Tuesday, February 18, 2025

Animal Vocabulary

Following a post from a friend discussing her cat's comprehension of English, as catalogued (groan) by her husband, here's a list of words the Daw Bank animals understand:

Cat vocabulary (Sooty)

Sootycat, cat, biscuits, get on yer podium (obeyed only if you stand by the kitchen chair to groom him), d’you want OUT, come on, don't even THINK about it, no, beHAVE yourself, oi!

Dog vocabulary (Mickey)

Mickey, dog, good lad, gently to the pussycat, RATS, sit, down, come here (not always obeyed), go round (eg when tether rope is round a tree, to free himself), through here, come on, tea-time, away ye go, clever lad, that’ll do, don't you DARE, be quiet, no, beHAVE yourself, Oi!

Pony vocabulary (Eric)

Eric, come here Chuckles, stand, wait, walk on, trot on, steady, come in / come around (turn while going forward), step over (move sideways but not forward), back, foot / pick it up / This One Please, come on, good lad, clever lad, "It's just a...<insert name of scary object>", CALM yourself (put face between human hands and stop being an over excitable nob), no, Stop It, beHAVE yourself, Oi!

Pony vocabulary (Ruby)

Ruby, come here Honey, stand, wait, walk on, trot on, steady, come in / come around (turn while going forward), step over (move sideways but not forward), back, foot / pick it up / This One Please, PUSH (shove door or gate with nose, comes in handy at times), "It's just a...<insert name of scary object>", come on, good girl, clever lady, would you like a Polo, no, Stop It, beHAVE yourself, Oi! 

I taught several of our first ponies to "shake hands" but stopped 30 years ago when we had an excitable Arab x, in case he stomped on someone by mistake, and I haven't taught it since.

Lots of the communication though is body language or touch or both, not needing words. For instance, Mickey will run to me and sit down if I stand to attention with feet together and look at him, and he does Sit and Down to hand signals as well as to voice. Dog, cat and ponies tell me a lot by posture and the positions of ears, eyes and tails, and, in the ponies, the tightness of their lips, nostrils and chins.

That was more cheerful, wasn't it...

Backing off from Social Media

I am growing disenchanted with social media. It's as though a slurry-pit wall has been breached and an increasingly large flow of shit is squelching across our consciousness.

I occasionally stray onto Instagram and I have a foothold on Bluesky as @suemillard.bsky.social but I left TwiXer some time ago.

I remain on Facebook https://www.facebook.com/sue.millard.9/ because of some nice people I know there and because I manage a couple of Pages for other purposes like the Fell Pony Society.

While I have a fairly good control of what I see on FB I'm also aware of an increase in posts and reactions by the stupid and the uninformed, the drunk or overmedicated, and the racists and xenophobes who infest the place. 

It certainly seems that FB has stopped employing real people to manage the billions of its users or fact checking their posts except with the blunt instrument of artificial intelligence.

  • Tinfoil hatters informed only by YouTube videos
    • claim cancer is a parasite that can be expelled by animal wormers
    • claim vaccinations are more dangerous than the diseases they prevent 
  • Chemtrail conspiracy theorists
    • any image of the sky that includes an aircraft or an unusual cloud formation will bring them out in force 
  • Creationist nutjobs 
    • any image of geological formations will have them claiming that it was done by "the flood"
    • deny the scientifically discovered timespan of the earth's existence and substitute the genealogical calculations of Bishop Ussher in the 17th century
  • Fundamentalists (of several flavours of religion)
    • insist that atheism or agnosticism are beliefs and are bitterly opposed to them 
    • deny the theory of evolution, which is "Darwinist"
    • any image of primates will set them off
    • they have no idea that in science the word "theory" does not mean a "hypothesis" 
  • The visually ignorant 
    • coo and praise "god" for images produced by artificial intelligence
  • The verbally ignorant 
    • can't tell the difference between AI generated text and genuine human thought 
    • or push their AI generated "poetry" across literary pages until - eventually - the admins get sick of them and use the ban hammer
  • The red-hat brigade in America 
    • think Trump can do no wrong and are bitterly opposed to any suggestion otherwise
  • And they ALL get mad and start slinging insults if you suggest their ideas are part of the squelching shit mentioned earlier.

Re the last bullet point - I'm not well up in American politics or the mechanisms of the USA government but even I can smell an attempted coup there. Trump and his rich, irresponsible mates tear through the Constitution and government structures, issuing Executive Orders which are not laws but are forced through at speed without the agreement of Congress. Isn't it time for Britain to give up any idea of a "special relationship"  with a country that's being deconstructed for the benefit of an incredibly rich few? Isn't it risky for us to go on depending on our increasingly unhinged and abusive Uncle Sam? Or are we just as ignorant as the slurry on social media suggests?

Incredibly depressing.

So here I am, scraping the rust off the blog where at least I can control what gets posted. 


 


Tuesday, June 21, 2022

A botanical Rant

Having a little botanical rant here.

Summer solstice, and the local grass verges are looking amazing. I am lucky in that I live in Cumbria in the middle of nowhere and that the County Council doesn’t get round to mowing our verges till the autumn. Also that the nearest large village is surrounded by what the CC designates “special verges” of high botanical importance.

All this makes me dubious when people in other areas post photographs on social media of big urban areas which are sowing “wild flowers” in “meadows” (quotation marks for irony). These are sown with seed mixes containing arable annuals, including non-natives such as the California Poppy and French Spinach (Red Orache). The result may be pretty but by definition, these are not meadows, which are permanent grassland not arable fields. It’s gardening – admirable, well carried out, eye-catching, but not, as some claim, restoring degraded habitat. It’s more colourful and a bit more diverse than super-mown grass verges, and it saves the councils some expense, which is a fair enough reason to do it, but outside of urban settings it’s inappropriate.

I fear for the natural British flora at the hands of well intentioned but uninformed gardeners.

As I mentioned above, I’m in a rural area. Step out of the farm gate with me, onto the lane which is an ancient drove road, in its heyday a route for cattle and goods being walked into the industrial towns. It’s mown once a year now by the Council, in September or October. I don’t suppose it held as much flora or insect life in the old days as it does now – travelling hooves and teeth will have seen to that. But there were meadows and moorland either side of it and when the hooves and teeth disappeared, it came back.

The verges now are astonishingly diverse.

Walk 200 yards each way with me. Instead of the scientific binomials that I have come to prefer I’ll give you common English names, which to a writer are as much of a joy as the flowers and plants themselves.

Northwards:

  1. Grasses: Rye grass

  2. Rough meadow grass

  3. Wavy hair grass

  4. Quaking grass

  5. Sweet vernal grass

  6. Yorkshire fog

  7. False Oat

  8. False brome

  9. Cocksfoot

  10. Ferns: Male Fern

  11. Lady Fern

  12. Shrubs: Northern Downy Rose

  13. Sherard’s Downy Rose

  14. Summer snowflake (an escape from my garden, not planted)

  15. Geranium macrorrhizum (an escape from my garden, not planted)

  16. Giant Bellflower (native but an escape from my garden, not planted)

  17. Wood cranesbill

  18. Meadow cranesbill

  19. Herb Robert

  20. Nipplewort

  21. Meadow vetchling

  22. Bush vetch

  23. Birds-foot trefoil

  24. White clover

  25. Red clover

  26. Feverfew

  27. Cinquefoil

  28. Silverweed

  29. Meadow buttercup

  30. Bulbous buttercup

  31. Common chickweed

  32. Mouse-ear chickweed

  33. Common sallow

  34. Eyebright

  35. Great willowherb

  36. Lady’s mantle

  37. Water avens

  38. Mouse-ear hawkweed

  39. Rough hawkbit

  40. Marsh thistle

  41. Spear thistle

  42. 3 different species of dandelions

  43. Common daisy

  44. Ox-eye daisy

  45. Germander speedwell

  46. Field speedwell

  47. Meadowsweet

  48. Betony

  49. Self-heal

  50. Hedge woundwort

  51. Harebell

  52. Crosswort

  53. Common sorrel

  54. Cow parsley

  55. Black Knapweed

  56. Garlic Mustard

  57. Hedge bedstraw

  58. Lady’s bedstraw

  59. Foxglove

  60. Yarrow

  61. Welsh Poppy

  62. Ribwort plantain






Southwards

  1. Grasses: Rye grass

  2. Rough meadow grass

  3. Wavy hair grass

  4. Sweet vernal grass

  5. Yorkshire fog

  6. False Oat

  7. Cocksfoot

  8. Ferns: Male Fern

  9. Lady Fern

  10. Common Polypody

  11. Shrubs: Common sallow

  12. Bay willow

  13. Blackthorn

  14. Wild plum (Prunus domestica)

  15. Hawthorn

  16. Bird cherry

  17. Ash

  18. Hazel

  19. Northern Downy Rose

  20. Sherard’s Downy Rose

  21. Wood cranesbill

  22. Meadow cranesbill

  23. Herb Robert

  24. Shining cranesbill

  25. Meadow vetchling

  26. Bush vetch

  27. Tufted vetch

  28. Birds-foot trefoil

  29. White clover

  30. Red clover

  31. Cinquefoil

  32. Silverweed

  33. Meadow buttercup

  34. Celandine

  35. Common chickweed

  36. Mouse-ear chickweed

  37. Broad-leaved willowherb

  38. Lady’s mantle

  39. Water avens

  40. Wood avens

  41. Rough hawkbit

  42. Marsh thistle

  43. 3 different species of dandelions

  44. Ox-eye daisy

  45. Goat’s-beard

  46. Germander speedwell

  47. Field speedwell

  48. Meadowsweet

  49. Betony

  50. Self-heal

  51. Hedge woundwort

  52. Crosswort

  53. Common sorrel

  54. Cow parsley

  55. Pignut

  56. Raspberry

  57. Wild strawberry

  58. Barren strawberry

  59. Common Dog-violet

  60. Blinks

  61. Brooklime

  62. Black Knapweed

  63. Melancholy thistle

  64. Garlic Mustard

  65. Lady’s Smock

  66. Wood forgetmenot

  67. Changing forgetmenot

  68. Cleavers

  69. Hedge bedstraw

  70. Lady’s bedstraw

  71. Hogweed

  72. Foxglove

  73. Yarrow

  74. Red Campion

  75. Welsh Poppy

  76. Ribwort plantain

  77. And the odd nettle and common dock, but not many because everything else keeps them in check.





These lists are from memory alone…And that’s without going half a mile up the road where the verges are graced by Northern Marsh Orchid and Common Spotted Orchid and a myriad of their hybrids, plus Bilberry, Lemon-Scented Fern and Hard Fern. All on the roadside.

If I went out with a clipboard throughout the year and noted everything I saw either side of our house I could easily list up to 100 species of plant in a quarter-mile of road. 

Lots of plant diversity brings lots of insect diversity, plentiful insects bring diverse bird and animal life.

Many other verges can be as diverse as ours if they are not mown to within an inch of their life by lawn-obsessives – and if they are spared the attentions of the sow-a-meadow apostles.

Yes, OK, sow native annuals where you have already got a degraded grass verge.

But leave the good’uns alone please.


Sunday, August 22, 2021

Feather

What a ragbag of inheritance our language has. 


I've been pondering why the hair round the feet of horses and ponies is called "feather", in the singular, no matter how legs or how many horses we are talking about. 

What other nouns behave like this? Wool, at clipping-time, is a mass noun; the fleeces (plural) as a whole are wool, not wools, though a grader at the mill would define different "wools" by their staple length and fineness. Fluff. We wouldn't call the fibre gathered by the vacuum cleaner "fluffs" even if it had come off several cats. A high quality duvet is filled with down, not downs, despite the filling having come from more than one bird. It's something to do with volume, mass or quantity. Some uncountable quality makes these things mass nouns. 

Rice, gold, butter. Milk, honey, marmalade. Sugar, grass, sand. Hay, straw, bedding. Cutlery, furniture. Concrete. All these are mass nouns. Not pebbles, rocks, or apples. 

So feather is a mass noun when it relates to horses, but not when it relates to birds! Feathers with an "s" are something entirely different, and structurally different from hair (which, incidentally, on humans, in English, is also a mass noun – we never say, "I love your hairs.") 

Why? I dunno. It just is.

Wednesday, June 30, 2021

Able and disabled

As we crawl slowly out of the privacy of coronavirus lockdown I have been pondering the relationships I have with other people.

The ones I like best are the live-and-let-live kind. My husband and our family are very good at that. We are there for each other when needed, whether that's wild partying, childbirth, death, or cleaning a drain. Otherwise, no news is good news.

Many of my friends are similar. I suppose that's the nature of friendship when you live widely spaced in a rural area. It requires effort and/or fuel to make a call in person, so it tends to be by invitation rather than a casual just-passing intrusion. I gather from things I've read that this is sometimes seen as a masculine attitude; that male friendships are a honeycomb of adjacent interests rather than a mingling of personas. I don't much care whether that's masculine or not. I'll settle for the honeycomb any day, even if it does mean that when I complete the surveys about How the Over-60s are Coping After Coronavirus, the number of people I can list as 10 out of 10 for friendship is non-existent. Family get a 10; friends and work colleagues, usually a 6. The rest are acquaintances, with whom I speak/correspond far more by email and on social media, rather than in person. Lockdown has been a confirmation of my preferences, rather than an issue.

There are a couple of friends whom I meet in person who sometimes make me feel uncomfortable. I have had difficulty in pinning down why, but I think it's because they are very intense and ask quite personal questions. We can go along happily for hours discussing external matters, writing, language, the countryside, botany, music, horse management or whatever, even politics; then suddenly there'll be the "And how are YOU?" question, about your joints / your lungs / your eyesight / your bereavement, which, given the above paragraphs about my preferences for the social distancing of lockdown, feels slightly creepy. I would rather not be asked such questions directly. The answers, I feel every time, are very much only to be shared with immediate family and my medical advisers.

I don't know why my friends ask about these things. From my side, it feels as though I am being used as a target for empathy practice. I have been fiercely independent since childhood, and since adulthood I have had a reputation for being powerful and efficient. I don't want things done for me, even by a friend, just because they think I have had a medical or emotional difficulty. It feels as though it's a power trip for them, and I dislike it a great deal.

I imagine people who have chronic illnesses and permanent injuries feel much the same: I certainly would rather be thanked or congratulated for something I have done than pitied for something I can't. Empathy is one thing, but pity is quite another.

Which brings me to considering the elderly, disabled neighbour. He is registered blind, has had toes amputated due to diabetes, needed skin grafts two years ago because he burned his leg while lighting the open fire, and consumes a list of daily medications as long as your arm. My husband goes in twice a day to check on him and set out his medications, morning and evening, because he can't read the bottle labels any more.

Our neighbour really ought not to be living alone at all, certainly not for five days out of seven, from Monday mid-day to Saturday mid-day when his daughter arrives for the weekend. He can't measure out his liquid medications without spilling them, so he glugs them from the bottle, overdoses himself and gets diarrhoea as a result... leaving a brown trail from the couch to the front garden because he can't go upstairs to the toilet fast enough. And because he's blind he can't see if he has made a mess, and because he is disabled he couldn't clean it up if he did. Another neighbour goes in once or twice a week and cleans up after him. Another sometimes leaves him pies or stews to eat.

When I heard those details from my husband yesterday, I was first revolted, then surprised that he hadn't talked about it before, and then angry with the mostly-absent daughter. That degree of unsanitary living is a "high" level of concern on the AgeUK scale. Yet the old man probably thinks, as I've outlined above for myself, that his independence matters more than any other consideration.

At what point should we, as neighbours, interfere further? We can't ask social services for help with his care, not without his consent (disregarding whatever the daughter might have to say). You can’t force someone to accept help or act on their behalf unless they agree to it, and he's not mentally incompetent, just stubbornly independent. I suppose we have to wait until he feels he's had a really bad day, when he has no choice but to swallow his pride and ask for help.

As for me, I think I'd rather break my neck playing with horses before I reach that age.

Saturday, May 8, 2021

Galloway Gate - free this weekend


About the Lune Gorge, and several pieces about Fell ponies and their owners and the land they belong to -
- go on, it's worth a look and costs nowt!

I've updated all my book prices too, and the full list is here: http://www.jackdawebooks.co.uk/prices.htm

While you're thinking, here's a sample from Galloway Gate.

Darkfall CV-19

Dusk drifts smoke-blue from the east.

Sheep nipnipnip at the frosting grass

(eat, eat before night). A distant dog

barks the same rhythm, with no message.


We have met no-one since dawn.

No bikers from the Devil's Bridge,

no walkers queueing for the mountains,

no chatty neighbours bringing eggs,


and for this we are thankful.

Only one con-trail, pink, in the west

draws a line at the end of the day.

The blackbird whistles the trees to bed.

The air is clear of everything but rooks

whose funeral wings wipe the sky clean.

 

https://www.amazon.co.uk/dp/B0872GB6VP

Saturday, April 17, 2021

HRH

I did not watch The Funeral. I am sure it will be more or less on a loop on social media and several TV channels for the next 24 hours. 

 


I drove my old Fell pony instead and thought, as we trundled gently through the sunshine, of the carriage drivers I've known who will do it no more, and the one who said that his Fell team were "all ancient, like me."


 

Sunday, April 4, 2021

Easter Sunday and Remembrance Sunday

Easter Sunday and Remembrance Sunday have two things in common, and one of them is that they are Sundays.

The other is that they make us feel better about death.

Both are linked to a human pattern of thought wants to attribute purpose to a person dying. "Jesus died for our sins." "Soldiers died to keep us free." To which I have to say, "Sentimental tosh. They were killed." 

Or, since the grammar checker advises against the use of the passive voice, "Someone killed them". 

Or, to remove more vagueness, it wasn't "someone" who killed them, it was another man (on the whole). 

"A soldier killed them."

...or a Government employee of some kind, whatever term you choose -- a man (or a woman) employed or co-erced to behave in a way that served policies that had been formed by other men in authority. Pilate's power came from the ruling Roman empire. Rommel and Himmler and other generals derived their authority from Hitler's Nazi regime.

So let's rephrase it yet again:

"The Empire of Rome killed Jesus."

"The Nazi party killed Corporal Jones and his mates."

And both can be boiled down even further into:

"Political power and greed killed them."

I don't believe for more than half a minute that either group of victims was intending to "die for us". 

The notions of sacrifice that are attached to Easter and Remembrance Sunday have been put there by other people, and that's because humans don't like guilt and regret and loss, and they do like a story to have a purpose; the same way we like fiction better than news broadcasts, and conspiracy theories better than science. Humans like over-simplification - the "elevator pitch".

Still, if we must have a story and a purpose, then let's respect Jesus (if he existed) and the war dead (who definitely did) for having been regarded as a notable threat to a policy or a system. 

But consider also the possibility that the lofty notions of sacrifice or deity have been attached to their deaths afterwards, by those who survived, to make them (us) feel better.

Friday, April 2, 2021

The Awesomeness of the Fell Pony

You may have noticed that I have a very strong bias in my horse "character" preferences. Hoofprints in Eden, Scratch and String of Horses all feature or star Fell ponies. Guess why...


Because they are awesome...

Newcomers to the blog may not realise that I don't just write books about Fell ponies (or that I write other things as well). I write the script/s and commentate  for the Fell Pony Society's Display Team. I edit the Fell Pony Society's Magazine, and look after their web site. I serve on the FPS Council and on a couple of sub committees. I'm on the FPS sub committee that's planning the celebrations of the Society's Centenary coming up in 2022 - helping with a book, a video and an exhibition. 
 
I also look after the historical resource that is the Fell Pony And Countryside Museums web site, which gives background and historical context to the real life collections at Dalemain.

Not bad for an awd OAP grannie, eh? Oh aye, and in between times I drive my Fell pony.
 
Step aside, we're comin' through.



 

Good Friday

Out of pure curiosity I enquired within the Oxford English Dictionary online and found these gems:

1825 Manch. Guardian 2 Apr. 3/3
In the houses of some ignorant people, a Good Friday bun is still kept ‘for luck’, and sometimes there hangs from the ceiling a hard biscuit-like cake of open cross-work, baked on a Good Friday, to remain there till displaced on the next Good Friday by one of similar make.

 
1876 F. K. Robinson Gloss. Words Whitby Pref. p. xii
Best flour biscuits are made on Good Friday, to be kept as a year's supply for grating into milk or brandy and water to cure the diarrhÅ“a; and with holes in the centre, we have seen ‘Good Friday biscuits’ hanging from the ceiling.
 
It seems Good Friday has been Good Friday since about 1300AD and not, as I've occasionally been told, "God" Friday.

Wednesday, February 20, 2019

You have to be Carefully Taught

Sometimes in life I've been confused by my upbringing.

Tory, middle class, religiously inclined mother (who would help almost anybody) and Labour, working class, officially-atheist father (who spent his life criticising everybody, including himself).

I've just found myself quoting Hammerstein's lyrics from South Pacific:

You have to be taught, before it's too late
Before you are six or seven or eight
To hate all the people your relatives hate
You have to be carefully taught...


Maybe I should be grateful for the confusion.

Friday, February 8, 2019

I fell for the Fells

I fell for the Fells



When I first holidayed in the Lake District, in 1968, I was determined not to like my mother's choice of venue. The thing that swung my acceptance was the promise that she would come pony trekking with me if I accompanied her planned "little toddles" up the fells.

I enjoyed the holiday, plodging in the rain over Catbells and round Stonethwaite and Watendlath, but the highlights were always going to be the pony treks. I fell instantly in love with my mount. He was a Fell pony, brown, rounded and muscular, with a long black tail and a massive curtain of mane that entirely hid his face. Nonetheless, the eyes underneath were friendly. He carried me up Latrigg with an eagerness I hadn't met before in ponies of his size.

I didn't know it then, but the trek leader was Betty Walker, a leading light of the Fell Pony Society. She rode another brown Fell pony, Angus.
She fed me snippets of Fell pony lore at every opportunity. Did I know the Fell ponies had been in the Lakes as long as the Herdwick sheep? No; I was much more impressed by the ponies' strength and willingness and the fact that they were capable of living free, all year round, on the fells where I'd been walking. I was 16, and freedom was a magnet.

Because of those Fell ponies I spent every university vacation in the Lake District, working with them. When I married I moved here permanently (and bought a Fell!).

Over the years since then I've done a lot of background research about Fell ponies, and their spell over me has grown stronger. They are a distinctive part of our farming and industrial history. Until the 20th century they were the mainstay of local transport: hardy and hard-working, they took the shepherd up the fell, carried hay to the stock in winter, pulled the trap to market, or walked hundreds of miles as pack-horses with wool destined for Europe.

For thousands of years we'd have gone literally nowhere without them.



Sue Millard is a writer, Fell pony owner and amateur historian who lives on a small farm in the Westmorland Dales section of the National Park. She serves on the Fell Pony Society's Council as its webmaster and Magazine editor.

Links:
The Fell Pony Society http://www.fellponysociety.org.uk
The Fell Pony Museum at Dalemain http://www.fellponymuseum.org.uk
Jackdaw E Books http://www.jackdawebooks.co.uk

Thursday, January 17, 2019

Strutting my stuff again

Having completed and published SCRATCH, the sequel to Against the Odds, I am quite chuffed with having both books in Kindle's top 100 in Sport this week (despite not having any bare chested men on their covers!)
There's a Val McDermid and a Dick Francis lower down the order

Against the Odds

Against the Odds paperback coverLeaving home to work in a racing stable, Sian finds that the long hours and hard work are more than she bargained for. The only compensation is her responsibility for her favourite filly, Double Jump.
Sian is badly treated by her boyfriend, the trainer's arrogant son, Justin. When Double Jump's owner moves the filly to another yard, Sian decides to follow so she can escape him.
At the new yard she meets stable jockey Madoc Owen, who is battling to make a National Hunt winner out of Cymru, a bored flat-race stallion. Sian and Madoc may have a future together but there will be more than steeplechase fences in their way – Justin will see to that.
http://www.jackdawebooks.co.uk/odds.htm

Scratch

novel, Cover image of Fell pony, mountains and cloudy sky, SCRATCHA Woman. A Family. A Farm.

Sian and Madoc have borrowed heavily to buy a neglected farm, Stone Side, in the beautiful countryside of east Cumbria. They are land-rich now but short of cash and indebted not only to the bank but to members of their family.

Racehorses and Fell Ponies

In this sequel to Against the Odds Madoc has reluctantly had to give up his ambition to breed thoroughbreds, and instead runs the sheep farm and pre-trains young horses for National Hunt racing. Sian is a fierce mother of their three teenage children, Robbie, Cerys and Jack, but in what free time she has, she buys and trains Fell ponies.
Although it will be a long haul before Stone Side begins to pay, with the children growing up and helping it looks like it just might work. But...

Someone is Out to Destroy Them

When Madoc’s brother calls-in a big loan, the tensions begin to mount… and on the wild fellside, for someone the stakes are as high as murder.

http://www.jackdawebooks.co.uk/scratch.htm 


Wednesday, March 29, 2017

A Very Merry Brexit

So St Theresa of May has finally signed the dratted letter to invoke Article 50. We’ll be into that Red-White-and-Blue Brexit any time this afternoon, then. Possibly even before cucumber sandwiches are served in the Hice of Commons, accompanied, or not, by a handsome silver pot of Earl Gwey.

Even now, despite That Letter having been signed and ritually hand-delivered, the UK is still part of the European Union, and we will still be a member for something like another 2 years. All the directives and regulations voted on by our MEPs (sometimes even by N. Farage) that have been adopted by our British Parliament, will still be in force, even after the EU agrees to the terms of our exit from the Union. There will be years of legal work to be done to extinguish those laws and replace them with solely British ones.

Until the boot finally hits our red-white-and-blue backside:

We still have a rebate on EU membership fees.
We still have a say, via our MEPs, about what directives and regulations are passed by the EU Parliament.
We are still not in the Euro.
We are still not signatories to the Schengen agreement (ie, – we ALREADY have the tight control of our borders that many Leavers shouted for).
We still don’t have to give benefits to immigrants who’ve just arrived here, even if they are from the EU – not until they have worked for some years and paid into the system (and we then give them less than many other EU countries do).
We still share information with EU states about criminal activity and terrorist organisations via the European Criminal Records Information System.
People still have the right to time off and limited working hours, parental leave, and equal opportunities for men and women.
We still have the right to live, work or study abroad in any of the 27 other EU member countries.
UK students can still (just) study or work in Europe on the Erasmus exchange programme.
Academic research projects are (still, just) funded by EU subsidies.
Rural and deprived areas could still be supported or funded by EU subsidies.
There are still Common Agricultural Policy subsidies for farming (~55% of farm incomes), and green incentives for adopting environmental measures such as tending to wild grassland.
We still have laws to ensure clean seas and beaches, good air quality, protection for endangered species and strict guidelines on the use of genetically modified crops and certain chemicals.
Using a mobile phone doesn’t cost more in fees in other European countries.
20% of our energy should come from renewables by 2020.

What could we be going back to?

Signs saying “No Blacks, No Polish, No Irish, nofuckingimmigrantsofanysort”? We already HAVE tight control of our borders for legal immigration. If what Leavers want is simply No Immigrants at all, umm, the word you need to worry about there is ILLEGAL. Leaving the EU isn’t going to stop illegal immigration.
No EU nationals working here, for instance, in our health service? Or no non-EU nationals? (See the same link.)
No legal equality for LGBTQ and disabled people?
No right to residency for EU born partners of British citizens?
Restoring the use of Imperial measures? I’m of a generation that learned originally to use them, and then had to convert everything to metric (including understanding distances in kilometres and metres for sporting competitions, although car drivers even now still get away with odometers and roadsigns labelled in miles). But we’d already begun metricating before we joined the EEC and we’ve rubbed along all right under a mishmash of measures for the last forty-odd years. It’s hardly worth falling out with the EU over them. Are we now going to re-adopt 240 pennies to a pound and 12 pennies to a shilling; ounces, pounds, stones, hundredweights; acres, rods, poles and perches; pints and gallons; Imperial (or even Whitworth) specifications for engineering? Even I am not old enough or daft enough to try re-imposing that lot on a decimalised population.
Restoring the death penalty for murder? I’m not kidding. A straw poll suggested there are Leavers hankering for its reinstatement, even though we’d already got rid of it well before we joined the EEC (1965).  
All right, that one was silly... but...

But...We Want Our Country Back!

See above...I haven’t been able to fathom out exactly what “our country” might be, that the happy band of Leavers expect to get back. Asking the question of them usually elicits remarks about escaping the rule of “unelected Eurocrats”, ignoring the irony that in Britain our Parliamentary system is topped by an unelected Monarchy and an unelected Hice of Lords, and the fact that all British voters have the right to vote for the MEPs who will represent their region in the European Parliament. If you don’t know who represents your region there or how to ask them to work on your behalf, or how the EU structure works, whose fault is that? 

At the moment, the lack of precise, detailed forward vision in our national policies worries me quite a lot. St Theresa of May needs to do more, for me, than to attempt Churchillian rhetoric at PMQs.

This space is intentionally blank for your notes and comments... 

Wednesday, October 12, 2016

Be Seen, Be Safe

Published by Carriage Driving Magazine in 2008



Be seen, be safe


Darker nights are coming. I have to say the weather this summer (2008) has been so appalling that many daylight hours have been pretty murky too. While out driving my car today I was startled not only by the increased number of Bank Holiday cyclists on the road but by the difficulty of spotting them when they weren’t wearing high visibility clothing or displaying lamps. On major roads, when traffic is travelling up to the 60 mph speed limit, it seems crazy not to give cars as much notice of your existence as possible. Anything that makes you, as a vulnerable road user, more visible, will help to keep you alive. The further ahead car drivers can see you, the more easily they can slow down and give you room as they pass. This doesn’t just apply to cyclists. You as a carriage driver are highly vulnerable, and your horse even more so.

I know that traditionally the appearance of the private carriage was quiet, almost understated. But think about it; when we’re out exercising today do we use our good holly whip, our show harness, our glossily painted and patent-leathered gig and our candle powered lamps? No, we drive battle wagons and exercise carts, for practicality not tradition. We share the roads now with cars and heavy goods vehicles, not to mention tractors and farm implements, and they all travel much faster than we do and are very much more likely to hurt us than we are to hurt them. We need to make our working carts and carriages as visible as possible, and reserve our sober traditional turnout for ceremonial occasions.

Adding visibility is not difficult. A visit to any cycling web site will give you lots of tips. For a start, the driver (or cyclist) who wears a high visibility waistcoat, fluorescent yellow with reflective strips, will be seen from a greater distance than one who blends into the landscape in grey, dark green or brown as many of us do in winter waterproofs. My coat’s pillar box red but I still put a waistcoat over it, and that only cost me £3.

You’re lucky if you have a grey or a piebald or skewbald horse, whose white coat will be readily seen out on the road. For those of us with darker coloured animals, reflective leg bands for the horse will be highly visible on account of their rapid movement, while a reflective noseband or browband sleeve should make it obvious where the front of your turnout is!

Many carts and carriages are painted very soberly in green, black, maroon or dark blue, which again blend too easily into their surroundings. My everyday cart has a black body but I’ve redone the wheels and shafts in Hammerite scarlet. Yes, it’s loud, but black and scarlet is quite a traditional combination, and it gets seen. Cost, about £7. Tip: avoid blue, which is a “receding colour”, in other words less visible than the red end of the spectrum.

Down narrow country lanes, a fluorescent flag displayed above hedge height may well be useful to warn oncoming traffic of your presence, and there’s no harm either in hanging a fluorescent banner of some kind, possibly with a warning triangle on it, from the back of the carriage. However, legal minds in America have sometimes advised against also displaying messages or advice, such as “Caution Young Horse” or “Please Pass Wide and Slow” reasoning that in the aftermath of an accident (which God forbid) these might be construed as an admission that you were not in control. Concentrate on being visible.

Does your vehicle carry lamps, or reflectors? In the Road Vehicles Lighting Regulations 1989[1] most of the attention is focused on the lamps and reflectors of motorised vehicles, while the poor old carriage horse is pretty well ignored. However, we’re told that “Nothing in these Regulations shall require any lamp or reflector to be fitted between sunrise and sunset to - (e)  a horse-drawn vehicle”. It doesn’t say you can’t carry working lamps in daylight though, and it certainly helps your visibility to do so.

I’m not supposing you intend to drive on the roads in darkness, though having once been overtaken by twilight when hacking back from a show in the 1980s, I can say it was a very pleasant experience to drive a trap with the lamps lit – but only so long as the roads were quiet! You probably wouldn’t want to use your good carriage lamps for everyday work, and even the best traditional candle powered lamp only gives 25% of the minimum required light (4 candelas) legally required for use on the roads at night.

Cycle lamps, however, are not expensive, and they come with mountings that adapt very kindly to the metal frames of modern carriages. All you need is a screwdriver;  they don’t require any drilling and they don’t damage paintwork. I carry a red lamp on the rear of the cart, and a white on the front. I put the white lamp well out to the right, at car headlamp level, by fixing it on the stem of the front step. Two would probably be even better. Bike lights using LEDs are surprisingly powerful, and by using rechargeable batteries – about £8 for a set of 4 AA NiMH – you don’t have to keep on forking out for fresh ones. They last pretty well; I’ve only recharged mine twice this year, and I drove for over 50 hours between May and the end of August. A pair of cycle lamps, a front white and a rear red, will set you back anything from about £12 to whatever you feel like paying (some are very expensive). They stand up to weather and cross country work without complaint, and they do get you noticed. Neighbours who see me regularly on our rural roads tell me they spot the pony and me from much further off when we’re carrying lit lamps, even though we’ve always got the red wheels and the yellow waistcoat.

Up to 2005, flashing lights were reserved for the emergency services because of their high visibility, but cyclists may now ride with flashing lamps provided that the “light shown by the lamp when flashing shall be displayed not less than 60 nor more than 240 equal times per minute and the intervals between each display of light shall be constant.”[2] So now you know. Flashing lights are particularly noticeable when the light sequence is “chaser” mode. This rapid sequence is very different from the binary flash of the emergency services, but it’s highly visible and motorists certainly associate such LEDs with a vulnerable road user. Flashing lights are not discussed in the Statutory Instrument as a mode of lighting for carriages, but I often flash when I’m out driving, and I haven’t been told off by a policeman yet!



NB I make these observations as a regular carriage driver, NOT a lawyer.



[1]  Statutory Instrument 1989 No. 1796, Part I, The Road Vehicles Lighting Regulations 1989
[2] Statutory Instrument 2005 No. 2559, The Road Vehicles Lighting (Amendment) Regulations 2005

Monday, September 5, 2016

Cold calls

I disengaged the phone call blocker this morning in case the hospital Waiting List secretary tried to call. (My call blocker doesn't like switchboards because they are, de facto, Number Withheld.)
Immediately I got a cold call from an unintelligible lifestyle survey man, on a spoofed "local" number that has already called twice today (well, Blackpool is more local to Cumbria than wherever this call really came from).
-Good monning Ma-am, how are you todday?
-I'm fine, how are you?
-I am calling from Life Style Survey.
-Whoopee.
-Ma-am, ve are recodding dis call for training pupposes
-Oh goody. (Well, it's lunchtime and the Waiting List secretary has returned her phone number to switchboard, so I'm not missing anything there.)
-Your telephone number is: o von fife tree six tree six nine...
-Dear me, no, you've got that all wrong...(I give him the correct number)
Long silence punctuated with an occasional Um...
-Your telephone number is: o von fife tree six tree six nine?
-No. (I give him the correct number again.)
Long silence...
-What number are you trying to call, dear?
He gives up trying to correct his data.
-You are Miss Christina Millud?
-No, there's nobody here called Christina Millud.
-You are family member?
-No, there's nobody here called Christina Millud.
Long silence...
(I give him my real name out of pity.)
-You are living at Dee Back, Grin Hom?
-Certainly not.
-You are living at Dee Back, Grin Hom?
-No.
Another long silence.
-You post cud is CA tin tree TA?
-Well done, have a coconut.
-Ma-am, you post cud is CA tin tree TA?
-Yes, dear.
-You are owning your house? renting?... (to be honest I couldn't actually tell what he was rattling off, but the list is so predictable I know what he's asking, so I tell him I own it.)
-What age bracket do you fall into? tventyfive to tirtyfour, tirtyfive to fottyfour, fottyfive to...
-I don't.
-Ma-am, what age bracket do you fall into?
-I don't fall into anything. Such a trial to get out.
-What age bracket do you fall into? tventyfive to tirtyfour, tirtyfive to fottyfour, fottyfive to...
-Christmas.
-Ma-am, what age bracket do you fall into? tventyfive to tirtyfour, tirtyfive to fottyfour, fottyfive to...
(At this point I lie. Doing my best shouty voice.)
-Ma-am, what newspaper do you rid?
-I don't.
-You don't rid newspaper?
-No.
-Are you smoking any cigarette?
-I don't smoke.
He's getting the idea now.
-What is your annual incom? fifteen to tventy thou--
-What the hell do you need to know for? I'm not going to tell you that.
Long silence.
I'd kept him on the phone a good ten minutes by the time I hung up.
The bloody system called me from the same number five minutes later.
I've reconnected the call blocker. I will call the Waiting List secretary instead of waiting for her to call me.
The bloody system has just called me AGAIN from the same number.
I have blocked it. 

Saturday, August 27, 2016

Trying to make head or tail of political schisms

 I have not been a very political animal until this year. I felt - in common, I suspect, with many of the populace - that "all politicians are the same".  I live in a safe Conservative constituency, where an earthquake of Richter-scale 7 proportions would be necessary to unseat our current MP. He's a nice chap, but without exception he votes the Party line in debates. So although I have always dutifully gone to vote I never had much hope that it would change anything.

2015 UK Labour Leadership election

Ed Miliband resigned as leader due to poor Labour results in the 2015 General Election, and a leadership contest ensued.
Following the Collins review, the party's internal electoral system had been revised to a pure "one member, one vote" system:  previously one-third weight was given to the votes of Parliamentary Labour Party members, one-third to individual Labour Party members, and one third to the Unions and Affiliates. (1)
Now, members and registered and affiliated supporters all receive a maximum of one vote and all votes are weighted equally. This gives the grass-roots membership far more influence.
Jeremy Corbyn stood for the leadership at the last minute with the support of 36 MPs. A number of prominent Labour figures, including Gordon Brown, Tony Blair, Jack Straw, David Miliband and Alastair Campbell, claimed that Corbyn as leader would leave the party unelectable in another General Election. However, Corbyn was decisively elected by Labour Party members in the first round, with 59.5% of the votes.

Policies

What is it about Corbyn's policies which have triggered such a huge response in voters?
Return of the NHS to complete public ownership?
Free education from primary to tertiary level?
Re-nationalisation of the railways and nationalisation of some heavy industries (eg steelmaking)?
I think it is primarily his principle that political decisions need to serve the best interests of "the man or woman in the street" rather than those of large businesses and economic interests.

Party response

This is where it gets dirty. We as a nation have got so used to right-wing policies over the last 30 years (even with "New Labour" in Government) that this shift towards traditional Labour values has been dubbed "Trotskyist". Although I don't think Corbyn's policies are those of communism, but of democratic socialism, clearly the elected Labour MPs don't feel he's got what it takes to win a General Election. A leadership challenge was first discussed in the British press in November 2015 when the PLP was split over Britain's participation in air strikes in Syria.  Another challenge was predicted in April 2016 after Ken Livingstone's allegedly anti-semitic comments led to his suspension; Shadow Cabinet members allegedly held talks with plotters.

The EU Referendum on 23 June

Corbyn spoke to Labour rallies throughout Britain advising that we should remain in Europe. He had previously been critical of the EU, and this didn't change, but he advised remaining in the Union to reform it from within. However, the position he took, and his reasoning, were not susceptible of use in media soundbites - and such a position was easily construed as weakness by both Remainers and Leavers. It was very little reported compared to louder, brasher mouths uttering promises that, immediately after the Leave vote, were admitted to be lies.
Journalists at The Guardian reported that a small group of Labour MPs and advisers had been talking about a 'movement' against Corbyn to take place on 24 June  ie, immediately the Referendum was decided.
On 25 June, a 'Saving Labour' campaign website was created, to encourage members of the public to email MPs to urge them not to back Corbyn. Hilary Benn, Shadow Foreign Secretary, contacted members of the Shadow Cabinet to inform them that he had lost confidence in Corbyn. Corbyn sacked him. At least 20 MPs resigned or were dismissed from the Shadow Cabinet over the next few days. A vote of no confidence in Corbyn was made by the Parliamentary Labour Party (PLP) on 28 June, with Corbyn losing the vote by 172 to 40. He however insisted that his mandate came from the party membership, and he refused to stand down. On 8 July he challenged the rebels to put up  candidates against him.
Over 100,000 new members were reported to have joined the Labour Party by that date, taking membership numbers above 500,000.
The party's National Executive Committee (NEC) met on 12 July 2016 to set a timetable and procedure for the election. They decided by secret ballot that the incumbent leader would automatically be on the ballot in any leadership election. They also decided, contrary to usage over the previous 7 years, not to allow the members who had joined the party in the past six months to vote in the leadership election. Approximately 130,000 new members who had joined since the EU referendum would be unable to vote - unless they registered as "Registered supporters" at a fee of £25. This angered me more than the resuscitation of the six-month rule; it looked like a cynical attempt to prevent the poorest of these new members voting, on the assumption that they were the ones likely to support Corbyn.
Angela Eagle (MP for Wallasey since 1992) and Owen Smith (MP for Pontypridd since 2010) stood against Corbyn. Nine other Labour MPs declined to stand. Eagle withdrew from the campaign after a short time leaving a 2-horse race between Corbyn and Smith.
Labour donor Michael Foster brought a High Court legal challenge to contest the NEC's interpretation of the rules that allowed Corbyn to be a candidate without having to secure nominations from Labour MPs/MEPs. On 26 July 2016 the High Court ruled that there was no basis to challenge the NEC's decision.
The Collins Review of leadership elections had concluded that the eligible electorate would include members without qualification; so Christine Evangelou and others brought an English contract law case against its General Secretary, Iain McNicol on behalf of the whole party, concerning the eligibility of members to vote if they joined the party after 12 January 2016 (i.e. less than six months before the start of voting). An initial ruling that these members could vote was overturned by the Court of Appeal a few days later. The "£25 for a vote" arrangement however still stood...
The latest is that the Labour Party appears to be stripping people of the right to vote - in a somewhat selective manner. "The compliance unit is working through applications to check whether the 180,000 new registered supporters who signed up to take part in the vote are eligible, or if some are members of, or public advocates for, other groups."..."[John] McDonnell claimed the party was exercising double standards in suspending [Ronnie] Draper while allowing long-time party donor Lord Sainsbury to remain a member, despite having given more than £2m to the Liberal Democrats." (2)
What the actual F does this political party think it is doing to itself?

The Other Lot


While all this internal strife was going on in the Labour Party, the Conservatives also fell apart. After the EU Referendum David Cameron resigned because the vote went for Leave rather than Remain. Smartest move he ever made. We had a brief nightmare vision of Boris Johnson (3) as a possible Prime Minister - and woke to the reality of Theresa May. And, despite her support for the Leave vote, she's showing a canny reluctance to invoke Article 50 (4) which would trigger the UK's actual exit from the European Union. But by contrast with Labour, the Conservative party has had no challenge to its basic policies, and so it has rapidly glued itself back together.