According to worldpopulationreview.com, only three countries in the world do not us the metric system of measurement. I'd have thought that the UK was one of those but no, it's the USA, Myanmar and ...
Liberia.
That's a strange mix of countries, wouldn't you agree? Add to your next pub quiz, if you're the quiz-setter. Do you know when the metric system was invented? Answer: 1789, the year of the French Revolution. No more cubits, rods, poles or perches.
Liberia is a West African coastal country, founded by the American Colonization Society. The ACS was originally known as the Society for the Colonization of Free People of Color of America, was founded in 1816 by Robert Finley to encourage and support the migration of free African Americans to the continent of Africa. Which sounds awfully like sending the slaves back where they came from. Because of its American roots, the country used the American measurement units.
As for Myanmar, their measurement unit history followed a similar pattern, in this case from the Brits' colonisation of Burma (the Western name for Myanmar). After independence, however, they used their own system of measurement: the taung is two Imperial yards (also known as a fathom, as my retired naval officer readers will know - and probably pine for), a sa le is 1⅛ pints - I'll have a sa le of Burbrit Nevada Pale Ale, please, unless you have some zero alcohol. That'll be 8,000 Myanmar Kyat, please sir.
Both Liberia and Myanmar appear to be on the way to adopting the metric system so the good ole US of A will be out on a limb. Not for the first - or I imagine the last - time.
not far from Barcelona. citytoursbarcelona.com tells me that "The wines from El Camp de Tarragona have body and aromatic." I found a Baturrica Gran Reserva 2015 in Lidl
this afternoon and am looking forward to tasting it.
Lidl says I should enjoy this with, amongst other things, pizza. So excuse me while I get on to Domino's. It'll be a 7" Texas BBQ with Vegan Garlic & Herb Dip and (to reach the minimum for delivery) Cookie Dough ice cream. On its way. Bye
It's the Annual General Meeting of the Joint Committee of the People's Front of Cornwall (PFC) and the Cornish People's Front (CPF).
Nige (PFC Leader): All right, but apart from the crowded beaches, the traffic jams, caravans, beer cans, public disorder, queues, pollution, noisy groups of teenagers and Covid-19, what have the Tourists ever done for us?
PFC Member: Brought money?
Nige: Oh, money? SHUT UP!
PFC Member: Jobs. And people.
Mandy (Brian's mum, possibly a CPF spy): Who are all those people?
Brian (as in Life Of): A few friends, popped by for a second.
Mandy: Popped by? Swarmed by is more like it. There's a multitude out there.
210,000 of them this year. I know Cornwall needs tourists but what a relief it is when kids return to school, the Tourists depart and we return to ... peace and quiet. And parking spaces. And restaurant bookings.
Always look on the bright side of life De-dum, de-dum de-dum de-dum
Nige: If you want to join the People's Front of Cornwall, you have to really hate the Tourists.
The National Anthem of Afghanistan has an interesting history. Unless and until the Taliban reintroduce the anthem used from 1996 to 2001, the existing anthem written into the constitution of the Islamic Republic of Afghanistan in 2004, and confirmed by Loya Jirga in 2006, presumably holds. Article 20 of the Afghan constitution (2004) requires that the national anthem shall be in Pashto with the mention of "God is Greatest" (Allāhu Akbar) as well as the names of the ethnicities in Afghanistan. There are 14 of those, as you'll see:
This is the country of every tribe Land of Baloochs, and Uzbeks Pashtoons, and Hazaras Turkman and Tajiks
With them, Arabs and Gojars Pamirian, Nooristanian Barahawi, and Qizilbash Also Aimaq, and Pashaye
nationalanthems.info tells us "There has been some criticism of the anthem due to the stated conditions of composition, that the Pashto requirement places less importance on the other languages spoken in the country; that the phrase “Allāhu Akbar” should not be used in the anthem, as it is a sacred phrase in Islam and should not be set to music; and the ethnic groups mentioned in the anthem still do not represent the entire spectrum of nationalities in the country." But it's also different to many of the other 6 anthems since 1926 in espousing peace:
This land is Afghanistan It is pride of every Afghan The land of peace, the land of sword Its sons are all braves
This Land will shine for ever Like the sun in the blue sky In the chest of Asia It will remain as heart for ever
From 1992 to 1996 and again, post-Taliban, from 2002 to 2006 the anthem began:
Fortress of Islam, heart of Asia, Forever free, soil of the Aryans, Birthplace of great heroes Fellow traveler of the warriors of the men of God
This is the Home of the Brave was, from 1996 to 2001, and presumably will now be, the Taliban anthem and contains lines such as:
We defend it with our blood, this is the home of the martyrs! This is the home of the brave, this is the home of the brave!
And
Do you think it can be conquered? It is the home of the lions! Once we were liberated from the British, we became a grave for the Russians! Look at these numerous skulls, that's what was left by the Russians!
This is to be sung a capella, as Islamic scholarship prohibits musical instruments.
You may well think isn't for you but, in case you are interested, here's a performance:
If you ignore the context, I actually like it as a musical experience. In any case, you'll have read previous comments of mine about national anthems and my aversion to their jingoism ("Send her victorious", anyone?).
I'm looking forward to the post-Elizabethan UK anthem, celebrating our ethnic groups:
This is the country of every tribe Land of Scots, and Ulstermen Englishwomen, and the Welsh Cornishmen and Lancastrians
With them, Scousers and Geordies Celts, Saxons Londoners, and Others Also Fans of Ipswich Town, but not Norwich
We are familiar, to a degree, with the Koran and the Bible, but less so with The Analects. It's a collection of sayings attributed to Confucius. Not a sacred text, since Confucianism is not a religion, but as close as we can get to the principles of that philosophy.
Qufu cave is where Confucius is said to have been born. lonelyplanet.com tells us he was "frighteningly ugly" and "abandoned and cared for by a tiger and an eagle". The cave is on Mount Ni in Shandong province, China.
According to the Book Of Han, a history of the Former Han dynasty - the second imperial dynasty of China - The Analects arose from conversations with Confucius by various of his disciples. I thought I'd mention a few of the sayings, starting with an enigmatic one.
“He Who Knows And Knows That He Knows Is A Wise Man - Follow Him; He Who Knows Not And Knows Not That He Knows Not Is A Fool - Shun Him”
"He who knows all the answers has not been asked all the questions."
“The man who asks a question is a fool for a minute, the man who does not ask is a fool for life.”
“When you see a good person, think of becoming like her/him. When you see someone not so good, reflect on your own weak points.”
“Attack the evil that is within yourself, rather than attacking the evil that is in others.”
“What the superior man seeks is in himself; what the small man seeks is in others.”
“The hardest thing of all is to find a black cat in a dark room, especially if there is no cat.”
I'm not sure how useful these are for your next pub quiz.
Confucianism is characterised by a focus on innate human goodness and the importance of interpersonal human relationships. Those relationships, however, are structured as "a strict hierarchy, with each relation acknowledging and exercising their dominance or submission. There are five key relations under which all social interaction falls: the ruler to the subject, the parent to the child, the husband to the wife, the older brother to the younger brother, and the friend to the friend. Even within friendship, a hierarchy must exist to ensure continuous harmony. Dominant parties should treat the submissive parties with kindness and gentleness, and submissive parties should treat the dominant with reverence and respect. For example, children should only speak when spoken to." [McKenzie Perkins, learnreligions.com]
In my research I discovered the existence of Confucius Institutes, which exist to foster the study of Chinese language and culture. In our post-modern, Sinophobic world, many see this as propaganda. Maybe there are some who think the same of the British Council. The Danes, Hungarians and Latvians, among many others, have cultural institutes with branches in different countries. Western nations perceive the Confucius Institutes, though, as representing malign influencers of a malign, authoritarian government. According to the National Association of Scholars (NAS) of the USA, a conservative group that has advocated the closure of CIs, only around 30 will remain in the United States by the end of 2021, down from 110 in 44 states in 2017.
There are something like 500 Confucius Institutes around the world. The UK has 29. Liexu Cai, of the University of Glasgow School of Education, wrote an article "A comparative study of the Confucius Institute in the United Kingdom and the British Council in China". In it she notes that "the activities of the British Council in China also became popular as one of the central paradigms for educational communication between China and the United Kingdom". You can see an abstract at researchgate.net and even request the whole article if you wish.
I'm not in any position to make judgements on this; I merely offer their existence as something readers may care to examine for themselves.
More Asda Radio trivia. Calmly and quietly eating my breakfast today, reading the paper, minding my own business, I was assaulted by the Rolling Stones shouting at me. Maybe the compiler of today's playlist was celebrating the life of Charlie Watts, the Stones' drummer who died yesterday at the age of 80. Is it disrespectful to question that he died 'peacefully'? That seems very un-Stones. Respect intended.
Later I was cheered up by Abba. I tapped my feet and cheered up.
None of this stopped me trawling some book ideas from various articles and comment pieces in today's Times. I share with Son #2 a love of books and, to an extent, the same kinds of books. We often jointly purchase books that we can share in hard copy, which is cheaper than each of us buying a Kindle edition. It's probably not very good for climate change but excellent for our minds. Today I found these, which may be purchased in the near future:
Fixing Failed States: A Framework for Rebuilding a Fractured World by Ashraf Ghani [this is the Afghan President who fled the country last week but I'm not holding that against him; he could be someone who has an informed view of these issues]
Red Knight: The Unauthorised Biography of Sir Keir Starmer by Michael Ashcroft [Conservative party donor and ex Deputy Chairman, tax exile who previously invested in Watford Football Club, saving them from going into administration; I'm not holding any of that against him because he researches and writes well]
Friday is the New Saturday: How a Four-day Working Week Will Save the Economy by Pedro Gomes [never heard of him but I'm not holding that against him]
Sharing options available for any who wish to join Dan and me!
Anyway, today is a big day for three friends. All of us active or retired croquet players
who used to meet once a month for a pub lunch. Our aim was to visit a different pub each month, particularly those none of us had previously frequented. Not always possible but we did it for 108 months from June 2009. Tony is 90, new hip, still occasional croquet player; Ian I think 75, heart implant of some kind, possibly retired player (I'll ask him today); I am Nigel, 77, sore knees, definitely retired player. We haven't met for almost exactly a year for obvious reasons but today will patronise the Britannia Inn in St Austell, which has lots of outdoor tables and decent food and drink.
Regular motorway drivers will be familiar with the grammatically ungainly "Keep apart 2 chevrons" notice seen occasionally in conjunction with some arrows painted on the carriageway.
A chevron is a shallow V-shaped (arrowhead) symbol, seen in heraldry and in military rank insignia, often one chevron for the lowest NCO (non commissioned officer), two for say a corporal and three for a sergeant. The chevron can be point up
(US army sergeant)
or down
(RAF Corporal).
The motorway usage is based on the Highway Code advice "allow at least a two-second gap between you and the vehicle in front on roads carrying faster-moving traffic". At 70 mph, the recommended overall stopping distance is 96 metres; the chevrons are painted 40 metres apart and you need to see two chevrons. One of the obvious problems with this is that traffic speed probably varies in different motorway lanes. It might be 60mph in the inside lane and can easily be an illegal 75mph in the outside lane. Additionally, and perhaps more crucially, road/weather conditions are likely to have major influences on safe stopping distances. If it's snowing, the stopping distances are obviously lower; but you wouldn't be able to see the chevrons through the snow, so maybe that doesn't matter. Does this make the chevrons unreliable and even potentially dangerous?
Research carried out by the Transport Research Laboratory (TRL) has shown that sections of motorway that have chevrons have shown significant reductions in the number of accidents caused by "close following." The benefits have also been shown to continue for a further 18km beyond a chevron marked stretch.
TRL claims from its research that when chevrons are used on a section of motorway there is a reduction in accidents on the same stretch of road by 56 per cent compared to the same stretch of road before the chevrons were installed.
If this is the case, why not have them on every inch of every motorway? The whole chevron thing is dealt with in section 11.6 Vehicle separation markings of the UK Governments's Traffic Signs Manual chapter 5 of 2018. It tells us "The distance between successive series of chevrons should generally be between 40 km and 55 km." But if you take the above TRL research, shouldn't that be 18km? Unless there has been a later update, it seems that the chevrons are still used on motorways, although in circumstances not stated.
I'd have thought that, if they work, reducing accidents and potentially saving lives, you might just bung them everywhere, at least on motorways. You'd imagine that it's not beyond designers of modern technology to invent a lorry which drives along a motorway lane, painting chevrons every 40 metres. The above Manual says "Road markings are applied using thermoplastic, cold plastic, preformed material or paint." If were up to me, I'd just plonk a 3D printer on the back of a lorry and off we go. You could cover the whole motorway network in a couple of months. Simples.
I did one of my occasional walks to Charlestown Harbour today. Regular readers of this blog will know that it is one of the most picturesque places within walking distance of my house in St. Austell, Cornwall. I always confess to driving a little of the way because the walk back to my house is up a steep hill and ... well, I'm 77 years old with sore knees, so I don't feel the need to apologise for that.
The roundabout walk which I undertake involves an early sit down for a few minutes, a walk around the newly renovated inner harbour pathway, past a few tempting snack shacks and bars, back up to a coffee shop where I purchase an iced skinny caramel latte, down to the outer harbour wall for another sit down, watching the tide coming in and visitor families parading noisily, then a walk halfway back to another brief sit, during which I watched a ladybird - more of that later - and finally back to my car where, of course, the windscreen sun shade has fallen down and the vehicle is baking hot (I forgot to mention that it turned out to be a hot day and I was unprepared and thus wearing heavy jeans and shoes rather than shorts and sandals). What with all the sit downs, the circular route of about one mile stretches out to an hour and half. Fine, relaxing and not terribly energetic.
I don't believe that this degree of casual strolling will help me to lose weight; mouthsofmums.com.au tells me I would need to walk 10,000 steps a day to "easily lose between 500g to 1kg a week". They tell me that the average person "walks between 900 and 3,000 steps per day", which frankly seems a wide definition of average - I'm not one of those nerdy types with fitbits and smart watches, whatever they are, so I have no idea how many steps I've walked today, although I imagine it's nearer the low end - so I might have to be ten times average for two weeks to lose a measly kilo. I could probably do that by fasting for a day. There might be a small argument that a bit of a walk might make a marginal increase in my heart health, which is obviously not a bad thing but the occasional walk thing is, for me, primarily for mental health and wellbeing. Getting out of the house, saying "hi there, dude" to strangers, seeing families with young kids having fun, eyeing up the pub gardens, giving in to a culinary temptation or two, window shopping, watching boats, getting away from the computer, TV and gardening; it's relaxing and life-affirming.
It occurred to me that, if I walked one mile every day I would traverse 365 miles a year, which is roughly the distance from St. Austell to Blackpool. Or Leeds. Or, if you were willing to swim a little of the way, Calais. I've been to all those places and I'm not sufficiently attracted to any of them to attempt the walk this year.
Anyway, back to my ladybird.
This little thing was scuttling along at a rate which, given its size, I would guess was the equivalent of a human's brisk walk, even verging on a trot. Did it have somewhere to go or was it, like me, strolling idly about? And why walk when you've got wings? I genuinely don't understand that, although pigeons have wings and they do a lot of hopping about - although not purposeful scuttling à la ladybird. I found a lot of waffle about the origins of their name but, surprisingly, none referencing the gender-specificity of it. Also no references to gentlemanbirds so the poor males have to share the feminine naming.
As for their wings, journals.plos.org told me that a study found that "most ladybirds were found between ∼150 and 500 m [high], and had a mean displacement [speed] of 30 km/h. Average flight time was estimated, using tethered flight experiments, to be 36.5 minutes, but flights of up to two hours were observed. Ladybirds are therefore potentially able to travel 18 km in a 'typical' high-altitude flight, but up to 120 km if flying at higher altitudes". Wow. If I'd known that I'd have looked upon my new coccinellid friend with newfound admiration. Although still baffled at scuttling rather than winging.
That's another positive thing about casual, purposeless perambulation: you never know what you might learn. Maybe I should get a smart watch.
UK job vacancies in the three months to July 2021: 953,000
Number of 'illegal migrants' crossing the Channel from 1 Jan to 2 Jun 2021: 3,500
Number of Afghans working as translators for private contractors and bodies such as the British Council on behalf of the UK and not covered by the Afghan Relocation and Assistance Policy: not known but very small ('dozens' according to the Guardian).
Seems like someone could fit these numbers together, yes?
Driving from Cornwall to Kent recently, I noted a couple of interesting place names. Both are Somerset villages.
Queen Camel is a strange name. ancestry.co,uk gives us this which, IMO, verges on gibberish:
Camel Name Meaning
English and French: from the word denoting the animal, Norman French came(i)l, Latin camelus, classical Greek kamelos. The surname may have arisen from a nickname denoting a clumsy or ill-tempered person. It may also be a habitational name for someone who lived at a house with a sign depicting a camel. English: from an assimilated pronunciation of Campbell. English: possibly a habitational name from Queen Camel and West Camel in Somerset, Camel(le) in Domesday Book (1086), possibly a Celtic name from canto- ‘border’, ‘district’ and mel ‘bare hill’. Probably an Americanized spelling of Kamel.
King Henry III's wife Eleanor of Provence apparently owned land in the area in the 13th century and perhaps she's the Queen in the name. If so, why not Queen's Camel? Or Camel Queen?
John Leland, a renowned 16th century English historian, apparently believed that the village was the site of King Arthur's final battle. Wasn't Arthur a legend? Could this be the origin of fake news?However, it appears that the village is in the electoral ward of Camelot. Who knew? I passed quickly by, in case I met any ill-tempered people. Or camels.
Compton Paucefoot is even more odd. The only thing I found about Pauncefoot was Wikipedia telling us of "a Norman knight called Pauncefote ('Fat-bellied')" but there's nothing I could discover to corroborate that. There is also a Bentley Pauncefoot in Worcestershire so maybe quite a few fat-bellied knights roamed the English countryside in medieval times. A Compton is thought to refer to a farmstead in a narrow valley and it seems there are lots of those in this part of the world: Compton Martin, Compton Dundon, Compton Dando and Compton Bishop are all in Somerset.
I grew up reading about and following the exploits of the great Middlesex and England cricketer Denis Compton. Anyone as old as me will remember his exuberant, dashing and fleet-footed batting. He was the Mikhail Baryshnikov of cricket. He scored 5,807 runs (18 centuries) in 78 Test matches for England at an average of 50.1. In all first class matches he scored 38,942 runs (123 centuries) at an average of 51.0. Anyone with a knowledge of cricket will know that these are outstanding figures. He was also a very serviceable left arm spinner, available as an option when the regular bowlers were struggling to take wickets. As was common in the 1930s and 1940s, many full-time cricketers played cricket in the summer and football in the winter. Compton did so and won a League title and FA Cup winners medal with Arsenal. Argentina has a reasonable cricket team so maybe you'll see Lionel Messi turning out for them in between belting in goals for his new club.
Compton was a Player. That seems an odd thing to say but, until 1962, there were two categories of cricketer in England. The Players were the professionals and their names were shown on the scorecards with their initials following their surname, e.g Compton D.C.S. The Gentlemen were amateurs and their initials preceded their surname, as in M.J.K. Smith (himself a double international for England at cricket and rugby union).
Denis had a brother, Leslie, who also played for Middlesex (although not for England) at cricket and Arsenal at football - with two caps for England. As I recall, he was what is known these days as a "no nonsense" centre half. Meaning basically "you might get the ball past me; you might get yourself past me, but certainly not both".
Those were the days.
Speaking of strange place names, any guesses at the origins of Cuckoo-Down-Lane, a footpath in Whitstable in Kent? I walked along it and saw no cuckoos, down or otherwise.
For the last three Saturdays I have been watching rugby. It's a sport which I really don't enjoy or understand, for reasons which will become apparent. I've been entertaining my dear friend Tony, who is a rugby fan when it concerns England or the British and Irish Lions; club rugby, not so much. Unlike me and football, where the club game is everything and England a mere sideshow.
I should clarify: rugby union, as opposed to rugby league. The latter is a game played by Northerners with supporters in cloth caps
the former played by Southern Softies in front of cravat-wearing observers. More on rugby league in due course. For the moment, I shall mean rugby union when I discuss 'rugby'. Played with a strange shaped ball, just to annoy the players when it bounces.
There are some aspects of rugby which can be thrilling. The sight of the backs flinging the ball to each other in a fast sequence which ends up with the winger flying past his (or her; I'm told the fairer sex plays this brutal game) opponent is a sight to behold. However, only a couple of times in the latest three matches did that happen and most of the game is spent with the forwards pushing and shoving each other in a 16-person melee
which is variously described as a ruck, maul or scrum.Basically a war fought with swords, pikes and fists rather than the elegance of the fly half who uses drones and the swiftness of the wingers who use tanks. The scrum half, by the way, is a spy who uses intelligence, cunning and deception.
When the referee awards a scrum, as a result of some misdemeanour that is opaque to the average viewer, our eight forwards bend over and form a kind of fusion of a phalanx and a flying wedge (imagine a Christmas tree on its side),
the opposition does the same and the two groups, still bent over, huff and puff, grapple with and push against each other.
The ball is then inserted in the middle and the two armies compete to backheel it to their fleet-footed compatriots, who then attempt to play proper, running rugby.
The scrum is therefore a formal piece of action; when the two packs (as the forwards are often called) do their shoving against each other during a period of open play, the action is called a ruck. If the ball is one the floor. Or a maul. If the ball is held in one of the forward's hands. And if at least one of our mauling team is bound to at least one opposing mauler. Got it? Are you beginning to see why I find rugby baffling? In each of these three situations there are myriad laws, the breaking of which will lead to a penalty, free kick or another scrum. I told you it would get easier but I lied.
Rugby league solves the scrum problem by basically not having any. Except in rare circumstances, with which I shall not bore you. A situation which, in rugby union, would result in a scrum, results in a simple backheel without an opponent involved. It makes for a much more free-flowing game which is easier for the casual viewer - me - to comprehend.
One thing I do like about rugby is the refereeing. Firstly, they stand no nonsense from the players. In televised international games they have microphones, which means we can hear what they say to the players. Turns out they never stop talking
but it's apparently helpful for the players to know, for instance, that a maul has been formed. They are clear with the players about their reasons for making decisions. It's possible that football referees are too but we don't know because the referees are not miked up. Sadly.
The football season started yesterday. Ipswich Town
(check out the shirt sponsor) were first to earn the "same old, same old" tag as they couldn't keep a clean sheet and only drew at home.
Friday: the Premier League is back on TV; the long summer drought is over.
Fauda is a Hebrew transliteration of an Arabic word meaning chaos. It is the title of an Israeli-produced thriller TV series streamed on Netflix. There are three seasons and I recently binge watched them. Written by Lior Raz and Avi Issacharoff, who had been undercover operators in the Israel Defence Force, it chronicles the undercover counter-terrorist activities of a Mista'arvim unit, led by Doron, the lead character played by Raz. Season 1 focuses on actions against Hamas in the West Bank, season 2 portrays ISIS infiltration of Hamas and thus the IDF and Hamas having a common enemy and season 3 takes place in Gaza. It's gritty, hard and often violent.
I enjoyed the series very much but in my mind I questioned how authentic it is in portraying everyday life and in particular the relative depictions of Israelis and Palestinians. Obviously I have no first hand knowledge on which to draw.
When starting a new TV series or watching a movie for the first time I avoid reviews; not so much for spoilers but to make up my own mind about it. Once finished I will often read those reviews, to see how the thoughts and opinions of others chime with mine but sometimes to figure out what went on in a particular scene or perhaps the ending. (I watched a movie Captive State last night and after nearly two hours I genuinely had no idea what had happened or whether I had assessed the ending correctly. It's such a flawed, rambling film that I can't recommend it.)
Many of the reviews of Fauda focussed on whether, as an Israeli-made programme, it gave a biased, even racist, view of events. There was no consensus and, as you might expect, a huge gap in interpretations. As far as I could see, I (as a totally independent observer) could not detect any bias. It follows the activities of Israeli soldiers and therefore shows Palestinians (at least as represented by Hamas) as the enemy, but that's inevitable in an Israeli production. The reasons for Palestinian hatred of the Jews/Zionists [their terminology] are clearly portrayed. The show certainly doesn't shy away from disastrous mistakes by the soldiers. Luna Mansour, one of the leading Palestinian actors in the show said of criticism she had received for taking part "Marwa and Samir [her character’s husband, who is portrayed by Amir Khoury] are so unique. They don’t care about revenge, they don’t care about bombs, terrorism, Israelis, Palestinians. All they care about is having each other, having a chance to live their life, having the chance to raise their baby together.”
The only thing I'd say is that I am no nearer understanding the extent to which Hamas is representative of the views of "ordinary" Palestinians; if anything, I'd say the impression given is that it is. My overall impression is, as the title suggests, of chaos; of an interminable conflict that makes the everyday lives of Palestinians in particular depressing at best, almost unlivable at worst.
I'm satisfied that I haven't been co-opted by this Israeli series into taking a pro-Israeli view of conflict in the Middle East. It's a well produced and well acted show that grips the viewer. The English version has subtitles for the Arabic dialogue and dubbing for the Hebrew. As with most dubbing, it's not great but there's nothing to be done about that. There is a fourth season planned and I don't think it's reached its sell by date yet, so I look forward to that. I recommend it.
As it happens I recently watched the movie Oslo, a film version of a stage play in which a Norwegian diplomat and her husband, who works for a humanitarian organisation, bring together representatives of the Israeli government and Palestinian officials in secret, in an attempt to broker a peace deal. It is based on the real life story leading to the Oslo Accords of 1993. As someone who was aware of the process at the time, it evoked memories and so was an enjoyable revisit. If you didn't know it was originally a stage play, you would guess it early on, as the characters stand still and make speeches to each other in a rather stiff manner. Having said that, it's a worthwhile two hour watch with plenty of drama. And Ruth Wilson.
My Word of the Week is ... clustering. This came up in an article I read, actually from a year ago, about the economic benefits of clustering as an argument for encouraging office workers to return to the office rather than continuing to work from home. Ed Glaeser is the chairman of the Harvard economics department and he has written extensively about clustering, mostly to do with technological development and entrepreneurship of organisations, for instance in Silicon Valley.There is a lot of research on clustering in this context but I'd say the application of the theory to the benefits of interactive working, brainstorming and mutual motivation in offices are unproven, although in some situations seemingly obvious. And perhaps need to be measured against any benefits of working from home.
I read a definition of clustering:
The task of dividing the population or data points into a number of groups such that data points in the same groups are more similar to other data points in the same group than those in other groups.
OK. Mm. [thinking about that]
When I entered the last few of my teenage years, I wanted to be a mathematician. Looking back, I can surmise that I thought working with abstract concepts and numbers was more my thing than working with people. At the time, I believed that the cleverest people in the world were mathematicians - Pythagoras, Newton, Einstein, Turing - and I wanted to be one of them. Turned out I either wasn't clever enough or I came to think that data points were not as cool as I thought. It didn't stop me, by serendipitous opportunity, becoming a computer programmer.
Much has been written on the supposed connections between mathematics and music, so I suppose it was natural that I should gravitate to the latter, and more so that I would come to appreciate and admire the music of Schönberg and Webern and their development of dodecaphonic music, based on the twelve-tone technique, in the early twentieth century. Serialism takes the twelve notes of the chromatic scale in an order particular to the composition and makes versions of this sequence - inverted, reversed, transposed, etc. - the basis of the piece. The fact that the twelve notes are theoretically equal makes the harmonic outcome of the work different from earlier music, where notes such as the first, fourth and fifth of the major or minor scale are predominant.
If you are a fan of Mozart, Abba or Miles Davis, you may not enjoy listening to serialist music.
One of the most significant books I read about congruence between maths and music is Hermann Hesse's The Glass Bead Game. It's a futuristic book which suggests that education prioritising the two subjects, studying them alongside each other, provides a perfect synthesis of arts and science. Check it out!
Anyway, I'm not going back to the office cluster anytime soon. Let's check out some Webern:
14 months ago, when wearing a mask became compulsory on public transport in England, enforceable under law, I was dead against such legal compulsion on a libertarian basis: "let people make their own judgements on their own safety". I was wrong. I imagined that the primary purpose of wearing a mask was to protect the wearer; it swiftly became clear to me that it was for the protection of others and I changed my view.
So how do we calibrate the current situation where mask wearing is recommended indoors and on public transport but no longer mandatory? I imagine that it might be legally possible for a supermarket to only allow entrance to those with face masks but that's obviously not going to happen. I couldn't find any stats from supermarkets to tell me what percentage of customers are still wearing masks but my own observation is that something like 80% of adults (including me, and the staff) are wearing masks in my local Asda. Cornwall has an older population than some places but this includes summer visitors.
It makes sense to me that crowded indoor venues with minimal ventilation and low ceilings are likely to be places where the still ubiquitous coronavirus can spread quickly. So Mask=On.
Two days ago my friend Tony and I made our first visit to the Eden Project for three to four years. A joyous move towards a new normality? Maybe. Much of the eating, drinking and walking is outdoors, but should I wear a face mask in Eden's iconic Domes? Are they "indoors"? The Mediterranean Biome is 35 metres high with ventilation "used to control heat, airflow and humidity". The Rainforest Biome is 55 metres high, with that same ventilation. In terms of potential for virus spreading, how does that compare with an outdoor venue or, on the other hand, a supermarket or cinema (homex.com tells me "retail ceiling heights start at twelve feet and up")? We are not given this presumably quite significant information. Tony and I estimated somewhere between 15% and 25% of adults were wearing masks in the domes, which means that if I were to wear a mask it would be to protect the remainder, which seems public spirited, even though they are not protecting me, which doesn't.
The UK Government's recently-updated Ventilation of indoor spaces to stop the spread of coronavirus (COVID-19) guidance is of no use whatsoever, giving generalisations such as "Avoid spending time with people you do not live with in spaces with a limited flow of fresh air, such as rooms without ventilation or windows that are never opened." Do the domes have an acceptable flow of fresh air? I don't know.
The Eden Project FAQs say "We strongly recommend that you continue to wear a face covering in appropriate areas, as indicated by signage on site." The signs around the site have basically the same "we advise you to wear masks indoors" warning as do supermarkets. The same FAQ page is headed by an image showing a family apparently leaving the biomes with no masks.
I spent my time in the biomes dithering between =On and =Off. Mask=On where it got crowded, =Off particularly in the Rainforest Biome where it was hot and muggy. I really don't know where I am on this. I just know that I'm sufficiently uncertain about this venue that I won't be going there again any time soon.
It's a crazy world. We know that. Maybe even crazier for an old guy like me who finds some aspects of modern life baffling. I spotted a few weird/mildly interesting things in today's news. Some of them barely need a comment from me but comments from readers are always welcome, occasionally amusing and generally stimulating and thoughtful.
The owner of an American bulldog (that's a breed, not a nationality) accused the government of "dog racism" after Lola, her dog, was seized by police because she "looked like a dangerous dog".
A professor from Yale University claims that construction of Machu Picchu started in 1420 rather than in 1440 as the Spanish had claimed. A spokesperson for the Spanish Government suggested that maybe Professor Burger might have better spent the last 20 years of his life sailing the world and looking for the Loch Ness Monster and the lost continent of Atlantis.
[Comments in italics are editorial]
Dr Zoe Muller of the University of Bristol studied the herd behaviour of giraffes and concluded that their social groups include older animals acting as "grandmothers", helping to bring up the young. Presumably as the parents go out to work. Dr Muller found that female giraffes live for about 10 years after they are no longer capable of giving birth, leading her to suggest "there must be some evolutionary advantage". Otherwise they'd die straight after their last child, Zoe? An old, female giraffe at Bristol Zoo claimed compensation on the basis that it had been "a dig at my age".
A 12 year old Japanese girl won a silver medal for the women's park skateboarding event. Mr Wiki tells us (I'm still giving him my £5 a month) "park skateboarding encompasses a variety of sub-styles adopted by those who ride skateboards in purpose-built skate parks. Most skate parks combine halfpipes and quarterpipes with various other "vert" skateboarding features as well as "street" obstacles such as stairs, ledges, and rails." Whatever all those words mean. Plans for a Junior Olympics have now been put in the same place as for a Senior Olympics: in the bin. Quite right, don't want any ageism.
