Tuesday 8th January

It is interesting that the great post-war consensus on benefits which lasted for about sixty years is breaking up.  After the Second World War it was generally accepted that poverty was a bad thing, and that when people fell on hard times there should be some sort of safety net.  Even Thatcher never really dared to challenge the principle that people at the bottom needed some help.  It was always, and sometimes only grudgingly admitted that most of these unfortunates were there because of circumstances beyond their control, although Norman Tebbitt’s ‘On your bike’ comment was maybe the first public raising of the idea that some if not most of those on benefits were ‘work-shy’, or ‘milking the system’.   And just as we bewail the anti-social behaviour of a few wealthy tax-evaders it is the failure of the system we should criticise more than the few who abuse it.

But what is happening today is a wholesale attack by the present Government on the whole concept of benefits.  Universal benefits such as Child Benefit are being eroded, and Tax Credits are progressively being reduced and will, I am sure, disappear altogether soon.  Even such innocuous benefits as the winter Fuel Allowance are now fair game for those on the right.  The problem with benefits being completely means-tested is that for many it is demeaning to have to admit poverty in the first place in order to claim that which they are entitled to.  Universal benefits carry no stigma and though not ‘needed’ by some are still appreciated by millions more who would never consider themselves ‘poor’ enough to need assistance.

We are rapidly returning to an earlier almost Victorian attitude to the poor, that they are somehow responsible for their own situation, and should be grateful for whatever crumbs we deem fit to fall from our copious tables.  ‘Why do they not work?’ the right wing asks (even of the disabled), incredulous that anyone should be so lazy as not to be employed. ‘Where are the jobs?’ reply the poor, ‘If we had work that paid us decently we would all rather work.’

And I can assure you that the National Minimum Wage will be next in the sights of our friends on the right, after all the market should be free, and if someone is willing to (or so desperate to) work for such a meagre pittance why should anyone stop them.

Monday 7th January

For your New Years Resolution I mean, and more importantly have you given up giving up whatever it was you gave up yet?  For some it will have been chocolate, for others cake, but maybe it was something a bit more serious like salt or sugar, or more mundane like bread and potatoes.  Or maybe not even food but the really tough ones like cigarettes or dare we even mention it booze.  And why in the first place did we ever think that giving up something would either work or be in the slightest good for us.  A couple of years ago I gave up sugar in tea and coffee.  Tea was pretty easy, after a few weeks I had forgotten I ever took it, but sugar in coffee has taken far longer to kick, and even now sometimes with maybe a slightly guilty look around me I still slip in a half-teaspoon, especially in instant coffee.  But what good has it really done, I am still addicted to my daily almond croissant, which as I no longer take sugar in drinks I feel no guilt about at all.  And don’t even let me near pannetone or rich fruit cake, with or without icing.  Spotted dick and custard, golden syrup pudding, and any form of apple pie and I am there with my bowl like Oliver asking for more.

I have never really smoked, just pretended at parties, and for a while I affected a pipe.  Easy to give those up, though the Christmas cigar lasted a while longer, and now I would run a mile from tobacco.  Alcohol is more complicated, because I do enjoy an occasional drink, and while I can happily go for a week or two without a drink, the thought of never having another drink would be hard to swallow, much harder than a nice glass of port anyway.  And the medical profession is quite split on the relative benefits or not of alcohol.  But really – even if it is proven that giving up cheese, or wine, or actually anything you enjoy, will give you a year or two more of life – will those extra years be worth if it if your life  is made miserable by your diet.

So whatever you have given up, make sure you are doing it for the right reasons, and if you aren’t sure then just give up giving it up and enjoy.

Sunday 6th January

I am currently reading the latest Culture novel by Iain M. Banks – The Hydrogen Sonata.  It is the usual reassuring mix of witty eccentric ship minds trying to keep peace in an unruly Universe.  The author has a great turn of phrase, and uses sarcasm in a most creative way, witness the following riposte….

“Please don’t make the mistake of imagining that any contribution you might wish to make to this conversation will be at any point but its conclusion.  Any decisions have already been taken without you.  You are dismissed.”

As a put-down it is almost without equal.  How many times have I wished to a) have conjured up such words and b) had the audacity to use them.  It is the sort of phrase one reads again and again just to relish the words, to roll them around in your mind and to try to remember them, to store them up for possible future use.  Though even having them in my armory, reassuring that they will be, will not be enough, for one has to actually have the moral superiority to execute them efficiently.  Mind you just mouthing them to oneself when confronted by Mr. Big Mouth or Mrs. Bore-My-Arse-Off will almost be as pleasing.  You won’t have to actually say them out loud, just whisper them to yourself and smile the idiots away.

So remember when next time someone needs shutting up, dismissing, ignoring or just reprimanding the words to use are “Please don’t make the mistake….

Saturday 5th January

The headline in City AM, a free newspaper about business in London, is about Twitter being valued at 11bn dollars.  After the Facebook flotation fiasco one wonders who conjures up these figures, and just who will buy the shares.  And the wider questions about Social networking and what it might evolve into.  It is all so new, nobody had heard of Facebook or Twitter twenty years ago, and doubtless the social media we will be using in twenty years time nobody has heard of today.  And what will it all look like?  Will it still be as addictive or will we have grown up somewhat and learned to use it a tad more sparingly, not exposing ourselves quite so much, not re-tweeting gossip so unthinkingly, not replying so thoughtlessly?  Will it evolve indeed into something much more powerful, a real new media?  Or will the forces of Capitalism learn to control it and manipulate it for their own private gain?  At the moment I fail to see how either Facebook or Twitter can earn any real money, and from the other side of the blocks, how companies can really make it work for them.  It has certainly added cost as every company now feels compelled to have a web-site and a Facebook and Twitter feed, and there are new companies springing up to provide feedback as to how effective all this social media chatter really is.

Maybe I am just getting older, but my understanding of the thing is that the main reason people are using social media is that it is free.  And if it stops being free I doubt how many will continue to use it.  In the same way that certain people I know but do not condone are into downloading free music and films from dodgy websites, will now be very unwilling to start actually paying for content ever again, I think that social media and free on-line newspapers will die if we suddenly have to pay for them.  And I for one have never ever clicked on one of the Ads on the side bars.  I suppose that constantly seeing certain logos and names must stick in ones consciousness so maybe you are being subtly seduced into the advertisers world anyway, but it must be expensive, and about as cost-effective as leaflets through doors.

Anyway, I will continue to use Facebook and Twitter until something better comes along.  But I suspect that in twenty years time we will all have moved onto something else that makes today’s social media look antiquated; I just hope that it will be still be free and not another successful way of enslaving us both mentally and economically.

Friday 4th January

We first encountered, or actually became aware, of Marianne in the mid-sixties.  She was the equivalent of what today is called a WAG, a pop-star’s girlfriend, and like Anita Pallenberg and Jane Asher definitely from the upper classes, in fact Marianne’s mother was aristocracy somewhere in Europe.  Marianne was photographed tumbling out of cars and nightclubs and then suddenly she had a single out, and it was a bit twee and some of us thought – ‘oh-oh, Mick is getting a bit above himself, promoting his moll as a singer.’   She had one or two minor hits and then seemed to disappear from view.  After the drugs busts and the infamous Mars bar incident and the fur coat with no underwear she seemed to just bow out of public life, soon to be replaced by Bianca, an even more exotic beauty, on Mick Jagger’s arm.

She made a film ‘Girl on a Motorbike’, where she looked great, and unzipped her jacket to reveal a gorgeous body, but it was hardly acting.  Then nothing as she apparently spiraled into heavy drugs and at one point was homeless and sleeping rough. She obviously still had friends though as she suddenly re-emerged in 1976 with a brilliant album of raw rasping songs of an honesty and power we never knew she was capable of called ‘Broken English.’.  In fact who knew she could even write songs. She has carried on over the years releasing far more new music than Mick and co. could ever manage, and has refused to be tied down to any particular genre, switching from classical to rock to country with ease.  And her voice has just got better and better despite the smoking and drinking.  I saw her twice in the last few years; both times she was a little drunk on stage, but sung well despite that.

I cannot quite keep up with all her releases but one well worth a listen is ‘Vagabond Ways’

Thursday 3rd January

The trouble with my job is that if I do not do it I have to do it.  By that I mean that if I have time off I still have to do the work I would have done if I had not had the holiday.  Not that that stops me, it is simply the price I have to pay.  And now the days of reckoning begin; I have three clients and there will be almost two weeks of Accounts to process in three days, so longish hours beckon.

I really wonder sometimes how much longer I can carry on; some days I am Mr. Invincible, and others I just want to throw the laptop out of the window and stop work altogether.  I am in the process of trying to organize the summer so I can work maybe 6 or 7 days straight and then say 10 off, and do essential bits by e-mail.  That would in theory allow me to spend more time in France, though a lot of flights maybe.  We will see – a lot depends on our clients and how they fare in 2013.  I am amazed that one largish American restaurant is still open as its losses are colossal.  One other group is contemplating moth-balling at least one restaurant too, so it is quite possible that by natural wastage I will be down to three days or even less quite soon.  But then again there are rumours of new openings and new customers, so you never know.

Part of my trouble is that I am happier letting others make the decisions for me, and letting fate decide is always easier than actually making things happen.  But for now it is nose the grindstone time, which in a funny maybe slightly masochistic way I almost enjoy, just to catch up – then we will see.

Wednesday 2nd January

All of yesterday I was disoriented, it felt as if my brain were in someone else’s head and I couldn’t quite connect.  I must admit I had a few drinks on New Year’s Eve, maybe 4 glasses of wine in total, which for me is a lot, but I don’t think it was just the drink.  We saw the New Year in twice; once in the square in Eymet and then an hour later on BBC2 with Jools.

The town was dead, I mean absolutely dead.  At 8.30 Café de Paris was closing.  There was a posh dinner at Couer D’Eymet at 29 euros a head but nothing else was open.  We tried the Tortoni and though they only had four customers they said they would stay open a bit longer.  The French, at least here in the provinces spend New Year with the family over a big meal.  In the end there were just five of us in the only bar open and all of ex-pats and the town misfits.  There was James, the old man with the beard who graciously will accept a drink from anyone, Gareth the Welsh pipe-smoking loner, and Bill the Teetotal Brewer who makes the foulest real ale I have ever tasted.  We chatted until 10.30 and were duly ejected.

But suddenly the square started to wake up as people gathered, and there outside the Tourist office were three old ladies making crepes, and serving hot mulled wine.  Then at twelve we all walked to the ruined chateau for fireworks.  Lovely, and quite different too.

But the next day I was totally disoriented all day; it was as if I had a blanket over my head so everything felt fuzzy.  I was flying back too, which made my mood somewhat more dull.  The flight was fine, though I could hardly remember it at all later.  Home by 8.30 and I watched the news channels and fell asleep during Match of the Day (as usual); in many ways quite a wasted day really.

Tuesday 1st January

At this time of reflection I like to look back on the year past and also to the year coming.  The great achievement of 2012 was buying this house in France, nothing else has really come close.  No new grandchildren born, though there should be at least one next year.  No relatives dying or seriously ill either, which is again a relief.  The same job too which in a time of recession should be a good thing too.

Rather regretfully I have got far less writing done than I had hoped.  I have sort of finished the story, but like Catherine before it, at this stage it is too long for a short story and too short for a novel.  I need to start ruthlessly on a rewrite, one paragraph at a time, to brighten up the text, and to try to expand on some sections and add a bit more dialogue; make it more real and immediate.  So, one sort of resolution is to work on the book.

I spent two days this Christmas with my Mum and Dad, and I cannot help noticing how they are ageing, my Dad in particular.  So I intend to spend a bit more time with them in 2013.  As I usually go down to Walton on a Thursday night I will try to drop in maybe once a month at Stowmarket and then get two trains back to Walton on the Friday.  I am more and more conscious that one day they won’t be around.  And they have always been there – such a stable and reliable star in my firmament that I never imagined they might burn out one day.

I would like to think that the economy will begin to heal, though I imagine we will continue bumping along the bottom.  Not that that will necessarily improve Labour’s fortunes; at the moment they are benefitting from mid-term disillusionment with the Government (witness also the rise of UKIP), but as the inevitable General Election crawls closer more and more questions will be asked as to what Ed Milliband would be like as Prime Minister, and the answer may not be so good.  We will see.  We do have the trials of Rebecca Brooks and co. to look forward to however, so 2013 may not be so dull at all.

In all probability it will be the things we never expected that make the year intersting.

Monday 31st December

What is the meaning of it all I constantly ask myself, not only about life, the Universe and me – but also about human behaviour.  Am I the only one who is unexcited about New Year?  Most other idiots seem somehow ecstatically bananas about the thing.  It is after all just a date on the calendar, and should really have been December 22^nd to make any sense, at least then it would mark the Winter Equinox and the days beginning to get longer and full of new life and hope.

Many is the time I have sat watching people jumping up and down, throwing themselves in fountains, throwing vodka down their throats, throwing caution and the failure of the old year to the wind in a celebration of what exactly.  Do any of them remotely imagine that the next year they will have achieved any more sense or wisdom; do they really think that their fortunes will change simply because it is 2013, and no longer 2012?  Or is it a more basic human need to feel reassured (even if it is self-reassurance) that they are not solely responsible for their own destiny, but Lady Luck may take a hand and a new year will bring something better.

Also, I don’t know about you, but I have always thought that New Year arrives a tad too soon after Christmas.  Why on earth did not the makers of the calendar leave a more decent hiatus between the two.  It would have made more sense.  Instead the whole country is disrupted by two weeks of boredom with a dash of hedonism thrown in for good measure.  I wonder how much production is lost each year by all the empty offices and factories, and the slow cranking up of the machine again in January.  Mind you I would be the first to complain if it was decreed that we all had to return to work on December 27^th.

Well, whether you agree with me or not, and in the spirit of the whole ridiculous thing I sincerely hope that 2013 is a good year for you all.

Sunday 30th December

We don’t have a washing machine here in Eymet, well not yet.  And actually I am not sure we will ever get one as I have discovered the Laverie.  They are quite popular still in France, where the idea of communality is a bit stronger than in England where only the poor, single and sad go to the Launderette.  Here it is quite acceptable to wash your clothes ‘en flagrante’.  In the summer it is so warm it is easier to wash and rinse the few clothes you wear in the sink and dry them in an hour or two out the back but in the winter I am using the Laverie.

The instructions are thankfully in English as well as French.  Conversational French I can do, but anything technical tends to flummox me a bit.  Anyway, once you have worked it out it is quite simple; so clothes in, powder in, select 2 for coloureds press start and away we go.  The clothes on their boring cycles round and round and I to the Café de Paris for a Grand Café au Lait, and a bit of blogging, hopefully to return to all my clothes washed and clean, and not cold and soapy and still dirty.

But sitting here in the late afternoon sunshine, temperature about 13 or 14C, a nice cup of coffee ( and maybe a biere in a minute or two) by my side and free wireless internet – I will volunteer to do the washing any day.

PS – I have always looked out for unusual and witty shop names, no more so than a Laundromat last summer in France with a huge plastic Bugs Bunny outside.  The name of course was Tex Laverie.