less than glamorous struggle.
They are often content to heap praise on others without ever expecting any to come their way. In our modern culture of celebrity and voyeurism this is might be viewed as absurdity ridiculous. Nevertheless, these virtually Saint like people do exist. Often for a phase of their lives, having come to this way of living acknowledging that others suffer greater hardships than themselves. Or with a simple sense that the world can become a better place.
Wile Coyote. That poor skinny coyote that never seemed to catch a break. Every dastardly plan he has for the Road Runner ends in complete disaster. Just to hear that “beep beep” as the Road Runner rushes away at high speed – fooled again looney Coyote.
I was going to say Wacky Races. Again, a 1960s childhood staple. That’s dated. Slightly over egged with stereotypes and lame jokes.
Wile Coyote and the Road Runner is still eminently watchable. Again, and again. Short, simple and sweet. Where would we be without the Acme Corporation? The Coyote’s favoured universal producer of useless mail-order goods. Beep beep.
POST: We do live an interconnected world. After I wrote the words above guess what turned up on my social media? Yes, the two cartoon characters in their never-ending pursuit of each other.
Going down the rabbit hole. Having so much information on-hand the temptation is to chase every rabbit. That is any tantalising rabbits that might provide the answers to quiz show questions of the future.
Take for example this windy wet morning. A thread from a WhatsApp group raised a question about water supply pumping stations. Why don’t they have back-ups, or do they have back-ups, and they take time to get going? This was in response to the impact of Storm Darragh and water supply problems in parts of West Berkshire.
A wise me would have thought – that’s interesting but I’ve got several tasks to do. What’s more my tap water is fine. Flowing freely. Cool and fresh.
An unwise me, as it happens, instantly started searching to see what information there was out there on water pumping stations and how they work or don’t, as the case maybe.
There’s the dangerous rabbit hole. Once you fall into it an hour can clock by easily. Time runs differently in rabbit holes. The warning is there for all to read in that popular reference book: Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland.
They are wild all right. Not terribly interesting though. That’s unless geese are you favourite wild bird. I counted 25 Canadian Geese in the field next door this morning. They seem to come and go in groups at different times of the day. In part nibbling at the grass and part undergoing their social rituals. Waddling around looking like they own the place.
What’s far more interesting is the swooping and diving of the Red Kites[1]. They are impossible to confuse with other hawks. A forked tail is a dead giveaway. Also, they make a distinctive sound. The Kites are graceful flyers. Their highly tuned aerodynamics allows them to circle whatever the wind. They dive towards their pray, which maybe no more than a worm, pulling-up with the utmost precision. Agile and elegant but ready to fight off other hawks in a moment.
As for four-legged wild animals, I’ve watched the smallest of Roe Deer[2] dodge across the field hoping not to be seen. They can easily hide in clumps of grass and on the riverbank. As yet, although my neighbours tell me it happens, they haven’t visited my garden.
It’s a good job I’m not mad enough to want to keep chickens. I know for sure that there’s a fox that roams the lawn at night. Next-door have a black cat but I don’t suppose the two ever come into contact. The late-night noises of foxes must be heard to be believed.
I’m not going to do a deep dive on this question. Instead, I’ll be remarkably superficial. It’s part of my family tree. Generally, Vincent’s, or at least my variety of that linage, are not tall people.
Believe me there are advantages in being short. For a start, I can fit happily into most aircraft seats while watching others wriggle uncomfortably. When a photographer says, tall people at the back, short people at the front, I’m always in the frame. Squeezing into awkward spaces can be useful now and then.
Wouldn’t it be nice to be a couple of inches taller? I think so. I don’t want to be a lanky six-footer who crashes against any low roof beam. No ambition to play basketball. Or to pick apples without a step ladder. An inch or two would be handy. Size does help when standing at a lectern trying to look authoritative. In a line-up of colleagues or business acquaintance hight often seems magnified.
Put aside everything I’ve said. Because whatever the numerical facts, I am me. No way would I ever think of buying those shoes that elevate. Never would I let myself be intimated by the hight of others (mostly). And I’m no Napoleon.
And by the way Randy Newman[1] was being ironic and sending up prejudice.
Travel with the light. Be awake when the light shines bright. My clock does vary from summer to winter. As the seasons shift so the moment of morning changes. That comes with being up at our comfortable northern latitude.
My megapixels eyesight picks up any hint of the rising Sun. Every day, I like to celebrate Ra’s[1] daily journey across the sky. Light and life are one and the same. The Sun provides life and heat as it banishes the dark of night. We are solar powered.
How could I be anything other than a morning person? Almost medieval, the night is a place of hostile forces and mysterious unknowns. I like to see with full resolution the colours of the universe and all its glory.
Moods swing. To me, most emotional harmony is to be found in sunlight. Even on a dull wet cloudy day when morning creeps slowly into consciousness. That’s still better than watching the Moon’s sombre glow or a distant star set against the emptiness of space.
Not such an easy question to answer. Most technologies are a two-edged sword. That is that they have both benefits and costs. Advantages and disadvantages. Good uses and bad uses.
And technology itself is usually agnostic. It’s more about how we use it rather than what it is. It’s the application of technology that is of greatest concern. That puts the question back on us. Add to that the fact that technology is not only the new stuff. Achimenes Screw[1] is technology. Archimedes was one hell of a classical technologist. Equally, I could call him a scientist or engineer. Innovator or problem solver.
Let’s put global considerations aside. The question is a personal one. My assumption being that the question is about the rapid removal of a named technology from my life. One of the three wishes I might ask of a friendly genie.
So, I’m going for the Microwave cooker. Reason being that it makes it easy to eat too much chilled highly processed food. The trend is towards more and more convenience[2]. Time poor becomes health poor. Maybe that’s a big reason why “big” is becoming a problem.
John Vincent 